Tag: choices

Why I’m glad of this life …
```
"... I am glad of this life
though it’s not what I planned
the rural retreat
with its long lazy days
not the idyll 
it first appeared ..."
```
At the turn of the century, way back in 2001, I took a career break, to coincide with my husband’s early retirement. We went to live abroad for a few years, which was an adventure to say the least. As I approached 40, I chose to go back to the UK and my full time job. People thought I was crazy. It took a while to sell our house and for a few years, we commuted between two countries, before finally settling back in Yorkshire.

This week’s poem comes from that time, partly inspired by Helen Dunmore, who read some of her poems in York as part of the York Literature Festival in 2008. I was in the audience and completely captivated. She’d recently published a collection of poems titled Glad of These Times and read the title poem. Now, don’t quote me on this, because whilst I feel this was the right year and the right event, I can now find no trace of it in my journal! She certainly came to York and I heard her read that poem. In any case, my homage-poem still rings true for me, despite my circumstances having changed repeatedly since then.

It’s a timely reminder that life does continue to evolve; whether you’re having a great life, or it feels tough right now, be assured that change will come. It always does; not only for us but for our planet as a whole. Even our landscapes are constantly shifting: I read in the news just recently that the black sand at Reynisfjara Beach in Iceland has disappeared back into the sea following a violent storm.

The truth is, nothing stays the same, which can feel both liberating and anxiety-inducing at the same time. If you find yourself torn between those two emotions, then try bringing yourself back to the present. That’s probably what you can most influence.

I felt glad to go back to work and pick up aspects of my life in the UK in the early 2000’s. I appreciated all the more the things I had missed when abroad: routine, purpose, bookshops and the opportunity to catch up with a friend over coffee, to name but a few. People assumed that our life abroad must have been better. It wasn’t better, it was just different. I was glad of the experience but equally glad to be home.

Now, I’m embarking on another life chapter, having recently retired. I’m ready to explore new opportunities, many of which will be extensions of activities I already enjoyed such as writing, cycling and keeping fit. It’s so important I think to make time for things that bring you joy now, in whatever present you’re in. Don’t wait. Do it now. Make it happen in a way that will work for you, even if it means compromise. Some joy is better than none at all, right?

I feel sure that some people reading this will be thinking, it’s okay for you to say that, now you’re retired. Yes I appreciate that. But I haven’t spent the intervening years between that career break and retirement wishing my life away. I’ve loved the challenges that work posed and fully embraced them. I enjoyed my job. But I loved my time off too and crammed in as much as I could, and I’ll continue to do so because it’s true what they say about retirement: time passes very quickly indeed!

I was so lucky recently to be able to spend a couple of days hiking with my slightly older cousin, who is also retired. My younger cousin, who still works full time, couldn’t join us. I sensed his frustration but I hope he stays anchored in the now and able to enjoy both work and play in equal measure. One day soon, perhaps he’ll join us on a hike, even if it means snatching precious time from an already busy schedule. That’s life isn’t it and we either embrace it or resent it. I, for one, am glad of it.

glad of this life Download
25/02/2026
Why I make things harder than they have to be …
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"... no room for regret 
deep down I know 
I took the longest road 
to get to where 
I am meant to be ..." 
```
All my life I’ve been told that I try too hard and, I’ll admit, I used to take that as a compliment. I prided myself on always going the extra mile. I’ve been dependable, hard working and, though I hate to say it, a safe pair of hands. But who wants to be described as a safe pair of hands? It conjures up images of a boring, unimaginative workhorse, who gets the job done but never displays any initiative. At least, that’s my association with it. Is it just me? I suspect not.

When I think back on my working career, I believe that my most successful working relationships were with people who liked to push the boundaries, take risks and bend the rules. Opposites attract, right? We complemented one another. I was always the sensible one, steering a steady ship, keeping things afloat. The one who could do the admin, produce the data, follow the rules and, by so doing, keep my more reckless colleagues on course.

It’s only as I’ve grown older that I’ve learnt to recognise what has driven my behaviour for much of my life. I don’t want to get too deep into self-analysis here, because that’s not what this is about at the end of the day. We all accept, I think, that how we chose to live our lives is deeply rooted in our upbringing, education, experiences, values … you name it, all kinds of stuff will play its part in how we turn out. I’m your textbook middle child to some degree, but there’s also a host of other factors thrown into the mix, that makes me who and what I am.

I’m one of those people who will do it properly, whatever it is. I’m all in. If I needed to write a performance review at work, I did it to the best of my ability. I put time aside, even if it meant eating into my own time; I did the research; wrote a draft and self-edited; I submitted it on time. If I invite friends for dinner, I’ll cook from scratch. If I meet a friend for a chat over coffee, I’ll listen intently. I still iron my clothes; wash my kitchen floor; check my bank account regularly.

Boring, I know, but I can’t help it. It’s who I am and how I choose to show up in this world. And just lately, having listened to the news headlines, offering up a daily diet of scandal and deception, it feels more important than ever to stay true to my values. It’s forced me to question why I feel so let down by public figures from whom I expected better. It’s challenged me to look within, acknowledging and embracing the reasons why I continue to expect so much of myself. It begins with childhood but, at some point, we each take control of our destiny and must own our choices.

I know I haven’t always made life easy for myself. Rarely so. It took me a long time to find my niche, to feel comfortable in my own skin. I know I could’ve made other choices. Couldn’t we all? But I made choices that were right for me, even if that meant I took the longer route to get to where I wanted to be. Half of it was chance, as it is for most of us I think. I had no idea, really, what I wanted to do or be as I left school. I just knew I needed to do it my way and I have.

In a world where everything feels unhinged, I’ll admit that I’m still showing up as a safe pair of hands. It feels necessary, if only to and for myself.

the longest road Download
11/02/2026
Why ghosts don’t scare me …
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"... it’s other ghosts
that haunt me 
disquieting my days 
loss lingers 
in dark corners 
seldom visited 
but always present ..."
```
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about transition. I believe most people go through a number of transitions in their lives. Such periods are often represented by something significant, a talisman of sorts, that will forever remind you of that time. It might be a wedding ring, a piece of furniture, a house or car key, a favourite item of clothing. These objects come to represent something beyond how they began; they signify not only an event in time, but all the growth that led up to and followed it.

