I Stopped Listening at Double Speed.

For a while there, I listened to everything at twice the speed. Podcasts, audiobooks, the lot. It felt efficient — twice the content in half the time, what's not to like.

But I wasn't really taking any of it in. I'd finish a book and struggle to tell you what it was about. I was consuming things, not understanding them. And somewhere along the way I worked out that the speed was the problem, not the solution.

It crept into the work too. I'd fill the days too full, line up one more job than I should, and barely stop for lunch. The trouble is you can feel that in a person. I wasn't rude, exactly, but I wasn't good company either — not relaxed, not present, just moving through the day with one eye on the next thing. And cleaning windows is a job you can't really hurry without it showing. Rush a pane and you'll be back doing it again.

So I've slowed down. Fewer jobs in a day, a proper lunch, a bit of room to breathe between calls. The funny thing is the work is better for it, and so am I. I turn up in a decent mood. I do the job once, properly. I have a chat at the door rather than already being halfway back to the van in my head.

I spend my days at other people's windows, and the views out of them are something else. Gardens someone has clearly poured years into. Old stonework and the kind of detailing most people never look up to notice. Hills past the rooftops, the light shifting over them through the day. I genuinely stop and take it in. And what I've noticed is how easy it is to live somewhere lovely and never actually look.

So here's the only thing I'd pass on. I hope you don't hurry past the pleasant moments in your own home. The Sunday morning sun coming in through a clean window. A cosy cuppa, looking out at the trees turning on a cold autumn day.

They're right there. No need to rush past them.