Modern life can be such hustle, rush and bustle, but for me there's a much more important way if you're a writer...
Life in the slow lane.
I've been told on more than a few occasions that I walk remarkably slowly. To this I plead very guilty, but happily so.
For me, time is required to take in your surroundings, to be an observer of life. And that's one of the most important arts of the writer.
A view like this, for example, from my beloved south west of England, isn't one to be rushed on past. Surely it demands savouring to be properly appreciated.
The tang of salt riding in the playful air, the hissing trees irked by the teasing of the wind, the soulful warmth of sunshine on skin.
And with people - the woman walking with painful concentration in her shiny new shoes, the man with the hint of a lipstick mark on his cheek and a smile, the child clutching the new book, excitement in each skipping step.
As writers, I always think rushing on by means we risk missing so much that can bring our work to life.
Perhaps it was put best by WH Davies in his wonderful poem, Leisure -
"What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare..."
I won't quote the rest, but - as with so much of life and this wonderful world of ours - it's well worth taking the time over.