Every January, I meet two friends for brunch on the first working day back after Christmas. It is our way of showing that as freelancers that we have control. It’s also a tacit admission that none of us have any work on.

As in 2017, we meet near Old Street tube station. I have travelled up from Brighton, late after a train ride which pushed the buttons of my travel anxiety. After draining coffee and eating quickly, we soon find ourselves walking towards Moorgate. I have resolved that once we part that I will undertake my first aimless wander of 2018, the first in this year long project.

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The aimless walker

There have been fleeting moments over the past six months when I have wanted to travel and I have wanted to write. But neither have been possible. And with good reason. 

I am the father to a six month old boy. In the hours when I have not been hacking out articles quickly in a bid to cover bills, all I have wanted to do is spend time with him and my partner, marvelling at new skills learned. A roll onto the tummy here. A foot in a mouth there. A giggle while getting ready for bed. I have found joy and overwhelming happiness in what many looking from the outside in would perhaps consider mundane.

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