You Can Go Your Own Way

In a deviation to The Twelve-Week Challenge blog (Day 37 will follow at its usual time later this evening), I decided it was time to write a ‘normal’ blog.

I arrived in London around lunchtime, having travelled down from Chesterfield on the National Express coach this morning.  I think I might write a blog about that too, but I’ll put that under a separate heading.   It’s far too humorous to include in this blog, in which I need to talk about serious stuff.

Anyway, where was I?  That’s right, I was on the bus, and as we drove down the motorway, the sun was shining.  The further we got from the snow in South Yorkshire, the sunnier it became, and by the time we reached the Nation’s capital it was really sunny with bright blue skies.  As we drove through London towards Victoria, I knew.  I knew this is where I’m meant to be.

Upon arrival at my hotel, I had a bath, which was just the loveliest thing ever.  I live in a house where it takes hours to fill the tub, and when you get in, you are still only sat in about two inches of water, which is normally freezing.  I like baths, especially with candles and a glass of wine.  They relax me no end, and considering how stressed I’ve been the last few years, would have done me the world of good.  Hence why diving straight into the tub upon arriving my hotel was such an important thing for me.

After my bath, I headed for the pool.  I was disappointed that the hotel no longer had a sauna, but 40 laps of the warm pool with the sun streaming through the glass roof did go somewhat towards relaxing me in lieu of the hot, Scandinavian invention.

After my swim, I headed back up to my room and prepared to head out for lunch.  Despite my exercise, before I arrived at the hotel earlier, a girl had been handing out vouchers for McDonald’s, and being a student, figured should go for the cheap option, rather than a more expensive, healthy option.

I had just pressed the button on the lift, feeling quite good about myself, when my mobile rang.  The number was a mobile I didn’t recognise.  Hoping it might be about one of the jobs I have applied for, I answered it.

It wasn’t someone ringing to offer me an interview.  It was the debt collection agency, about that bloody unpaid water bill.

They asked me to make the full payment today; I told them I could not.  I agreed to pay it next week, after the next instalment of my student loan.  They agreed to knock 25% off the price if I arranged a payment for next week today.

I thought back to all the phone calls I’d had years before, demanding when a payment would be made, and I vowed I would not live through that again.

As I sit here in Costa, writing this blog, I don’t feel as upbeat as I did upon arriving in London earlier today.  My mood has been dampened by that phone call.

I know I am on the right path though.  For upon starting this blog, the song that came out of the Costa speakers was ‘Go Your Own Way’ by Fleetwood Mac.  As you’ll know if you’re a regular reader of this blog, that song has become somewhat of an anthem for me, after hearing it played in the Hard Rock Cafe in Venice three years ago, sat on my own, two months after separating from my husband.

That song stands as a reminder that I have done the right thing.  While I have never doubted my decision, the choice to live life alone, outside of that institution of marriage, has been very tough at times.  There have been occasions when I haven’t wanted to continue to follow my dreams; when I have wondered what the hell I am doing whether all the heartache is worth it.

But every so often I get a sign, a reminder that I’m on the right track.   The right track, in this case, is ‘Go Your Own Way’.  And I am doing.

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