Slamming the Door

The weeks since the end of October have been "interesting" as the fear and grief of the past year took their toll. It wasn't quite depression, but there were a couple of days when I was definitely skating around it. 

I didn't think it would be like this. I thought I should be filled with energy and enthusiasm and able to crack on with my life with vim, vigour and a renewed sense of optimism. It's not been like that at all. I've had days where doing the immediately necessary was my only priority. I did tomorrow, that which did not incur charges today. All the while struggling with this enormous sense of frustration at myself. 

My To Do List darlings, is ginormous. I have Things to do, people to See and a sense of a ticking clock. I've been drifting along; although I am deeply grateful to be here - at this point in my Life - I'm also aware that drifting isn't enough. I know I can drift, endure, survive etc etc but enough is enough. It's time to Live, to lace up my walking boots, grab my stick and map and journey. Journey as a verb, a doing word. Not a thing that is static and fixed. Life will happen anyway: taxes will need to be paid, my butt will continue to expand, there will be more wrinkles and grey hairs this time next year.  

I've used the time to create a Plan for World Domination. Of course a new Plan requires a new book, and thusly one was purchased. I considered my time frame and did some day dreaming. In the end I came up with a 10 year Plan (I thought I'd give myself some leeway to get side-tracked), wrote it down in detail and frowned at it for a few hours. 

There really wasn't anything quite as dispiriting as looking at my dreams all laid out in blue and white in sensible lines and bullet points. I took myself to the emporium of dreams, otherwise known as The Range (a down-market department chain store). It has an amazing art and craft section. I spent...well, let's not go into too much detail about that shall we...time...looking at all their goods and brought home many, many unsensible, irrational and delicious things to put the fun into my future. I channelled my inner six year old, scrawling all over my Plans with gold and silver pens. Highlighting and emphasising points with pretty stickers. It made me happy.

I've since broken my Plan into six week chunks with a list of things I would like to accomplish, the first of which I'm now half-way through. The first week was brilliant. I was focused and productive and feeling very pleased with myself. And then...I got sick. I got hit with a chesty cold that laid me out with a single punch and has been giving me a good kicking since. I am shifting it slowly, I am happy to say, it's now a question of getting rid of the dregs.

Unfortunately, it hit the week of Yule when my festive To Do List was a mile long. I had to postpone, re-book, cancel, rearrange the whole week. I don't know what I would have done without Rowan and Dave who did shopping and downscaled our plans with understanding and without complaints (and by the way, I'm not entirely sure I'm going to ever get past the ridiculous irony of saying to someone who endured six months of chemotherapy: I feel really awful; I'm sick; I can't today, today.)

As far as my Plans for World Domination getting off to a phlegmic start, I knew full well that the festive season would throw things out anyway. The idea was to start, that was the purpose of the exercise.  

I lived up to my promise to Dave. You may remember I have a deep loathing of turkey and I promised Dave that if he was still here we would celebrate with turkey for the festive season. He cooked me turkey for Boxing Day and I ate every scrap with deep prayers of gratitude. In actual fact, it was no great hardship. He performs magic with demonic poultry and made it not only edible, but delicious. Darlings, I did draw the line at cold turkey sandwich. That was a step too far. A woman has to have some standards.

I reiterate the Winter Solstice blessing I posted on FB: 

May the returning sun bring with it compassion, kindness, decency and a wish for greater tolerance and understanding between all peoples.

I hope that we all work hard to build bridges in 2017.

Love and peace to you all.

Me Again

It's definitely Autumn out there. I've put the heating back on, as well as my personal three layers of clothing. I put my tee-shirts away and promised them I won't strain the seams so much when I take them out  (they didn't believe me, but hey). The next big thing on my To Do List is the garden. It needs me. I need more time.

Since I last wrote I've been very much focused on me. My health and of course, my art. The result of the comfort eating, I indulged in over the last eleven months has ground me down no end. Everything is too tight, I feel horrible in my skin. Having said that, the last eleven months have been hard, hard work and I have been in desperate need of comforting. It is what it is. My back, shoulders and neck have been particularly troublesome and have added to the general "bleugh". 

Now you see why I haven't been blogging? It would have been sentence after sentence of whinging and moaning.

I have been doing yoga and foam rolling and that has helped so much with getting moving again. After a muscle in my back bitched at me for attempting one of my exercise DVDs, it was clear that my body needs me to be more gentle, more understanding and just keep moving. Since then, I've been doing the most gentle yoga routines I can manage. That's just been great and my back is gradually improving. Very gradually.

I've been focusing on my art more and more. Trying to see how I can push myself beyond my current technical limitations. With this in mind, I've signed up for a few improvers classes and a fortnightly fun drawing class and it's been really good. My technical skill will get there, but at present, it just can't keep up with my imagination. To be human is to learn to live with the frustration of my own limitations. That I know these limitations are temporary, does not help. I am an instant gratification kinda gal. I want it; and I want NOW. I have a learning curve to conquer and I am determined.

