A year ago today….

Feeling a bit deflated today.

My hand is hurting – not the fracture, but the cast – rubbing across joints and knuckles, I just can’t get comfortable with it. I think it needs recasting but I just can’t face the travel in the fog to sit for hours in A&E.

The enforced inactivity is still irritating me. And I appear to have sought solace in food – and now I feel bloated and weighty. Darn it!!

This time last year was a very different story, because this time last year I had started a running programme – it was the very first time I had ever set any sort of  physical challenge, and I don’t think I could quite believe I had been so perverse as to choose something that I genuinely had always hated. This time last year I realised 2 things. 1) I couldn’t run for toffee, it wasn’t for no good reason I hated it and 2) I’d need some proper running shoes.

This time last year these two things were completely preoccupying my mind.

I wasn’t just poor at running – no, I was monumentally shit at it. I couldn’t run for any more than 30 in every ninety seconds. The 2km route I had set myself, out to a water tower near to where I lived and back, and whilst it appeared flat it  was actually marginally uphill on the homeward kilometre. This caused me untold agonies with cramp in my calves and shins during the early weeks. I felt my knees would buckle at the effort of trying to hold my weight – and I was so unfit I would be gasping before I had completed the first 100m.

Hence issue number 2. Running shoes are expensive and I was caught between knowing I wouldn’t get very far without them, and the conundrum of whether I was  honestly committed to doing this to warrant such a purchase?

A year ago today I had no idea that in taking up running, I would have found the one thing that would help curb my middle aged weight gain, reestablish my self esteem and give me a real challenge that would grip me with real enthusiasm for the entire year.

Since the car accident, obviously I haven’t been able to do any running – and prior to that I had missed a number of weeks due to a virus I couldn’t shake – so my running year has limped  to it’s anniversary like a wet weekend in Morcombe.

Prior to that however, I was actually able to complete 5k, none stop – I’m so immensely proud of myself it’s silly – but I am. I’m a bit bothered that by the time my hand is fixed, its going to be a painful road back to running fitness, but its one I know I will grind out because I’ve been bitten by the bug.

But it’s not all doom and gloom.

Because if I can learn to run 5k – honestly, I can push myself to move mountains.

Which brings me to this year.

I’m looking for a more holistic approach for this years challenge, mind and body.

I have always liked yoga -I like how it makes me feel once the initial stiffness wears off, but I just never seem to stick at it, and I’m not even sure why.

Starting tomorrow I begin my 30 day personal yoga challenge. The idea is to do it every day in January in the hope I can establish a routine – I have found some ‘look no hands’ videos on YouTube as my starting point – so the cast doesn’t stop me making a start.

If I stick at it, my reward will be to subscribe to an online yoga class called Yogaglo – because ideally i’d like the yoga to be to 2017 what my running was to 2016.






It’s true to say I have been de-cluttering our house constantly for several years now. I have loaded full skips of unwanted rubbish over the last 3 years at least & just this summer past I paid nearly £150 to a very nice  man with a van (a large one) to empty the entire contents of my carport; where I had deposited unused and unwanted items from house and garden during the year prior – filling the carport to bust its seams!!

Right now I have a good car load of rubbish sat in my kitchen that is tip bound tomorrow if my husband will let me fill the back seat of his car with crap, which has arisen from my very busy de-clutter session today.

These days has seen a definite slow down in the outflow of clutter, but we still seem to have a house filled with ‘stuff’.

By nature, we are a household of hoarders. My husband says he isn’t, but he’s every bit as bad as the rest of us.  I know i’m bad and I’m sentimental – that, and I always believe I’ll find a use one day for even the most stupid item.

I always wished I had one of those artfully matched homes you see in magazines – the ones with perfectly placed soft furnishings, rooms with no TVs, smelly dogs or marks on the wall left by a daft pigeon who fell down the chimney.

But you see I love my smelly dogs, the family like the TV and that pigeon really did flap soot all over my lounge as it careered into every wall before knocking itself out long enough to be retrieved.

