For the last several years – since the children were old enough – we have escaped for a long weekend in the spring to visit a European city.

I’m watching the minutes tick down at the end of a three-day weekend and find myself wondering where the time has gone.

A few months ago I found myself sitting in the dark of the junk room in the dead of night, writing a blog post, and wondered how many other people were doing the same thing.

While walking home from town earlier today I happened upon a huge unwanted soft-toy of an elephant, sitting quietly at the end of somebody’s driveway, with a cardboard sign propped against it with the word “free” written on it.

While everybody else was doing other things this evening I found myself spending a rare evening with my youngest daughter – just the two of us.

After conducting all manner of covert experiments in recent days and weeks – driven by a creeping disdain for the continued and increasingly brazen commoditisation of readers by the major online publishing platforms – I’ve pulled the trigger on a somewhat seismic change.

While tinkering with something on the internet this evening – and shaking my head at my own idiocy when it comes to not only finding rabbit holes, but actively digging them – I started reading old blog posts.

How is it that if you look away for a few minutes, several days hurtle past?

It’s Easter Sunday Morning.

Every day seems to crash into the next at the moment.