I'm working in a factory, in a very noisy, dirty, and unfriendly place with very little job security and a lousy salary. It is very far and I get up at 5.30 and get back home at 7, spending a good two and half hours of my day driving through thick traffic. Evenings I spend trying to make sense out of ltd company finance and obligations, working on till late preparing quotes for projects that are not taking off, making lunches for the next day without fail, interviewing people for a room in our house, and trying to stay atop of my chores and errands around the house and others; like fixing breaks on the car I'm using every day, etc. 

It's been hectic. Got the work at the end of July. It's better, in some ways, than sitting at home gazing at the clouds running past, unemployed, and purposeless. 

When I manage to squeeze it in, I run and cycle and exercise. And it's quite often actually. I'm the strongest I've been in five years and I've never been this fast running. I'm at my natural weight and I'm trim af. I've got here by being regular, persistent, and intelligent; This time, I didn't completely blow my top off and get injured at the start, by being strict with my selves, not tough as I would in the past. (I got my self some deep blisters there at one point, but that's like nothing compared to the usual) 

I can do all this usually when it's for something. But, this arrangement obviously absolutely refuses the target of becoming a commercial pilot. The money is not enough, time is even less available. Income security, also important, nonexistent. Outlook for the future is dismal as all's been dismal this year, brexit is getting ever funnier and the Aviation industry is in tatters.

So, what's been keeping me going. Apart from my wonderful friends, my stubbornness and a lot of fruit. 

I had fallen in love. And when I'm there, I fly through anything. 

It was in the end a shorter story than I would have liked it to be, the feelings were not mutual and now I feel a bit more alone than I did before. But, it woke me up from this lockdown slumber. It made me fight where I was just going through the motions. And it made me think, big time. 

As suspected, this powerful medium within me emerging again with a clear direction, took on everything. As expected, it took zealously against flying. (this supports the theory I had about preferably staying off women until the PPL's done. The theory was that I should. :D)

It didn't win. but it did take it off of its pedestal. And I only wonder how it would have faired had the romance continued. I felt ready to prioritise...

Children in five months. two years max. I said no way. Naturally, logically, especially due to the nature of the conversation. I didn't take no for an answer, even though I gave one or two as well. And most of this thinking that I did had followed after the affair was actually over.

I went out with a girl one day, thinking, let's be this fellow that goes out with women and has a lot of action like the guys on the tv; no time for love, but avoiding the opposite sex is not healthy either, the PPL's done, the sky is shut and I have a ton of time on my hands. Pretty I'm enough, clever too, unemployed only temporarily and due to a worldwide crisis. 

Obviously, not my thing and it was supposed to be a huge step out of my comfort zone, but forward. And it was. I saw this one girl and went all in like an idiot. (romantic idiot! that's almost not bad :D, to my defense, I was relatively intelligent and slow on stuff but it was a bit of a trap.)

I did get a Story out of it. Some of that human closeness. And I learned. So, all and all, not a success but a stepping stone to it. The shape of the success has changed though; seeing a lot of women and having a lot of action is not the image of it anymore. The image is, I'd say, somewhat more mature. 

The urge in me to fall in love seems to be stronger than the other urges. And there's a great deal of apprehension in me of the consequences of allowing it, and It had the upper hand for a long time. Until this recent bit. 

But I'd like to think that it'd a been relatively controller dip. I retrieved good data. Harnessed the explosion and transformed it into physical fitness. And got over it relatively fast. 

Next, I'll be more in my own corner, watching and guiding, the fighting I leave solely to the flesh an intuition. And a towel throw is an option, it's not like the fight is fair in any way. 

It's not possible to get the partner you want until you know what such a person should be like. And I'm getting there. Another way is to just be happy with what you get. And I can see how that can work for other people.

The above is of past. 

Recently I accepted a job offer. An Interesting and Prospective job in a very nice place near, for good money, the kind of flight-worthy money (Fuk Yea)

I got over that chick and the sour what was left of it in me and I'm not deterred from trying again. And most importantly, I'm still running super fast.

We got a new housemate and this should also reduce some of the existential worries of 2020 and alow me more spare time.

The plan was, and is, to wait for Feb and see what gives and make a decision for the future. But if the new job takes off well, I might take a peek back into the sky before Christmas. No pressure though.

 

no pressure till Feb.

And so it came to pass...

