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and on…

February 2, 2017

I have ring, made by the wonderful Diana Porter, that says on and on endlessly.  Or you can choose heaven on earth, or spirit.  Anyway, there it is, it’s a lovely ring but sometimes I think on and on can be a wearying thought.


My doctor says I should practice mindfulness.  My doctor.  Does anyone actually say that anymore?  My gynaecologist.  My psychiatrist.  My doctor is actually a practice of several doctors, nurses and therapists.  The one I saw yesterday said my constant jaw clenching, forgetfulness and general stress and anxiety could be helped by mindfulness practice.  Weirdly I had just bought Ruby Wax’s book on that subject.  Reading it actually induced more stress so probably not a great place to start. She really needs a very firm editor.

I know some of my vast number of readers will be doing an ‘I told you so’ smug bust rustle right now, but these things must be reached in one’s own time.  I still have to discover precisely what mindfulness is and how to practice it, but I’m on the way and very much looking forward to a new, clear headed, articulate and efficient me.

I am on holiday today.  It’s a little, tiny holiday.  Two days, yesterday and today, at home, not looking at facebook (did a sideways glance at it by accident just now), trying actively not to think about work, getting my MOT at the doctors,  nearly finishing my tapestry, tracking down an old friend who I had been a bit worried about, going on a nordic walk and later today I will be sitting a sauna with a friend who likes to eat oranges in the sauna, and then for my finale I’m having a massage and a facial.


Nearly finished tapestry.  Not quite sure what to do with it when it’s finished.  Any thoughts?

How very self indulgent, I hear you all say in mildly shocked tones, and on a Thursday as well.  Or is that me I hear muttering about self indulgence, and what about the refugees and the artisan cheese makers and my business and my son and the one who cannot be named and the price of eggs?   And there goes my jaw.  Clamp.

Why do I feel guilty about taking two days off work?  It’s my business, so surely it’s my choice?  No one has emitted shocked noises, or looked daggers at me for having such temerity.  No one.

A note on Nordic Walking.  I have taken it up of late, only managing one a week but it’s something.  I go out with a group of white topped ladies and the occasional gent, and we march around Clifton Downs, propelling ourselves along with what look very like ski sticks.   It’s a lovely thing to do.  It’s making me stronger.  Not thinner, but definitely stronger.  I get to see the seasons up close and personal because we go out what ever the weather.  I don’t so it for the social side, although some do.  People chat away if they want to.  I tend to mutter my little mantra to myself and march eyes down, but occasionally I get sucked into a conversation.  Like today.  Wind whipping various shades of white and grey hair around like ancient silk skeins, anoraks buttoned up tight the usual question of ‘have you been doing this long’ is directed at me, followed by the what do you do, and oh how interesting.  Obliged to ask in return the answer was “I cut people’s toe nails”.  That was a first I have to say.  A very worthy and necessary job.


Tiny, white heralds of the changing season, seen on this morning’s walk.

And so, on I go, so much to do, say, think, absorb but right now I am being mindful and not doing, saying, thinking or absorbing.  Tomorrow I will do all that.  I am now going to make a little pack of things to take to the Lido including oranges, a book, maybe some nail varnish for my toes should I manage to bend in the middle enough to reach them, an open mind and tired eyes.  I may absorb some steam and some scented oils.  But that is all.






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