When your Mother buys you a book with 248 pages solely dedicated to transforming “your home into a permanently tidy, clutter-free space,” and with the precursor, “You’re probably not going to like this Dear,” you know you’re in trouble. Last year and crucially, last year, my Mother gifted Marie Kondo’s “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying” to me. And since last year, have I even picked it up? No way. For when my Mother, in an pre-meditated act of pseudo-kindness, bought me a Zen-shmen, Japanese sensation of a book, containing “simple and effective ways to banish clutter forever”, I had no choice but to interpret this as a tactless and underhand move, an insult plain and simple. Continue reading “The Magic of Space”
It’s Mental Health Awareness week. So let’s talk about mental health.
The truth of the matter is that 1 in 6 adults experience mental health problems in the UK. So if you’re not feeling it, then the likelihood is that someone close to you is. Continue reading “Let’s talk about Mental Health”
Last week someone, who shall remain anonymous, came to me with a problem. It was quite out of character. And it was quite out of the blue. A shocking self-discovery that took myself and this someone, who shall remain anonymous, rather by surprise.
As problems go, it wasn’t catastrophic. There was no narcotic addiction, there was no other man, there were no gambling debts. Thank Goodness, there was no terminal illness, no manic depression, no mid-life crisis. In fact, this particular problem was less a problem and more a stark observation. And as with a common cold or a niggling cough, the problem was actually uncomplicated. Easily self-remedied, given half the chance. But by its very simplistic nature, it was all the more startling. Continue reading “Tickle Me Quick”
It’s been a while. Have you missed me? On second thoughts, don’t answer that. For since we last met, I’ve become increasingly accustomed to using the F word. Whereas it’s not a word I would use frivolously, I’ve grown to feel rather comfortable with the way it just rolls of the tongue in an incredibly gratifying way. And loaded with an emotion and an enormous strength that no other word can afford, the F word knows how to satisfy me in a way that nothing else can. Not even you, who knows me so well. Or so you think.
For whilst you were gone, something happened to me. Something that took me fully by surprise. And despite only being teased by the transience of the moment, this particular moment was undeniably momentous. Not to mention memorable. So memorable in fact, that this singular moment can be pinpointed to a sleeping policeman on a bridge crossing over a motorway at ten-to-nine on a dreary morning in December. For it was whilst flying over this bump, amid the grinding groans of over-worked windscreen wipers, the monotonous moans of sluggish school-kids in the back and the distant drones of the tedious traffic crawling beneath me, that I discovered it. A fleeting feeling that catapulted me momentarily to a most coveted space somewhere beyond infinity, to the very top of the world. A soothing sensation that sent ripples of serene totality and blissful wholeness throughout my body. An epiphanic state of self-completion that incredibly I wasn’t aware I’d been lacking all these years. What became of me in that instant was an unforeseen but unequivocal sense of Fulfilment. The F word: fully-fledged, flawless and finger-lickin’ly good. Fulfilment: pure and simple, yet achieved almost by accident. What a coup! Continue reading “The F Word”
Sequel to “Trust me, I’m your Instinct” & “362 Day Resolve”
It wasn’t difficult to win me over. In fact, it was only a matter of time before I’d submit. Yet again. Not content with my lot. A sucker for some sensation. Maybe it was the risky scent of danger that lingered after last time, or the addictive taste of adrenaline that laced my lips and played temptress with my mind. Or perhaps it was the garrulous grumblings of a gut, whose deeply instinctive groans and aches had simply got the better of me again. Either way, Mills and Boon eat your hearts out, my appetite was wet. There was only one thing on my mind. And just when you thought you knew me so well, I’d ditched the status quo and was making headline news again. Well, about as headline as any Facebook status goes. Continue reading “Knowing is Believing”
Recently I have become partial to a glass (or two) of wine. Not white, not red, but somewhere in the middle, chilled to a desired degree and of a specific vine. Now those of you who know me well, will agree that this is an astounding achievement. Nigh on teetotal, the “cheap date” cliche has forever been my most well-received party trick. However, with nagging nerves and stress levels hitting unprecedented highs, it was clear that something had to be called in. Something stronger than an insipid camomile tea or a gallon of Rescue Remedy. And with the glistening bottle in easy reach (plus more mellow, fruity vibes chilling in reserve), it’s no wonder the last few weeks have born witness to a remarkable transformation in me.
A little bit of what you fancy can’t hurt, right? Continue reading “A little bit of what you fancy”
It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m feeling the pressure.
A pressure that can only be experienced at the turn of each year. One that has matured over time, this pressure is no longer about securing a drunken pub-lic snog or even whether or not I manage to stay awake until the clock strikes twelve. It’s about a whole lot more than this transient and seriously overrated moment. It’s about the year ahead of me and what the hell I’m going to do with it. But as Big Ben bashes it out and fancy fireworks flood the sky, I wilfully fling myself so far into the Land of Nod, that I just don’t give a toss. Well, for now anyway. Continue reading “362 Day Resolve”
[Sequel to Half The Woman
I was hoping never to see you again.
But that was wishful thinking.
And sadly it’s no surprise when your indelible imprint remains true to form –
Bed for bed, curtain for curtain –
Further confirmation that life is fragile, precious. Continue reading “F4 Revisited”
It’s 10.36 on a Saturday night
And I’m in bed.
I’m in bed with a reputation that is starting to precede me.
Dinner-party done, table tidied, guests gone.
It’s only 10.36 pm and already I’m tucked up, amid crisp white layers of laundry-fresh bedded bliss.
Delicious it may sound, from time to time, either alone or with a significant [or not so significant] other. But don’t be fooled, this is no luxury. The Ten O’Clock Rule is a self-inflicted, self-regulated body-clock bootcamp. One that, might I add, is far from being relegated to school-nights only. No. The Ten O’Clock Rule has long since daily ruled this roost.
And it’s beginning to rule my life. Continue reading “The Ten O’clock Rule”
There’s no such thing as infertility these days
And that was supposed to comfort me
On my most barren of days,
Among the geri’s
On F4. Continue reading “Half the Woman”