Grateful: Day 108 - Shaved, But Smiling

The time, thanks to blessed connections and smooth-running trains, to visit that blissful pond again this morning, the last time in a fair old stretch as I'm away. Last night, it was trying to snow. It didn't manage, but there was frost on the cars and on the grass and a healthy bite in the air.

The next pond down had ice at one end. The lifeguards had left the aerator on in the ladies pond, so no tinkling music for me yet. I'll be frustrated if I miss the whole of the 'cold snap' the papers are promising (well, they're threatening, but it's all promise to me). I want to swim in ice! Perhaps I have a secretly weak left ventricle, and all this missing of icy weather is keeping me alive. Maybe I have a purpose to be here a bit longer, and that's all helping towards it.

I had tears in my throat a little bit saying goodbye to Ruth this morning. I hid it badly. Not sure why I tried to hide it at all. Probably because if I'd let it out, it would have been a proper old blub and I didn't want that. It's sad and happy at the same time. It's good. Missing someone is good. New chapters are good too. Even being moved is a great thing.

I smiled today at a chunky chocolate labrador with expectant eyes and a tail itching for a wag. I was helped by a number of people - the station attendant at Gerrard's Cross, who didn't know where my hotel was, but took me to someone who did. In between, I was waylaid by someone else, eager to help, and the taxi driver who finally did help me pretty much encouraged me to walk, rather than pay £6.50 to get the train.

I'm strangely grateful that I'm not seeing a friend I was looking forward to seeing tomorrow. Jörn, who I met in New Zealand about ten years ago now... He's coming to London and we were going to squeeze in a meeting between Gerrard's Cross and Bristol. I would have very much liked to see him, but I'm relieved not to be packing so much in. It's a busy few days/weeks anyway, so let's do this thing and have a moment or two more peace. We can see each other another time. It's good to be back in touch.

I am grateful for free internet and a warm hotel room. So warm, in fact, that it brings me to my first fully naked blog*. I'm only surprised it hasn't happened sooner. Still, what with living in other people's houses and the weather not really being buff-friendly, it just hasn't occurred. Well, now it has. I may have to do naked sleeping too. I'm buggered if I can work out how to change the heating and i'm not going back to reception (I've already been down for an ethernet cable and called for help finding the kettle) because I'm naked and I have no desire to get dressed again.

I am grateful, now, for SOME sense of peace in my brains and stomach. I'm ready for my event tomorrow. I'm nervous, and aware that there will be things for me to improve on after the first one, and the second... but in a much readier way than a few hours ago, when the nerves and the doubts were bigger than the readiness. I think the naked rehearsal of that helped too. It's harder to feel too much fear when you have in your throat a tiny lump of gratitude, remembering that the last time you ran this sequence, you were laid bare. Could be worse. Cue some serious anxiety dreams tonight. Oh, if only I had cheese, and could chivvy them on a little.

I am grateful for West Yorkshire news, and a potentially positive decision on something that's been a concern for a very long time, and more so last year. Nothing is certain - not the outcome or even the start of things - but there is hope that the right thing is being done, insofar as there can be 'a' right thing. That a right thing is being done. That there is purpose to this action. Apologies for the intentional vagueness. When it's all over, that'll be the time for details.

Now is the time for yoga (let's stick to the theme of the evening - too hot in here for clothes), a little meditation, a tiny last revise and sleep. Sleep. Sleeeeep. Thank you.

* I didn't like the images 'naked blog' threw up, so I defaulted to 'shaved dog' instead. I didn't like all of those either, but these, I did. Any dog, in my eyes, looks better shaved. Look at the lion dog. It'd be an ungainly bollock of a thing with hair like that all over. Shave it and it's pleasing. Let it grow and it's annoying.

I love the picture above of a 'naked yoga' t-shirt. Surely it should be a tattoo. Or a transfer at the very least. Putting it on clothes? Makes me not believe the lady in the photo. Do you? Do you really love naked yoga? Ho don't ring true. Personally, the only time I'm ever going to do a naked Downward Dog is when there's nobody else in the room, and that's final.