Having said all of that, I am treading water somewhat. Dave had his follow up scan and blood tests last week. We will see the oncologist for the results soon. We will see how well the tumour has responded to this round of treatment and where we go from here. We won't talk about remission, the chemotherapy didn't get all of the primary tumour, but hopefully, we will be able to talk about a dormant period. It preys on my mind. Dave continues to be well in himself, albeit a bit prone to enjoying the odd afternoon nap. Given the choice of being stretched out with him, I'm not one to judge.

He is making plans for what he calls his "Farewell Tour", to go and see his friends far and wide. He hopes he'll be doing it along Status Quo lines and will be touring for many years to come. I hope so too. I am making plans about my art, but that's a post for another day. Be well. Until next time.

An Open Letter to All those to Whom I Offered Unsolicited Advice:

I am truly sorry. It was done with the best of intentions, I saw your pain and wanted to make it better. I wanted you to stop being in pain. I thought the way to help was to give you the benefit of my experience and wisdom. I see now how mistaken I have been in taking that approach. Actually, what you needed was a hug, a cup of tea and a genuinely listening ear. I am sorry that I failed you and will try harder from now on.

Lots of love

Roses

This letter is overdue. It comes out of a cup of tea a couple of Thursdays ago with Stephen W, an NLP coach as we spent the afternoon putting the world to rights and talking about the changing world of Personal Development. One of the things we discussed was what people need when they sit down and go "OMG life sucks."

Do they need interventions? Better coping strategies? A blank cheque? No. Actually, what they need is a friend. Some one to sit with them and listen without judgement or advice. People by in large, don't need fixing, they aren't broken. Life happens and people make the best decisions they can given their experiences up to that point and in the circumstances. 

By in large, I'm not broken. I don't need fixing. Life happened and I made the best decisions I could given my experiences up to this point and in these circumstances. I only know how to be Roses in this world. I don't know how to be you. I'm sorry if I tried to impose my experience on you in your time of need. 

It happened to me a couple of days ago. 

It was delivered with the best of intentions. The unsolicited advice. 

I was told I would only really be happy once I accepted the situation with Dave. Once I came to terms with the cancer and the inevitable outcome. Death I was told, comes for us all. We are all going to die.

As I said, the best of intentions.

Here's the thing. Since December, I've been living with the fear, sorrow, disappointment and grief. I don't have the cancer, it's not me fighting for my life. It isn't about me, and yet, it is. It is about how well I keep it together. How well I sort through my To Do List to do the crucial things first, the essential things next and to be able to shelve the important things so I can rest, until they become crucial or essential. It is about how well I can hold my courage, and then to be kind to myself, when fear overcomes and makes me want to run away to the other side of the world or into a book or ranting on Facebook, so I don't have to deal with my feelings. 

He talked about "acceptance". I think I'm going to have to sit him down and investigate his definition of acceptance. I know what's coming. I've been there before. I have been with three of my parents as they faded and died. Here's the thing, I don't like it. And I don't have to like it. Perhaps it's just a misunderstanding of the concept of acceptance on my part. Over the next few days, I'm going to explore it further. Acceptance is bandied around a lot, a bit like "closure". 

The thing is: I'm doing the best I can. If I think something will help, I do it. The fact of the matter is: this is a truly shitty situation and the only thing that will get me through this is by living in the moment and being open to what comes. I can't do any more. I physically and emotionally cannot. 

All his well-meaning advice did was make me feel more inadequate than I did before he opened his mouth, and resentful of his observations of my fragility and vulnerability. 

It made me aware of the times I have done that to my friends. I don't want to make that mistake again. I'm sorry. I truly am.

Almost there....

This is the last week of Dave's treatment. On Friday he will have finished the complete course of radiotherapy. Phew. He did it! 

At the start of his radiotherapy, he moved back to his as it was easier for him to do the daily appointments from his home just outside of Norwich, than from here in the wilds. I confess I found that change a bit traumatic and the weeks after were a bit hard. In truth, Dave has coped with his diagnosis and treatment far better than I. My physical and mental health have pretty much been in free-fall as I've struggled to deal with things. As a friend said over coffee and cake this morning, there isn't a guide book for our experience over the last eight-nine months. We've been dealing with things the best we can.  Some days are better than others. 

As always, I take the moment to be grateful to the loving support around me. Boy and his lovely have been absolute towers of strength. Z and LT have provided gin and wide shoulders at moments notice. The Lovely and Great Ursus have been ever present, ready to provide tea and cinematic fun. Julia, the fabulous poet kept a weathered eye on me and whose cheery messages lifted my flagging spirits so many times. Not to mention the denizens of Facebook who kept me chuckling with cheeky memes and general shenanigans. Not to mention my other friends who come running at the first sight of a window to meet up, who've understood the weeks of silence. 

