Grateful: Day 77 - Twofold Blog

So, last night I got to hang out with Victoria Sandison. Pig In Shit. Me, of course, not her. I love that girl. I love how bigly she lives and how much she makes me laugh. I love how clever she is. She and Esther Lilley have taught me more about loving people than anyone else in the world.

I'm about to go out to meditate with people over the bongs. That's my intention, anyway. Different people than planned, which is both a shame and a gift. More about that later. This will be a twofold blog. I plan to write when I get in. Even if I go home early, that will be after midnight, so just in case...

2011 has been a year full of change for me, and full of the best kind of uncertainty. Sometimes that's been challenging, sometimes rewarding, sometimes interlinkedly both. I've experienced more synchronicities and gatherings of universe energy to say yes than ever before. Or maybe I just started to notice.

I have been on my own, in love relationship terms, for this year in its entirety. Sometimes that's been something I want to change, but I was thinking just now, upstairs... if this is how it is, it's really very good indeed. I shan't complain about that. No I shan't. It's really rather good. And I have felt more loved this year than ever before. It is, really, all good. And that being the case, bring it on, 2012, whatever it is. I'm ready.

=====================

Twofold, my arse! It's 2.30 in the morning. It will be nothing but sleep-fuelled drivel. Roll on tomorrow. Jxxx

Grateful: Day 76 - New Year's Eve Eve

Today, I am surrounded by couples kissing. I'm sure it's a good sign, though sometimes it feels a little bit not. I have a very sweet couple right in front of me right now who can't bear to be apart. The boy has brought his chair around so he can sit next to the (very beautiful) girl he is with and periodically bury his face in her neck.

To my left a shaven-headed man has just kissed the hand of his bob-haired girlfriend before placing it on his scalp for an enforced - but seemingly well-received - nuzzle. That's all. Not surrounded, then, but they stand out. You know.

I recognise my flickers of irritation as jealousy, or at least as a kind of wistful yearning. It's all good. I'm grateful for that development. When it's just the irritation and I'm not able to see any other levels, it's really very annoying indeed. And it's not a 'get a room' situation. They are displaying, in my view, very appropriate levels of affection. It's sweet. Oh, shut up and have another nectarine.

I am excited. I get to see Victoria Sandison this evening. Very good news indeed. I'm off there now. Not really much point going home. I've sat here and worked for five hours. While I haven't achieved as much as I would have liked to, I'm now more than ready to move.

I've had lovely emails and posts from many fabulous people today, and over the last days, weeks and months. I feel very lucky that most of the people I come into contact with behave beautifully.

Ruth has gone to Wales to see in the New Year in a mountain cottage. I'm going to go and meditate with yoga people tomorrow night. I'll take it as it comes. I'll see how it is. I'll listen. I like that I have a thing to do that speaks to me.

This morning: birds. So many birds. Shouty, slender gulls. The ducks were quiet, but very present. Lots of them huddling. Moorhens. Pigeons. Magpies. Parakeets. A flock of something overhead as I swam round. Take flight. Take flight. I think my day of goals yesterday has made me giddy. No harm in that.

I think my body is finally back to its full tolerance. It's happy with the cold. It's not complaining anywhere near as much, even though the temperature is dropping again. Maybe it was warmed by seeing Mary. Mary Politics. Mary Bike. There are so many Marys. I like this one very much and I haven't seen her since the end of November, though she's been coming. It was very nice to see her back again.

And a strong, hot shower*. I've been used to having a cold one for a week now, and finding it warmer than the pond, so that's all good. But ooh, it was nice to have a proper blast of fast, hot water streaming over me. Small, simple pleasures. The best kind. Welcomed. Appreciated. Blessed.

* Goodness, that image search threw up more porn than I've seen in a very long time. Goodness me. Nearly as much as the time I typed the words 'Southern Europe' into an online translation programme at Hasbro a few years ago, and saw images more graphic than anything before or since. What a specific virus!

Grateful: Day 75 - Go-Getting Goal-Setting

I leapt out of bed the second the alarm went off and got busy. Go me.

I tidied, packed, planned, got ready, left. Swam. No socks. The board still said 6. Felt more like 5, but my feet were bearable, so I didn't regret it, and I saw lovely Corinna - always a bonus.

The main focus of today was the ritual of yearly goals with Kate. We've been doing this now for probably five years. It feels good. I think I achieved most of my major goals this year. Not all, of course. There are some failures to achieve that I'm sorry about. I took my cello back today - there's one. I'm so sorry I'm not able to carry on at the moment, what with my wonderful teacher and such a beautiful instrument, but even if I can pay for the lessons, right now it's tricky to afford the cello itself. Does anybody have one they'd like to lend me? Some beautiful, velvet-bellied creature who needs to be played from time to time. Oh, I would be grateful. That was one of my fails. I didn't do my cello justice, or my teacher. But I just had to let go.

On the other hand, so much else has been wonderful. The process we use this.

1. Gratitude

2. Thank you and goodbye

3. Inviting in

4. Goals

(5. - separately, monthly goals, and/or weekly ones)

It's such a great thing to do. I'm grateful for so much this year - for all the work coming to me - I feel like I've been able to have a taste of some wonderful work with some wonderful companies and groups. I had my first professional acting job that wasn't corporate (playing God - can't beat it - wouldn't want to). I got paid to have lots of fun at the European Court of Human Rights. I get to make up my own workshops too, and play with people.

I ran workshops in mask, impro, creativity, Plain English, creative writing... We did Cellblock - our 26-hour fantasy show that ended up actually happening and Blew My Mind with how wonderful it was, how rich with all those people and all that talent.

