137 – A Strange Week

I’ve never been one for the nine-to-five. And fortunately, I guess I’ve never really had to do it. Journalism involved some quite strange hours, as did provincial and touring theatre. Campaigning for the rights of community care service-users and attending late-night Council meetings continued the irregularity, as did freelance training. But retirement? That should be a whole lot more straightforward. You’d think. Continue reading

93 – Spitting Distance

Tough decisions on Sunday.  So many options, so few hours in the day!  Finally the choice was made. Despite getting home from the opening night of Málaga’s Carnaval in the wee small hours, I decided I didn’t want to miss the mountain walk, so dragged myself grumbling from my cosy bed to pull on walking boots and make a sandwich for the midway break. Continue reading