I never have been any good at decision making, and now I can’t decide whether to go to the Hampshire Record Office or spend the day walking, enjoying the sunshine that is forecast.
I had planned to go to Winchester this Saturday, but as this looks like the best day of the bank holiday weekend in terms of weather it seems a shame to waste it indoors. For a change I am pretty much ready to go to the Hampshire Record Office, I know what I want to find out and there is no engineering work on the railway (which is unusual for a bank holiday weekend!)
Pulling me in the opposite direction are the fields and hedgerows, the hills and valleys, the churchyards and gravestones, but most of all the thought of spending some time on my own, going where I like. Just me, a map, my walking boots and enough money for a pub lunch.
Perhaps it’s living with the British weather that does this? Does something deep inside me make me feel the need to seize the opportunity and get out into the countryside and enjoy the sunshine because it might be the last chance I get this year (which is silly because summer is just around the corner).
I wonder if my ancestors ever had this much trouble making decisions?