The Mindfulness Course is fun. Of course I'm the unruly pupil, with my mind like a barrel-full of monkeys. Much of it, I've come across in different forms before, but the condensed version has been incredibly useful. The different meditations and exercises have been very difficult as my monkeys refuse to stay quiet for too long. Had it been easy, there wouldn't have been much point in doing the training. I had to miss last Saturday's session due to the cold that Dave so generously gave to me. I spent last six days feeling like Monty Python's foot squashed me. Bleugh. 

I've been continuing to Art and am beginning to feel more confident. It's funny, but I pick up the brushes and the pencils without much thought. With the writing and poetry, it's always taken a bit of a push and procrastination before I've sat down. I'm not doing as much as I would like, but that's down to the other responsibilities I have right now. I nearly gassed myself by using turpentine in my studio, this lead to a thumping headache and the purchase of more-lung-friendly solvents and a brush-wash tin. 

I'm continuing my abstract work, but I've also been working on my drawing skills. I don't particularly like still life paintings, but I recognise that it's a useful learning opportunity. I set up some sunflowers and got lost in them. Much to our surprise I produced a drawing that I'm really quite pleased with, I gave it to Dave. 

We had a fabulous weekend in London. There was amazing vegan food, outrageous cocktails, The National Gallery and a boat trip down the Thames. Van Gogh's Sunflowers took my breath away. I could have stared at the painting for hours. Unfortunately, the tourists were an absolute nuisance. And I also include the domestic visitors under that label. There were crowds of people around Sunflowers, all taking pictures of themselves or their friends with the painting. They'd then move off without pausing. It made my blood boil. 

It's not a pretty painting by any means, but Van Gogh captured the sunflowerness of the flowers with each stroke of his brush. The yellow of the background is almost gold against the yellow of the petals. It's just gorgeous. Don't assume that the paintings you see  in books are like their physical selves. Paintings have a presence photography doesn't capture. There's a rawness to Van Gogh's work that I knew because of his history, but it was only standing before his paintings (there are four in the National) that I really felt it. 

Anyway, it's time for me to put it out there. This is what I've been working on....

Interconnectedness

Interconnectedness detail

Interconnectedness II

Sunflowers

So there you are. My arting. I need to do it and it pleases me. I suppose that's all that matters really. Hopefully, the words will come creeping back in the next few weeks. I miss them.

Missing the Words

I can't think of another period in my life since I began my creative writing journey in 2003 where I've lost the Words so thoroughly. It's not that I haven't been creative in this time, in fact, I can honestly say it's been one of the most wonderfully artistic times, but there just haven't been the Words.

Dave begins his radiation therapy on Monday. His fabulous oncologist wants him to do a five week course, five days in the week to knock the tumour back well and good. There is a great deal of concern about how well his bowels will cope with the radiation as there is the chance that they may become paralysed. This would mean a period of hospitalisation and the end of the treatment at this time. 

It's meant Dave's return to his abode outside of Norwich as it will be easier for him to get to his daily treatments from there. I've had a re-shuffle of my bedroom and have incorporated my studio space in it. I also went through my bookshelves and removed two-thirds of my books, keeping only those I am likely to read or are attached to. I now have a plastic crate full and about eight bags of books waiting to go to charity shops. Letting them go was quite hard. Most of my reading these days is genre-based and I tend to download the books onto my kindle out of preference. I find it easier to read on kindle when I can adjust the text size according to how tired my eyes get. And it's not like any of the books are valuable to anyone else. Hauling them around the countryside is an exercise in ego that I no longer have time for. I've known too many people with massive libraries full of worthy books, who were complete tits. I've got nothing left to prove to anyone.

The chickens are fine if a bit of a pain. Canasta decided to go broody again, but with the temperatures being what they were, I was disinclined to let her stay in the greenhouse. I hauled her squawking butt out of there every night and if it got too hot, put the laying bag outside under the damson tree. She got fed up and stopped, but unfortunately all of the hens then stopped laying in the bag. At first I thought they'd stopped laying because they were moulting, they're a scruffy looking bunch these days, but no; they're laying away. I kept them in for a few days and actually, they are laying. Today, I let them out and I'll see what they do. If they keep laying away, we shall have to think again about the arrangements. I can't be having chicks on top of everything else right now (or ever, given Jenga's genetic closeness to the girls). 

You may, or may not remember that this time last year I did a five day artist's skills and methods course and then started a year long drawing and painting course. The five day course led to me falling in irrevocably love with oil paints. I tolerated the drawing and painting course, but had to drop out in January with Dave's diagnosis. I think it must have been April when I thought "fuck it" and picked up my drawing pens and then oil paints. I had to learn as I went along and it was mostly an exercise in frustration. 

Dave lost patience with me and strong-armed me into signing up for a day's course in Oil Painting for Beginners. He also suggested that if I like the tutor, I should ask if they are available for private tuition. He then hit me with the line he used to use on the PhD students in his care: why spend an afternoon in the library, when you can spend six months in the lab? Umm...yeah...okay. 

