Yesterday when I woke up, the birds chirping outside my window sounded different. I know because I woke up in the early hours roasting hot so I opened the window a few inches to cool down. Their song was more optimistic and upbeat. Could it be that spring is here?

Definitely not but its bags are packed and it’s well on its way. I know in my bones it’s going to snow again and temperatures will plummet. Then I’ll know the cold in my bones again. For now though I’m going to use this improvement to fuel a pre-spring spring clean.

I’m having more creative ideas. I often want to write. I want small projects. I want to improve my life incrementally. I have an appetite for food. I’m hungry like a wolf. I could eat a horse. I think that’s the HRT. I’m trying not to fight it and playing around with my eating habits. Maybe multiple micro meals would help? Fasting sometimes helps, depends on the day though. I’ve tried discipline, makes it worse. Maybe boundaries? And maybe also accepting this slightly (+ 3kg) bigger me? I’m going to have to go clothes shopping. I hate clothes shopping ☹️

It’s really tough not being motivated. I feel I’ve lost a lot of my passion. Playing is just a job 90% of the time. I never thought I’d say that. Until a couple of years ago, I woke up excited about the music I was practicing. I couldn’t wait to get my fingers stuck into the strings, plunging into juicy chords with curiosity, recognising technically difficult passages and finding strategies to tame the notes.

Most days I practice at least 2 hours, for stamina and reassurance more than anything. Some days I walk away after an hour. There’s no point fighting when there’s nothing there. I’ve thought about putting a short simple programme together but I just haven’t the energy or focus after learning the latest requests and covering the tricky sections of my wedding repertoire.

I once harboured a hope that I’d play at the Opera House in Covent Garden, or perhaps at the Met in New York, or even the Sydney Opera House! Why not? Those days have gone. What ambitions can one have at 53.5 years of age?