Back on the Treadmill

I am always fascinated by working flour mills in this country. Continual grinding of wheat into flour; flour into bread and cakes and biscuits - the staff of life.

In my cupboard I have flour from two different flour mills: one is from Rudyard Kipling's home and the other is from Castle Carew in West Wales. I have yet to make bread or cakes or biscuits from either with my grandchildren, but when I do, I shall tell them stories about either origin so that the biscuits will taste all the more better.

Now that Christmas is over and there have been no arguments in the house, in fact, all has been very well; another good Christmas with my daughters. I now look forward to the year ahead, differently from the last two New Years when my heart was full of trepidation and fear. What else could befall me and turn my world upside down? This time, I feel that there are better times ahead; that I will find my purpose; my reason to go on; my raison d'etre. Am I just thinking wishfully? No. Not this time. I feel it in my bones. I will make headway this coming year and look forward, not back.

I no longer want to work for anyone, especially a large corporate organisation. I want to work for myself. I still have at least 30 years ahead of me and I want to do something worthwhile and for me as well as others. Positive thoughts. I hope they last.

When the children arrive with me for the last few days of the Christmas holidays I shall bring out the flour that originate from the old working mills and tell them stories from Rudyard Kipling and of battles of Castle Carew as we eat our biscuits and bread made from the wheat of nearby fields where men surely died in battle in years gone by.