Keeping One's Own Company

Anne Bronte is buried in St Mary's Churchyard, Scarborough.

I stand at the top of the old graveyard, trying to ignore the fact that the lower half of it has now been pressed into service as a car park, and think about Anne, her sisters, and their utterly extraordinary lives.

Despite the cars, it is a tranquil resting place, on top of a headland which looks down upon the sea; and because it is almost dusk, there are very few people about. I'm glad that I have had the opportunity to come and stand here, if only for a few moments, while my husband and his mother patiently wait for me on a bench on Queen's Parade.

I stopped reading for pleasure about two years ago. I stopped reading because (I claimed) I never had time, that my head had too much occupying it for me to concentrate, and that I left such long gaps between picking up the book I was reading, that I invariably had to go back to the start to remind myself of what was going on.

The truth was that I allowed work to totally take over my life.
Which was (sort of) fine until it all went wrong and I realised what a bloody, stupid fool I had been.

Last week I finished work early ("early" as in - ummm - 2pm !!) and went off to spend the afternoon at the V & A. I split my time between the Ballgowns exhibition, and an unexpectedly fascinating exhibition about the work of the Heatherwick Studios. As always, it felt so good to be transported into different worlds, populated by different characters.

I could have asked someone to come with me. And sometimes I do, because it is lovely to share these experiences with someone. But at other times, I like to be on my own. I am very comfortable with my own company. Perhaps too much so.

When I applied for my current job some years ago, I was warned that much of the work would be away from the main office, often working self-reliantly and on one's own. I assured the interviewers that this would present no problems for me; and over time thus it proved, . But about two years ago, I accepted greater responsibilities which brought me into contact with the main office staff.  Including The Others....

Yikes.

"Fall back! Fall back!!!"
Sound the retreat.
And get the f*** outta there.

I take one last look at Anne Bronte's battered headstone, and make my way out of the graveyard to rejoin my companions.

Later that night I download (FREE by the way!!) "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall" onto my Kindle.

Even better - I actually start reading it.