It's not a compulsion...

I’m still balancing pebbles you know. It’s not a compulsion, but it’s a close run thing. I can’t pass a pile of pebbles without trying to balance at least a few.

I was tidying the front garden at the weekend and, instead of removing the dead bedding and pulling the weeds from the gravel, ended up spending an hour or so concentrating on balancing a few of the hundreds of pebbles that have made their way from the sea to the small square of gravel at the front of my house. It isn’t a compulsion you know, stacking one 'unstackable' thing upon another 'unstackable' thing in a semblance of order and balance.

It wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing but, in a lifetime of doing what I wasn’t supposed to be doing, I hardly think that it counts.

I soon had a few finely balanced stacks and paused for a moment to wonder why I did this thing that isn’t a compulsion. But almost as soon as I started thinking I got lost in the stacking process. So I put it from my mind and carried on stacking and balancing.

It isn’t a compulsion you know.