Grateful: Day 107 - Food on my Dog

Many things made me laugh today. When I saw this: http://foodonmydog.tumblr.com/ I sat and haw haw hawed in a most ungainly way at my computer screen for a good five minutes. I absolutely love how puerile and pointless this is - just so pleasing.

Of course, it's partly because the dog pleases me. If someone was putting food on a hamster's head, I might not look too long. I love that the dog (Tiger) is almost always looking at the camera, and is doing low status eyes. It fills me with glee. Thank you, Puj, for bringing this to my attention.

Satisfying cleaning, packing, tidying today. I wasn't sure I'd ever quite finish, but I did. Almost. One more round of it in the morning. I am so grateful to Ruth for having nurtured me and had me here for so long. I'm very sorry I can't have my cake and eat it. Maybe I can. Maybe we can still do lots of nice things.

It was such a joy to talk and laugh with Ruth tonight when I came home. She was back later than me - she'd been playing a gig with the Red River folk band in Barnet. Both of us overtired and giddy, we laughed and laughed and had serious moments and moments of just so. That's something I'll miss very much. She's a good egg. Such a good egg. I love her very much.

On the tube this evening, a drunk man insisted on dancing. Thank you to the well'ard-looking man sitting next to me, who let himself give off a massive smile, even a laugh, and shared it with me.

I liked that when the man got a bit nasty to a lady who may have asked him to be quiet, both of us were keeping a close eye. I was ready to get up and do something if he got physical. I think my giggling neighbour was too.

Not sure what I would have done. Asked him for the time? For a sip of his beer (hoping he'd say no, of course - couldn't take him up on it if he'd gone for it). In my mind's eye, I rugby-tackled him to the ground. Ridiculous! And not very effective at diffusing the situation. That was on the list of things that made me laugh, though.

Good meeting with Rob. Good to get the ideas flowing again. Very nice. And then work in a cafe on City Road. I laughed when I realised, after about 10 minutes, that I was walking in entirely the opposite direction to what I thought, on that road. Well Done Me. Twat! I found a good place to work, though. I didn't dare go to the Hub. Too many nice people threatening to be there, and I really needed to get on.

Big gratitude to the lilty Geordie at the Inland Revenue, who has re-issued my information about the National Insurance contributions I owe and has bumped my due date back from tomorrow to whatever it says on the letter. Not that kind of due date, you understand. That'd be a turn-up. One day a walking womb and the next, about to give birth. That'd be very speedy. Well, you never know.

And for a lovely yoga class. Before class, I wrote down to ask Foca for a sheet of postures to take on my trip. Today, triggered by something else, he produced one and offered it to me. Very pleasing.

And thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for the inklings of another opportunity to do a play workshop, this time with lots more people. This is what I love. Getting people playing, laughing, enjoying each other and themselves. I would LOVE to do that. Love to.

I love designing experiences for people too. What do they want (or what do the people initiating the sessions want for them) and how can I find a way of getting that to happen? It's all to be found out.

I was delighted by pictures of an ex housemate looking very happy with his new girlfriend (FB again). That makes me very happy indeed. Looks like he's having a lovely time.

On that note... here's to lovely times had by all, to sleep and dreams of wonderful thin

gs. Possibly food on somebody's dog, and a companion who is equally happy to guffaw at similar sillinesses.

Grateful: Day 106 - Patronising Pie

Well, there's a change of habit. I have spent an actual lifetime procrastinating and doing the important things last, when it's late and when it hurts (including my Tax Return - and that was just yesterday). And it's not as if I didn't do that a bit today. However, instead of going to an impro workshop which had been offered to me for free, I finally buckled down and did the work I had to do first.

I almost fell off my chair. That's just not 'me'. Well, if I'm going to attach my sense of identity to something, is procrastination really where I want to be at? I'm not naive enough to think that's procrastination done with - I'm sure as I take each breath, one after the other, I'm procrastinating something. And it's not for nothing that I've started this blog at five past 11 - when I want to get it up by midnight.

Anna Levy gave me this little gift last week, though, by letting me host on the Tuesday rather than the Monday, meaning my work was done and I didn't sit with a stone in my belly throughout my hosting day. It's a feeling I've only had very rarely in my life, that lifting of the stone before the last minute. I'd like more, please. Lots more.

(An image search teaches me that when googling this word for images, it's very hard not to grossly patronised. This is one of the better ones).