I've done workshops on things that would strike dread into the hearts of hardier people than me. I've become hardier myself, though, by swimming daily in the pond. The sunrises I've seen this year. The beauty.

I've faced big, ugly challenges. I was trussed up in a deep, fighty depression during February and March, beset by disappointments and darkness and intenisified awareness all my failures at turning 40 (and none of the good bits). I've been effectively/officially homeless for more than half the year, and I am deeply, wholly, humbly grateful to all the people who have housed me and been wonderful, most deeply of course to Ruth - for this and for her friendship.

I get to say goodbye to some really long-term companions, not all of them welcome. Thank you for that. This end of year, thanks to swimming, yoga, loving friends and this blog and gratitude practice, I have been spared the depths of dark mind days most normal winters bring. I have said goodbye to weights I have carried on my shoulders for over twenty years. Even if I do not achieve my goals in those respects, I have done the work. For that, and for support in that (Face, that's you, and Lilley), I am grateful.

Last year, it was vulnerability I invited in, with or without the Spanish accent that so suits that word. This year, something else, as useful and as powerful, I hope: listening, trust, surrender. Oh, and love of so many kinds. I've had a good start this year. This blog (and the practice that goes with it) has allowed me to be so much freer with love and warmth and compliments, with openness to people and new things.

This year is full of action and of work. This year, it's time to buckle down and get shit done, in the playfullest of ways. Think of a child who's lost in the painting she's doing, or who's so engrossed in the make believe game she's playing that she doesn't even lift her head. Focus and play do not exclude each other. Listening. Attention. Really hearing. That's a goal for this year. And so, so many more.

I am so grateful for Kate, who loves to play this game and who inspires me. For the wonderful, creative idea-mongers, loving spirits and playing people who surround me. Don't I have a nice time? Yes, I really do.

Next year, I'll get a home. Even as soon as January. I'll miss Ruth, of course, as I miss Kate, but it will be just fine. I'll visit, and I'll make things good. It's time to have a home again, even for a few months. Maybe I'll live in Berlin this summer. Perhaps I'll spend some time in Austria, in the mountains.

If 2012 is even half as rich as this past year has been, we're in for a stonker. I know I am. I hope you are too. Oh, I do so very hope so. Strap in, have fun. This one's going to count.

Grateful: Day 74 - Esther Lilley Pie

Esther Lilley. Esther Lilley. Eeeeestheeeer Liiiiiiiilleeeeyyyyyyy.

I had a whole afternoon with Esther Lilley today. How lucky am I? Sorry not to see Daniel, but greedy, too, for Lilley-time. I don't see her enough, but when I do, oh how nice. She is elegant on so many levels, generous, delicious and funny. If she was a cake, I'd eat three in a row. If she was* a book, I'd read her again. I might even write a little review and put it on amazon. Five stars. Don't miss this!

We talked and talked. We walked. Hampstead Heath again. I know, I know, it's not the only place in London, but it is nice, and I'm still quite new to it. We discovered new parts of it today. I'm still not quite sure which parts they were, but they were very beautiful. I may never find them again.

I learnt a lot. I benefit from Lilley's goodness with her mentor. She helps and teaches me. And the difference in her, in Lilley, since she has been working with him, is really something else. She has become not just a flowy, generous delight and skilled teacher, full of all the skills that bring the best out in each person, but also a very astute entrepreneur. No flake with this woman. She has more focus than most people will ever have and yet she keeps that human touch alive.

I am now the proud owner of a pair of yak-wool bootees (slippers, slipper socks) from Actual Nepal (thank you, Daniel, thank you, Lilley), a tiny window angel (thanks, Lill), very cute, and a strange and very pleasing finger bird in neon colours, also yak wool (Daniel, perfect choice). I think it's supposed to go on a pencil. I suspect it will spend more time on my finger, having adventures and that.

Thank you to and for Esther Lilley, waves of such fabulously matchy lengths. It's funny. Often Lilley and I are on balances at different times, which is useful - one can say the thing that will inspire the other. The other, knowing that these waves seem to work like biorhythms, is apt to listen. Today we were on pleasing pars.

And the Heath was givey. It gave us sunlight and a crescent moon. It gave us woods and lakes and ponds and ... heath? It gave us stunning cityscapes at different stages of the light. It gave us walks in darkness. It gave us beauty to be by. It gave us calm.

Thank you for a lovely meal prepared for me when I got home. Thank you, Ruth. Liver. Liver. Liver. So good they named it three times. Doesn't quite work, does it, that? It was good though, that liver, and very apt. At the vegetable stall, with Lill, the green vegetables called to me and I walked away with a

massive stalk of kale (along with my grapefruit and a bunch of radishes). I must be needing iron, that's my point. Makes sense.

I love that my body is so good at showing what it needs. Evidently, it often thinks it needs a pudding, which it doesn't, but that's a different bit. When I rule out processed sugar/heavy carbs/fat - not for ever, but just in this context, and my eye goes straight to the kale, I think it's clear. Or when I find myself daydreaming about different liver dishes I have eaten. That's when I know.

And thank you - after all this time, a call with Øyvind and more work, exciting, fresh, brilliant stuff I'm really excited about. Ace. Everything has its time, its rhythm. Holding tighter doesn't make things happen. I'm not saying it's predefined... just that gripping tight with mind and jaw just makes your mind and jaw hurt. Holding some things a little looser is just fine by me. This feels like the right time to start with this again, and I'm a bit clearer (I think) about what I need to work well... thanks to Rob for much of that.

