Our interest in local matters is waning. We’re very close to having exhausted all that we wished to have accomplished. Precisely three weeks from tomorrow we’ll be headed back to Canada. As the crowds begin to erupt here the proximate environment is increasingly less brookable though admittedly we’ve been spoiled by enviable serenity throughout the winter. It is what we anticipated would be the case.  Frankly I’ve become preoccupied instead with the domestic agenda which awaits and which has by design incrementally mounted over the past several weeks.  There are objectives which can only be fulfilled on home turf. As well we spoke today with a dear friend in Toronto and have begun planning a get-together in the middle of the summer. Our projection is now predominantly forward-looking.

It is propitious that our Harbour Town residency affords ample diversion within mere steps. What was previously an insatiable palate for cycling and the beach has given way to a softer less dominating absorption in the nearby pool and yacht basin, the latter for its photography, the former for its exercise. Nor do I feel any intimidation to extend my erstwhile cycling habit in light of what has been a daily occurrence since last December. If truth be told I conjecture that part of my lower back complication is the result of repeated monotonous drilling. A three-week reprieve is not inappropriate. There is as well attraction to restrained mobility, answerable in part to compatible aging. It is a back-handed privilege one mustn’t forgo!

The denouement has its own allure both for resolution and unraveling. My propensity for activity, while worthy, is nonetheless open to governance. I find it enables deserving abstinence to be on the tattered end of the rope; that is, at the juncture where ambition is singular and not mudded by options. Indeed it borders on judicious!