In the Bleak Midwinter

 Traditionally I hate the 2nd of January. National hangover day. Back to work if your not a teacher day. My birthday. Last year I  seriously considered changing it to something more friendly, less hardcore, like the 2nd of July. But no. My mum went through several days of labour and that is when I arrived. Three decades and some ago. So January the 2nd it is. I always plan to do something. So that I can pretend to the world that I'm happy. Having a good time. Pleased that everywhere is closed. Pleased that everyone is broke. On my thirtieth everywhere was really and genuinley closed. I had fish and chips with my nearest and dearest on the dining room floor. Can't quite remember why it was the floor... Anyway. This year, today, somehow went to plan. Was tentatively quite perfect. The Yorkshire Sculpture Park. Again (of course). Nothing had changed. No new works. But that was what made it right. I like that that things change so slowly there. I need the YSP to be constant. I rely on it. The seasons change around the artworks. That's what works for me. Today was about wrapping up warm. Donning wellies. Watching my daughter run with her cousins. Pretending to sound knowledgeble to my brother. Showing off my beloved sculpture park to people I love and willing them to love it too. Today I actually quite liked my stupid birthday...