David ArtissWhilst on my sabbatical, I’ve taken the opportunity to make more use of my bike. I’ve stripped it down of all its gadgets and un-necessary attachments and will, in due course, give it a good clean and polish too.
But, whilst I’m not going to anywhere near the first person to point out what a raw deal cyclists have on Britain’s roads, what has surprised me is where my problems are coming from and, more importantly, that I am always to blame.
The fourth week of my sabbatical is over.
Right now it still feels like an extended holiday rather than the “oh wow, this is something special” that I know it will morph into over time.
The week is interesting because I’ve started to feel less fulfilled from what I’m doing each day – I get to the end and think “I haven’t done enough today”.
One of the biggest jobs of my sabbatical was going to be sorting out my shed. Which, I know, doesn’t sound much but it’s been in a state for the last 10 years and, due to the shed being quite large, was going to be not a small job to sort (which in itself is one of the things that had been putting me off all these years).
Another thing putting me off was that it would not emptying to get sorted and by the time I’d done that it would probably be time to put everything back in at the end of the day, if done in a small burst. Which is why having whole days available was important.
It’s taken me weeks but it’s now done.
I’ve done pretty well not having Covid before now and I thought I’d document the experience.
But before I get started, I want to prefix all of this with the fact that I’m very grateful that I’m of a health level and hitting a Covid variant that means that my symptoms are far worse than many, many have had. This isn’t an ask for sympathy, as I know so many people have had this first worse.
As I come to the end of my third week of sabbatical, it’s time to look back on my first fully planned no-family-at-home and no-Covid time.
It’s not been a week of anything momentous but the starts of lots of smaller things.