I always want to start with that sentence .. always.
and not only here.
And so it came to pass.
I don't have it from the bible, I have it from Dia blo II, the moldy tower quest in the first act.
That game had been around a lot of my life. Often I listen to its soundtrack.
It's as if a soundtrack to my soul's motions.
Not in a scary way.

I thought of the game some recently, because this odd thought entered my mind;
A call to embrace the abyss. To go to it.
And I thought, where the blast is this coming from?
The vocab is a bit like Diablo, and it feels a bit like that there's this place within me, that where if I go, I'll feel happy, or familiar, or free in some way maybe.
It comes when I find my self in a situation when I overexpose my self to others and become wanting to be alone rather than participating in what's going about.

It feels like that I could push through all that I know and all the processes in my mind that go-on on their own.
Close my eyes, the ones in my mind, that are always searching and observing and trying to understand, to create, to recall, to see, to not see. always at work.
And with these eyes closed, unobserved I could pass through the layers of thought that usually gravitate towards them. Exit the sphere of information that compose the man I am and drift away into the void outside. Not followed by a single thought or feeling. Unobserved I'd drift away from all the love and war, and the thousand natural shock that the flesh is heir to. Far away into the mind not yet occupied by reality. The places where I have not yet become. The abyss.
I imagine it dark and empty and vast and quiet and I'm not in it. I'm it.
Full capacity achieved without the burden of dominion. Featureless yet Glorious, empty but not in lack of content.

I always repress the urge to set on that journey right there and then and promise my self to come back to it in a more suitable situation. Somewhere I won't be disturbed. Or disturbing :D
But without it calling I'm lost for direction. I can't find the eyes inside to cover them, I can't feel them to shut them. My presence in a certain location in my psyche loses its eminence. The sphere loses density and shape.
Much like when the ocean meets the sky is such way that the horizon disappears. And I'm the ocean; calm, but very much alive and quite earthbound.

A desire to transcend would appear to have entered my mind for the first time (first time not out of curiosity but for absolution). I've met a couple of people with such a desire, they used different terminologies and images, but all of them were in an unhappy place.
And, undoubtedly, I'm in a place like that now myself.
Is this an opportunity? Has a biological mechanism in me been set in motion, giving me an ability to dislocate my self from a situation through internal restructuring?
Where are the days gone, when touching the infinity was on the absolute top of my desires, far ahead of anything else, and at the end of all my pursuits ... I was immortal then.

I feel very little these days, it's out of necessity, self-imposed.
I'm conserving resources. It's all I do.
I stepped out of this a couple of times recently. And I gushed tears like a shot-up canister.
There's no retreat. There's no surrender.
A storm is inevitably coming, and when it has I will become it.

Until then you will know me as the man I was the last time you saw me.

A set back ..... the kind of fuck me in the face with a pick-axe setback.
I would have thought I didn't need one
BUT ... I did get comfortable... At accepting not getting comfortable so easy.
Mistake. Or two, arguably, I made.
I tell my self quite persuasively that I'd do them again. But have I the right for a slack!?
... there's this ongoing universal disaster ..
Only anger is keeping me from sadness, I think. I should be sad everyone thinks.
Rage will bring me through I'm sure.
I need to give the beast a map though, and fast, lest it burns me...
Yet to my anger, I don't have a plan. I don't have a solution.
I know that it'll be fine. I know that an opportunity will come and I'll power ever on. But I could use feeling like that as well.
And for that, I need to have a plan. So bloody petty.

Just wanted to say that I'm angry. And that it's not a bad thing, for me. Preferable to sades.
And that I yearn to rage but lack a meaningful direction...
And whenever there were too many people who felt like that, it never ended up terribly well.
But, maybe we are mature enough as a society to be able to tell between compassion and cowardice?;
Neither needs be heroic but one of them loves so to be, and only one of them would shoot you in the foot.

And then there are fools.

I've been at home for a full month now. The humanity's had Corona virus.

I'm doing all the things I always wanted to do but didn't have the time. 

The things I always wanted to do but didn't have the time, the things which you can do almost alone at home when all the world around you has stopped and the sky is shut.

I'm quitting weed. 

I know, it sounds like another of the self bestowed restrictions I spoke of earlier that I seem to throw around when things appear to be going less than ideal. But this is something that I've been thinking about a lot for a while. 