This morning, I was delighted by a lady, Nicky, who spoke to me on the way down to the pond. We shared stories of dogs and childhood family attitudes, and others joined in too. We got quite deep (we'd left the dogs behind by then) but it was still all quite light and lovely. And I am still gently entertained by conversations held at different stages of undress.

As if to prove a point, the woman who came in next had, half an hour before, failed to recognise Nicky when she said hello because she was not naked, swimming costumed or lobster red. Just didn't register.

I was also delighted by this second lady's confirmation that the lifeguards have been leaving the temperature at 5 degrees on the board, even though it's lower. They like to encourage us to get in. We'd get in anyway, but I think it's funny that they've been bamboozling us.

On arriving, there was nobody in the pond. The water was still and blissfully serene. Green and welcoming. Calm and silky. We made splashes in the end, huffing and puffing with the cold. Only at first, though. By halfway round, or less, I am joining the water in its calm. I feel a wonderful, gentle wave of presence and of peace.

So thank you, Klaus, for an afternoon of playing, for a chance to play with lovely Juliet Stephens (and thank you, J, for your lovely comments). Thank you for a bike, complete with bag and pondy swimming gear, still waiting patiently at Tufnell Park when I got back, and for a very pleasant cycle up beloved Archway hill. I won't have to do it regularly after Monday. I'll be moving to the bottom of it, and I won't even need to navigate that junction much. No loss, the junction, but I shall always have affection for the hill.

Leftover liver. Almost goes without saying how grateful I am for that (but that's the point, isn't it - to say it). Juliet's view and comments on the blog, and Catherine's yesterday, really brought it back to me what this is about, or was, or will be. A way of focusing the mind on what is pleasing, a way of looking for the benefit and giftage in any experience, in any day.

It was going to be an intellectual study of gratitude too. Maybe it will become that. Maybe not. I may write down some themes in my Book of Terrible Ideas and flick them at my own face when I need a bit of a boost.

Tomorrow, I intend to swim quite late. I'll meet Rob at 1.30 in Old Street. Before that, I'll pack and sort and clean. After, work, yoga, home and then the launch into a proper itinerant lifestyle for two weeks. Here's to anti-procrastination, motivation, play. Here's to happiness. Here's to sleep.

Grateful: Day 105 - Clown, Foolface, Twat

Would you think me a fool if I said I actually really enjoyed doing my tax return? Would you? I feel a bit foolish. It was quite soothing to be doing it. Why did I stretch the pain out for so very long? I shall take the advice of wise Catherine Semark. I'm already keeping records of my daily expenses. Now what I need is receipts, a stapler and a concertina file (I can do all that) and we'll be laughing.

I am SO grateful that it has been done, that it has been paid and that it wasn't quite the terrible sting I thought it would be. I feel released, if a little lost. I am more at peace.

This morning, I stepped into the water as a lady was stepping out, so for most of my swim, the pond was mine alone. I decided to swim the other way round it today. It's so easy to get into habits. There's a particular view that I love, when I'm on the home strait, of three leggy trees with dangling bits (not leaves, it's something else). The sun sits behind them, so if there's light to be had, it comes from somewhere over there. But I don't need that same view every single day, do I? So I did something else - and what a reward.

As I swam towards the hill, where you see runners and dog-walkers, the sun must have come out from behind a cloud. As I watched, the light on the water, the hill, those trees, got brighter and warmer, more and more intense. It was a bit trippy, really. I could see this scene transforming in front of my eyes and becoming something so special. I felt like I was having a little epiphany in my eyes. Had I been pondering a life question at that moment, and received that in answer, I would have been assured of the presence of the divine.

I kind of was anyway, in the shape I see it in. That divine energy that makes and shapes things. That flow that lifts you on and gives you what you need (whether or not it's always what you want).

Thank you, then, for a dose of Catherine, full of wisdom and humour, just when I needed it. These terribly specific twinges of melancholy that have been around, prodding at me, for a few weeks now - they're only minimal on the Richter scale of such things, but they are there - Catherine is a beautiful remedy to that.

