Too many next years

Last month was the European Juggling Convention. It's the largest convention of its type in the world, it runs for a full week, and those I know who've been speak of it in glowing terms. Since I've been down in London I've found myself becoming increasingly passionate about contact juggling. I've been dabbling for the last couple of years, but something seems to have clicked in my head since the start of this year, and I've been making a serious effort to improve my talents. Something like the EJC would have been the perfect place for me to pick up a few new skills and I really wanted to go to it, but there were a number of barriers in my way. The convention was in Germany, and my new job left me unable to take any time off work. It was a long way to go for a weekend, and expensive too.

I wasn't going to make it this year. Still, it's not the end of the world, I thought, there's always next year.

Next year.

*sigh*

As I put it off until next year, I couldn't help but think of all the next years I'd delayed things for. Far too many, and far too familiar a refrain now. It's such an easy way of dealing with things: not now, but later. And there are always plenty of laters, aren't there?

But the thought still sat ill at ease with me: How may more times will I put things off?

Rather than brood I decided to go for a wander around town instead. Happenstance led me to the South Bank, home, on a bright and clear day in the midst of summer, of numerous performers, including, on this auspicious day one lone contact juggler.

This fellow in fact:

I watched him for a bit, filled with admiration. It's not unusual. I typically fill with admiration in the presence of other contact jugglers. Whilst watching others perform, I'm reminded of the beauty and grace that persuaded me to learn the skill in the first place.

I plucked up the courage to talk to him afterwards. I felt a bit rude doing so as he was eating his lunch at the time, but he was excellent company (he tried to persuade me that I should perform!). As we were parting company he mentioned he was leaving for the EJC the next day. A pang of envy welled up in me. And it continued to pang after we parted company. An irritating gnawing pang that wouldn't let me be.

Too far?

Too expensive?

Too little time?

Too many next years!

Guess who went to Germany?

Stay tuned for more tomorrow!