Read Me, Seymour.


There’s a lot to be said for putting aside some time for reading, which I did today.

I’m in a strange no-man’s land after last week’s hectic ending, which has been reemphasised by my wife visiting her mum today to help clear out her shed. I still have lots to do - lots I tell you - but the urgency’s lessened for the first time in weeks; it’s a temporary respite or the calm before the storm, depending on how you look at it.

Consequently, I spent the afternoon getting better acquainted with Robert Harris’ latest novel 'Munich', which my wife bought me for my birthday. This was a much-needed treat; it felt good to do something for the enjoyment instead of filling every free minute with work.

I spend too much time trying to be productive, seeking to cram in as much as I can. My journeys to and from Brighton last week were a perfect case in point, as I was on my computer hroughout. While it’s great to make the most of the time available, there’s a lot to be said for doing nothing too or for allowing yourself to escape. It's useful for creativity anyway, as it’s when you’re not consciously working that the best ideas come up. 

Although I find myself asserting this, I’m aware I seldom put it in practice. Perhaps I should take a leaf out of my own book by taking the receipt I’m using as a bookmark out of it too? We can all do with a little brain-space occasionally, and if reading about Nazi Germany relaxes me then so be it.

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