We sat and talked, and then we walked. First, down the old railway track - The Parkland's Way - (my suggestion). Only it was already six o'clock and absolutely unlit. Too scary. Beautiful, beautiful view from down the back, but too much. Then she took me on a tour of many streets - Grand Avenue, Eastern, Western, many more. We looked at the many stained glass panels in the doors of Muswell Hill houses.

There's a beautiful standard pattern, lots of roundels, lots of greens. I liked it very much. It's simple and balanced and very pleasing indeed. She also showed me the house of martyrs, down the end of one street: what looked like a council house with a memorial gate, tall and painted black. It had a weird energy coming of it, and lots of steam coming out of its pipe. I'm not sure I liked it, but I very much liked seeing it.

Bonus of tonight - a link from Rob Grundel (you legend!) to a clowning workshop with Dr Brown. Oh, I think so. I think so very much. Oh yes.

I'm flushed with gratitude that I'm nearly done with the blog, and soon can sleep. The pond opens earlier and earlier. It'll be open at 7.40 tomorrow. I've been a sluggish girl and I keep just missing the proper dawn. I lay in bed this morning dreaming about helping out two girls, a smaller one and a teen, who were possessed by a voice that told them terrible things, threatened them, told them all the things they couldn't do.

I told them it was not real, it was just a voice inside their head, that it had no power. I could hear it too, but even the little flicks of fear were brief. They dissolved. You can do it, I told those girls. Don't listen to that voice. It has no power unless you give it some. Hmmmm.

And then boof! it was already half past seven! How time flies!

Tomorrow, I have the pleasure of prepping and packing, both. Possibly playing too, if I can. And to that end, this very second, sleep.

(ha ha ... I have just saved all the pictures shown here into this year's tax return folder. Nice.)

Grateful: Day 104 - Divine Intervention

So how good is this? More than a little bit stressed about not being able to find my P111 that Hasbro resent especially after the first one got 'waylaid' by someone in my flats at Blakesley Avenue, along with my P45, I woke early and made some decisions.

1: I'd look through all my files and drawers again. 2: I would not swim. 3: I would probably not go to the event I had planned in the morning - this had to come first. I looked through my expanding files and didn't find it. I looked in some other places too. The 'no swim' decision kicked in and I went downstairs. I made some breakfast and a hot pot of maté tea. I sat and drank it slowly.

I spoke to Ruth about it. She felt anxious on my behalf and for a moment, I regretted saying anything. But I knew it would be alright (even if I didn't) so I said not to worry and whatever happened, it would be alright. I finished my tea and went upstairs. While having a wee, an idea dropped into my head and I opened the cupboard in the bathroom.

Behind a big stash of notebooks, between papers and folders was the programme from the beautiful dance show Agnes & Walter that my friend Margaret was in at last year's Edinburgh Festival (and in other places). Inside it, an envelope, never opened, from Hasbro. My P111. I must have been upstairs for less than 5 minutes when I appeared back in the kitchen, form in hand, beaming, to show Ruth.

I felt blessed. Helped. Fully assisted. I had no memory of putting it there, and no idea when I reached out for it that I was reaching in the right place. I feel humbled and very grateful. I put on my clothes (and even a tiny bit of make-up) and left the house. I didn't swim, but I got to the event at 9am, just as the speaker was being introduced. So wonderful!

Remembering Agnes & Walter is making me cry a little bit. It was so very moving. It's 'a little love story' and it follows a couple through their meeting, courting, living and in one case, dying. It uses young dancers and their older counterparts, the same couple in time. Sometimes two of the same character dance with each other. There's something transcendental about that, that touches me deeply.

There's one scene, a gentle, lilting, devastating dance with a lone, older Agnes that has me this second in tears and had a whole audience sobbing show after show. It's a story full of joy and love and sadness, as well as the simple, bickery reality of the day-to-day of loving someone. Beautiful. Well done, Neil Paris (Smith?). Well done, you singers and dancers. What an achievement.

A man in the tube station showed concern for me as I hauled myself up the steps at Goodge Street. I'm not afraid of lifts, but I don't enjoy that cram of waiting for a big, slow lift at tube stations. So I did take the steps, and I was all boundy at first, still grinning from the fortuitiousness of my find. The bound left me about 3/4 of the way up. I was still good, though. The gentleman offered to carry my bag. I thanked him very nicely, but really, I was fine.