I was lucky enough not to have started too early because it wasn't that normal where I was. I'd say that I had periods of consecutive years of occasional to daily abuse (serious word O.O) with, some breaks and in the recent couple of years, it had gotten thicker and thicker. 

I don't really want to write how that happened and don't meant to elaborate how I feel about it to have happened. I don't see my self a victim of it more than I'm a victim of mortality.

I actually have a lot of good memories. At points, it makes you feel and think in spectacular ways. And the exact opposite kind of feelings and thoughts only come much later down the line. It's not the weed, it's the abuse (serious word O.O). I don't meant to write about the effects it has on your mind and the way it makes you experience life either. You either know and appreciate and have no need to read about my experience, or you know but refuse to put two and two together because you haven't yet had a bad enough trip to maybe look for other data than the kind that supports your Precious. (if you fall among the later, or suspect you might, your refusal it's not that you're stupid, it's because it'd be embarrassing and also would mean that there's a lot of work ahead of you. And work is so hard. Especially when you smoke a lot.)

The worst thing about it is that it's not that bad. It doesn't kill as much as the other ones, and it can be safely maintained as a habit for decades until dropped due to midlife crises or some such trauma. Some people apparently, don't really get the bad bits either. 

It's not as bad as alcohol and alcohol is legal, right? And alcohol is legal because it's healthy enough, right? And that's how laws work, right? They are there to help you decide what to do with your life, and they are obviously flawed on this one because alcohol is bad, and therefore smoking weed, logically, is not bad for you. You fucking pothead. 

I first heard this argument, in basic school. It keeps coming back. So yes, alcohol is not bad. Alcohol is great, that's why it stuck around for such a long time. Same with weed. 

It's the abuse. Abuse in any form is bad. So, at what point does this word apply at you relationship with your pot?

Soda (fizzy drink) is really bad for you if it's all you ever drink. And you wouldn't call that abuse. You call that being an idiot or maybe having a limited choice.

I'd say abuse it becomes when you do it for the wrong reasons. Soda you drink when you're thirsty, or for it's taste. With soda, it's all about soda. You don't drink soda to make your chill more relaxed. You don't drink soda because you can do whatever you fucking want to it because you're the boss, or a man, or a bully of any other kind. 

Abusing power to the point of bullying is worse than smoking to relax, obviously. It could be the other way around though: 

Imagine a man, white, big and not terribly bright, terrorising the lights out of some soda in the privacy of his home. And imagine whoever you want, say a talking duck, eating some nice organic tomato to fall asleep better. Because they can't sleep without it.

The obvious points are: The soda hater is a weirdo and ducks don't talk or eat tomatoes (they do). Weed can make everything feel much better. Sleep, food, sex, it makes your imagination fly! But at the point when it's taken over, I call abuse. When you can't relax without it. When you have it before meals to enjoy them more. When you smoke it just so that you can get on with stuff. 

It may not sound like it's unhealthy, you know you can just drop it and go for weeks before you think of it again if it's not around. But's it's taking your freedom away. It creates a debilitating constraint of your consciousnesses. And the longer you abuse it, the longer withdrawal period you are looking at the more cloudy your vision gets. The eminent thing become much more pressing than they are.

So, yea, it's not that bad. Been there, done that, and I'm off. You do what you want, I don't really care.

Why quit? because I can. Life is better without it. I never felt anxiety or depression before I first over done it. But at the same time, I conceived the most entertaining thoughts when I had it. So down with abuse. And once my brains cleared out I'll make my decision on the drug as a whole. They say months, I say, at least. 

Covid isolation is the ideal time to get thorough the initial weeks of withdrawal without it affecting your life pursuits (job, relationships, projects) too much and you can do it clean, without any crutches along the way that might otherwise ensue in alternative bad habits. 

It's not the only thing I'm doing though! But it has an effect on all of them. It always does.

Do or do not, there's no try.

Until trying it is the purpose of you doing obviously.

Try it if you want. It can be really great!

But don't fall for the view that it's mostly good or almost harmless. No matter how normal, the people smoking it around you, tell you it is (even your friends that you love for instance). No matter how many of them there is either. There's a generation out there of whom a large part smokes it like cigarettes. And they are fucked. And it's not their fault either, I blame babyboomers :D as one does.

