Goodbye August, and thank you..

 

It is Friday the 31st August, and tonight I can smell Autumn in the air. The nights are fair drawin’ in, fires are already being lit and the morning lawns are wet with dew.

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As you know, I spent August in a retreat from social media, and also from alcohol. I found that both of them were encroaching on my life a little too much and were causing unnecessary stresses and problems. My intention was not – and is not – to be rid of either of these things from my life altogether, I’m a great believer in moderation in all things, but to use them more wisely.

And I did it! I survived weekends, a Scout Leader away weekend at Auchengillan and several times of stress without resorting to a cheeky vino or a pint of St Mungo, but did I feel better for it?

Hell, yes.

Will I be repeating it? Hell yes.

The social media experiment was really interesting. It was extremely difficult at first to stay away from it, to consciously stop that habit we all now have of posting so much of our everyday lives; and yes, there were times where I felt completely isolated and alone and as though I was missing some amazing, cliquey party that all my friends were at whilst I soberly perfected my warrior two on the yoga mat in a desperate search for my inner zen. It wasn’t long, however, before I’d shaken those feelings off and felt a real sense of freedom, almost a strange naughtiness that – hey, nobody knows what I’m doing! 

I didn’t miss the gang-fighting, nit-picking and aggression of Twitter, though I desperately missed those I follow who post about nature, ecology, art and literature. I hadn’t realised how much joy certain people on Twitter bring me, and I missed some familiar voices far more than I would have imagined. I did, however, go thirty one days with barely a thought of Brexit, so that was nice. I don’t think my blood pressure has ever been lower.

Surprisingly, I really missed Instagram – a platform I barely used eighteen months or so ago. I didn’t miss posting, but I missed people’s posts and it made me realise that I do get a lot of inspiration and all the happies from some of the people I follow.

So, other than being sober and doing yoga, what have I been doing this month? Let’s have a wee gander, shall we?

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I bought a tunic. It is a second hand Seasalt tunic. There is no way I could afford a brand new Seasalt tunic, but I have got quite good at bidding on that eBay. My Seasalt tunic has pockets. Here you have a photo of me demonstrating nicely how tunic pockets work.

We went East Coast for the day, unfortunately we chose the day of their Highland Show to visit North Berwick so the town was full of sour-faced glarers (no amount of yoga, it seems, can dull my ire towards rude people) and dodderers marginally worse at driving and parking than they were at keeping out of my f^ck&ng way. We gave the town a suitably wide berth and walked along to Tantallon Castle (upsetting some golfers en route) for a nosy, and then went over to Dunbar. Which I’m sure is a lovely place when not doing its best impression of a ghost town. I assume most of Dunbar was in North Berwick for the day.

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My teeny-tiny 5lbs 4oz Twiglet-Child started Grammar. It was only yesterday he was born, ffs. This is quite clearly witchcraft.

(He’s loving it, by the way)

 

We did rather bloody well at the Horticultural Show, though it seems I am more Bert Fry than Jill Archer (apart from the crochet).

My ‘Lost In Time’ shawl (in Scheepjes Whirl ‘Popin’ Candy’ – terrible photo, sorry!) won first in its group; my hot pineapple chutney got a third; my garlic and beetroot took seconds; and my carrots, parsnips and rhubarb won first. My carrot cake hit disaster at the frosting stage and didn’t get entered, but our Fin won third in the 9-15 year baking section on his very first attempt at entering.

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My husband almost bought me flowers. He spotted these reduced to 25p in Tesco and pointed them out to me. Proof, indeed, that love can be both, umm, romantic and practical. I bought these ten days ago at that amazingly reduced price and they are still looking beautiful. I do like a man with a keen eye for a bargain.

