Tuesday, 4 February 2014

Twenty minutes.

Today there was literally sunshine and shade. The sun suddenly appeared, then fled for the hills, and some sulky, chill rain took its place. Now there is a light outside the colour of honey, with an indigo sky behind the beeches.

The red mare was perfect. I know nothing is perfect, but today she was. We could not ride for logistical reasons (how I sometimes hate logistics) so we went back to groundwork school and did our ABCs. She adores this. It’s as if she can relax because she knows all the answers. So as I did the standard desensitising, which involves flicking ropes all over her body and cracking whips like a stockgirl, right next to her head, she went to sleep. She’s supposed to be a crazy thoroughbred. Nobody told her.

Wrote 1233 words of book.

Did a new experiment in time management. I put everything into twenty minute increments. It is astonishing what you can get done in twenty minutes.

I don’t know where this idea came from and I don’t expect it will last, but it was interesting, and I grew less panicked about time whizzing past my ear so that I can hear it whoosh.

Started to write this. It is getting late and I am tired and the cerebellum is packing up for the day.

‘Oh, stop it,’ says the practical voice, who is quite ruthless. ‘You don’t have to do a blog.’

‘But the Dear Readers,’ the impractical voice wails.

‘The Dear Readers have lives,’ says the practical voice. ‘They really don’t need to know all about yours, every single damn day.’

The impractical voice knows this is true. But the wail continues. There must be blog. Or, or – THE SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM WILL FAIL.

The impractical voice says, sullenly, scuffing its shoe on the floor: ‘They’ll think I am dead in the ditch.’

‘Let them,’ says the practical voice, who really can’t be arsed and wants to have its first gin of the evening. (The practical voice turns out in fact to be a flinty dipso.)

‘I’ll just do a quick one with no pictures,’ says the impractical voice, compromising, rationalising, pleading.

‘Yeah,’ says the practical voice, heading for the drinks cupboard. ‘Because you know if they don’t see ONE MORE PICTURE OF THE RED MARE they will survive.’

So that’s how this got written in under twenty minutes. See? It’s my new miracle.

9 comments:

  1. We don't need to but we like to! Hope the gin is good!

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  2. I clearly remember the first time (since I started reading you, so some time back) you didn't post for a few days...I swear to the gods...I stalked away from the computer and declared to my husband...my god, she still hasn't posted ! she's driving all the way down to London ! she might be in a ditch somewhere ! Really, truly this happened...so it's not just your mom, it's me too ! from Judith in N. California

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  3. I'm surviving but only just. Will scroll back for other less up to the minute pictures of the Hill (have you forgotten the Hill?) and Red.

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  4. Best 20 minutes ever! Like your thinking. Will make do without pics …. just.

    And beautiful post about your godfather. x

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  5. 25 minutes is the 'Pomodoro' method. Your 20 must be the cherry variety :)

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  6. Funnily enough, upon getting on the computer today I immediately thought, oh please let Tania have a new blog post. I do not say this to put pressure on you, of course! Just want you to know we do care to hear about your day, but completely understand when you don't have the time!

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  7. I get quite disappointed when there is "no blog today" post. Your famous British humour is something I really look forward to!

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  8. Yes, add me to disappointed list - no pressure, though. Entirely understand need for time off for good behaviour. That was a lovely post on grief and a great photo of Red rolling. Rachel

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