Just remember, people are stupid and ten people are not any less stupid than one person. Crowd of people is dumber than a cow. That's a fact. It's been measured by top scientists in cern and nasa. The cow didn't fall for any lies and didn't follow wrong leaders. It ate a lot of grass, shat and got slaughtered.

What the crowd did you know, the experiment is still on. A lot of silliness ... It's good to be with the crowd, but don't be the crowd. (Especially near cliffs.)

The year is 2000 and 20.

It's been some 438 years since a guy thought to assume that some 1582 years before then, a guy who'd eventually go up a cross must have already been about, at least to an extent.

But today, we are not going to talk about this year, or 1582, or Christ.

I'd like to make that promised report on 2019. It doesn't feel too much like something I'd like to write about today, but today it also feels the least like that I don't really want to. So let's see what happens;

In the year 2019:
I learned to fly airplanes. A great deal of the nice weathered weekends I'd go to the airport and practice flying. I spent two weeks in the summer taking holiday at home, studying, as I did most of the weekends and afternoons of the winter months.
In May I moved to Chiswick with my mates, and in June I bought a car. (which on it's own was an adventure with many of funny bits and some victories and some defeats)
And in July I started flying. It was the best thing in the world. At points I felt happy and content like I haven't in a long time.
I spent some 45 hours of the year airborne. That's counting only the times I was the pilot flying.
It was thrilling. It was hard. It was expensive. It's the best and the biggest thing that I've ever done for my self.
And I need to carry on in it. To carry on with my life.
Yesterday I aced my Final Skills Test. Some paperwork done, I'll be officially a pilot.
I'm good at it. I'm happy at it. And It feels like the thing I've been specifically wired for.

In the year 2019:

I didn't drink. Not a sip. Until the last bit. I couldn't imagine surviving, nay enjoying Christmas and with it connected visit to the old place, without a beer or a couple. And so I drank. I think it was the 1st November that I had concluded that there's no more a need for an absolute restriction. I had a glass of wine at dinner. I'd have a sip of something after then, here and there but I'd never really drink. (until the very last bit)

There was a point in time when I believed I realised that I'm dealing with everything in my life that's not going the way I like by imposing restrictions and sanctions on my self.
I'd forbid my self this and that in futile attempts to restore the rain of my will.
Or to regain sense of dignity after painful soul searches would lead me to the conclusion that I was simply unable to make my mind on items that I'd never struggle for clarity at in the past.
I concluded that I was wasting the precious resource of time. And I believed that by making an item illegal I'd reclaim the heaps of time otherwise wasted by further pondering.
And I did. At a cost I think. Not holding off till I have clarity as I thought but building a moat between my self and others.
I feel ever more alone. Yet, somehow, I yearn to be even more alone. Free of the distraction that sharing time with others imposes, the detours from purpose, the concessions at my interests and communications I have to be constantly making just to fit in. And the never ceasing emotional and bodily demands people so readily impose at each other.
So to wrap up this inconsistent drivel; It was hard not to drink, then it was easy not to drink, and then it was pointless not to drink. And overall it was a very healthy way of stirring up the old self. It gave me some deep insights and gave me a pile of material that I'll be rummaging through and learning from in years to come.
I also drink a lot less. Nearly not at all, compared with how I drank before. It's not desirable any more. Some might say that it is just because I'm not in my twenties any more. I say, maybe.

In the year 2019:
I didn't love much. Nearly at all. And at some points it felt like I was actually trying to keep it like that. Even thought I struggled with some of it's implications.
I'd start dealing with it by denial and carried on through desperation to attempts at acceptance with the help of reasoning.
Which is where I find my self still, less desperate and panicking. Reasoning back through what's been and gone:
I am not. Is the latest, and has been for a while.
I'm in the middle of something, I'm not open to the wider world. I was open to it a lot in the past. It was awesome and it was awful. It wasn't productive. At points it was dead on detrimental. I'm not who I was and I'm not yet anyone else either.
I'd think for a bit too that I was broken. And I retained the thought for a bit too, because it was so comforting, as it meant it was not my fault.
This is something that happened at the start of the year and was a result of happenings of the previous years, up to some ten of them I'd say.
I think it was me making a decision without speaking it out clearly enough for all of my self to get on board in time.
I need to do things differently. I have to do them my way and I have to figure out which way that is. Humans are inherently terribly selfish and not to be relied upon until one's able to totally abandon their senses and just see whatever they are sold. And I'm not ready for that, it's not something achievable for me even if i tried. (Why would anyone not want to believe in god or love?)
I have no doubt that I do come across as selfish as anyone else does. But I have no way of being so, I have no self that I'd put first.
I have self that I'm aware of and maintain it for logistical purposes, I have a self that I know of from observations, they are a recluse creature that keeps to them selves and I have a self that I struggle to always appreciate as someone I'd like to be seen as, but if shit needs get done, they are the best. Anyone that is genuine enough and not too simple and at the same time willing to open up to me is so much more interesting and worthwhile to me than I. They always were, their souls and minds so much more interesting than the old ones of mine.
Indifference I put in place of compassion. It's so much less selfish and distracting that it almost feels like the wrong way, but it only does so when I'm failing to embrace it.

