I’m glad I went to Morris practice. 

It was a frazzling day, and I didn’t have much energy (and the quantity of brain that I brought along was even less. I forgot dances I’ve known for 10 years. Utterly shocking!). But, I was there, and being there meant we had six dancers, so we could do the interesting dances. Being there meant I clocked up my 10,000 steps for the day no problem. Being there made me happier and gave me some endorphins. Being there helped unlock my shoulders. 

All in all, it was much better going than hiding at home under the blankets. So I’m glad I made the effort. Very often, this is the case. 



Such a lovely evening

I do enjoy dropping in to Brownies meetings. This one was particularly nice. There was time to chatter, and to look for flowers and bark, and decorate frames, and several of them flew up to Guides. 

Stayed on to Guides, discovered that two of them are taller than me, one has the same house number as me, but I’ve been Guiding longest. Sorted admin, helped with some planning, moved clobber and tidied out a box. They are all brilliant girls.

One of my former Guides, now a fine upstanding member of the Sea Cadets said the loveliest thing. That I think they’re brilliant, amazing young women partly because of the women who influenced them while they were growing up. Captain, Em, Tawny: we all played a part. And, 11 years into this Guiding adventure, I’m so pleased to see the results. 


The biggest difference…

I started drinking de-caffeinated tea at work. And, generally speaking, my sleep has improved immensely as a result. This is rather good. I’m not stinting myself, at least, I don’t feel I am. There’s still the odd night where I’ll find it hard to drop off, or I’ll wake up because there’s been noise outside. But I am sleeping better. More restfully. My fitbit supports this theory.  So, as I sip my tea, I share this little gem of information. Just in case it’s useful. I had thought that because I don’t tend to drink tea or coffee after leaving work, I wasn’t affecting my sleep. It would seem I’m wrong.

Sun’s shining. Birds singing. Massive database restoring. Install that failed yesterday succeeding today. I have my lovely purple sparkly cowl on, and I’ve finally turned the heel of the second sock of the pair that I started months ago – I’ve been wedding knitting, and reading on the tube, and I’ve just not settled into the sock properly as a result.

And the reading. Seven Pillars of Wisdom (an odd book, but compelling). Gertrude Stein (surprisingly accessible). Rohinton Mistry’s Family Matters (a bit Suitable Boy Lite so far). Asterix and TinTin. The Thornbirds (why did we not pass this round the class at school, the way we did with Flowers in the Attic, and The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer? It’s perfectly pitched at the romantic, hormonal, teenager. And the romantic, hormonal grown-up me, to be honest). Lots of reading. The ability to escape into a book is something I cherish. The ability to fall asleep halfway down a page? Not so sure about that on occasion. Sometimes I’d rather be reading!

My tea is cold. The database has restored. I need to shift more databases about the place. Onwards.

Oh yeah. Give blood. And don’t do what I did, which was lose my sticker within five minutes of leaving the donor centre. Also, after a gap of 10 years, I felt ever-so-slightly-woozy for much of the rest of the evening. This I used as an excuse to loll.


I’d rather be in the Lakes

It’s prettier there. And vastly more peaceful. And I can pretend my fish hasn’t died, and there aren’t several guiding crises going on and that I’m capable of climbing more than one peak…

  Here. Have the view from the top of Scafell Pike on Friday. 


I’m sorry I’ll read that again again

Radio 4 Extra has just played the episode of ISIRTAA which we recorded from the radio on Christmas Day when I was 10 years old. I’ve been reciting along quite happily. I know that show very well indeed. I can Arnold Totteridge with the best of them. How do you do you do, do you do, do you do? I’m the dynamic new, do you do, do you do. I’m the dynamic do, do you do, do you, I’m the dynamic, I’m sorry, what was I saying?

