Sitting warm and dry watching a storm on the sea seems an appropriate way to begin this new year.
The first time in three years with the leisure to indulge in a few drifting moments of “what did happen over these last months?”
If there’s a gene for proclivity to exercise, my family doesn’t have it. Give me a choice between a vigorous bike ride and curling up with a book and I’ll take the book every time. I got away with it in my twenties because a heavy backpack and a university built on a steep hill forced a certain amount of exertion. And even in my thirties, when working for a string of start-ups and small consulting companies meant long hours, erratic eating, and lots of calorie-burning stress.