You know, I am going to try and explain all this ‘retreat’ stuff in more detail in later posts (as part of me feels in something of a permanent retreat now, I have enjoyed this month so much, it was such a worthwhile thing to do), but the angsty part of me was stressing about what on earth I was going to put in this first post – that ‘returning’ post, the bridge across that chasm between ‘then’ and ‘now’ is always a bitch to write, and I’ve been meaning to write update posts, but the writing-juices just weren’t flowing, regrettably. Now that this post is out of the way, the next should be far more straightforward. Shouldn’t it?

 

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This is what I look like after 31 days of no alcohol, daily yoga, plenty of walking and too much eBaying for wonderous clothing bargains. (This is another Seasalt tunic, but this one has only one pocket). As unfiltered photos go, I’ve seen worse. I’ve undoubtedly seen better, too, but hey. If I were perfect I’d be even more tedious.

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Learning to let things go…Week 1 of ‘The Retreat’

Disclaimer: If you’re reading this on social media, it’s because WordPress cleverly posts for me without me having to be there.

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It’s 1pm, I’ve just finished work for the day. It’s a new project, a new client, and I’m just finding my feet; but that’s me done for today. I’m sat at my desk, the August afternoon sunshine is bright and deliciously warm through the window. Outside, children are playing, a lawnmower sounds in a nearby garden. Clouds – a combination of fluffy white meringues and darker, more ominous grey forms, both threatening rain – drift past. Washing hangs on the line, blowing gently in the same breeze that rocks the plum tree and causes a few thirsty leaves from the oak across the way to drift gently, silently to earth.

I am calm, I am quietly planning the rest of my day. This in itself has come as something of a daily surprise, as usually at 1pm I am mentally exhausted, unable to keep my eyes open and desperate for a nanna-nap.

It’s so difficult to try and explain how different this past week has been – a week without the lure of either social media or alcohol – and how much I feel as though seven short days have started to change me. I’m not known for being particularly superstitious but I will confess that I am frightened to death that too much early crowing may, indeed, throw the proverbial spanner in the works; so, for the time being, I will share what I have learned so far.

Learning to breathe

As ridiculous as it may sound, I have learned to breathe. You might indeed consider this a quite ludicrous statement and, a couple of weeks ago, I would have been inclined to agree. However, daily meditation, and a daily session of at-home-yoga with the amazing Adriene on YouTube have taught me not just how to breathe properly, but how badly I breathed before. Why? Anxiety. Major causes of anxiety: social media (friends bickering, the dramas, the bitching, the one-upmanship, the upshitting, Brexit, more Brexit, trolls, Brexit, ignorant numpties, Brexit), wine, not enough sleep. Reasons for not enough sleep: social media, wine.

Never, ever underestimate the power of breathing properly. It’s incredible. Also, yoga with Adriene. That’s incredible too. I am learning to love downward dog and plank, honest.

I really like sleep.

I mean, REALLY like sleep. No more the 2am winehound dragging out the last few sips of wine whilst scrawling through the various dramas on social media, I have been tucked up in my bed by 11pm with a book. I have (mostly) slept brilliantly and been up and raring to go early rather than dragging my sorry arse out of bed at the last possible opportunity. I even got up at daft o’clock on a Saturday morning to go on an eighteen mile stroll with a pal, and I wasn’t crying for a sleep come midday. In fact, I had an amazing time and I cannot wait to go again.

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Saturday 9am, Loch Ard. It’s been a while since I saw 9am anywhere on a Saturday

My dreams, I should add here, have been mental. Who needs alcohol when you can control meteor showers using the power of your mind, have blazing arguments with everyone you know, dismantle an escalator, give birth to twins on a Ryanair flight, divorce a man you never married, deal drugs to Prince William and set fire to a china shop? Note: Any amateur psychologists might want to stay quiet about any dream analysis they are thinking of conducting, thanks-all-the-same.

