Looking Happy This Month – 
For days I sat trying to work out what my next newsletter would say. The problem was that I’ve been in my self-induced isolation, serenely looking at my mountain each day so there really wasn’t anything new that had happened. At this time of year, Mauritius clears out because at 22ºC we freeze our paradisiac bums off. Anti-cyclonic winds blow and the idea of going out for a social cocktail gets put aside for a cosy hot chocolate.
At first, I was inspired to write about Usain Bolt who is an unlikely hero for me. To me, the idea of a good run is sitting back and bingeing on the first two seasons of “Better Call Saul” but Usain Bolt intrigued me. His reason for winning his first race was for a free lunch and that somehow launched him into his career. With his height and skew back he shouldn’t be able to run as fast as he can. He simply should not be the fastest man on earth.
Then I thought of Bruce McLaren. A winner and a loser of note. At nine years Bruce was struck down with a childhood illness which forced him to lie flat on his back for two years. It left him with one leg shorter than the other and the determination to live his life to the fullest. By the age of 14 he won his first car race and at 33 he died testing his newly designed car. Today his Formula 1 cars continue to win races.
It gave me hope, not because it made me feel like I can run, god I definitely can’t run, and although I regularly exceed the speed limit, I’m not thinking of joining a racing club any time soon. But the thing is that I can’t spell. My grammar is bad, and don’t even get me started on what the passive voice is. I literally have to go back and re-read each sentence I write and add the words “by zombies” in to see if I am using it. But here I sit, half dyslexic, telling my story. Writing a book. Becoming an author.
Doctor Who once looked straight through my TV screen and told me, “You think it’ll last forever: people and cars and concrete. But it won’t. One day it’s all gone. Even the sky.” I know he thought he was talking to Rose at the time, but it was me who heard him. Me, the one who hated learning. The one who doesn’t know how to be around teachers without falling into a childish quiver. Unsure, complicated, strong and weak all at the same time. I was the one that heard him and I clearly heard his message. Nothing stays the same. And for me, that is a good thing. Never mind winter folks, Summer is coming and ya know what? So is my book.
