From Mason’s Cabin

Discount rate for the funky cabin, and so another year comes to a close.  The first of many with this one.  A new spot for a polar bear dip, and a nice fire tonight for the burning of the end of year message to the universe.

Quite the magical 365 revolutions, safe flights across the seas, the TRV then PR secured, and 22 weeks into the pregnancy after the initial heartache.  And so 2022 promises more madness, of a unique kind, as we navigate the new waters and search for a new home.

More lessons to be learned all the time, the failure to check in on plans to pop in at the Inch’s leading to a shutdown and worries over emotional neglect and desire for alone time together.  Part of the moods, but incredible how riding the emotions can take its toll.  Goal of not messing up further on such fronts paramount for 2022…

The return to London after missing it in 2020 was a solo highlight for the year, the theatre and the nostalgia and the rest, notably a wifi call from Wembley herself.  Megabus x2 for the win, along with the destruction of Tottenham and so much else.  

Work promises to loom larger next year, although all should prove manageable.  In addition to the hope for a painless welcome into the world for young AA, highlights shall hopefully include a return to the inside of the OT for Paddy’s, Canada’s qualification for Qatar and the purchase of a match ticket or two, and the resumption of the MFA’s 2nd year.

As usual, new stuff to anticipate and old stuff requiring thankfulness.  The start of the year brings with it the goals of improvement, and I’d like to see if we can make the run to Robbie with an eye on health, avoidance of the social, and corresponding increases in reading and writing.  Cleansing some old crap also on the cards.

With any luck, next year’s checkin at this time will be the first as a papa.  Welcome, welcome, as they sung at the Royal.  Enjoy your stay and stay blessed one and all.