Such objects are usually tangible, and we often carry them with us, long after the event they signify. I still wear a ring that a friend gave me on my 21st, during what was a significant turning point in my life. I look at it now and think about how far we’ve both come, the journeys we’ve made, the decisions taken, the experiences shared. She lives in Australia, and we haven’t seen each other for decades, but our bond remains strong.

A couple of experiences recently have reminded me that much of what captures our imagination is intangible. I’ve just read Hilary Mantel’s memoir, Giving Up the Ghost, written before she took the world by storm with her incredible Wolf Hall trilogy. Her story prompted me to reflect on ghosts from my past. At the same time, I went to see the film adaptation of Maggie O’Farrell’s beautiful book, Hamnet, which explores the loss of a child and the different ways we grieve.

To many, they may appear completely unrelated, but to me they explored similar themes and I could certainly relate to both. I love that art, in all its forms, can do this: fire up our imagination and ignite memories long buried. It’s why I chose my by-line connection through creativity. It’s why I write: to connect to self and to others.

There’s a moment when I finish a book, or a film, when it feels appropriate to sit in silence. I need a minute or two, having reached the end of the story, to weigh up its impact. If it’s a particularly good book or film, the impact will linger for days, if not weeks. I carry it with me, an intangible talisman, to help navigate and articulate my own experience.

Sadly, at the end of Hamnet, people around me stirred within seconds of the credits starting, which almost broke the spell, but not quite. Both experiences prompted this week’s poem. When I showed it to my husband, he observed that perhaps I’m too preoccupied with death. But I don’t think this is a poem about death at all. I completely accept that each person will interpret a poem in their own way; that’s the joy of poetry don’t you think? What I took from both the book and the film was the thought that we all carry ghosts of some kind within us. It’s how we learn to live with those ghosts that shapes much of our lives. That might be the memory of a loved one who has died, but as outlined above, I believe ghosts may derive from many sources.

It prompted me to think about my choices, leading me down one path rather than another. All choices have consequences, good, bad or indifferent. I could spend a lot of time and energy reviewing those choices, perhaps regretting the fact that I missed out on the roads not taken. Regrets could literally haunt me. I’m sure we’ve all met people who have lived their lives in regret; people who never seem happy and who resent the happiness of others.

I don’t want to live my life that way. People may feel a certain loyalty to the ghosts they carry. But letting go doesn’t have to mean abandonment, it’s simply readjustment. The love you feel for a lost loved one will always remain. That’s healthy. The regret you feel for a choice not made is perhaps not so healthy. It can be liberating to give up the ghost; if it weighs you down perhaps it’s time to let it go.