I really liked the tutor and he seemed to get where I was coming from. We arranged for him to come over and have a look at everything I'd been working on. After he left, I felt quite nauseous. My little shapes, my little obsession spoke to him. He gave me lots of technical advice and his questions made me take myself, my creativity and my art seriously. I'm into the abstract. Shapes and colour in their purest form. Partly because I don't have the skill to do representational art, partly because I'm not terribly interested in representational art. Much of the art scene around here is still life and landscapes. I am booked to do another day's course, this time it's oil outside. I want to know how to draw and paint, if only for when I move on from these shapes. 

Yesterday, I started my four-week mindfulness course. I've never had formal meditation training and I figured this is the perfect time to address this. My mind is like a barrel full of monkeys which is mostly fine during the day, not so great when trying to get to sleep. The past few weeks sleep has been a precious experience. Given sleep deprivation makes me cranky and more vulnerable to daily stresses, anything I can do to help myself right now, has got to be a good thing. Also, because I'm doing this as a course and there are exercises and homework, I have to do it. There are no excuses. Last night, I drifted off to sleep without any difficulty. 

So that's pretty much it darlings. I keep putting one foot in front of the other. I'm pretty sure the Words will be back, so if you could be patient with me, I'd be grateful. I don't take your friendship and support for granted. 

What gets you up in the morning?

I had an email flurry with a long-standing friend of mine this morning. In and amongst the news catching up on, she asked me this question. It wasn't difficult to answer, but it's stayed with me since. 

I had intended to spend the day in my onesie, but the question got me up and writing in my journal, which I haven't done since the beginning of November. It got me dressed and kept me company as I mucked out the chickens and tidied up their area, something I've been meaning to do for a couple of weeks.

It's incredibly useful, being asked questions like that. It allows me to solidify my watery thinking and to mull over context and content. I've been doing an awful lot of feeling in the past few months, not a lot else. No writing, no thinking, no poetry, no art, no gardening. I have been looking after my house, looking after the cat, the chickens and me...and Dave when he lets me. 

But that question and thinking about the answer made me broaden my contracted feelings into the bigger, broader picture.

Love is the answer. Love is what gets me up in the morning.

You see, I love living here. I live in one of the most beautiful parts of the country. I wake up every morning and there's a surprise waiting for me, if I'm observant enough to look. Yesterday, I woke up to two magpies arguing over breakfast outside my bedroom window. Today, I woke up to Rummy purring. I'd overslept and he thought he'd try the subtle route to get to his breakfast. Before I open my eyes, I become aware of Jenga crowing. 

I put my onesie on, my Uggs and the pleasure I get from starting the grinder, putting on the kettle for my coffee and going out to let the chickens out....it's hard to describe. I drink my coffee and catch up on Facebook. I get to catch up with people all across the world! We gossip and moan and put the world to rights.

I laugh every day.

Sometimes it's a chuckle, sometimes it's a big belly laugh. 

My velociraptors and Rummy make me laugh so much. 

Z is nearby and she keeps an eye on me. Her cat Eloise, likes to come visit. She has her own place to eat in my kitchen. She and Rummy are like brother and sister, the sort that like to play rough and tumble. When Z goes visiting, I get to look after her tortoises and flock of bantams. 

I'm thinking of the coming growing season. I'm thinking of tomatoes, onions, potatoes, leeks and cauliflowers. Do I want to grow squash again? What about peppers? And of course, will I have time to tend them? 

My Boy is on the other end of the phone. We don't have a dedicated time to talk. Somehow, he always makes me laugh. He's finishing off his degree with determination and grit. I'm not worried for him. He's playing with plans for after university. The only thing I've told him, is that whatever he choses to do, it must be fun. It must excite him.

I also have tentative plans for myself. I have a novel to finish, poetry to write, paintings to bring into this reality. I also want more learning. I want to become a Core Process Psychotherapist. How I manage that, I still haven't figured out. When the time is right, I will. 

Life is hard right now. Not "challenging" or "interesting" or whatever else euphemisms get to be used. It's really hard. But it's also good. 

Existential Angst/Mid-life Crisis

Yes, it's true. I am having a mid-life crisis. I have come to hard realisation of two important things:

1. Life is Meaningless. We are born, we are taxed and then we die. Therefore, the only meaning in Life is that which we create.

and

2. While I every major thing I have every wanted has been denied to me, I have actually had a pretty awesome time considering.

These two truths along with some other things, have meant that since August I've been wrestling with both the Big and the Little Pictures.

The flat where I thought I'd die in, over the last 8 weeks became my prison. I hate being here, I can't abide being in Norwich anymore. I've lived here since 1996. In fact, I'm moving out pretty much 18 years to the day. I am having a Don McLean moment.

This midlife crises leaves no relationship, no belief or activity unquestioned. This process hasn't even come close to finishing yet. I'd go so far as to say, I've only just begun.

Tomorrow, I move. I am being packed up and I am running away to the country. I've been offered sanctuary by the most lovely Z. It's only for as long as it takes her to sort through her own stuff and then I'll have to move again. Where to after, I can't say. I can't say, because I don't know. I honestly don't know.

