This is the concrete bunker that leads through to the carpark in Salamanca Square, which is built into an old quarry. I think that it looks suitably World War Two.
On occasion I drift into moments of Zen-like prescience, peace and composure. Of course, these moments represent diversions from the reality of the daily grind of waking up, rustling up Weet-Bix for Henry, shower, dress, bus, work, lunch, work, bus, rustling up Henry dinner, washing children, sleep, rinse, repeat.
What I want to know is whether Zen is fulfilment or exertion? Permanent or transitory? Arrival or journey?
Would we want it to be permanent?
Comments
Yes that pic is scary!Reminds me of a bad nightmare.
Give it time...
A permanent journey to exertion (and exhaustion).
I don't know how people got by in air raid shelters.
I've already got Henry wanting to do all sorts of things in the kitchen.
One day he shall be making MY dinner.
Father worked away.
I regret that I never really had the opportunity.
Honestly, I really don't mind most nights. The boys help in most other ways if I need it and they do cook a meal if I insist.
And I think it is quite lovely that you do so much with your boys. I am sure they will (and do) appreciate it...as well as Jen.