117/365

(There's objective and subjective stuff in this world. I can't decide whether the cool stuff in the details of life is subjective or objective. Good stuff happens. And it doesn't deny the hard horrible stuff. These things I have to recognise as I write here. I fear the good as it appears to describe a sunny, happy existence. As we all know life just isn't like that. (and to dig deeper into my psyche of only thinking negative thoughts requires more time and qualifications than you have, dear reader) For some reason I find it very hard to write positive things at times. But here goes, I break through this barrier. In the spirit of acknowledging the sparkly cool amist the rubbish I carry on, and here's some more 365.)

Getting back into the swimming pool again, the rhythm of up and down, up and down, pure physicality setting me up for the day. Sparkly times with Jess and Ceryn, chatting about God in the sunshine, paddling in the sea and honest chats with the maker of the universe. Kate Rusby in the evening, shared dreams with a friend and the sad sad melancholy of "Who will sing me lullabies?".