Back from holiday, resolutions made, intentions good.  We had a highly amusing time away, peppered with all sorts of incidents, from being locked out to sitting in A&E (twice) to opening doors into foreheads to breaking washing machines (twice) to attempting to extract red wine stains with the smallest salt cellar in the world to forced marches in the wind and rain and subsequent illnesses.

My goodness, though, it was fun.  I have rarely laughed so much at a sequence of disasters, which must mean either that I am maturing with age, or possibly that I have become immune to the vicissitudes of fate, at least when on holiday.

I also started writing a big piece, but I already think that this will fall by the wayside before the month is out, although that is not necessarily bad news because it is the by-product of a very busy time indeed coming up.  Along with a new Mass to write, my second setting of the year, work needs to continue on Joe’s album, and this will be intensive through to the middle of October and possibly beyond.

As this term is also my busiest of the year in terms of lecturing and various other commitments, I shall have to be fully devoted to what I need to do in order to achieve it.  Even so, I am determined to try to maintain some kind of sunny demeanour through it all, if only as some kind of armour against what might come my way.

After October I plan to reimpose the kind of life I had when I first moved to Somerset, to resist the siren call of more work for more money.  I spoke to my recently retired uncle at length over the weekend, somebody who possesses an award for being a “Visionary Guru”, and we agreed, as we have so often done, that life is about balance, about the duty feeding the delight, and that work has the potential to be insidious, infecting our free time until it is everywhere, and while we can buy more space and more possessions at a push, our time is set and we need to carve it out for ourselves as and when we can.

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