To deal with the first issue. What is the meaning I want to create in my Life? 

I'm going to do an Introduction to Counselling course in the New Year and after that, I will have more options. Or not.

I've started a course at the Norwich Buddhist Centre. I haven't been a pagan magical practitioner for a good few years now. Not because I don't believe magic doesn't work, but because I believe it does. I no longer believe I have any answers to Life's dilemmas/questions. I would rather take each step as it comes and trust the outcome is as it needs to be. 

Which kind of leads on to #2. The times I didn't get what I so very dearly wanted and craved were hard. Really hard. But I learnt some very valuable lessons. And pretty much, without exception, although I wanted a different outcome, in hindsight it was such a good thing. Relationships that I wanted to succeed and failed spectacularly, even though I tried so hard - they would have destroyed my soul. Work situations that would have crushed me in the long term, despite the excellent potential for enormous salaries and career progress.

The little I've learnt about Buddhism matches up to my experiences so far. I will never be Christian again and I am no longer a magical practitioner, but my belief in spirituality remains unshaken. I've had too many weird things happen to me, to believe otherwise. 

But I digress; tomorrow I move.

Tomorrow, I pack up and leave the flat where I've lived on and off over 16 years. It was supposed to be our haven and it hasn't been. It's not big enough for me to live in the way I need to. 

I've been laughing with friends today about the fact that in my 20s I did a BA in Development Studies, in my 30s I did a BA in Creative Writing, now in my 40s I'm looking for more learning. I think I will do a counselling course, though what flavour, I don't know yet. Or indeed, I might do something completely different. Who knows? If someone up there does, they haven't made me privy to that info. 

In a couple of weeks, Boy is coming home for the weekend. He's going to hold my hand as I have my first tattoo done to mark the occasion. I'm really looking forward to it.

Ultimately, I could have continued to pretend that everything was alright. I'm sure I could have had a stab at ignoring how I feel. Instead, I've decided to embrace this. Whatever "this" turns out to be. Wherever "this" takes me, at least I know I will have stood up and met the challenge head on.  

Lookin' at that Hoss from the Ground

Last week, I realised how far I was slipping back into my old, lazy assed self. I was struggling to get things done around the flat. I started looking in the mirror and seriously disliking what I saw. Nothing else had changed apart from the fact that I was laid up with my lower back and my poorly, wrenched wrist. 

Boy and I went away for a few days, the late end of last week. We went to move him from halls of residence to his student house. I like Lincoln as a place to visit. It's got a great vibe. Or at least, it does where Boy lives.

We agreed there would be no stressing and there really wasn't. We took the move slowly, with lots of breaks. Somehow, in the 9 months he was there, he went from 1 car load of stuff to 2.5! Granted, it wasn't packed tightly - the car load going up was a bit like a level on Tetris - but even so. 

After the move, we then went up to Beverly for the wedding of the Viking to his Lovely. It was an absolutely amazing day from start to finish, even with the occasional downpour. Thank goodness for Clinique mascara, that's all I'm saying. I started dabbing my eyes with the first hymn and didn't stop until the Wedding March.

I made the mistake of saying to people "yep, we're going to the wedding of my ex-bf." I learnt too late that I then had to go into the whole "it was a good break-up, we're really good friends, I'm really happy for them. No, I'm REALLY happy for them" routine. The fact of the matter is, the Viking spent the whole day looking at his Lovely like he just opened all of his birthday and Christmas presents at once, while she looked like she'd just won the lottery. Both sets of parents were delighted all round. That people down here couldn't understand, I'm afraid that's their look out. Not mine. What was particularly lovely was the warmth that both Boy and myself were greeted. I've got stern instructions to return sooner, rather than later to have a proper catch up with everyone. Frankly, I'm looking forward to becoming Mad Aunty Roses (no pressure darlings, no pressure). 

While we were away, I had many miles of open road to think. 

My lower back issue means absolutely no running. Running is hard on everything and the impact could potentially make things much worse. My wrenched wrist means no load bearing, or twisting; pretty much rules out lifting, swimming, cycling or push-ups. My dishy osteopath advised waiting until I was pain free for a week before attempting any strengthening exercises. 

My body, mind and energy levels were reverting to how I felt two years ago and it was not good. 

I also had the time to think about my weight. It's a bit of a touchy subject with me. 

The fitness industry for women, tends to focus on weight loss and paints everything pink. Go into the main stream gyms, health food shops, it smacks you straight in the face. Being the rebellious sort, I've resolutely stuck to my numbers. I am not overweight, my BMI* is smack bang within the healthy range. I don't have anything to worry about, health-wise.

However, the fact of the matter is that while this is true, my body fat percentage is too high for my liking. When I look in the mirror now, I don't see muscle, I see flab. I see the results of 3 months on my butt. Ladies and gentlemen, trust me when I say this, it isn't pretty. It does not feel good.

