No.76, Wednesday, 18th. February 2026

The rain that started at 6pm yesterday was with us all through the night, and by the time I come to write this, is reduced to drizzle and light rain showers – but with moderate rain soon to be upon us. Moderate may sound middling, but it may prevent me from venturing into town on the bus. I have one waterproof coat that happens to have a hood, which should keep me reasonably dry. Waiting at the bus stop with no shelter for 10-15 minutes – just standing, hopeful in the rain – is a disincentive.

I have not ventured out for 11 days. If I stay home today it will be 12. It would appear that the ‘pull’ of the town is just not great enough, which brings to mind a conundrum I have faced for some years: would I be happier living somewhere else? It is likely that the ‘somewhere else’ in question would be a city, where all manner of amenities are on hand, but it could also be another smaller place.

Every time I watch Only Murders in the Building I think how great it would be to live in the Arconia. But, apart from the fact that it is fiction, and my neighbours would not be Steve Martin, Martin Short and Selena Gomez, it is just a fantasy that will never come to pass. Why do I dwell on such fantasies? It is a failing of mine.

I should be thankful I have most of the comforts I need in my Devon sitting room. But I always seem to want something better and, as I approach my 70th. birthday, a new start. Is it too late to have a mid-life crisis?