Not So Cool Runnings

I somehow managed to drag myself out of bed this morning, with the help of a grumpy cat relentlessness in its quest to be fed at absurd hours. I went outside, let out the chickens and was delighted to find two eggs in their coop- unfortunately a bit soft- but that's to be expected for the first few eggs whilst they sort themselves out. So thank you chicken one and chicken two (N.B. I really need to find names for them).

I then plotted my running route. I have to run a 10 km race in five days, and haven't put on a pair of trainers since April. After deciding that plotting the run on mapmyrun ( great tool if you haven't used it before), did not count as doing exercise in itself, I found my iPod armband thing, stuck on a playlist and set off up and down a nearby country road. 

Surprisingly it felt okay, I was thankful for  the stretching break after a mile, and again, when I felt I should call my mother and let her know that I had yet to be hit by a car (she worries. A lot). It was incredibly hot, considering the time ( 8 a.m) and month (September), but I all in all, it was quite enjoyable. 

Blueprints and Beyond

A few summers ago, my mother and brother came back from Chartwell the home of Winston Churchill in Kent. I distinctly remember M getting excited about the walls around the garden, which he built himself. I could picture Churchill, smoking his pipe, wearing a straw hat, wearing a working away at his wall, brick by brick.

                                           The wall that Churchill built © Copyright Paul Shreeve and licensed for reuse 

This was a man who in 2002 was voted the "Greatest Briton" of all times. He led a country through war, won a Nobel Prize in Literature, performed terribly academically, had ongoing trouble with money, painted, travelled, lost a daughter. And built walls. A quick scan through wikipedia (terrible, I know), tells us that he believed that like his father, he would die young, and therefore set out to achieve as much as he could, whilst he could. 

Unlike Churchill, I have no momentous, driving motive to do Things. In fact, I'm teetering dangerously close to the edge of lazy. A half-marathon in April, and a prolific baking habit keep me in the black. 

So, readers, I've decided it's time to change my horrid habits, once and for all. In the spirit of doing things properly,  I should probably add that I have made this promise to myself every New Year, since the age of 11 to no avail.

My latest challenge is to build a wall like Churchill. But the bricks here won't be red. They'll be Things To Do; recipes, runs, letters, appreciation, hen-rearing, bee-keeping, horse-riding, piano grades, singing lessons, drawing, painting,reading, writing, knitting, travelling, savings, sewing, cleaning, washing, collecting, book lists, tidy house, stress-free living. 

So, having vaguely drawn a blueprint, the construction can begin.