Evenings and weekends are much longer without wine and/or social media

Genius, huh? It’s quite amazing what you can get done when you’re not involving yourself in someone else’s drama, arguing with trolls, verifying someone else’s well-intentioned ‘facts’ or getting upset about politics. It’s even better without wine because you can:

a) watch things on TV and actually remember them, therefore possibly even learning something.

b) not worry about spilling anything on pyjamas / laptop / duvet / floor

c) eat chocolate / gooey desserts without guilt because you’ve saved valuable calories you’d have wasted on wine.

d) Be able to get up early the following morning with a spring in your step and no mascara on your chin ready to have another fantastic (and amazingly long) day doing all the things*

*you may also end up clearing out kitchen cupboards, de-filthing children’s bedrooms, pruning roses and ironing. You have been warned.

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Tea. Is fab.

I’ve not been unhappy in a week

I know, right? Oh, there have undoubtedly been minor frustrations, arguments, headaches, grouchiness (hi there, week-early period!) and the odd wobble of nerves; but nothing at all like I have become used to over the years and considered quite normal. This, of course, is probably a combination of things – giving up social media and alcohol has meant that I’ve been sleeping much better, doing more interesting things, drinking a lot more water, eating more healthily and doing a lot more exercise – including yoga – and I think the cumulative effects of these have led to me massively reducing my stress-load and being able to handle life’s little wobbles a lot more calmly and effectively.

My relationship with alcohol definitely needed to change

I’m going to say it here, because it’s nothing to be ashamed of and it’s taken far too long for me to come to this (some might say startlingly obvious) conclusion:

You might not consider yourself as having a ‘drink problem’. Like me, you probably don’t need to drink every night, or drink vast quantities, or drink at odd times of the day or to ‘settle your nerves’. You might not (you probably won’t) have the shakes, the black-outs, red face. You won’t be clutching a paper bag in the park or eyeing up the cooking sherry.  Forget the old cliches – the cliched image of the drink-addled jakey sitting in a park is what the drinks industry, and their various hangers-on (advertisers, marketers, PR bods etc) want you to think of as someone with a ‘problem’.

It’s not about what you drink, or how much you drink. It’s about how that drink makes you feel, whether you feel artificially happier, bolder, stronger with it; whether you feel unhappy, angry, guilty or anxious during or after it (not to be confused with a raging hangover). It’s whether it is stealing your joy.

Here’s one for the women (not exclusively, but certainly predominantly). Take a look at social media. How many times do you read ‘HURRAH FOR GIN!’ or ‘IT’S WINE O’CLOCK!’ or ‘PROSECCO TIME!!!!!!’. It’s normal to drink. It’s normal to blame / thank your day by having a drink. Bad day – wine. Good day – wine. Naughty kids? Commiserate with gin. Good kids? Celebrate with gin. How many people do you know post almost constantly about being spangled/shit-faced or joke that they need a drink? How many people seem happy to promote a particular type of alcohol with their personality as though it is the most vital part their personality? Why do we do this? Do we realise what effect we might inadvertently be having on someone who might be desperately looking to cut down or stop drinking as we advertise the glory of being at one with the bottle of joy, as we glamorise it into something luxurious we deserve? Can you imagine if the same glamour, the same coolness, was still applied to having a cigarette? “Ooooh, it’s Berkley Menthol Time!!!!!, time to indulge in increasing my chances of developing cancer, what a crazy kid I am!”

Anyway, that’s an aside. That’s just something to think about when you’re next scrolling through social media. That’s why I have chosen to take a few weeks away from social media. What I actually want to say is this:

If you do actually worry about how much you drink, you’ve got a problem with alcohol. Problems can be fixed.

That’s what I have started to learn this week. I stood at a crossroads with an off-licence in one direction and the hills in the other.

This week, at least, I chose the hills. And, my god, they were glorious.

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Preparing to Retreat – Day 2 – I Create

This morning I worked. It’s a really enjoyable project that is unfortunately coming to an end, but today was pretty hard going, my head wasn’t in the best place for it. It’s because I’m worried about tomorrow and I felt that every time I spoke, you could hear the sigh hovering in my voice.