In the year 2019:
Nothing happened, but many things began.
The year 2020:
Will be a year that what began in 2019 carried on happening, some ripening before winter come, none concluding any time soon. I have finished my PPL, but that really is just a beginning.
As a result of 2019 happenings I quit my job to emancipate my self some more. It's not this years decision, it's last years result. It took some and it awarded some back.

2019 had all the marks of a breaking point. It was long and stressful. It was full of happy days and fantastic experiences.

I was really anxious for something good to happen this year as well, after all it's mid March and the year's been nothing but utterly shit. But yesterday I finished my PPL and that's a Good thing. I'm sure all the other stuff Including this Corona thing will eventually bear good in it. But so far so shit.
Next on today is to consider and plan my first licensed solo flight.
I'd like to fly high. Higher than I've ever flown under my own steam. At least 8000ft! I think I'm goig to look into that. (One doesn't get too high training in England, from an airport within Heathrow CTR, It's a mine field of controlled airspace to all directions and especially up. I can only fly to less complicated skies than the one I learned in as there is none that is more.)

You see? I've already abandoned writing about the last year and writing about things ahead!
I am indeed very excited for those. And I'll tell. Only just not yet.

Don't know what it is, the weather, the winter, maybe brexit, maybe just my personal circumstance? But it feels like it's going to shits over here. Over here I mean UK.
I have to admit that recently I've had more and more niggles at the back of my brain to pack up and ship off to some place less old and deranged. (I used to like both of these qualities of the place)
However, all these feelings might be simply based on my struggles to finish my PPL due to weather, broken planes, ill instructors and overall feeling that the school I've chosen, and with massive effort and expense got through all the way up to the last step to take, is about to be swallowed by the grass below it, never to be heard of or looked for again. Piss is being taken, whether because they are incompetent or in trouble is yet to be confirmed and until then I'm to remain nervous about how much more shit to brace for or whether possibly for a total disaster. This being amplified by spending a weekend with a finally great flying weather on the ground.
Maybe it's all because my job that I love, but have been doing for a company that is not going anywhere but up a wall, again and again and I've been telling my self for the past six months to stay, no matter how hard it gets, at least till the PPL is done in the sake of financial stability.  And the PPL would not bloody happen and another year with them's been started. And in two days I'll sit yet another personal development review*, listening to heaps of codswallop from Buckinghamshire's 'any conversation has a winner and a looser' debate champion and his halfwit minion that is well know for saying a lot eehms and empty/dumb sentences very loudly and repeatedly.
Yes, I'm angry. Mostly at my self really;
- the PPL could have been better planned (not sure how, but a reflection is never a bad thing). I could be much stronger with the school and maybe, just maybe, it would have a positive effect. Or the opposite. I'll never know I think, I just feel like pinching them up a bit might make the building go down. Or is it that I just find it hard to fend for my self? This doubt I think is the source of the anger on this one. Apart for the fact that it's been dragging a bit. (which is the case but knowing my self, I might be worrying needlessly.)
- work? I told my self in April that in September's *PDR I'll get what I'm due salary-wise and that the Edinburgh job will have to come out of review to have made a profit, or I'm off.
The September PDR didn't happen because shit was up. Some people quit, some were sacked and it seamed bleak for a bit. The post project reviewed showed shit profit, mostly by fuckups of my boss (the minion) .. and eventually completely ruined by snags coming back after a half a year. If it was the first time that this same snag came back and not after we piled up a load of bullshit on the clients head that it's going to be fine this time because we know what we are doing. (this is a sit-wrap, there's more, but at least this I should remember fro this chapter to make sense.)
So what angers me, apart for not having fucked off yet, is that coming back from the Christmas holiday I found my self full of hope and somewhat yearning to work ever harder and push through. Which is really nice, to have this energy and will to fight on despite odds, but in this case it's really just working against me.