The talk was good; Rob was on form and full of interesting news; the sun was shining as I walked up to Euston to get a bus.

I was grateful for lovely people at The Hub - Dave (full of ideas - I can see why he and Rob get on so well) Anna, Kirstie, Emma, Multi-Alex, Hix, many more. There was talk of various phobias (necks, croissants, sticky labels, wrists, accidentally sleeping with friends) and stories of horror and grossness were tossed about.

And grateful for a good proportion of my Tax Return all done. I hope to finish it tomorrow. It is a bit complicated and I hope I've done it all ok, but it is nearly there. Just a bit of checking and adjusting to do and we should be fine, I think.

Here's to it, all done, in the respectable hours of the day. I still have to move and pack

and prepare for the event on Monday. That's a lot fo stuff to do. But weirder, more fortuitous things have happened, even just today. Here's to more!

Chicken liver surprise, thanks to lovely Ruth. And a very tasty orange. Pleasures that I can give thanks for. Blessings. Blessings.

Grateful: Day 103 - Waaahhhh*

Sleeping blog again today. No internet, but here are the words.

Thank you for sweet, cold water this morning, for a dose of Corinna and her flowery hat and tales of Secret Cinema. She’s allowed to talk about it now. While she was rehearsing and performing, it was all hush hush. Nobody knew what the film was, and nobody was allowed to. I suppose it gets out, in the end, the more people go to see it, but that’s good lea

kage, not bad leakage.

I’ve just realised that if I don’t sort something out, I will leave the house on Monday night, and may not be able to go home (wherever home may be at that time) until 10^th February, bouncing from job to job. I’m trying to find it in me to feel peaceful about the news today that my flight on Monday 6^th is so early, from Stansted, that I may have to go and stay the night there.Thank you to Alex for bringing my Tempur mattress back in exchange for a few face casts and two full masks. What currency! It’s now lying rolled up in Ruth’s front room. I look forward to using it. It’s brilliant.

My Tax Return has been both soothing and panic-inducing. I can’t find a stash of documentation from my work at Hasbro. I suppose it was bound to happen, eh? I’ve been a nomad since May. I think it’s here, in this room. I think I have it. I certainly hope so. I’m not sure Hasbro will play ball. Whatever happens, it’s the last time this will be true.

I have a show that I very much want to do, but if I have to come from Uxbridge (really Gerrard’s Cross) to Bristol, Bristol to Worthing, Worthing to London for a quick show, then rush on up to Stansted to fly to Germany the next day and still be human for a German launch in the morning, I’m not sure I’ll still be sane. There’ll be nerves too, no doubt. There always are. I’m grateful that I’ll get to do a UK launch before that, but this is the first of the German ones. I’d be better to be fresh.

But back to today! How wonderful. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Dominique, for inviting me to cover your class for me. I had the most wonderful of times. What a delicious group, and what utter delight to be running classes. And at Oxford House! Last time I was in that room (B9, if you were wondering) we were running a workshop in Impro for Designers. And then we did a full weekend of trance mask with Steve Jarand.

The headfucks made an appearance, as did other things. My aims for the class were to get people to have a brilliant time failing, and to focus on giving their partners a wonderful ride – to really watch and listen. I had plans, of course, but we moved them around a bit. I love that as one game was finishing, I was staring at my book thinking ‘hmmm…. How shall we do scenes to make the most out of this?’.

I found out once there were two people up and ready to go, and the words started to come out, and the ideas made themselves as I was speaking. I am grateful for the deliverer of these words, for dropping them in my mouth so they could flow out and look like mine. More grateful than I can say.

I LOVE this work. I love it, and I am humbled by it. Who could ask for more?

* Refers to the fact that I only just realised, at 21.22 on Friday, that although I wrote this post last night, I entirely omitted to post it. Bum. x 2.

Grateful: Day 102 - Bubbles

Let's start with yesterday - what I forgot to say was how much I loved swimming through the water in the gentle rain. There was beautiful light in the sky, so when each drop hits the water and bounces back out, the light picks it up as it lifts, and it picks out a little horizontal line too.

