I’m starting this blog from my bed on a Saturday night. It’s wasn’t my plan. The plan was to be in the motorhome at Penvose Farm Campsite near St Mawgan, a “family" campsite. We tried one night and I can report, of all the places we’ve parked our motorhome or previously parked our camper van or touring caravan or trailer tent, here or abroad, we’ve never left early.
At the campsite on one side of us was a 30th birthday party with 16 participants. The other side there was a group of people amounting to about 40 partying and driving about the campsite until about 3am. Charming. They were planning to party proper tonight. With Louie, a 6 year old and Mila a 3 year old in a tent alongside (with mum and dad) it was totally unacceptable. We left and had a refund.
I’m telling you this because it wasn’t our plan.
We all make plans, some of us more than others. Some plans are more detailed than others. I like to plan. Occasionally I make a rod for my back but I rectify that pretty quickly.
Now if I plan something I need to work around my increasing lack of stamina. I’m not just talking about lacking physical stamina either. I experience a certain lack of mental stamina as well. I need to plan around eating, the time of day, what I did yesterday, what I want to do tomorrow and so on. I’m generally good in the morning, rubbish in the afternoon and a bit better again in the evening. I might get up reasonably early but I can only do that because I often go to bed early. Those who see me are generally seeing me on a planned occasion. What you may see on a Thursday morning at a coffee gathering usually precedes, (what you don’t see), an afternoon asleep.
Phone calls are spookily tiring. Sometimes I think they’re much more tiring than talking face to face. Driving is tiring, being a passenger is sometimes more tiring. I almost never venture far away from home in the evening. All my energy is in the morning.