How busy is busy?

I had a busy January. I knew it would be busy from a bit out. February seems to have gone in a flurry of tidying up from January. March looks really busy because of the capital gains tax changes. April will be like February. Easter is early and I want to take a week off (which is not looking straightforward). I also always fish a couple of days in March which entails a 5+ hour journey north and back. I drove 80 miles to Perthshire to fish in a gale on Saturday and then 150 miles south for a night out on Saturday night. I enjoyed both. I got up at 7.00 to go to London this morning and have now been camped in the lounge at Euston working for three hours waiting for the sleeper. I like to fill time up, but I would sometimes like to feel in control. Some people seem to be - I tell myself its an ability to say "no" thing. I am not good at it.

Being a scruff

We went to a party on Friday night at one of the more beautiful houses we ever go to. I am not envious of their house and their beautiful things as I am a largely content person, but it does make me look at what I have and wonder if I don't quite make the best of it. There followed a week-end of attempted acquisition and getting on with neglected jobs. I have painted my front door (badly, although from a distance it does look better). I have found an alternative upholsterer to repair and re-cover a chair and a sofa the material for which we bought six months or so ago and which has languished in a corner of the dining room since then. I went over the hill to Wooler on Saturday to look for things to purchase, but it was a beautiful day and I ended up totally distracted by a hot air balloon, a photograph of which I had intended to post here, but I haven't fully mastered the taking of photographs on my phone. I have never been in a balloon, but it never looked more tempting. It really wasn't the week-end for jobs as the weather was so beautiful and half term gave a rare break from work. I think I'll just allow contentment to take back over.

Tempo

While I don't exactly wish my life away I do like to be getting on with it. Various things give the year tempo - work (to a point); my daughter's school year to a large extent (next week end is half term, half way through another school year, which is frightening); the seasons.

One of the things that I find drives on this early part of the year is the 6 Nations Rugby. I went to my first international at Murrayfield in 1976 (I was 10 and we drove the five hours from Easter Ross to go). I still remember it well. I continued to go sporadically until 1979 when I went away to school and from 1979 to 1999 or beyond I didn't miss one. I was there for Scotland's Grand Slams in 1984 and 1990, both great days, the latter in particular as the noise levels in the ground barely dropped during a fantastic and unexpected victory over the English. These were whole week-ends - not just a few hours on a Saturday. They were the rare days when we all went somewhere (even my mother whose love of rugby is not great) and were occasions, with drink and food and friends. It is different now - I only go if asked and, while I quite enjoy it, I can't pretend I wouldn't rather stay at home. I don't particularly like doing, as a business exercise, something that I always regarded as a personal pleasure.

The expectation has not however diminished - I look forward to international week-ends. If I am here and Scotland are at home I love the way the city plays host to visiting sides, crowds of men with wives with shopping bags wandering along Princes Street on Saturday morning; groups of men crowded into bars; the all pervading smell of cigar smoke - it is welcoming; hospitable; visually stunning. So this afternoon I will be in front of the telly, with a gin and tomato soup and I might even, for the authentic car park experience, cook some sausages at 11.00 and wrap them in tin foil until 1.00.

And once this afternoon's matches are over I will start to wish away the week until the next ones and so the year will move on.