I'm sitting in the living room with the heater turned down, and now it's too cold. Of course I am wearing shorts and it is mid winter. I could spew more CO2 into the atmosphere, or I could pop on some pants. Or I could just be cold, and that's a lazy and easy option. Which I take.
It's a night at home on my own. I've left The Frenchman in charge of the youngster in her city abode and returned home to the coast. Of course everyone else had had their night and was headed to bed. I headed to the pool, swam then came home, worked, researched and did some reading. I love the late night. It's quiet apart from the occasional breaking wave thundering in the darkness and the thoughts in my head. I've read a selection of posts on blogs I check less regularly now, and I've gotten into their heads for short bursts, and realise that I haven't let anyone into mine here for a while. I've wondered whether I have anything useful to say any more, and if everyone is bored with baby stuff. You get into a bubble with a newborn around and your focus is a little narrowed. Its normal and I kinda like it. But I'm conscious of following the stereotype. I'm not a fan of following anything, much less stereotypes. But sometimes you need to start off on the same path before you head off in your own untrodden direction. Just not too long.
Standing on Oxford Street in Paddington this evening in the late afternoon light was stunning. A warm sky, a cool air and glowing light beaming out of eclectic shop fronts inviting me in, the mouth-watering smell of the various foods wafting about as I meandered past. It's a place I've been a thousand times before but rarely has it felt like it did today. I realise it's a whole new place for me now, a whole new world, and I'm loving it.