As you move through the water, it's being surrounded by Disney fairy sparkles, or floating in a night sky.Today, grey in the sky. The water was cold and it bit the backs of my arms and the fronts of my thighs. It really made its presence known today. I love that it's not about how cold it REALLY is; it's about how cold you perceive it to be. Today, I perceived it to be cold, and I loved it.

I was on foot today, with a wheely case instead of my backpack. I was returning the case to beautiful Celine Boulhaya, who has generously left it in my care for two or three months now. I had to walk through the mud with the case lifted. One trouser leg drank dirt. The other didn't. I think my legs are roughly the same length. Obviously not quite, though, or maybe one thigh is broader, making that pant leg ride up.

I carried the case across the heath too. It wasn't muddy, but the wheely scrape noise was blocking out the birds and I wanted to listen. I am so grateful and wide-eyed on that heath. It gives me such joy. And today I was treated to a proper mound of dogs. The first, as I was walking to the pond, was a wildly barking Red Setter.

They're mad as a bag of spoons, those dogs. He was barking because he was happy. I've seen him before. He barrels it down the lane with every bit of him wagging, shouting. A bit like the little boy on his bike, screaming Yeehaaahhhh. Oh, I do hope they're related! I can imagine people not familiar with dogs finding that a bit scary, a lone barking dog coming at speed. His owner usually follows up in an exhausted jog a little bit later.

I saw, among others, lots of black Labradors (not my favourites, but I'd no doubt love it if I had one), a bunch of little terriers (on stalks, Eshter Lilley, and wrapped in crepe paper, a proper bunch), a running curly thing, like a moving wig with eyes, two dappled Spaniels egging each other on and a beautiful, gentle-eyed Dalmatian with a lump on its face. And later, in the street, a Weimaraner - sleek and lean, this one, with a half-docked tail. What a haul!

Then over to Ealing for a hospital appointment (in and out, all clear) and a meeting, which was interesting and full of potential. I sorted my phone. I got what I wanted - an upgrade to an htc - the cheapest, but so much better, even in the first four seconds, than the Huawei I'd been sold. I saw the salesman in action again, lying through his teeth but in such a charming way. Sweet boy. Never to be trusted.

I'll check this phone out and see what's going down. Seems better, though. The speed with which he went against everything he'd said last time, and offered me exactly what I wanted (to get rid of this crappy handset) against policy and without my even asking, tells me his claim that 'I've sold loads of these recently and none of them have come back' was a bucket of tosh.

I'm grateful, though. Already, I have my phone keyboard back and I can text without straining my eyes - or even really looking at all. And I can choose a ringtone and an alarm sound, just like that. They're basic things, but you miss them when you can't.

I am outrageously sleepy today, so I will follow my urge and be in bed in next to no-time (possibly with a warm cup of milk). Before I do, thank you for a tasty dahl all cooked, ready to be eaten once aged overnight. Thank you for moments of glee inspired by yesterday's playing; for the man in the launderette who was warm and friendly and possibly from Hawaii.

Thank you for the gentleman I've never met who tried everything he could think of to get me in on this African roleplay job. I couldn't make the dates, but we really did do calculations of all kinds about when I could fly, how we could make it work; for some pay from a previous job; for decisions bubbling in my brains, ripe to be made. And for Ruth, just home. She is such a good egg, that woman. I like her very much.

Grateful: Day 101 - What a Difference a Day Makes

Phoooooooooooo. What a difference! What a day!

We played. We played. We played. Thanks to Anna Levy, my work was finished yesterday, so my sleep was sweeter and softer and my whole demeanour gentler. I have stuff to do, very much stuff, but not the wrong way round. I spent a good proportion of the day untangling cables and counting old phone handsets in a tiny room. Symbolic. At least I hope so. Quite satisfying.

And then I hosted for the rest of the day. I enjoyed it. Giovanna is a sweet peach and Anna is, as always, warm, welcoming and a pleasure to be around. She always has goodness for people, whatever is going on, and she has an amazing talent of picking up on what people need. Admirable, that's what she is, that Anna.

Nice pizza lunch with lots of lovely people. I do love being there. You get to talk and play and laugh with people you would never otherwise come into contact with. There was an event on. I thought Giovanna and I did a sterling job of sorting out flip charts when there weren't any and making them feel welcome and looked after. Oh, and the stove kind of exploded a bit, but we switched it off. You can tell which one - it's kind of blackened on the inside.

