Time Will Tell…

It’s been almost a  three years since I finished my first journey of recovery and discovery. I thought that it had all gone amazingly well and that my life was set for a new and adventurous course that would be fuelled by writing.

I’m still putting in the fuel , but my life is still in the same place.

Not for me, the meteroric rise to fame. Not for me, that epiphany of discovery. Not for me, that moment in the sun where, for a brief time at least, people begin to sit up and listen. The wheel may have turned, but the tide has not.

“Oh, woe is me.”

Count Your Blessings.


Part of me was going to write something like, this is a lovely idea.


There is always a BUT with me. It’s as if I have a corn or cheese detector governing my responses to totally ordinary sentiments. The rest of the world lives by these sentiments, so why do I so frequently reject them?

“It’s not the number of breaths we take, but the number of moments that take our breath away.””Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.””You have to look through the rain to see the rainbow.””Sing like no one is listening. Love like you’ve never been hurt. Dance like nobody is watching.”Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery and today is a gift. That’s why we call it the present.”          

I think that it becomes obvious after reading this short list that the speaker, or the listener, would struggle not to be physically sick upon uttering, or hearing, these fired across the gaping space between motivation and inspiration.

Three years have come and gone. I don’t think that I have moved on. Just now, I got a call from a supply agency offering me a day’s work at a truly horrible school. After a little consideration, I said, no. And that made all the difference.    

“Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.”


But how will I get home from there?

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