Alongside giving up social media for thirty days, I am also giving up alcohol. In my head, it’s all part of the same rut and my idea is that I need to shake up my evenings completely in order to push myself out of this hole I’m in. The problem is, I am a creature of habit, and it is going to take me a while to set up a new, healthier, happier routine for myself.

After work, I started making a few plans for rut-busting. I do so love a plan.

I have a few things (treats) coming in the post, like lovely new pyjamas and I spent a fair bit of outlay in ingredients to make my own organic, chemical-free bath and hair products. I will have the great outdoors on my doorstep as my chapel and my playground – my eldest has promised me use of his hammock so I can swing about in the woods. I have a few spots in mind perfect for meditating, I have a stack of books to be read, and some delicious, healthy recipes to cook. I have crochet and embroidery projects to work on, and too many drawers and boxes of arts and crafts materials to think about.

In addition, I felt it would be beneficial to have an emergency self-care kit for those moments where I just need to distract myself for a few moments, maybe an hour, to kill off a craving for a social media / glass of wine / social media AND a glass of wine.

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My kit contains:

Herbal tea bags – not shown.  I have plenty of these in the cupboard, but I am always drawn to them in the supermarket, and I am very interested in making my own from the herbs I have in the garden.

Yoga mat – Sometimes it takes me ages to drag myself to the mat. I often cannot complete a full session, there are many moves that are far too hard for my currently tight and unsupple muscles, but what I can do I greatly enjoy. I love Adriene Mishler’s yoga channel on YouTube, she has an infectious personality that never fails to cheer me up and she explains things so well I tend to be so blissed out I do most of the sessions with my eyes closed. She has also taught me that it is absolutely fine if I can’t get into runner’s lunge, or heel-to-floor in downward dog. I can do what I can do, and that is perfect for me. Next time, what I can do might be different. It’s no failure to not make every move picture perfect, it’s a success that I’ve brought myself to my mat and used this time for myself – and the feeling following a really lovely, deep stretch is absolute bliss!

My tablet – I’m hopeless typing on this because my fingers and hands are too small for the type-pad, so I only use the tablet for the aforementioned YouTube yoga sessions (and some Pilates sessions), my Spotify playlists (I have some gorgeous calming music saved to a playlist) and catching up with BBC Radio 4 (particularly The Archers or a really good drama).

Felt-tip pens and colouring books – I am a sucker for a colouring book, it is so calming and I love playing with colours and different combinations. I find it really helpful for when I’m planning colour schemes for crochet blankets. Colouring allows me to turn my brain off and just concentrate on being neat, creating patterns and having a good think about things. I have solved most of the world’s problems whilst colouring in an intricate mandala.

Logic puzzle book – You can stick your crosswords, I don’t have the patience for those. Wordsearches are boring. Give me a decent mug of coffee and a logic puzzle and I’m a happy girl. They remind me of laying on Cornish beaches with my family, laying listening to the sound of waves and the dull beach chatter of our fellow tourists. Remember those days where we weren’t all gazing at our screens constantly?

Epsom salts and essential oils and the compulsory scented candles – because bathtime is vital time. The bathroom is the only room in the house with a lock, for a start! I have a little stash of ingredients for making all manner of pampering lovelies so I can feel gorgeous on the outside, even if I’m feeling like a social-media deprived wreck on the inside.

Breathe Magazine – I love this magazine. I love the fact they are advert free, and they write interesting and thought-provoking articles on creativity, mindfulness, living simply and improving your mental health and wellbeing. They do this without the slightly cheesy and patronising ‘cheerleader’ approach you get from a lot of the American media who monopolise this genre, who seem to be more about product placement and expensive treatments and retreats far out of the budget of the majority of people.

