It’s been an unusual summer. Apart from a couple of wonderful weeks tramping the Pennine Way with the brother and the dog (more of that to come), I seem to have been shackled to my desk for most of it. This is in stark contrast to the past few summers where work seems to have tailed off completely, and I can’t make up my mind whether 2017 is just an oddity, or whether after years of being fully freelance I’m finally starting to get a reliable flow of work through. Anyway, it’s no bad thing, and I’ve been making hay while the sun shines.
Thing is, the sun’s been shining outdoors too, so I’ve been trying to make the most of it without completely sabotaging my deadlines. One of the loveliest things about living on the outskirts of Whitby is that you can slink down to the beach when every other bugger has gone home for the day. Long summer evenings have a charm all of their own, and I’m down there most nights, punting tennis balls for the dog, reading my book on a bench or just daydreaming and gazing out to sea. I’ve also been taking the paddleboard down sometimes, sweeping sedately around the bay like a Pacific islander on his way out to trade trinkets with Captain Cook.
Of course there are times I miss London and all the friends I left behind there, but after three years up here, I still wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.