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Quitting the Rat Race

Retiring to Live by the Sea and Write Books – My Fake Journal – Episode 6

This morning I woke up on the deck under three fluffy blankets and some red and white striped bed socks. It was the sound of the park maintenance guys going by on their quad bike slash golf buggy. I sit up, noticing the storm lanterns have burned out their candles and Willows face pressed against the side window. She disappears once she satisfies herself that I’m still alive.

Aunty came over last night on the way back from her night walk with Fender and we sat out chit-chatting ’til the wee hours. After she left I just couldn’t be bothered to move. The tide was right up to the sea wall – a sloping pile of giant boulders – so I think I just stayed there. The rats that live under the sea wall come up when the tide is that high, which immediately made me think of an old horror novel.

I peel off my furry blankets and stand up to do a bit of stretching and take some deep breaths while I’m at it. With my arms at my side I imagine I’m trying to touch the floor with my fingers and after a few more breaths my shoulders pop back into line. I bend over and just hang there to stretch my back and legs out before slowly standing up again and doing some sleepy head rolls.

Satisfied, I head back in, put the coffee on and do the bathroom thing and get dressed. After topping up Willows water fountain and pouring a coffee into my mug, I head back out.

I go left on the sand today, which has a whole different vibe. Instead of passing caravans, I pass houses. There’s also something about this side of the beach – as it stretches for miles – going right goes about three quarters of a mile to the cafe and the, what would you call it, peninsula?

I walk for pleasure always, nothing more than a comfortable amble in the morning, just enjoying where I am. Movement is the key to me, as is enjoyment. I do like power walking, but I do it later in the day on my second or third beach walk. As I walk I notice the sand changing, from flat and damp to dry and fluffy – I know that’s about fifteen minutes. I find a huge lump of driftwood and sit on it to drink my coffee. I slip my trainers off and let my toes mooch around in the sand for a bit.

As the dog walkers go by, I name the breeds in my head. Jack Russell, Labrador, German Shepherd, even a Pomeranian that looks like a furry tumbleweed as it tries to run for a ball that’s almost as big as him.

When the coffee’s finished I decide to do a quick meditation, and instead of focusing on my breath, I focus on the sand under my feet. My mind wanders briefly to the moment I’m going to have to get the sand out of my trainers when I get back, but if that’s the only problem I have today, that’ll do.

About this Series

‘My Fake Journal’ is a self-visualization. It is my future life happening right now. These entries will form part of a book called ‘Quitting the Rat Race’.

Read from Episode 1

About Samantha Dee

Author, Writer, Editor, Coach, Mother of Cats.

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