As always time is short, diversions are infinite and the things I ought to be doing seem oddly unattractive.
However, I 'm not going to allow myself any serious blogging till I've got to grips with at least some of them, so I'll just tell you quickly about this morning's assembly at Church School in the Valley.
The theme of the week is "Enjoyment" - so clearly the best thing to do would have been to take Libby in, together with a pile of autumn leaves and then let puppy and children live out the theme for 10 chaotic minutes.
I want to be allowed back, though, so we just talked about the things that bring us joy, that turn our lives from black and white to full colour...We noticed that often we could find unexpected enjoyment in things that might appear to be uncomfortable - all of us could remember times when we had fallen over our feet and laid in a heap giggling helplessly.
Then I read a poem I'd found on the rather useful Assemblies website and we gave those things that we would enjoy a thumbs up as I read about them
It's neither great literature, nor great philosophy (and it is attributed to so many authors that I think we'll allow Anon to take the credit) - but it hit the spot

If I had my life to live over again,
I would try to make more mistakes next time;
I'd try not to be so perfect;
I'd relax more, I'd limber up;
I'd be sillier than I've been on this trip;
In fact, I know of very few things I'd take quite so seriously.
I'd be crazier … and I'd certainly be less hygienic;
I'd take more chances … I'd take more trips …
I'd climb more mountains … I'd swim more rivers …
And I'd watch more sunsets.
I'd burn more petrol,
I'd eat more ice cream – and fewer beans.
I'd have more actual troubles and fewer imaginary ones.

You see, I was one of those people who lived sensibly,
hour after hour and day after day.
Oh, that doesn't mean I didn't have my moments,
But if I had it to do all over, I'd have more of those moments,
In fact, I'd try to have nothing but wonderful moments, side by side.

I was one of those people who never went anywhere without a thermometer,
a hot water bottle, a gargle, a raincoat and a parachute.
If I had it to do all over again, I'd travel lighter next time.

If I had my life to live all over again,
I'd start barefoot earlier in the spring
and I'd stay that way later in the fall.
I'd play the fool a lot more;
I'd ride more merry-go-rounds, I'd pick more flowers,
I'd hug more children,
I'd tell more people that I loved them.
If I had my life to live over again …
But, you see, I don't.

What I failed to tell the children, of course, was how much I enjoy working with them.
Even when I'm low on inspiration, it's just a delight.