Books – Books are unbelievably important to me. I don’t read terribly fast, as anyone who follows me on GoodReads can testify, because I believe good books should be savoured.( It also shows how busy I am doing other things that an hour a week to dedicate to reading is a marvellous treat!). I absolutely love nature writing; I have been hooked since reading John Lister-Kaye’s seminal ‘Song of the Rolling Earth’ a few years ago. I’ve been really lucky this year and read some absolutely wonderful books already, and I have vowed to do far more reading this month. I’m even moving outside my comfort zone and reading a book that fits more into the fantasy genre, which I usually bypass – Guy Gavriel Kay’s ‘Under Heaven’, and I’ll be interested to see if I am someone who might be converted! The Little Book of Buddhism is a perfect tiny read for carrying around and reading on the bus, on the loo, in the bath for when you need a quick hit of the wisdom of the Dalai Lama himself.

Crochet – I’m finishing off something to enter into the village Horticultural Show. I say ‘finishing off’ but I think it is actually finishing me off, I find that I am re-doing the same few rows over and over and not working out my mistake until attempt six; then forgetting what the solution was by the next time the same row repeats again; but it is a piece that I am doing for pure pleasure (and my goodness, the colours are beautiful!) and I shall cherish it, because my next few projects are all commission pieces.

 

So, here we are. Heading for midnight. It’s all very nerve-wracking, but I am also feeling like quite the intrepid explorer. Who would have thought, back in the days of internet chat rooms and forums, that we would be seeking advice on how to shut off from social media? I never thought I would become ‘that type’ of person. Never thought my life would pass me by while I got upset by other people’s dramas and I got angry with trolls I don’t know and would never in a million years invite into my house, but have let into my head. Is the old pre-Facebook/Twitter world still out there? Am I seeking something that cannot be returned to?

Today’s yoga mantra was ‘I create’.

I create a new routine for myself, or several routines if that suits me better.

I create a space for thinking for myself, for forming my own opinions.

I create a home where my children do not see me staring constantly at my phone whilst telling them not to stare at their laptops, under the pretence that my internet use is somehow more valid and useful than theirs.

I create a new today. I won’t worry about creating tomorrow until tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

Preparing to Retreat, Day 1 – I Accept

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So, on Wednesday August 1st I am going to be powering-down my social media usage for a month.

To clarify: I will still be using the computer, very occasionally my tablet, for certain things – yoga classes on YouTube, reading The Guardian, listening to the radio, grabbing recipes I have stored on Pinterest; but I will not be participating on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or any other ‘social media’ platform.

There are a number of reasons for this, but primarily it is because I feel as though I am stuck in a rut and social media is an important part of that. I almost cannot remember a time before social media and gawping at a screen, and I don’t really think it gives as much to my life as I’d like to think it does.

I am, essentially, taking a month to recuperate and take a restorative approach to my life, and there are going to be a number of significant changes I’m hoping to implement to benefit my family and myself.

Last night, very late, I deleted most of the apps from my phone. The games, the apps for the RSPB, The Woodland Trust, eBay, Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram , YouTube, Spotify all gone. I have left Messenger, for emergencies; Map My Walk and The Met Office app. Facebook I had deleted months ago and not really missed.

I immediately felt freer. They was something deliciously decadent about pressing that ‘delete’ button. Of course, they are still there for the download should I require them back; but for now I am waving a languid hand at them. I don’t need you, I don’t want you. I shall walk my path unencumbered by the thoughts of others. Those who care for me will still care, whether they see me online or not.

Later on I went through my emails and unsubscribed from marketing emails from everyone but those who inspire me. This leaves mainly updates from Map My Walk and Race At Your Pace, and a handful of websites and literary periodicals such as Slightly Foxed, 404 Ink, Caught By The River and Elementum Journal.

I want to make my interactions with technology more valuable, thoughtful, more relevant, more life changing. Less wasteful.

I want ideas, creative inspiration. I want to be lost in words again, not distracted.

I started Adriene’s yoga camp. Day One was an affirmation that “I accept”.

I accept how I am now, in this moment.

I accept that I am at a crossroads.

I accept that I can move in any direction of my own free will.

I accept that I am happy now, but I accept also that there are things I can change, in time, to bring an even deeper happiness to myself and those I love, respect and admire.

