The Grass Is Always Greener

My mum does the lottery each and every week - she always plays the same numbers, religiously watches the live draw on the Beeb, and without fail rolls her eyes and toots as her numbers fail once again to come up.

Money, she thinks, will make life so much better. If she gave me a pound every time she said ‘When I win the lottery...’ I’d be rich enough to buy her a house. And a speedboat for that matter.

Money, so they say, makes the world go round - the more you have, the easier life is.

I can vouch for this to some extent - I used to have a job that allowed us a fairly good standard of life. We had a beautiful apartment in the centre of a bustling city, went to restaurants whenever we wanted, and bought more new clothes than a family of three could ever need. I even used to have my hair cut by someone who used to massage my head for 30 minutes prior to pulling her scissors out. Life indeed was good.

So money wasn’t our problem. 

Time, I felt was the main issue, hence exchanging wealth for a clock with more hours.

Now, with all the time in the world, and nothing to spend our money on except food and diesel, logic would suggest that I’d be as happy as a pig in shit. 

But no, it’s now inspiration I crave - the one thing I don’t have here, yet the one thing I need so desperately to make it as an Illustrator. The call of the big city with its rich tapestry of inputs is very tempting compared to the endlessly boring hills of the Kintyre Peninsula. 

So, to help me work through my latest dilemma of disappointment, I now try on a daily basis to live by this fabulous quote I recently read:

If the grass looks greener on the other side of the fence, maybe yours needs a little more tending