Head Space Daily Words...

Sitting in my garden this morning, there was washing to my right, hanging dutifully on the line, eager to dry; the soothing sound of distant aeroplanes rumbled smoothly overhead and to my left, the sun poured gently through the long, tall, upright foliage of an enormous, nearby bedding plant (see HSD Images.) This was a blissfully sunny, end of September morning, there to be savoured, if you were able to do so. As birdsong filled the air and a robin, with its red throat and chest bounced from branch to branch on our plum tree, it was as if I was someplace else, rather than my back garden and almost enough to make me forget that I am once again on the lookout for work, or that the osteopath has performed a near miracle on my back, or that the washing machine is nearing the end of another cycle. The BBC weather forecast had predicted light rain from 10 until midday and exactly on cue, at 09:55, clouds rushed to cover the sun; the t-shirt warmth replaced by a nagging need to put on a hoody, as the backs of my arms felt the miniscule drop in temperature.

With the grey blanket now overhead, a breeze starting to rattle the leaves and a subtle patter of rain, thoughts returned to the day ahead. In Britain we are conditioned to never rest on our laurels, to dutifully go the extra mile, to forgo our lunch hour, to fight the good fight and to believe that there is no time like the present. If we don’t adhere to the stiff upper lip, a guilty conscience takes over. So, farewell garden for now; although the weather forecast also predicts that the sun will return for the afternoon, so we could still become reacquainted later today. Until then, onwards and upwards...