Tag: decompression

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Brochs and Beer

We definitely deserved a grand day out.

Husband was in dire need of a day off the house build, and I was starting to go a bit stir-crazy in the caravan after two days of being locked in to avoid the midges and clegs that had been swarming.

On Sunday we awoke to a sunny day so packed ourselves into the car with a waterbottle and a box of cakes from the children’s cake stall for refugees in the village (well done again, girls) and set off on our grand adventure.

Being a bit of a prehistory enthusiast I’d been reading about brochs for years but had never actually been to one, as they only occur in Scotland and the islands.

We decided that we’d drive to Glenelg to see the two brochs there whilst the weather was good and the daylight hours were still long.

Brochs are truly amazing structures. Built about 2000 years ago – give or take a bit as nobody is sure – these iron age constructions are huge, stone built conical towers.

They have double-skin walls housing integral stone staircases and there is some evidence of a central hearth and one or maybe two levels. No one is quite sure if or how often they were lived in. Looking at the effort involved in the construction it’s clear that they were prestigous, fortified buildings, maybe used as a defense against raids.

Dun Trodden (I kid you not, is that not a simply fabulous name) is one of the tallest and best preserved remaining brochs in Scotland and is located near Glenelg in a tranquil, green valley next to a shallow stream which trickles slowly down to the shore.

Directly across the lane from it we found a turf-roofed microbrewery nestled into the valley, and a taproom where a handful of fellow visitors were basking in the sun sipping their craft beers.

The taproom was called the Dun Inn (it’s getting better, isn’t it). 😊

What an idyllic setting. We must come back for another look once the summer is over, and maybe an explore of the second Broch. Maybe even a lunch at the famous Glenelg Inn just a few miles away.

An impromptu meal at the Indian restaurant once we’d crossed the bridge back over to the island topped off the days adventures nicely. Happily full of spicy food and naan bread, we got back to the caravan just as the sun was setting.

And no washing up. Result.

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Darkest before the Dawn

The saying goes that the darkness is deepest just before the dawn.

As I sit here in our bedroom in the half light of morning listening to the birds on the nearby lake beating their wings against the water and the sounds of London slowly waking up, I understand that feeling.

We have this amazing dream that after two years of nurture, focus and hard work is now within inches of becoming reality. We are within just a few weeks of packing up our old house, getting in the car and driving with the dog to our new life on the island.We are weighed down with lists and arrangements, with disposing of things, and with decisions.

Although I have now finished work, husband still has three weeks to go and so doesn’t have the luxury of daily headspace to process things. I’m limited by what I can do to help. It’s a huge weight.

Covid 19 is on the rise again with the prospect of further lockdowns and travel restrictions which is adding another spoonful of stress and uncertainty to an already pretty potent mix.

I know that this will pass. I know that everything will get done, and that if it doesn’t get done the world won’t stop turning.I know this. We both know this.

We will find the space to hang on to the excitement of these new beginnings. Even when these feelings of excitement are heavily entwined with the decoupling from our old lives and all that this entails. Even when sleep is dominated with dreams of all the things we haven’t yet done. Even when our bedtime reading is all plumbing manuals and spreadsheets.

It’s important not to allow the “to-do” list to consume every waking moment and to reconnect with feelings of joy at what we are about to do.

Because of course it will all be worth it.New beginnings, a new way of life.The dawn is lightening the sky already.

We will be ready.

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Decompressing

I’m slowly decompressing from work life.

I feel a bit like a balloon that was filled to capacity and at maximum tension. I bobbed along but was always conscious that everything was taut and there wasn’t much stretch left.

Not much capacity for squeezing in the good stuff, like realising dreams.

In the last week since finishing work I’ve been sleeping a lot. It feels as if someone has undone the knot at the neck of the balloon and is letting the air escape very slowly. I’m feeling as if there’s a bit of room now, with the balloon deflating a little more with each day that passes.

That’s a good thing. It’s freeing up some mental capacity for the lists that we’re building of things that have to be done before the move. Things that will help us realise the dream. Financial planning, changes of address, tools to buy for the build, sequencing the build plans, packing, clearing out things we no longer need. The list is a long one and continually being added to.

Those that know me will smile when they hear that the first thing I’ve bought for the static to keep us on track with the build tasks is a whiteboard…

I can see it now. Cold, frosty morning starts, piled-on old jumpers and big socks, mugs of coffee and bowls of porridge, and a morning stand-up to go through the priority tasks of each day.

Maybe retirement isn’t going to be that different to corporate life after all. Except so much more fun. Agile team leads, eat your heart out 😊