Nice to hear Bill Oddie on the radio (he wasn’t bouncing up the Heath to birdwatch at the tail end of parkrun this morning. It was raining, so you can hardly blame him). I had a good parkrun. I nearly caught up with a former Guide and I was only just beaten by a Unit Helper. I should have started slightly further forward. It is ver crowded to start with. And I got my grr on. The former Guide does lots of cross country running and is, as far as I can tell, all leg. So is the UH. By comparision, I am all thunder thighs…but I always have been. Curvy rather than willowy. And it suits me fine. Knocked 10 seconds off this year’s PB but still need to find 50 seconds for an actual PB. 

We have been guiding crisis free for about a fortnight. It has helped immensely. Plans for holidays and sleepovers are afoot (these things take a good six months to organise. It’s surprising) and I need to plan the Divison Social. Essentially, I need to pick a pub where it’s possible to have a conversation without strain. And there must be decent beer for those who like ale. I am regaining equanimity and this is lovely. I was beginning to feel quite despondent. 

Lunch beckons. It is fish finger shaped, so it has the relevant limbs so to do. 


Mmmm. Chocolate

I have a lush chocolate egg from my parents, another from N, and, an awful lot of Creme Eggs. I might possibly be panic buying the latter. Because they aren’t in the shops forever, and I do love them so. As much as I love Mini Eggs, if not more. And I am very partial indeed to a Mini Egg (I can’t have Smarties because of the wheat…but Mini Eggs!) Wondrousness in a sugar-coated-shell.

We’ve been house hunting today. I loathe house hunting. I resist house hunting. I don’t like the idea of moving. I’ve never had house fantasies: I’ve never really spent time building castles in the air, randomly looking at houses even though mine isn’t on the market (Mum loved doing this when I was a child), dreaming of somewhere new. I love my flat in London – but it just doesn’t suit the life we want, so, I am girding to move. I rather enjoyed listening to the birdsong today, as we wandered past various empty houses, houses with for sale boards, houses looking dilapidated and in need of some TLC. It helped immensely with the process. I’m positively sanguine. I wouldn’t say I’m looking forward to it, but I’m certainly less resistant.

Sunday was spent with my parents (with an exciting row about politics over the lunch table. I’m still not entirely sure where my father’s political leanings are. I’m increasingly convinced he’s Monster Raving Loony). I have stuff to sell on eBay, a random extra jewellery box, a pile of press cuttings, and a tummy full of extremely good steak. I do like a good steak (I am a woman of simple tastes). There was a glorious puppy dog on the train home. having a zizz on his daddy’s knee. The loveliest, loveliest woof.

Saturday I failed to go to parkrun – we slept in. It was wonderful. There should be more sleeping in, in this world. Much more. Boring chores followed, but the flat is tidy, there is food in the fridge and freezer, and there’s a fairly good chance that I’m on top of the laundry for 24 hours. More than that, I will not comment upon. Laundry just breeds. And breeds. And breeds.

Friday we went Shaun the Sheep hunting with C. It was a grand day out – and we had very good ice cream in Borough Market at the end of it all. All in all, it’s been relatively energetic. But not massively so. I have watched Sherlock. I have knitted. I have listened to some superb music, I’ve read, and I’ve slept. Oh. The sleep. Wondrous stuff, sleep.


All the feels

First I listened to Sibelius 5th symphony twice over in quick succession. I like the wonderful haziness of the second movement’s beginning. Then the way it crystallises into something sharper, heavier, more stolid. I also love the first movement. The passion. The drive. 

Then I embarked on Weiland’s fourth quarter. Directed listening here. Oh my God! The fourth movement. So wonderfully lyrical, and dance like, then crashing into the fifth movement like the breaking of a thunderstorm or a train rushing through a tunnel (steam, naturally), carrying through with drive and passion and All The Feels. 

I need to make a new cup of tea. What with the all enveloping sound, I forgot about to and it’s now gone cold. My tea never looks particularly appetising, as I like it extremely milky, but something more akin to cold dishwater really ain’t my cuppa tea at all. Well. Not figuratively speaking at any rate. I’ll give you it literally. Owing to the fact that this is my tea we are talking about. 

I need to go and feel a bit more. And brace myself for the first movement. This began on auto play and I fell in love with the first three bars.