Oh, and more offers of potential work before I left. Very, very pleasing, all of this. Could be exciting stuff. And an email from an old friend I was thinking about yesterday. And the opportunity to help run a workshop at the Fuse festival. Brilliant.

A meaty cycle up to Finchley Road, a little bit against the clock as I didn't leave until just after 6, by my watch. And then our session. With just four of us, we played Columbian Headfuck (1-3)* - a game I played with the inspiring Patti Stiles this autumn. I'd played it once before, probably with Shawn Kinley, but somehow the name makes it even more special.

* Today's images are courtesy of a google image search on this phrase.

We laughed SO HARD. It really does fuck with your brain and your body. It's Zen without the birch beatings. It's a lesson in relaxing and letting things happen. It's absolutely brilliant. So we made it harder.

Normally, it's a partner game - you do actions and say words, one at a time, with a partner, and you confuse each other's brains. There were five of us by then, so we did it in a line of five. Words first, then actions, then both, starting at different ends of the line.

Words like this don't do it justice. The fabulous feeling when your mind just CAN'T get in the way because it's too busy being confused - that feels so good. And playing with people who make you smile and where getting it wrong really, really IS one of the best bits of everything. Oh yes.

And then Rob came up with a fabulous new thing for us to try. What I love is the attitude of genuine experimentation that he brings. Really a sense of 'I've had this idea, let's try it out' and then 'Ooh, what if we... ' and 'Yes, let's add...' or 'Oh, oh, oh - new idea!' and we're off.

And I just remembered - I get to run an improv class on Thursday at Oxford House. There is so much scope of what to do. So much. SO. MUCH.

I felt blessed, being part of that. I felt like I could notice again the depth of the blessings that have been there all along, but that I've been separate from for the last few weeks, my head buried in my delicate ego (and a little way up my arse). They have been there, though. They really have. All of them. I understand a little better now.

I smiled all the way home, about half an hour's cycle, with some massive hills. I grinned. I beamed. I floated up those hills. I just took my time and smiled my way ahead. I felt that surge of goodness back again.

If today was a prayer, it was a dancing kind of prayer. That's what it felt like. May more days be like this. For me, play is such a huge thing. Such a gift.

Foca, if this is what you meant with that exercise you set... hmmm... I will continue to experiment.

And now to sleep. Thank you Ruth, and all my love to you. I'll be crawling in to switch of the broadband in just a minute now. I wish you peaceful sleep.

Grateful: Day 100 - Day 100!

Thank you, first of all, to Ruth, for not minding me switching the computer on at 11pm. I may not make the midnight deadline, but here I am all typey and doing it. It's day 100! Not the day for a morning upload.

I shall do this for another 100 days before deciding anything else.

I wrote stuff down today. I was grim-faced and grumpy most of the day, faced with a fat, tangled ball of work that didn't really make sense. However, there were lots and lots of pleasing things all round.

The pond, of course, and the fact that I could swim and change and ride down and still get to The Hub at 8.45. And when I did, I lifted out my bag of swimming gear to find a stately ladybird attached to my towel. He was lucky to be alive. I'd used that towel and I know he came from home. I've had a bit of a run of them at Ruth's. I don't know how they're getting in, but there are always a few. One fewer now. Released into the wild. I had a little chat with him and lifted him onto the handlebars of a wheel-stripped bike.

I woke early this morning, worrying about some work (the one I did today and the one I had to shame-facedly give back - I just don't have the time to do it well). When I got to The Hub, Anna (lovely, warm, kind Anna) said it would be fine, better, even, if I did Tuesday instead. RESULT! Thank you, thank you. When I sleep, I will sleep sounder and sweeter tonight for that little gift. The work is done and sent. The weight has lifted. Next stop: Tax Return.

The first thing to cheer me up during my work (apart from Anna, Multi-Alex and a lovely cup of tea) was Eminem. He's a foul-mouthed git, that one, and sometimes I have to skip forward (it's not the foul-mouthedness, it's the content, when that happens). But today, it was Business, off of The Eminem Show LP. Totally brilliant. It made me very happy indeed, even faced with MUCH more work than I'll be getting paid for.