This, and having ideas with Øyvind, made me realise I've missed working with him and I've missed my chats with Rob this last week or so - we've had a chat or two and ideas, but we're in completely different time zones. I also realise, thanks to all sorts of things and people, and bigly Lill today, that I have to get some structure and discipline in my life. I need to get me some regular working hours and bloody well work during them, and say no. This doesn't mean the end of flexibility - it just means that I need to take responsibility for working the hours I choose and if I want to be flexible, I make them up, just like when you're employed. Then maybe I can feel good about the time I do take off and do with it what I will, rather than constantly having in my mind the things I should be doing. I'm waking up early with the stress of it, but that's not helping change it.

I am grateful, so very grateful, for people contacting me to offer me work. It sounds a bit passive, but I like it. When I want to strive for something specific, then I will. Right now, I love hearing what people have me in mind for. Let's do this shit. Let's do it.

I swam at noon today. Well, five past. It wasn't like a duel. The water was six degrees. It honestly felt warm. Well, warmer. Noticeably so. I swam at noon because I couldn't drag my sorry arse out of bed this morning. I lay there having a massive chat with myself. I bored myself back to sleep, but I didn't get up. I never considered not swimming, but I broke the golden 'first thing' rule. No harm in that. I prefer the early shift, but it's nice to try it out at different times.

Oh... I looked at the photos sent by Mike Lawn (thank you Mike)... There were some really nice ones (which is saying a lot - most people don't like photos of themselves). I did notice with some trepidation that the article's title is/was/will be 'Baby Goggles'.... hmmm. Well, what did I expect? It is the Daily Mail.

* I know I should write 'if she were...' but it just seems a bit wank. Sorry.

Grateful: Day 73 - Humbled

Today, I am humbled, exhausted, moved and blessed. I absolutely love working for Crisis at Christmas. It's an honour and a very nice thing to do. Not nice like 'aren't we all nice for doing it' nice. It's really good fun, engaging, and all of the things above... humbling, exhausting, moving and full of blessings.

First things first. So. Much. Exercise. And yet the kind of tired I am isn't the physically wiped kind. But tired just the same. First, a cycle to the centre. Not really very far. A measly 20 minutes. This morning, I was allocated to sports. Badminton, table tennis, football... fuck yeah!

None of the guests (Crisis terminology for the people visiting who are homeless and coming to use the facilities, rather than to volunteer) had arrived, so I played badminton with another volunteer. In jeans, fur-lined boots and two layers, me. Oh, and then people arrived. The idea is to get people involved, so we did. One guy needed no encouragement. He was sparkly-eyed and ready to play, a whizz with a badminton racket and a bit of a hustler. Singles became doubles and swapping out to engage anyone who walked in through the door.

Smashes (don't you LOVE to smash? I do) and little tickle shots that lift it just over the net. Great big fathomy shots that send the shuttle right up to the roof. It has been noticed, by me and others, that I celebrate a failure with as much gusto and glee as a success. Well, almost. Just as regularly, though. I love that game.

A very withdrawn bloke who hardly spoke and just wanted to kick a ball around refused to play badminton. On his second or third visit, he agreed to kick with a very pretty young volunteer who's still at school and later, though he'd never played before, he picked up a racket and joined in the badminton. A lovely young man played too. He laughed a lot. One very directive, very grumpy man joined in and shouted people down for a while, but everyone kind of pulled together. My mini-goal was to make the fucker laugh, despite his need to make everything perfect-right and control the whole shebang. Little bit. Not the whole hog, but flashes.

Meanwhile there was table tennis going on and a healthy rivalry was burgeoning between me and the badminton ninja. I can play badminton and I love it, though my back doesn't like it much when I play a lot. After a singles match with him (in which he thrashed me), we sa

t down for a break and he told me more about his story.

I don't feel right going into all the detail. I feel it wouldn't be quite honourable, but it involved very recent bereavement of his partner, deeply loved and known since childhood, sleeping rough, violence on the streets and prospects, values, hope, grief, choices. He still had the sparkle, energy and light in his eyes. At a certain moment, we played again. He thrashed me hollow this time, but seemed happy.

When he visited me at the end of the creative writing workshop this afternoon, that light wasn't even half. His eyes were swollen from crying and his focus was deep within even during eye contact sometimes. He was still polite, funny, friendly, but so sad. We talked some more. Again, really no more detail, but there were times when, though I could stay with him, I couldn't stop my throat from aching and my eyes from becoming glassy with emotion.

He had control, in many ways. He was making choices. He was deciding things for the best. And it wasn't pity I felt. Just sorrow and emotion for such deep grief and loss, for so

meone fighting, coping, fighting, getting through. Wishing I could make more changes happen for him, make things happen, and knowing that all I could do was listen then and be there. Now I'm here, warm and safe at home (not my home, maybe, but the home of beloved Ruth - thank you) and he is sleeping in a place that he has found that he hopes is safe from attack.

He has hardly any money and no benefits, and yet the man bought me chocolates to say thank you. It hurt to be taking a proportion of his meagre money from him by accepting but saying no was never, never, never an option. Just a big yes and thank you and a genuine feeling of thanks.

And the thing I want to say is that we are all the same. Yes, a lot of homeless people have mental health problems, learning difficulties, other issues, and so many have just very bad luck, or difficult situations. They are people with lives and pasts and values that I hardly ever take the time to find out. For every visible homeless person there are so many more walking around. Someone sitting on a bench with a small backpack, wandering around Primark, shopping in a supermarket chain... they are you and me. In the situation some people are in, many of us would break mentally and physically, our feelings of self-worth draining into the pavement as we walk (even if not sleeping rough). Humbled isn't big enough a word. Levelled. Haunted.

