I’m not sure I can bring myself to talk about money this week. I’m on vacation for starters and secondly I happen to be on vacation in a place where everything that I might want doesn’t cost very much.
My own peat fire at night, an ocean vista, tea brewed with mint and chocolate (not that this is from the local area, but still …)
At the moment I’m sitting in Oliver’s pub in Cleggan where people wait for the ferry to Inishbofin (which translates from the Irish into Island of the White Cow), the largest island off the coast of Connemara. My chief concerns over the past few days have been:
- Shall I let the daddy long legs hanging above my bed live?
- Is there a superior way of cutting the freshly-baked bread so that I don’t smoke out the toaster next time ’round?
- As I pull up the comfy chair to look out the window at the sea and read my book do I want to face the mountains to the south or the cove and the bay towards the North?
And so it really is all about money.
If you count leaving the day job behind and journeying to ancient places to do nothing much but explore — if I use the Thoreau measure of things — to value experiences by the amount of hours it took for to earn the money to fund them…
But other than that it’s pretty hard to think about money. Which reminds me of an article I posted on Facebook recently. It was about the top 5 regrets people have when they’re dying, a list put together by a palliative nurse who over the years of helping people die noticed the remarkable similarity of what most people came to regret. Among the top 5 is ‘I wish I hadn’t worked so hard’.
The other four …
Wishing that we’d had the courage to live a life true to ourselves rather than the life expected of us
Wishing we’d had the courage to express our feelings
Wishing we had staying in touch with friends
Wishing we had realised in time that happiness is a choice.
Anyway — back to my toast and chocolate mint tea and the view of the mountains.