One of the things I struggle with is planning. I can create a plan, no problem; implementing said plan, well, that's a different matter altogether. I kind of get there, but not within the timescales I originally set out. For example, I have a running app called Zombies Run! 5k. It's an 8 week programme to take you from couch to running your first 5k. Did I do it in 8 weeks? Hell no. In fact, I'm on week 8, workout 2. I can give you all the reasons why I didn't stick to the plan and mostly, they are good. But the outcome is still the same - I didn't do it.

I'm a woman who likes a challenge. Therefore, I set myself this challenge. I am on the 5:2 diet for the next 7 weeks (or rather 6 as it started on Monday). Don't ask me why I set 7 weeks, it was a completely arbitrary number. For the next 7 weeks I am going to be eating 500 calories for 2 days in the week. 

In this time I am also going to be doing what I call Foundation exercises. I'm doing a basic circuit, cardio and abs routines throughout the weeks ahead. Everything I'm doing is geared to get me to the point where I can pick up my weights and lace up my running shoes again. 

There's a physio dude at my gym who I've been trying to get hold of and this week I managed to snag an appointment with him. We had an hour long consult and next week, there will be another one. He assessed me on everything: body, exercise, diet and mental health. It was very useful indeed. He's already made some adjustments to my current circuit routine to address the issues in my lower body. I lack strength in weird places which is causing the imbalances that has lead to my lower back issues. He's highlighted some dietary issues and made a suggestion about probiotics. I followed that up as soon as I got home yesterday. Some eye-wateringly expense probiotics will be winging their way over to me next week. Unlike the probiotic yoghurts and drinks available in the supermarket, these have been cultivated to colonise the gut. Stuff from the supermarket, usually high in sugar, has been designed to die so when a person stops taking them, they stop feeling the benefit. These probiotics are shipped with cool packs and have to be stored in the fridge. I do not expect miracles, but improvements are more than welcome.

Next Wednesday morning, he's going to put me through my paces. I will come away with a programme that will address these niggly issues and hurtle me towards my Awesome again.

Ladies and Gentlemen, that is a very tall horse that I will be am climbing back on. This first week has not been shitz and gigglez as the kids say. I feel beset on all sides at the moment. But I am buggered if I'm going to lay here on the floor and take it.

*BMI is not a particularly useful measurement for weight, despite the fact that it's pretty much universally used by health and fitness professionals. Muscle is more dense than fat, if you're athletic and have a low body fat percentage, chances are your BMI will class you as obese. True story.

July 2014 - an update

If you've been keeping up with my lack of shenanigans on Facebook, you'll know the last month has been a bit of a trial for me. Got side-swiped by a virus, that behaved like a weird stalker ex-boyfriend by refusing to go away; the lack of movement during this time has buggered both my back and wrist. 

In other words, any blog post I might write starts "whinge, whine, moan..." 

Therefore, I fall back on blogging with bullet points:

• Dave's coffee business is now up and running
• It is a lot of fun
• The equipment is really heavy (coffee machine alone is 65kg)
• The coffee is really good
• I'm the cashier/order taker and I wipe up mess every 3 seconds which drives the barista absolutely nuts, but keeps everything clean
• It's bloody hard work
• I really hope my gym membership is tax deductible, because if I am to continue working with him in this business, I must become much, much stronger.

• It is the season of weddings
• We were doing coffee at a wedding yesterday and it was fab
• Boy and I will go off in a couple of weeks to celebrate The Viking and his lovely's wedding
• I am really looking forward to it
• I know they will continue to be a very happy couple and be very good for each other.

• Rummy is totally bonkers
• Boy continues to claim Rummy is a dick
• He rushes outside to break up the many fights Rummy has with his doppelgänger neighbour, Rocky
• Boy is still pleased when Rummy comes to sit next to him
• In the morning, after I given him breakfast and made myself a cup of coffee, Rummy comes to sit on my lap until he gets too hot.

• I miss running and I miss the gym
• I miss that feeling of accomplishment after a workout or a run, even if it wasn't the best
• I'm going down to the gym this morning to book myself into some yoga sessions to try and free up my back
• It's nuts how much ground I have lost in such a few weeks
• My body has made it very clear it needs to move
• Finding the balance will be the challenge from here on in
• Finding the balance is always a challenge for a person who naturally enjoys extremes.

• Summer should be my best time of year, given I love warm weather
• With my hayfever, sinusitis and increased vulnerability to bugs at this time of year, I now perceive Autumn and Winter completely differently
• I was much healthier last Winter, despite the cold and the bugs flying around the office
• I will be doing a lot of research into allergies and sinusitis for next year
• The Lovely Ursus gave me a light bulb moment when she reminded me this is my tough time.

• I suspect I have become vain in my old age
• Urban Decay make up is now my drug of choice
• I had several oops moments in their counter
• I have now more eye shadows than Pantone have colours
• Some are sparkly, some shimmery and some are barely there
• I haven't decided on a "look" yet, it's all down to mood right now
• In fact, it's all down to mood. I'm sure there's a deeper meaning to my current obsession, I don't much care to think too deeply about it
• Eyebrows continue to be the bane of my existence
• However, I'm beginning to get the hang of them
• I no longer look continually cross or surprised (unless I'm cross or surprised), which I'm counting as progress.