And that's not all, of course. Today I laughed with any number of people. Saw an ex boyfriend (who I'd recently been thinking about, actually - 11 years younger than me, boyish at the time, very probably not really interested in women, certainly not in me), did creative writing (three people came back, another two joined... we had a very lovely time and yes, more laughing). Made tea for other volunteers. Ate simple sandwiches - white bread, butter, ham... delicious. I talked to so many people. Smiled at so many more.

A person I know who hates how much it pleases me to be useful and to help would have

had a field day of irritation. I was in my element - talking shit to strangers, getting stuff for them, sorting things out, being helpful. Yes, being really, really useful. I am so grateful to have been able to do that, to fill my greedy boots with busybodying and to feel good at then end of that day.

Back to the exercise... 2 and a half hours, I played, with a break of about 20 minutes. And then the cycle home, over an hour, covered in luggage and a lot of it uphill. I stink. I won't hold back. I smell like a school changing room. I'm disgusting. I truly do disgust myself. Hooray! I'm off to bed to sit there, warm and smelly. I can't wait.

Grateful: Day 73 - Crisis

* This picture was the result of the search: sausage surprise. Just thought you should know.

So very grateful. Today, I got to walk around a lot, attend to two 'first aid' situations, both involving slings and arms that mov
ed surprisingly well, laugh a lot, smile at people, run a creative writing workshop and a guided meditation, both of which went well, drink tea, eat biscuits and talk a lot of shit with a lot of different people, buy Connect 4 and Jenga (both rip-offs, Hasbro... MUCH cheaper) and each an orange truffle and a ginger biscuit, both of which almost drew tears of joy.

I got home to find cooked for me a sausage

feast, full of flavours, together with yesterday's leftovers and a mountain of sprouts (oh yes, oh yes). Then we played a game that I picked up at a workshop with Carol Ann Duffy years ago, when I first met my so deeply loved friend Esther Lilley (thank you thank you thank you thank you, how different and some how less sparkly my life would be without her influence

- from chance comments about thrones, stinky socks and scansion to the massive honour of being the maid at her and Daniel's wedding - phoooo! - so grateful).

The game is this... each person writes down two abstract nouns and two concrete ones, each

on its own slip of paper. On separate slips, you write the definitions - whimsical or straightforward, but relevant. Then you fold each slip and put all nouns in one bowl and all definitions in another, then pick them out and read them. That's how simple.

We HOWLED. I think at some point each of us nearly weed. There is such poetry in that game, and such bliss. We played it in the creative writing workshop too, where it went down well,

but I don't think at any point there was a potential loss of bladder control.

Then we watched I've Loved You So Long. I love to watch Kristin Scott Thomas* (even if I'm never entirely sure about her name). What a beautiful, beautiful film. I cried, not as often as in Kung Fu Panda (that scored 9 hits), but deeply and for real. No superficial flinch. It was beautifully acted (the little girl was amazing, the secondary characters good enough to eat and the two leads like magic) and it was very, very touching. Thank you.

* Even dowdy, she has cheekbones to die for and a grace I can only dream of.

Now to bed and tomorrow home for proper. If the transport had been working today, I'd have gone to Muswell Hill direct, but it wasn't, so here I am again. Mmmmmmm, sausages. Mmmmmm, friends. Mmmmmm, sleep.

Grateful: Day 72 - Pace Yourself

What a lovely Christmas Day. It's not usual that I should say such a thing. It's often quite a challenge. But today was lovely.

My present, which I opened before leaving, was inspired. An eco daylight light bulb in pretty packaging. Thank you, Yot. It made me laugh and will be terribly useful. I like that you're my friend.

A swim, of course, just in time. The ladies' pond closed at 9.30 this morning so the life guards could go and prepare for the races at the men's pond at 11. The water was lovely. The company was great. A Ruth (not mine, another one) and her friends, and another lady I remember by face more than by name. And a hug from Claire, one of the lifeguards, and smiles from Kim and the blond, curly-haired one whose name I really should know by now.

Claire had Viszla/Poodle cross puppies during the summer. They were ready to go to new homes in the autumn. Oohhh, I ached for one of them. I saw photos. They were small, blonde and slightly curly-haired. I think Esther Lilley would have found them a most suitable dog, and anything Esther Lilley finds most suitable is probably rather good.

A chat with a very camp man and his dog, Lucy, both of us watching a bunch of very large men divebombing into the men's pond. Very funny. They have a diving board, see, so getting in is more macho by its very nature. And it can all be seen from the path, making it somehow showboatier. I spoke to a family (at 9.40, more or less) who were walking a very excitable, very young spaniel (14 weeks) and drinking white wine from plastic glasses. Their son had just finished his shift at the Royal Free Hospital and wanted a drink to celebrate. They joined him. They told me all about their dog and their son and wished me a happy Christmas.

All the way on the hour or so's cycle over to Acton, I smiled and nodded at people. It was only an hour because I was bumbling. It was a very pleasant ride. At Kate's: oooh, Kung Fu Panda. Brilliant! I really liked the old turtle master with his head resembling genitals and his wise words and dignity. The animation was ace. I loved the whole thing.

And this evening, we cooked, ate, gave gifts and talked. Kate, Marg and I. We gave each other small physical gifts (body oil, a Mexican bowl-shaped ornament, from actual Mexico, that is a cheetah who's eaten up a lady, a book about dogs). And then we gave each other fantasy gifts.

I love this game. You get to choose anything to give your friend. Anything at all. It isn't bound by limitations of money, scale or even pragmatism. You can wish someone happiness, give them a superpower, bestow upon them a house, a dog, some wealth. Or you can say things maybe you wouldn't say in passing.