I accept the next month and all its undulations.

Tomorrow, I am working in the morning. During the afternoon I shall be doing more yoga, and I will be creating my special Retreat Tool Box, my kit of things that I find comforting that will help me through when I’m struggling a little; and for whatever reason I can’t get outside to indulge in nature, my greatest joy.

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SmallGoodThings

Monday morning silence.

I have just got home having walked the children to school in horizontal rain; I have made myself a very strong black coffee and retreated to bed, with my trusty laptop on my knees. I usually sit at my desk (yes, the £10.00 drop-leaf, no expense spared for my working comfort) but it’s covered in wool and various bits of crafting gubbinses like my silk-painting frame and paints. It also puts me into ‘work-mode’ when the view outside is less than inspiring as I’ll spend longer procrastinating and checking the work database and emails for tomorrow if there aren’t any birds and squirrels entertaining me.

It’s so quiet. No traffic or construction noise from the fancy new-builds across the way. No beep-blink-beep-boom of electronic games; no gentle drone of Radio 4 for company. It is quite….delicious.

When you are coping with an anxiety disorder, I think there can be a tendency to seek comfort in background noise – perhaps the moving wallpaper of the TV on in the corner whether it is being watched or not or, as in my case, the radio. Is it company? Is it some kind of reassurance that people are close by in a time where we are less likely to reach out to neighbours or friends with their busy lives?

I listen, as I mentioned, to Radio 4. I love Radio 4. For me, it has the perfect balance of news, current affairs, special interest programmes, comedy and drama. For all the BBC’s problems, for all its issues with media bias (and, let’s face it, what media outlet isn’t going to be biased in some way?); Radio 4 seems to remain a flagship of quality programming.

(It also has The Shipping Forecast, which I have always found mysterious and bewitching; hoping one day to experience a cyclonic off Fastnet.)

This morning, however, is quiet morning.

I can hear the wind whip through the bare branches of the beloved sessile oak that makes up most of my view. I can hear the soft click-chipchip-click of my useless one finger typing. I can hear a bird, a wren, it sounds like, singing ; its surprisingly big voice soon lost on the wind.

I’ve left my phone downstairs too. I’m taking a break from chatter and the buzz of social media, at least for a few hours, alongside the radio. Resting my brain from the constant barrage of information, misinformation, paranoia, fear and – thankfully with the lovely folk I follow on Twitter and my friends on Facebook – a decent sized portion of good, decent British gallows humour in the face of testing times; and no small degree of beauty.

My blog this morning was going to be a furious and self-righteous libtard, snowflake rant about the alt-right and the communal hypnosis that seems to be affecting the Western World at the moment; culminating in a mildly amusing tirade about last night’s events that led to Twitter – that bastion of free speech – putting me on the Naughty Step for twelve hours for pointing out to stupid people that they were stupid. (OK, I might have used a bad word or two); but even just thinking about it is making my shoulders stiffen and my jaw clench, and defeats the object of not listening to the radio.

Instead, I am going to talk about #SmallGoodThings.

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It fell into my Twitter timeline thanks to the lovely Emma of Silverpebble and is, in short, a collection of those lovely little things that make our hearts sing, rather than despair. It might be an inspiring view, something beautiful you’ve read, a delicious slice of cake or an amazing run. Emma herself is something of an inspiration to me, and I often find myself stalking her looking for her exquisite drawings of local flora, or her gorgeous Instagram pictures that just make me want to grab my wellies and go mooching around for what I too might find. I think I found out about Emma through Lucy of Attic 24 who in turn will probably never know the effect she had on me during my early struggle with learning to crochet with seven hundred fingers and ninety thumbs and also the sales of Robin DK yarn in the local branch of Watt Bros! Thank you to both of them for bringing such beautiful things into my life.