• My finances are challenging
• Thanks to new government regulations, I am unable to consolidate my debt to a cheaper monthly payment
• I have way too much fun with cash
• I tell myself, this is a learning experience
• When I finally clear my debt, I won't be so quick with my credit card
• That was until Friday when I went to the Urban Decay counter
• It's time for me to think outside my financial box.

• I'm in my fourth decade and I haven't begun another degree
• It worries me
• I did my BA in Development Studies in my 20s
• I did my BA in Creative Writing in my 30s
• My 40s stretch in front of me and I'm not sure what to learn next
• Not that I can afford another degree
• But I am beginning to think about it.

Considering I didn't know what to write, I think I've done quite well...

That's all for now folks. Catch you later...

Adventures in Decorating

Me, last week

For the record, can I just say, I loathe DIY. I am not a Do It Yourself person. I am as practical as a chocolate tea pot. No, I don't like crafts either. Unfortunately, I am surrounded by crafty, practical, creative people. People who may decide to totally redecorate their bedroom at 3 am, and have it done ready for when they go to work at 9 am. People with a sense of style, colour and flair.

Had I won last Friday's Euromillions jackpot, a paltry £122 million, I'd have put my tools down and hired a painter and decorator so fast, they'd have thought the number was on speed dial.

As the flat was previously rented out and the colour throughout was the rent-standard Magnolia, and the purpose of this exercise was to not only make it inhabitable again, but also to make it MINE, leaving it bland was not an option. I've spent a lot of time on the Dulux website and even downloaded their app (yes, there's even an app for that).

So, I'm experimenting with colour.

For my bedroom

My bedroom is a bit of a dark hole, not helped by the previous dark green carpet, or the fact the curtains practically covered the window even when they were opened. I've got a new carpet in there, a patterned beige which made a huge difference to the feel of the room. I was going to have Spring Rose and had actually bought a tin of it. I went to the DIY shop and saw the Raspberry Diva, as a Once paint, on special offer. I had to have it. I didn't care that it would turn my room into a cave. I needed it. We'll see how that turns out.

Dulux are really good at making palette suggestions and I opted for warm neutrals for the long, front room. There's a wooden dado rail that splits the wall, at a height that drives Dave insane. It's perfect for doing it two-tone. For the top part of the room (NB. part, not half and it's not even the Golden Ratio. But as I'm not about to rip the rail off the wall and re-plaster the whole damned room, Dave will just have to suck it up), I've chosen Malt Chocolate...

For the bottom part

I've got colourful furnishings and rather than decorate with those colours in mind, I am trying to create as neutral a canvas as possible, but with some colour. Goodness knows how it's going to turn out. Dave hates it as a colour scheme. But then, he like Lime Green as a colour, which I loathe. As it's my space...he'll have to put up with it. I like it.

I'm currently putting the kitchen together. I have put a kitchen together before. The kitchen in my former marital home was from MFI. I could follow those instructions without any bother. This kitchen, from Wickes, is a bit of a challenge. I'm not good with following instructions at the best of times. If it needs an instruction manual, it's not worth my time. These are not intuitive. Needless to say, I'm finding this a bit of a challenge.

The kitchen, is going to be ultra-modern. The cabinets are a high-gloss, pale cream, with black worktops and the floor is dark and silver vinyl. It's going to be gorgeous. I'm going for a chalky purple colour for the walls. I think it's kind of this colour. Unfortunately, I'm having a senior moment, the colour will have to be mixed for me and I've had so many tester pots, I actually can't remember the name of the damned thing!

So, this is how I've been spending my weekends and most of my days. I've snatched the occasional bit of free time - by free I mean time not spent in the office or in the flat - so I could do my laundry and try to work out. I've also got the outlines of a couple of novellas and a couple of novels. 

The next 3 weeks are going to be Hell. I'm doing DIY which I loathe and then straight on to moving house, which I detest. I am going to be whinging a helluva lot. Please be patient. I can't wait for this to be over, so I will be embedded in the Flat and can get on with it.

Adventures with Mobile Phones

To say I had an 'interesting' day yesterday, is a bit like saying it was a bit damp during the biblical flood. It certainly had entertainment value. I certainly wasn't bored.

Now, I don't know if I've ever said: I don't work on Fridays. No, Fridays are not the Pagan equivalent of the Sabbath. They just pay me to do four days' work. Which is fine by me. It means on Friday morning, I don't have my alarm set, I can wander around in my pink fluffy dressing gown, get my braces adjusted, go see my dishy osteopath, have coffee and cakes with my friends. Working for a living is all very well, but working 5 days a week, doesn't half interfere with one's Life. I'm happy with this arrangement.