I received, among other things, an enormous dog kennel with lots of occupants and quarters for me, a romance with a tall Norwegian writer and the power to hover above the ground. Good haul! That period of gift-giving moved me massively. I felt soft and open-hearted.

And we did a tarot reading for each of us (I did two). I like the cards for letting you into secrets you already know. For me, tarot doesn't tell the future - it shows you what you're processing. It accesses the part of you that makes dreams and knows things in itself. It's interesting. We kept our readings content-free - so the person with the cards said nothing about the thing they were thinking about.

We did, as I'm sure many did today, eat too much. And personally, I'm grateful I don't drink. I had no need to 'pace myself' or end up feeling sick or wasted. Just no issue at all. It's a while since I remembered day by day how grateful I am for that, but I like having reminders. Goodness, my life is so much more fun than it used to be, and goodness knows what it would have become if i had carried on.

Today, I'm grateful for the easy company of friends, for the abundance to be able to do be here and eat together and for so many gifts I wasn't even expecting. For my full belly. For songs on the radio. For a warm bed offered, and about to be made use of and for lots of good, beloved, valued friends, here and all over the world.

Grateful: Day 71

What do I keep forgetting to mention that gives me pleasure every day? Oh yes. When I get down to the platform at Highgate to catch the tube, and it's 'always' the right train (via Bank, usually, or occasionally it's the Charing X one I need). It's not always, of course, and it's not every day, but it does seem to be most of the time that I am there, which makes me do the little football fist of victory, thus looking like a twat.

The sky was beautiful this morning and the air had more bite than yesterday. Still not proper cold, but I felt it. The water was forgiving. I filled my wetsuit socks full of hot water (on Ruth's advice) and squelched out. I think that helped. It feels like copping out but at the same time it means I can stay in that bit longer and enjoy it, rather than struggling. It does feel weird, though, stepping in and not feeling the cold until the foot is fully covered.

Thank you for the tiny weeny tube of Dr Hauschka Rose Day Cream. When July's under-eye midge bite was still prominent (in late September) I wanted some of that. £23.99 for 30ml. Really not. So I went with something cheaper, which is good. Very nice, in fact, but not the recommended one. And today, there was a tiny one open. I asked how much it was and she found me a sample. Hooray! The bite is still there under the skin, so I'll try it. Thank you, Planet Organic lady. I didn't expect something for free in there. Result!

My friend's blog made me laugh and laugh. I read two in one hit, yesterday's and today's. I was in public (of course) and I kept snorting and giggling. Read it. It's very good indeed. http://reasonstokeeponbreathing.blogspot.com/. I can really recommend it.

I laugh a lot on my bike too, I realise, and sometimes on the tube. I know I overuse the phrase 'Why am I single?' but sometimes it seems apt. A lone sniggerer. An object of concern rather than desire. I'm not complaining. We've had this discussion, haven't we? They'll have to be okay with certain things, this somewhere-existent love of mine. I'm sure it will be fine.

My day was sweet. Lots and lots (well, three, a fourth to come) episodes of The Killing. God, it's good. So good. It eats into your brain. I can understand sudoku players more, or crossword-doers. I find myself thinking about the puzzle of it. It's quite different to series 1. I think because the family at the heart of that were careable about immediately. It's taken me longer to ache for the characters in this, apart from Lund herself, but I'm getting there. And I am, of course, completely hooked.

I've eaten too much sausage today. Far too much. It's not the worst thing in the world to have done, especially as it's not an everyday habit. And I had the almost-moving leftovers from our haggis meal. Oh, god. Such pleasure in such simple food.

And I've been to church. Let me clarify... I went to help with certain parts of the ceremony at the Rosslyn Hill Unitarian Chapel, spiritual home of my lovely friend Kate. I agreed to help a while ago. And it's always interesting. It's the first time I've been to a church on Christmas Eve. I had a nice time. I enjoyed seeing Kate and I like to see her in a place that suits her and where she is so well respected.

I have to confess that I was split. Part of me was with the yoga people. There's a big meditation tonight, which I would otherwise have gone to, but I wanted to keep my promise to come along, so I said no (I'll go on New Year's Eve instead). And yes, part of it is my crush, but part of it is this - that the flavour of spirituality and focus that I'm hearing there really speaks to me. There were parts of tonight's service that were really sweet - singing Silent Night in candlelight was very nice, as were readings by a boomy man with a voice like dark wood and crashing waves. But that kind of spirituality, that way of talking about God, just leaves me outside of it. It gets so very much in the way of things for me.

I loved the minister's story about any child being a humbling picture of life at its newest and most innocent. I liked his bringing it all back to being about a baby. But then there's all the stuff that misses by a mile, for me, and makes my head spin all over trying to find something I can identify with. Oh, and the Aleluliah (?) song really made me laugh. There was a vibraltoful soprano doing it, with that 'singing face' on, all high and warbly, with a smile in her cheekbones. I found her face very funny, and the fact that the song blatantly only has one word. I was careful not to howl. I appreciated her skill... AND it made me laugh. No biggie.

Part of my ache to be with the yogis is my crush, but a big part of it too is just the peace and calm I feel doing that, and the loveliness of connecting with other people when I do. Ha... I'll find out, won't I? When I do it. I've enjoyed the other stuff I've done with them, and other group meditations along similar lines, but I'm jumping ahead of myself here. I love, though, the idea of celebrating the New Year with people who wouldn't be out drinking anyway. Rather than going along (as I have done many previous years) to a party and being absolutely fine with not drinking when everyone else is drunk, I don't have to even think about it.

I do remember the NYE I spent in my brilliant flat in Ealing. I sat in my mezzanine bed and looked out of the skylights. Fireworks everywhere, and red lanterns floating through the sky. A quiet night in alone. I did enjoy that one. Of course, I'd have enjoyed company too, but that evening was a lovely time.

