Every once in a while I'll remark upon the passing of time, how that passing creeps up on us, surprises us - is it such-and-such month already? How can that be? This has never been so apparent as today.

It's September! How? That just seems impossible.

It's been a chilly start to the day (up at 5:30 for a 6:30 start) and the evenings have been getting noticeably darker. I'll be taking our youngest daughter back to university at the weekend and the pressure is really on to get a new job before the impending return to office. Everything tells me what time of year it is yet, with how 2020 has been, it's still almost unfathomable.

I wrote in the latest muse-letter about how it is so easy to fall into a routine, or more precisely a rut, and that has never been more the case than now, this year, with everything that has been happening. I'm almost minded to use that famous Ferris Bueller quote but have already done so this year, even before lockdown started. And here I am, six months later, having let so much pass me by.

Perhaps I'm being too hard on myself, the whirlwind has been enough to knock anyone off their stride and I know I'm far from the only person feeling like this but I can't help feel I could have done more, been more proactive, not settled for how things were.

Things will never be normal again, at least not the old normal, so we must adapt and make the most of what we have. More importantly, we should not take anything for granted; as has been shown, what we think of as immutable can be taken from us just like that (snaps fingers!)

And when I say 'we' I really mean 'I'.

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