ghosts Download
28/01/2026
How I’ve made peace with time …
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"... it’s amazing the gifts 
that come with now 
the sweet smell 
of morning air 
the sound of wind 
through trees 
sunshine warming skin 
so much it sighs ..." 
```
As I was approaching retirement, literally everyone I spoke to who was already on the other side of that journey told me, “I honestly don’t know where I found the time to work”, or “I’m busier now than ever …!” I’m sure this will sound familiar to most. If you are not retired yourself, you will undoubtedly know someone who is, and you will have heard these or similar comments.

Time is a funny thing isn’t it? It feels elastic and unsteady. I remember my dad telling me when I reached the grand age of 25, that future years would go faster and faster. At the time, I didn’t believe him. Surely, time is time, it’s fixed: so how can that make sense? But, turns out, he was right. I’ve certainly felt like time has passed at an increasingly alarming rate as I’ve ticked off the decades.

My relationship with time hasn’t always been a positive one. Looking back, it has led to stress and anxiety. Why? Because I’ve tried to chase it, contain it, understand it. All of it unsuccessfully. I’ve tried to make friends with it, filling it with things I love to do, negotiating with it how to divide up pockets of my day, in an effort to be more productive. Gosh, it sounds exhausting doesn’t it?

It was all fuelled by good intention, that’s the thing. I’ve never been one of those people who constantly complained about the lack of time. Rather, I approached it with positivity, hoping I think to love-bomb it into submission. It didn’t work.

Finally, in my 60th year, I think I’ve cracked the secret. I’ve made my peace with time. I’ve realised that I can’t control it, I can only respond to it. Goodness knows why it took me so long! During my recent travels, my relationship with time changed, in a positive way. I accepted time for what it was: inevitable and therefore, in some ways, irrelevant. I didn’t have to negotiate with it, or try to understand it. I just had to let it be, and get on with my life regardless. It felt so liberating!

Don’t get me wrong, I know that time cannot simply be ignored. I was taught from the earliest age that punctuality mattered greatly; I still believe that. To turn up late is a sign of disrespect in my book. We’d live in a world of chaos if we didn’t operate according to a 24 hour clock. We need to know when to turn up for a train, when to attend a scheduled appointment and, most importantly, what time to take a cake out of the oven!

All that said, I’ve stopped trying to pack as much into my day as I can. I’ve let go of planning every minute of my life. It’s okay not to have plans and to simply respond to your mood. It’s refreshing to change your mind about your day based, for example, on the weather. It can be hugely rewarding to have space in your diary, so that if a friend contacts you to say, “are you free for a coffee?”, you can actually say yes!

Someone once told me that the greatest gift you can bestow on another is the gift of time. I’ve spent my life doing just that and, for the most part, gifting my time to others willingly with love. But what I’ve started to do increasingly is gift myself. I’ve made a conscious decision to do my best to live in the moment. I know, I know, it sounds so corny. But if being alive to my surroundings, conscious of how I am feeling right now, is corny, then so be it. I’m as much at peace with that as with time itself.

time Download
21/01/2026
Why it’s okay to change course …
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"... to those anchored
to their feelings 
hard stuck in their perception 
of the world I say 

you are not the map 
but the compass
it is never too late 
to find true north ..."
```
If you had to use one word to describe yourself, what would it be? I’ve been asked this many times, mostly at work. It’s one of those ice breaker exercises, the predictable opening to a training course, to which most of us inwardly groan. My word has changed over the years; can change in the course of a day depending on my mood. When others have to chose a word for me, they may use “driven”.

I’m not good at relaxing. Not good at sitting still. Be that at home or in the office. I am a list person and I like to tick things off. I’ve been known to add a thing to the list that I’ve already done, just so I can experience the pleasure of ticking it off. I like to have a plan and feel as though I have, at least, some element of control.

If only it were that simple! No one lives their life in a vacuum. We enter into relationships, start jobs, move house, have children maybe, change direction. Life is not linear is it? At least not in my experience. Most of us don’t start out on our journey and go in a straight line. For many of us there will be changes of career, relocation, relationship break ups. Suddenly the plan you started with doesn’t make sense, it’s no longer fit for purpose. This poem was born out of a failing relationship that I had to let go. I held on because of a shared past, thinking it might be enough to keep us going, but of course, it wasn’t.

In the UK, we have a strange attitude to failure. It has negative connotations. It’s not good to own up to having failed. But failure is the first step to recovery, to rebuilding, starting afresh. Call it a process of elimination – if one option doesn’t work it, you have a green light to try the next thing.

Sometimes we become so fixed on the path we’ve chosen, that we forget there are other paths available. We can get into the habit of looking at life a certain way and, in the process, become blind to the million other possibilities, be that in relation to work, relationships and/or lifestyle.

Driven describes that part of me that tries to stick to the plan. My plan. I’ve worked hard at everything in life: my relationships, my job, my hobbies. Having a plan keeps me focused. Perhaps too focused. There have been times when I’ve clung to my map, forgetting that I have a choice. I can let it go and begin again. I have the means; I have a compass with which to steer a new course. If I could chose a new word to describe myself it would be flexible and I’m working on it.

How about you?

Map and compass Download
07/01/2026