At the Chapel, I met Teresa, a beautiful lady who sounded Spanish and looked French (she was both). She was 72 and she had skin like a child's - all smooth and soft. Had I been feeling entirely inappropriate, I should have bitten one of those cheeks, just a little bit. Of course I didn't, but I did think about it. She was lovely. Full of stories about her niece and nephews, about things she'd done and felt. She smelt nice too, of roses. She explained that she'd run out of perfume and had found some cream. Maybe the same one I got (in which case, the lady's loaded!), but it smelt lighter than that. Very, very nice, though. Very nice indeed. I could have just sat and sniffed her.

I'm looking forward to hanging out and eating cheese with Kate tomorrow, and to cooking. I may go and watch the Christmas Day races at the men's pond. I may not. I still haven't decided.

I'm grateful for so many things, and one is that I haven't had to wait until Christmas to notice them, or until New Year, and I haven't had to hold off showing 'Christmas spirit' to people until the third week of December. I've had fun playing with that a lot before.

So now, just to tide me over and celebrate this warm and fuzzy festival, one final episode of The Killing (number 8). Perhaps I'll save the final two for Boxing Day. Ooh, now it DOES feel like Christmas.

Grateful: Day 70 - Hands in the Air

70. Seventy! That's twice 35. 10 x 7 (seven weeks). It feels like so much more and so much less. This ritual, night by night, has become a part of what I do. Though the focus changes, the intention is still the same.

I question myself daily. Is this the way to do things? Shouldn't it be more intellectual? Is it interesting/honest/good enough? Good enough. That's the little itchy kernel of it, eh? Not the blog. Me. Am I good enough. Oh, don't you just love ego. It's tenacious, I'll give it that much. It's a terrier with a rat. And the bit of you that can observe it is the rat, but if you're not careful it'll shake you so hard you won't know what's you and what's it and even which way up you are.

I love writing this blog. I love the focus it has given me. It's less intense a feeling, most of the time, than it was at the start. Perhaps that's how marriages go. Or even just relationships. But is it still worth it? Of course it is. It's wonderful. Doing this has changed my whole outlook, along with a few other things too. It's done what years of intellectual knowledge and good intentions never did.

It's helped me really see a good thing in pretty much everything, while retaining some sense of balance (as in not squealing 'ooh, a present!' when I get a slap in the face - just carrying on, looking for some kind of sense or lesson from the slap and getting out of the way of the next time that might happen).

This morning, I was sung to, very briefly, by a man whose name I don't yet know.

It was the best kind of surprising little sing. It was the man I talk to every morning - the man who guides the traffic for the construction site and sends them down a route that IS okay rather than one that ISN'T. It's not always him, but he's been there every day since I came back from Scotland.

We chatted, as always. Yesterday, we were discussing how the ladies' pond was first established in Victorian times, when it made more sense to have the genders separate, and the ladies' pond all enclosed. He said he wouldn't be even talking to me, or if he did, not sitting on his chair while I was standing. At that, he leapt up and I told him to take off his hat. He sat down again with a flump and a guffaw and said 'times have changed.'

This morning, we wished each other happy Christmases - the builders will be away until early January - and all good things for that. And as I was climbing onto my bike, he broke into 'So this is Ch

ristmas' - sung a little tentatively, but with a lovely voice. Filled me with glee. Thank you. What an unexpected little gift.

Goodbyes to Ruth, who is in Actual Europe for Christmas, with people who love her and want her to do art with them (you're an artist, you're an artist, you're an aaaaarrrrrttttiiiiiiiisst!). I am staying at hers - gratefully, happily. Nice chats again this morning, and still glowing from our pleasant evening last night, I was.

I bought some cheese. I went to the cheese counter in a manic branch of Sainsbury's in Islington and asked advice. Oh, the man fed me cheese. Blue, vintage gouda, something else (I bought it, whatever it was). And I tried some cave-aged cheddar that

really tasted cavey (and to my buds, really not very nice) but that's not what he was offering. I said yes to most of that, and it was so nice to have that bit of attention. He really got into it. As I was about to go, he said 'Next time, I'll recommend some goat's cheese options'. Very good! I loved it.

I spent the day at The Hub, first with Amanda Dormon (I'm surprised either of us look the same - we haven't seen each other for months and months), which was lovely, and then with a handful of Hubbers - Luke, Tom, Rob, Alex (uni, not multi - multi's already gone away for Christmas), Anna Levy, of course, Kirsty. And maybe

others, but my brain's gone blank.

We ate thai food together, and chatted. Liora came, and someone else whose name I didn't get. We laughed a lot again. I didn't get much done. A bit, though. I cancelled my insurance (thank you, Lawrence) and I sent a bunch of emails.

I did some invoicing today and I realise I'm grateful to everyone who has employed me this year... there are LOADS. Get this: Memetor, Frank Partners, Steps, Power Train, Mannaz, Fun Fed, Questors, Scribe

Tribe, Paloma, John, The Belgian(s), Save The Children, Kenexa, Peacock Tree Yoga, Spontaneity Shop and now Lux.

I've written, translated, trained, acted, taught, coached, designed, roleplayed and simply had ideas. And that's just the paid stuff. I've also done some fabulous projects with Rob (as drop2), led mask workshops, done coachy/NLP stuff, organised shit, and I've done a whole bunch of weaving. How rich and diverse are the things I get to do and call them work. How huge a proportion of my work really does feel like play. And ultimately How Lucky Am I? Very. Very. Very.

