I’ve got a thing for water. I love to be in it. Near it. Next to it. Walking beside it. There is something so utterly soothing and reenergising about being near a large body of water. Even a small puddle really works if that’s all I can near. Water fills me with a sense of rebirth, of fresh hope and of unlocked energy.

Yesterday I returned home from my week of house sitting. A friend of mine had offered to drive me home, and given how badly my back and hips were aching I was extremely grateful of the offer. Given it was a 90 minute or so drive, it was definitely going “above and beyond” the requirements of friendship.

This week has been awesome, like living underwater in a pineapple awesome. I’ve pretended to be a grown up, pretended to be a successful author working for himself while living in a beach side hut, I’ve pretended to be skinny and rich and I’ve pretended to be a film/TV writer. All in all this week where I can pretend has been great fun. Today I go home to the real world; but I plan to take the “pretend” home with me.

Todays picture has nothing to do with this post, but how cool is that giant snail. Into all lives a little rain must fall, at least that what the cliche’s say when trying to cheer someone up who’s attempting to empty the ocean sized floods of life with a children’s novelty bucket and spade set. But how you deal with the little falls of rain is more important than the rain itself. At least, that’s the conclusion I’ve come to this week.

Back in the 80’s somewhere, everyone’s favourite kooky city girl turned farmer, turned new mum lost her battle with cancer and died as the closing credits rolled on A Country Practice. Lying on a lounge and covered by a blanket, Molly watched as her husband and young daughter ran down the hill playing. The image started to fade, and the viewers saw Molly’s final image, of her daughter and husband, playing happily.

So this morning I woke up and the world didn’t cave in. The sky didn’t fall and the trees didn’t wither and die as the first rays of the sun managed to break through the overcast sky. Today I turned 40. Frankly I don’t see what all the fuss was about.

Yesterday evening, armed with a pencil, a sketch pad and an eraser I drew a picture. I hadn’t drawn anything in 20 years. I don’t draw because I can’t. Simple as that. Can’t do it, don’t try. What I ended up with was something rather surprising. It was a passable rough sketch of a man lying on a pillow. His nose is a bit wonky and slightly too large for his face, but it’s clear what the image was. It’s sort of cool really.

I can be a bit of stick in the mud. I like my shoes where I put them. I like my coffee strong, and milky, with just the right amount of sugar. I am very much in support of finding my wallet exactly where I left it. I like to get up in the morning, go to work, accomplish something during the day and come home to dinner, a few cats and some brain numbing reality TV. I am the poster child of routine.