However, this week things have been a bit frantic at work, we've had staff holidays and illness to contend with. And while my manager has the energy of 3 toddlers with ADHD, even she's been hard pressed at times. Unfortunately, even she's not been able to squeeze more than 24 hours into a day. And trust me, it's not from the lack of her trying. So, I said I'd go in for half a day.

You know how they say, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions? Yeah, exactly. Work was fine. I got in and got everything that I wanted done, done. I kicked my To Do List's butt. Oh yes, for I take no prisoners people. The trouble started when I was supposed to leave work. I had to go do a flat inspection. I'd warned my tenant I was working, plus he's fully aware of my time-keeping - 'ish'. It's very 'ish'. Anyway, I wanted to have a comfort break before I headed off.

Ah, let me back-track slightly. When I work, I have my phone in my left back pocket, my iPod Touch in my right back pocket. I 'listen' to music as I work. I say 'listen' because the music is so familiar to me, it's background noise less distracting than the conversation round our open-plan office.

So, I take out my iPod, put it in my bag, ready to go off, go to the downstairs loo.

I unbuckle my trousers, bend slightly and then there is a loud 'plop' from behind.

Do you ever wish Life came with a [pause] and [rewind] button? At that moment, I would have given my firstborn for one.

I fished my phone out, dried the outside with paper towels and put my head in my hands (after washing them thoroughly). Now Ladies and Gentlemen, let me reassure you, the loos at work are cleaned to the highest of standards. I was confident when my hand went into the loo water, I wasn't going to end up with dysentery, my hand was still going to be attached to my arm. If it had been a public lav, darlings I would have just flushed that loo and walked away! I was very fond of my mobile phone. It was a very basic, but shiny silver phone that did everything I wanted it to. It sent texts, made calls and took the occasional picture. I was especially pleased with the Bluetooth facility that allowed it to 'talk' to my car, enabling me to make hands-free calls whilst I drive along.

It appeared to still work after the dunking, and then as I drove to see my tenant, it stopped working. When I did get home, I was advised to take it apart and dry it out. In the meantime, I went on-line to O2 to see what could be done. Now they do a fast-track contract renewal on-line. Which I tried to do. But for me to use this on-line facility, I'd have to put in a code which they text to my phone. Which wasn't working. I spoke to a 'virtual' advisor and then to a 'real' advisor, who made the suggestion that I see how the phone was in the morning, but I could go into a mobile phone shop and fast-track an upgrade if necessary. I kept my fingers crossed.

Now people IRL know that I have several quirks (I know, me quirks? Who'd have thought it), one of which is: I require things to work. If I get in my car I want to know 100% that when I turn my key, the damn thing will start first time. Not for me dodgy mechanics requiring WD40, duct tape and a hammer. Those kind of things really drive me nuts. Put it down to my complete lack of adventure. Personally, if I'm 3 feet from my mobile phone I feel uncomfortable, if it's 10 feet, I have to pick it up and carry it around. I need my mobile phone to take the inevitable call from Boy 'can you pick me up from?' and 'Mum, I've hurt my leg' or 'Can you pick your son up, he's not very well today'. So this morning, while I was relieved my phone appeared no worse for wear, I was determined to replace it.

So that's what I did. Of course, Boy had to come with me. I insisted. If you want to talk techie, you take an expert to translate. Teenagers are techie machines. Me...not so much. I don't need to know the ins and outs of tech shit. Life is short and I'm not interested. It was fine. He talked tech with the phone salesman and steered me away from the shiny HTC phone. I am now the proud owner of a Nokia C3. Which is perfect. It pretends it's something special because it's shiny and has a touch-screen facility, but is actual for older people because it has big buttons and is idiot proof.

Of course, upgrading my phone meant I had to look at my tariff. Did I want 200 minutes and 500 free texts or did I want to go all out for 300 minutes and unlimited texts. I mean for heaven's sake it's not like anyone calls me on a regular basis. However, I'm an optimist. And I can text for England. So, I took the slightly more expensive option.

I spent 2 hours this afternoon, when I got home, getting my phone settings to my liking. These things are never fucking simple, are they? Ringtones, message tones, predictive texting, home screen layout, birthday information etc. Yes, it really did take me 2 hours to get it done so I was happy with it. All that effort and the trauma of having to go into the city centre on a Saturday morning, sent me to my bed for an afternoon nap. My proudest moment today was when I introduced my new phone to my car. Yes, it took me all of 15 minutes of continuous swearing, when the BMW salesman set it up in 2 (without swearing), but hell, I did it. I can now drive and make hands-free calls.

All I need now is someone to ring me.

Public Service Announcement

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am giving you a heads up. If you don't take my advice and it all ends in tears, you can't say you weren't warned.

There is something going on in the Heavens.

I know of 8 women who have, within the last 4 weeks ended significant relationships.

This does not include the sudden deaths which have also been happening on a totally random basis.

Therefore, finish reading this blog post, and don't worry I'm keeping in short, go and find the person/friend/animal that you love best in this world and hug them. Tell them how much they mean to you.

Because I tell you what, these are shitty times. And in shitty times, we've really got to stand for each other.