Having a strong infantry is great, but they need to be deployed effectively. And as much as I like playing the trooper, soldiering ever onwards, I'll have to play the general for a bit and reassess my allegiance, regroup and re-deploy. All very coldly in a calculated manner.
This sense however, that not all might be lost and this will to overcome has in the meanwhile woven a couple of ideas in my mind. The kind of little hopes and fears one instils in the mind of little ones to carry them through the worst, the kind of ideas that will afterwards easily be forgotten. Replaced by the memories of feats in the battle past.
The fears; Breaking hearts again, leaving after so much history, without explanation as the explanation is far from comprehensible outside my mind (yes, partly because I'm so much smarter then everyone (...no) and because I have a very complicated personality, which due to it's demand for constant thinking might be making me appear thoughtful or focused or confused). This sense of senselessness only heightened by the fact that I stayed with them through the worse. Flipping out, cursing and moaning, but persevering, I might have made them feel like there must be something else, more, that's making me stay.
The hopes: I asked my self one day, when far removed from the reality of the whole circus, what would have to happen so that I'd stay. So that I'd go back on my Septembers decision to sod off.
And I gave my self an answer and have subconsciously been looking for the signs of it actually happening ever since. Like the little monkey I am. The condition, I was hoping, would be far-fetched enough not to give them the chance to sway me; give me the department and give me the deserved pay rise plus the previous one and promise me again that they'll get me trained, this time with a date on the promise so I can flip the second it's due.
And in two days I'll see what they have come up with. The way of the world is that if you want something, you have to ask for it. And I'm not going to do that. I'd only consider it if it came from the other side. (which would be why my love calendar is so bleak :D) This, from my point of view, is the way forward and they must know it. This is what I went in with. And I fought and endured enough.
Though, the necessary breaking off from the comradery since gained hangs heavily on my hearth. When in September I realised that I'll be scarifying my peace in heart by carrying on for a bit longer I had no idea what I was headed for.
And this leads us to the last but not least focal point of my anger; I despise and pity my self for being weak. Been born with talent, health, wonderful childhood, stimulating environment and endowed with powerful body and mind, I aw and crumble under the weight of my vast conciseness. Fucking twat, narcissist defined. I despise and hate my self for being emotional hypocrite, anxious and doubtful. I hate at my self just to hold on and contain, not let a smallest grain of my disappointment and sadness see the light of the world.
I comfort my self  with knowledge that this is what every anger feels like and that it eventually goes. And Is disassembled by a sober thought, identified and handed over to the ministry of love for processing.
At the end of this low, as I decided to call them, is me, me with new poise for life, with new clarity on things, prone to hope and confidence. I would have to see the rest of the future unfurl in front of my eyes before i'd ever accept that he could have ever failed (I'm now sinking as I continue to write what I can't but write) At least in the long run.

So, this is how I imagine the world works. Our image of reality is built on perception of it through our senses and our empathy. We think, oh poor doggy, it's hind legs are limping, because we'd feel really upset if it were us. And ever on, we, not completely un-rightfully assume that that's how every one else alive should probably feel.
I see world of constant struggle for balance. In turmoil of wars for power concealed in the haze of heightened general murmur. A frail web of truth stretched under the weight of all the memories past caught and wrapped, in secure grip, in place where they make sense.

At points it gets difficult. At points it's unbearably wonderful. Can't wait . But em.

Everything learned has a knock-on effect on everything known. From presence to the past and from the past to the future and the older I get the more I have to constantly be reassessing due to new evidence of me found to piece and hold the picture together. Whilst the chapters of the story roll steadily on, leaving me less and less time to live in my worlds. In stead I'm endlessly wandering through the plains of my psyche, reassuring all it's scattered peoples not to hurt so much because all their struggling will have led to something good.


Well, I needed a moan.

I'll write about the last year next time. When i have finished what I've set my self to finish in it. In a better state of mind and on the horse again.
It was a good year, a great one indeed. It deserves a better report. It will have it too.