“Scotland will beat Italy, Ireland will hammer England, and Wales might upset France.”

0 for 3. In reality, Scotland was beaten by a deserving Italy, England won a historic victory against Ireland, and France put Wales to the sword. My plans for a career in sports punditry have been put on ice once again.

In the past, such a suite of results would have upset me. Poor Wales! Scotland undone by the underdogs, Ireland losing and worst of all England winning. Could things be any worse? These days, I’m unbothered by results. I cheered as Italy held firm for their first Six Nations win in a decade. I applauded an honest, gutsy performance from England, asking questions that a dominant Ireland was unwilling to answer. I do not doubt that the best team won in each match and the games were entertaining. A sign of maturity, perhaps? Heavens, let’s hope not.

We’re coming to the end of Q1. I’ve finished my MBA. I’m not sure whether I’ve passed. There’s a provisional mark for my dissertation, but not a final one. Assuming that the provisional one is about right, I should be OK. The consultancy business is doing well, with a new client and my first online training sales. Nero’s rumbles along with Clare keeping the orders flowing.

I have downloaded all the Sean scenes from the blog and put them back into Scrivener to edit and amend. That will be my focus for Q2: producing a “final draft” and publishing the thing in one form or another. I’m leaving the question of what to write next. I can’t afford the distraction, and there remains a tension in my life.

I talk incessantly about how “Priority” is, by definition and intention, a singular word, and then privately nurture a multitude of priorities, which, of course, cannot be priorities, as plurality is impossible. In fact, these are simply projects that compete for my time and attention alongside my dogs, the house, the golf course, and the gym. Cal Newport, Oliver Burkeman and others make compelling arguments that such competition is most easily dealt with through elimination. A writer must have time to write. That time must be dedicated. If I’m on the links or the treadmill, I’m not writing. Nor am I working. Walking the dogs is fantastic for them, for me, and my health and happiness. But while I’m out walking, I’m not doing sales for the businesses, balancing the books or writing a novel. Greg McKeown tells me to eliminate all that is not essential. The subtitle of his excellent book “Essentialism” is “…the disciplined pursuit of less”.

I keep making choices about what is important in one notebook and then creating a punishing schedule in another book that relegates “the important” to an hour on a Thursday afternoon.

Truly first-world problems - but troublesome nevertheless.

I tried to craft an “ideal week” calendar today. Yikes.

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