14th January 2022

To change my life in someway.

At the moment, although I have the enthusiasm for change, things outside my control: my mother's situation, are preventing me from being bolder than I have been during my experience of the Camino.

It's in my power to walk away from all this responsibility, and let mother stagnate further, but I do feel a little compelled to stay around her very small circle.

My decision to make this year count has a long way to go. What I'd like to do now, as a knee jerk reaction to the last 2 years of various Lockdowns and the machinations of COVID-19, isn't as important as what needs to happen in the next 12 months. If by the next Candlemas, in 2023, I am still buzzing around the honey pot of Wetherby then I have clearly failed. This is a focus I am not going to allow to drift into nothingness.

***

The end of another working week. Friday. Lola and I will catch the bus away from Wetherby today. It's been around a month, I guess, since last we climbed onto the green and white liverage of Connexions X70. Today the red of the 7 lingers instead. Better planned. The sun is shining.

Up the allotment I planted a sapling: a Conference Pear. Down the bottom of the plot, next to where Jack and Richard have a back passage to the Ginnel which connects Ainsty Road and Aire Road. I looked around for a sundrenched plot and saw that there is a break of the tree canopy to the west: further north than where the couple of taller older trees cling: an ancient Oak which must've stood when no housing stood between Wetherby and Kirk Deighton, but now drops it's leaves on the top Allotment to their chargrin ... So many leaves blighting their patch.

Lola was good again. Very civilised. Awake for 6. Breakfast at 6:30, we'll away by 8:30 to catch a flame passing at nine, north.

***