I had already tweeted my excuse. Banged my bad leg yesterday, still in agony, couldn’t possibly do day 1. Then I thought of some of my friends, one who posted in thankfulness that he hadn’t expected to see 2015 at all, others who who have battled depression and other debilitating diseases and have achieved wonderful things, and I felt very very ashamed. So I strapped the offending leg into its splint, and set off round the block.
The lights were on in the Church Hall, so I stopped to say hello to our toddlers, who were contentedly spreading themselves out all over the floor while their carers imbibed coffee and spoke of being “out of the house”. I wandered on, round the medieval part of the village, with its tiny criss crossings of streets lining old house plots, and thought of those who have gone before me, while the drizzle settled gently on my coat. There is something reassuring about feeling part of a place.
I was out of the house for 15 minutes, and I feel better for it. Janathon has begun!