After the Hub (goodbye, Hub, till next year) I came on home, watched an episode too many of The Killing, changed my brake pads, oiled my chain, ate some sausage and some cheese and didn't do yoga. And for some reason, looked up the search term 'happy animals' on google images. You can see the results for yourself. My favourite is the preventative squirrel. He's just ace. Doesn't look that happy, though.

And here I am, warm, steroided up (not quite) to the eyeballs and ready to sleep. The rash, in case you wondered, is becoming calmer. It still flares up at least once a day and the skin is still funny colours and a little bit raised, but it is so much better. My back is almost clear. Belly too. Just my legs and arms to go now.

I'm sure it's on its way. Let's see if I can sleep it off. Tomorrow: pond, work, presents, helping with a service in Hampstead, seeing friends. I say again: How Lucky Am I? Very.

Grateful: Day 69 - Bounding Ginger Joy

Heeeee. I'm listening to some 'dirty beats' courtesy of HamZa, facebook, YouTube and Pleasurekraft. I don't often feel my age, but whenever I'm listening to pumpy, dirty, fat-beated tunes like this, I feel slightly inappropriate, like an auntie at the karaoke taking 'Je t'aime, moi non plus' a bit too far. It's not a bad feeling. Not until the morning, anyway.

A big, fat, tasty day with Catherine. Disturbed at the start by a work call from Germany. Really not the worst kind of disturbance. It was good to get back. Coffee and croissants in Feast, then walks in Queen's Wood, Highgate Wood and on Hampstead Heath. Queen's Wood was slightly spooky. You could imagine horrible deaths in there, or terrible frights at the very least.

However, a much nicer thing happened. A little girl (surrounded by other children and parents) had a tin full of chocolate brownies in her hand. As we approached, she looked full of anticipation, and all of a sudden, she reached out the tin and offered us a brownie. I took one. I couldn't not. The gesture was so sweet. I said thank you, and how nice. And my favourite bit, her mother said to her (genuinely, not in a fakey encouragement way) 'Aren't you nice!' I thought that was nice.

We walked and talked. Highgate Wood is much more open and airy, and prettier in a way. It brings thoughts (and visions) of bounding dogs and breezy trees. It still looked autumnal in parts - today was warm, which helped with that. From there, Hampstead Heath, Kenwood House, coffee and cake (as Catherine said, a nutritionally dubious day so far). And then another wander.

Catherine had just repeated her question to me: 'what do you want next year?' and I was looking up into my head for an answer when into my line of sight bounded a delicious, lean, ginger Viszla. I said 'I want one of those.' I know it's a bit facile, but I really, really do. There's something about them, and their energy, that I really identify with and admire. They are lean and muscular (I will be.. I will be!). They are very playful. Even the slightly older dogs have a twist of puppy about them. The seem not to lose their wide-eyed playfulness and boundy, gleeful energy. They're handsome though, rather than pretty. I think I'd prefer a girl (this one was very much a boy) but they are the Spekulos biscuit of dogs. I love them.

Of course, when I do get a dog, I'll get whichever dog I get. I suspect there'll be a touch of ginger glory or lean loveliness, but I'm sure it won't be entirely up to me. It does make me realise how very much I'd like one, though. I loved walking my dogs. I love the daily joy a dog brings, and the tiny gifts of wonder that you might otherwise forget. And the dog smell of them, and their unbridled joy whenever you come home.

I know my life would have to change entirely for that to be possible. But it's almost time it did anyway, so that's good. And I don't have to have my own yet. I'd love access to (and care of) a dog that belongs to someone else. That's fine. Just a bit of dog-flavoured action. I had loads today. The park was full of them. I saw Heidi again. A lean little boxer, all excitable and waggy. She's docked. They went especially to Ireland to get her because docking is still legal there. I may disagree with the sentiment, but that's not the dog's business anyway, is it. I very much enjoy that dog. She is a peach.

Ha ha. From dirty beats to Jacques Brel. Brilliant.

The Heath was just stunning today. Muddy and warm. Full of sunlight. Fat with berries. A great place to walk and talk. Back to the questions. I want a lot of things. Lots and lots. And the thing is, I know a lot of them will happen easily and flowily. That's partly a scary thought, but it's a good one too. I'll change. I'll have to. Events change people. We're changing all the time. Cells change. I don't mean 'oh, your cells change, so you're a different person', but just that everything changes, with our without our doing. We might as well accept it. It's hard - I find it hard, sometimes - to really get how much I can't be in control anyway, so why worry too much. I'll get there.

We got given holly too. Dangerous as fuck. I nearly blinded Catherine twice on the way home. But another unsolicited gift. We were passing an allotment where holly-hacking was happening. A gift doesn't have to cost someone else to be brilliant. Ruth and I had it as company at our festive haggis supper. It was mint.

This morning, the first email I read, after thinking 'shit - no more money coming in this month - not sure when any of the work I've done this month will get paid', one from Frank Partners saying 'We've just paid you for a job you did in October.' Result! Sometimes, being a little bit shit with things like invoicing has its upsides. Perfect, perfect, perfect. Thank you.

This evening we had a festive dinner, me and Ruth. The haggis I brought back from Scotland, proper mashed swede and garlic mashed potatoes, broccoli, gravy. Brilliant. And then a quite unfeasibly delicious lemon pudding that Ruth remembers (and has written down) from childhood. Just heavenly. And lots of time to sit and relax together and talk. Blessed times. We swapped presents. Very nice. Thank you. And we laughed a lot too. Thank you, thank you.

Oh, and I buffed a floor. That's a first. Lovely old wood, smelly varnish that's a bit of a moreish stink. Apply. Dry. Buff, buff, buff. Very satisfying.

