Last year I was captivated by a short series on television called Retreat: Meditations from a Monastery. It consisted of three hour long programmes about the day to day life of three Benedictine monasteries in the UK. The commentary was minimal, the effect mesmeric. I then read a fascinating book about Julian of Norwich, a 14th century anchoress, written by the wonderful Janina Ramirez. I know, who would have thought it? I can read! Since then I have had a compulsion to get away for a couple of days, on my own, for a peaceful and perhaps reflective time. I didn’t want it to be structured or themed. I certainly didn’t want to be bricked up in a cell for the rest of my life. I wanted to make the rules and break them if I felt the need. Chocolate was to be involved. The thought of a little self-enforced solitude (and hopefully be able to get stuck into some serious writing) sounded idyllic. To suit myself; eat when I was hungry, sleep when I was tired, have a little company when needed.
And that is just what I have done this weekend. I didn’t wear a watch all weekend, when I went for a walk I didn’t take a camera, there was no social media. And it was wonderful.
Thanks Mr and Mrs Bun, it was just perfect.