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On Friday night, we took 13 Beaver Scouts and 11 Cubs along to a Strathcalder District sleepover at the Glasgow Science Centre. I won’t try and kid on that I wasn’t at all worried about this – this was my first major outing leading a group without most of the parents being within easy grabbing distance, and I’m not the most confident of souls; but I’m delighted to report that it was absolutely amazing. We didn’t lose any in the throng of 400-odd other children all dressed the same; nobody required the First Aid kit; and any homesick tears were soon gone with bribes of arms full of (well deserved) badges and certificates. It was the first-night-away-from-family for a lot of them (sometimes I forget how young they are), and they were fantastic. Their behaviour and attitude was remarkable and I was so, so proud of each and every one of them and won’t hesitate to organise more trips with them.

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I was full of the cold yesterday and spent the morning lounging about cat-like in the sun’s rays on my bed; annoying people on Twitter, drinking copious amounts of tea and catching up with the gossip from Ambridge; but by the afternoon I was becoming stir-crazy and suggested a wee daunder down the farm lane to the Old Mine Nature Park. Boy 2 could have used the perfectly adequate wheelchair, bike and pram friendly gate at the side, but hey, where’s the fun in that?

Despite the snowdrop and crocus displays in the village and in the woods being tremendous this year; the lane is still cloaked in winter. There is the first sign of budding on the prolific hawthorn bushes, but not much else and I was just starting to feel rather melancholy and despondent when Boy 2 pointed out birdsong. The skylark! We often hear it along this walk as there are farm fields surrounding the lane on all sides; and we weren’t able to see it yesterday, but that unmistakable song never fails to raise the spirits. We continued along our way chatting about nature, and school. He described what adjectives were:

“Adjectives are describing words; like red, or blonde, or disgraceful.”

We came home to warmth, and tea, and the not-husband making dinner and I settled down to listen to Poetry Please, my Sunday afternoon guilty pleasure, where I heard this absolutely beautiful poem by Carol Ann Duffy:

The Light Gatherer

When you were small, your cupped palms
each held a candleworth under the skin, enough light to begin,
and as you grew,
light gathered in you, two clear raindrops
in your eyes,
warm pearls, shy,
in the lobes of your ears, even always
the light of a smile after your tears.
Your kissed feet glowed in my one hand,
or I’d enter a room to see the corner you played in
lit like a stage set,
the crown of your bowed head spotlit.
When language came, it glittered like a river,
silver, clever with fish,
and you slept
with the whole moon held in your arms for a night light
where I knelt watching.
Light gatherer. You fell from a star
into my lap, the soft lamp at the bedside
mirrored in you,
and now you shine like a snowgirl,
a buttercup under a chin, the wide blue yonder
you squeal at and fly in,
like a jewelled cave,
turquoise and diamond and gold, opening out
at the end of a tunnel of years.

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After bathtime, we managed to drag them away from their various bleep-bleep machines, to which they were appearing to be glued, for a game of Family Trivial Pursuit. It doesn’t happen as much as it should do. All too often we sit together in the living room with Boy 1 on a headset in front of the XBox, Boy 2 on headphones watching YouTube on his tablet, the not-husband on headphones watching a film on the laptop; and me crocheting and listening to the radio or something on Spotify; so although we are together, I am very conscious of the fact that we are all sat there in our own little bubbles; so it was really lovely to break out of that.

It’s now 10.36am. I have been typing for an hour and a half. It is still silent, but for the wind and the occasional bird. Have I missed Twitter or Facebook? No. Not at all. Have I missed the radio? Do I feel as though I have missed something vital to my understanding of the world in which we live? Do I fear I will fail my children by not keeping up with the minutiae of daily political intrigue? No.

I was chatting to someone about anxiety this weekend; we were talking about trying to find brightness on dark days; trying to find these self-same #SmallGoodThings; and how we need to treat them like kindling flames; to nurture them so they become bigger flames, light that illuminates the dark corners and keeps us warm.

Silence, today, has been my #SmallGoodThing

Thank you for reading xx

snowdrops

Snowdrops at Bothwell Woods through Prisma filter.