No yoga. Too full. I will do a vajrasana*, for digestion and for my heart, which needs some work. I think a dog would do some good for that too. They tend to soften people. But today, I feel that there's not too much to fix. I'm full of fallibilities, easy tears, tightnesses and overly loose bits. I'm a bit fatter thanI'd like to be, and not quite as pretty. There are all sorts of things I could have/should have done, but all in good time. Right now, today, this second, maybe I'm just where I need to be. Maybe.

*Check out the through-copy on this! I love vajrasana. It looks entirely non-impressive. Feels amazing. No showboat headstand, this.

Grateful: Day 68 - Summer's Coming

Just did yoga, innit. So pleasing when that's true. I did ten long breaths per posture, pretty much. A few more on some. It's not that much, but it's a good way of getting all the postures in. I don't know enough yet to understand which to leave out and still move the energy nicely, ending all grounded. Lovely, soothing Anita Holland talked about that a lot. Moving the energy to different places. And making balance happen, all gentle.

There's a strange peace in some postures that appears - like a vault in your core that just becomes and then there it is, existing. It makes it easier to hold the posture for longer because whatever struggle the mind or muscles may be experiencing, that part is present, calm, deep like dark water. Again, it doesn't stop the struggle, but it co-exists with it, and just by being, makes things clear.

I swam one life ring further in the pond. I didn't use my socks. I'm tempted, but maybe when there's ice. Yes, then. Thank you for the man who's been sitting where I park my bike. Two days running the same man. Sometimes others. All are friendly and nice to talk to.

I was all smiling this afternoon. I spent my time at The Hub today, once I managed to get off my arse. I just wanted to see people,really. Sweet, sleep-deprived Anna Levy, still busy being lovely to everyone despite exhaustion. Multi-Alecs - very good. His warmth pleases me very much. I laughed a lot with Imogen and got a weave in when she had a problem with her knitting (a Mobius Strip - very Blake's Seven). My knitting ninja friend Kate knows her shit and generously agreed to help. And someone whose name I don't even know made me a cup of tea, just like that. I should know his name, but I forget unless I'm bitten with it. And then Louise did too - I had to ask her name. So nice, to be made tea by virtual strangers.

I'm experimenting, thanks to coaching suggestions, with trusting things and letting go of control. It's been on my mind since a friend gave me some feedback on my visible need to be in control of situations, and so I've wanted to try new things. Trouble is, it can become a vicious circle (and did a week or so ago) - aha - you want to control not being in control - there's no hope for you! But playing with it (thank you, Sarah). That could really work.

I think I failed today, but I had a nice time doing it. I wanted air in my tyres. I've been working harder than I need to to get up hills, partly because I always carry too much shit, and am therefore heavier than I need to be, and because my tyres were getting low. But I imagined them saying no and that's not the experience I wanted. I got as far as just outside and turned away. I couldn't control them saying yes or no, so I decided not to go in.

Cue first mental chat outside the shop. What if you just went in anyway, and let things be as they are going to be. If they say no, you'll survive. If they say yes, you'll survive too. See what happens. Oh, and then I spotted (not that I wasn't searching, scouring for something) that my back brake pads were worn almost through. I have been feeling it. Hence failure. I went in asking for air AND brake pads. They'd be rude to say no to that.

I went in, though, and if I hadn't taken that time out, I wouldn't have done that. And what a reward. The man at the till was not the shop's owner, and was pretty grumpy. He agreed to let me have air, but stopped me when I tried to flip the bike with a world-weary 'No, DON'T do that please'. Might have well have rolled his eyes. I think he did.

He taught me that there's no need. I said 'you're right about this, and I'm wrong' which seemed to please him. Then he said (one of my favourite lines of the day): "Oh, and if you're thinking ooh, does my chain need oiling, IT DOES!". And with that, he managed to sell me some oil, still being a bit rude, but very funny. He then went on to tell me about all the customers who had exasperated him in the past few days (hilarious).

Meanwhile the owner of the shop had come out and was chatting about Ruth's bike, which his friend bought for his daughter but now rides himself, and how he tells everyone that I used to be a banker and now I'm a stand-up comedian. Neither of those facts is true - the banker thing comes from me having pretended to be a banker on an acting/training job - but I encouraged him to keep telling it like that. If it encourages people to do more of what they love and less of what they think they ought to do, why change? The detail is not true, but the general shape of things is. Why split hairs?

Anyway, between them, they really made me howl. I didn't really honour the 'not in control' thing, but I had a lovely time, and left smiling all big. I smiled a lot on the tube too, and on the way to it. Remember to keep walking. Remember to keep moving. If ever I'm in trouble, that always helps.

Oh, and thank you for TWO unsolicited offers of work today - thank you Amanda Dormon and Heike Reißig - back atcha whenever I can. I may be able to do one of them, and I know who can do the other. Loving This. And just that phrase reminds me that Sandison's been on my mind a lot, as has Pudding. You both... you both... eeeeeee. I hope I see them soon.

And oh, the key lime pie. I bought one, shelf life up today (a solstice pie?) and took it back to The Hub. It seemed to have a drug-like effect on those of us that ate it. Cat-nip, you could say. Or when I was a teenager, a brand of weed called sensemelia had a reputation for bringing on the giggles. Quite honestly, I never had much luck with it, and that's long past as a thing to do now, but key lime pie? Bugger me! It seemed everyone was affected - we were all rosy-cheeked and giddy. It was really quite nice. Alecs had his later, and didn't go silly, so maybe it was a collective mood, like the vapours. Whatever it was... not bad going for £1.99 a pie.

Winter solstice! You know what that means. Seconds and minutes more light on the pond every day. It's coming. It's coming. The summer's on its way!