Don't let precious time slip through your hands
Yes, I did question the sanity of it. Sat outside a restaurant in the Cotswolds, sipping a nice pint of Donnington's Gold, soaking up the sun in a jumper and leather jacket.
But nippy though it may have been, the sun was out, and from here on in, the temperatures are only heading one way. And given the looming threat of more lockdown restrictions, this could be the last chance we get this year to enjoy the sunshine. You have to seize these opportunities while you can.
Last month marked my 25-year anniversary with this newspaper. Nothing particularly special in that, there are many fine people here who have served considerably longer, and achieved far more, but it did make me stop to consider how quickly the time had gone. One minute you're a thrusting young hack wondering what the future holds, the next you're a misanthropic cynic, wondering where it all went. Actually, I was always a misanthropic cynic, but I have spent the past quarter of a century fine-tuning these skills to a level I could never have dreamed of back then. Which, I guess, has sort of answered my original question about what the future would hold.
But where do the years go? Well, when you drill down the numbers, you start to find we don't have quite as many of them as we like to think.
