As I sit here feeling pretty smug that I have filled in my tax return, it did nothing to help my melancholy at losing my friends.
Both kinds. My books. And the human flesh kind.
Misplaced or displaced in the move.
As I reviewed and retraced my steps of the tax year end FY17, I saw how many books I bought and authors, who became my closest advisors, my confidants and somewhere I could lose myself.
And I also saw how many local friends I had to pop in or pop round to for a quick coffee; coffee dates littering my diary.
But books are books. And while I may have lost my scribbles and turned corners of my favourite pages, maybe it is a sign I need to re-read them, this time with my refreshed eyes.
And good friends are still good friends, no matter how far. And a move has brought forth many new people, who are becoming good friends.
As we set off before the crack of dawn this morning, we were witness to the most incredible red sun, rising into the pale blue dawn sky, over the white wintry fields. Nature has the most wondrous way of showing that as a pale sun goes down on one day, one chapter, one story, it can be reborn with glory and fire on the next.