However part of my plan for my new year is to step up the de-clutter in terms of dumping hoarded artefacts – if nothing else, it makes housework quicker and it feels cathartic. However, I don’t want sterile minimalism – instead I want a tasteful balance between function and homeliness.

My house not only lacks chic, but it also has no personality I’ve realised and one aim for my new year is to see our personality reflected properly in the place we live; that, and a clearer demarcation between our home and our business – which has a terrible habit of seeping where it doesn’t belong!

No more hoarding

Instead keeping only those things that makes us, ‘us’

This isn’t about redistributing boxes of items – but involves  music, colour, comfort – making our house reflect the householders. Something I have never  got the hang of. I somehow want to do it without cluttering back up with knick-knacks.

I also don’t intend to do it by buying it pre packaged. This isn’t about wading through John Lewis and buying a stylish room – we don’t have the money for starters. But I want this to be about having a care for our house, something I seemed lately to have lost the desire to do. I want our home to looked loved.

Almost 2 years ago my eldest son left home – but left a trail of items he said he would one day collect, and I dutifully allowed them to stay – only I realised that my daughter, who still lives with us, appeared to be squatting amongst his various possessions. So first on my agenda was to reclaim this ‘space’ and begin to make my daughter’s bedroom look like it truly is hers.

He, who now has his own house has been issued with a choice – collect or donate to charity. He has the Christmas holiday to decide. This feels like a good place to start my quest – both daughter and youngest son’s bedrooms both felt they didn’t belong to them, as they seemed to be surrounded by another persons unwanted possessions – that neither seemed fair, nor is it attractive – their bedrooms are a mess really, and don’t feel personal spaces for them at all.

So this is going my first port of call,

But I have cast my disgruntled eye around the whole house – and if nothing else, this could be a very busy year

Christmas negativity

I love Christmas.

I am a creature of habit.

Ergo, Christmas at our house follows a well trodden path.

This year started out going the same route, the tree was bought straight after my youngest son’s birthday, the old baubles came out – it was a pretty looking tree.

Presents appeared as did the sherry & advocaat,

But I wasn’t happy.

2016 has been a dire year personally for my husband and I and nothing is set to change this side of the new year, or beyond as it stands.

Stressed out, we are so so tired and no amount of tinsel was going to improve that.

However family and kids have an expectation that the basics over xmas will be covered, so I sort of went into a Christmas auto pilot.

That was until 3 days before the event- taking youngest son shopping to find a present for his dad; we took a detour to A&E via a nasty skid into a tree as we took a tight corner and wrote off my car.

THANKFULLY youngest walked away unscathed – excepting for an unwelcome  new perspective on mortality. Neither of us had been in an accident before – between our tears and hugs on the roadside was the grim realisation it could have been v different.

I fractured my right hand on the airbag.

Christmas as originally planned, that tried and trusted route to excess – abruptly stopped, just like my car.

Nothing was as I imagined. My right hand and arm in plaster – my only joy for a relaxing holiday, some knitting I had planned for myself – scuppered completely

And had I ever imagined that my hand in plaster could set off a panic attack? – Well it does; if it suddenly gets hot inside the cast and I can neither make myself more comfortable or move my fingers – the panic inside me becomes completely disproportionate.

And the rage ? I hadn’t imagined that either- stress, tiredness, incapacity – all set off rage filled tears as I swung from feeling helpless, to angry at everything and every one, to tired and tearful – massive swings of emotion.

Last night i tossed and turned. Hot and strung out, uncomfortable and unhappy.

But one thing has come out of all this – one very good thing.

Change – the tried and tested path? It’s crap. And has to go.

Thoughts of changing my life somehow have been with me for a good while – but it has taken this most favourite of times in my year, to go sour and somehow manage to express all my negative feelings – in one unhappy holiday. To make me face  up to the need to start putting thoughts in to action.

And this blog is going to chart the progress

I have a soul to search out.