Hello All,

Boadicea. As a child I would secretly covet the image.

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That was me, hair streaming out behind me, (thick and luscious, nothing like the ratty pigtails the real me wore) sword in hand and my chariot careering through the enemy and cutting them down. In my mind I was awesome and I never failed to win.

Then I grew up and forgot my chariot and sword, I left them behind.

2013

Living for the now – my promise to me. This has brought my thoughts back to my childhood imagery.

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Life is showering this modern and ageing Boadicea with poisoned arrows! They rain down relentlessly from the heavens themselves – seemingly sent by the gods – my chariot stumbles forward toward the  oncoming horsebacked warriors that hide behind the façade of the Spanish banking systems. The chariot’s side flanks are under attack from a foot army of money and emotional issues but this Boadicea rides her chariot proudly and her resolve refuses to waver.

The 2013 Boadicea’s chariot has been updated in line with the modern ways of the world.

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Gone are the noble horses, and the ratty pigtails are crammed inelegantly into a  crash helmet, but the concept remains the same. Today the sword is hidden, there is no brandishing of weapons in public. Yet today’s sword carries powers far more lethal than those of my childhood Boadicea. The sword of 2013 is wielded by a grown up who has learned her skills through the hard school of life.

The Boadicea of the history books’ sword could only pierce, slice, harm or kill. The 2013 version this Boadicea carries can do so much more. It can pierce the heart of the hardest man, it can  slice through the layers of bureaucracy that protect the approaching warriors, it can cause harm, it can be lethal, but it can also heal.

The sword I carry as the Boadicea of today is my pen and the power it carries is the power of the word. Armed with my sword I have held true to my promise to myself,  I have and am living in the now.

I have forced my way through the oncoming army of the bureaucracy and unfulfilled promises of the banks and emerged the other side. 368 days after this farce with the bank commenced and only after some heavy threatening missives from my pen, I have put down my sword and signed a truce, a pact that at least resembles the promises of over a year ago.  I consider this a victory and the weight it lifts off my weary shoulders is immense.

I am not sure that I can claim to be awesome, as I was in  the playground of my mind as a child, but I have not failed my promise to me, of that I am sure.

This ageing Boadicea of 2013 rises to greet another day living in the now.

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