Also, I managed to drop my headphones in said lovely cup of tea, and I was pleased by the proper 'plop' they made. And by the fact that they still work. That's pleasing too. As was the fat bluebottle that landed on my right hand for a moment, then disappeared. Oh, and I made myself laugh by drinking a long drink of water and just remembering the lady on the train in Cologne laughing all wide-eyed at me for doing just that.

And the cranes! Looking out at the always regal view over London from the 4th floor Islington Hub, I thought I saw some changes. All of those long, leggy cranes are moving. Very

slowly. It's just a change in angle. It's almost dream-like. But there they are, working, moving things. There was a beauty in that too.

The satisfaction of sending off that email with work attached was just so flavoursome. And just in time for yoga. The class was long (meaning I am effectively 'fasting' - I don't eat after 9pm now, and we didn't finish till five past, so last week's lesson is already in effect - no food since about 3pm. It's not 24 hours, but it's a start).

It was also very peaceful and very calming. I felt a gentleness in my core that I haven't felt for a week or two. Bless Foca hard (Vic, you know where - with a name like that, you have to, really, don't you?). He smiles such a lot when he's giving lessons, like he's really just enjoying it. There's a peace about him, but a puppy energy too. And the postures were very soothing and very focused.

I liked the lessons today. They were about knowledge and about devoting your actions to the juice that is the universe. They use the god terminology, but I just can't stomach that, for me. They also say 'do what you like', so I will. I like the idea of offering up your stuff to a higher purpose.

It's kind of the same as mindfulness, and kind of not. It's all sorts of things that all sorts of people do. I can't call a thing God, or Him. It rankles in my belly (like so many other things do at the moment - it's just a rankley kind of time). But blessing things feels fine. Blessing, I like.

And thank you, finally, for Ruth. Such a pleasure to talk to her this evening, and laugh, and sniff little bottles of herbs and flavours to see whether to respect the dates on them and throw them out or just keep them anyway. One was from 1998. Can't remember what we decided on that one. I think it was a keeper. Others were too old to even HAVE dates. We kept those too. The bottles were pretty.

The pictures are being strange today. You're not having one of Eminem. Not even for Day 100. Thank you for all the lovely comments I've had while writing this blog. Thank you for people that read often or even only once. It always, always, always makes a difference.

Grateful: Day 99 - Epic

Today is potentially an epic day. The eve of the end of this wonderful experiment. I think it won't work to just vaguely carry on, so I shall set myself another fixed time - probably another hundred days - to make sure I have an end in mind. I'll sleep on it.

It's taken me years and years to work out that without such arbitrary choices (dates ahead of time, given reasons for my choices, however nonsensical), I float and flap and flutter, not in a butterfly way, unless your butterfly is made of pallid, uncooked biscuit dough. It would struggle to lift itself off the table. Its antennae would not hold even so much as one of those little cake decoration silver balls. It'd be shit, that's what it'd be. That's me without a reason or a purpose.

Today I've been like a child who doesn't want to do its homework. Grumpy and graceless. Forcing it out like a resentful thank you letter before you're old enough to get it and it really is just a chore. The stupid bit is, I do love to play with words. There IS a satisfaction, but the taste of it is getting later and later. Almost only afterwards. And that kind of delayed gratification isn't quite what I had in mind.

I am grateful, though, that the work is there. I am grateful for every opportunity that comes. I'm grateful for the shaping of the promises I'm making myself, and the tastes I'm getting for different kinds of work.

It's been far too long since I did a play, or a film, or anything of that type. I watched Bridesmaids outtakes last night, though I've never seen the film, and I remembered. It's not for fame or glory that I love acting - it's for the process itself. It's for the play and fun and focus all within it.

It's been super-hideous far too long since I have played at all. I really want to. My body and my mind are aching for it. I fear that when I do, I might just flop down in a heap and cry with relief. I kind of hope so.

My body feels tight and taught, not in a toned and scuplted way, but strapped with tension. Two days sat poe-faced at a desk, staring at a screen and cursing myself for not being able to work faster - FASTER!

I would like very much to be in love. That would be nice. That feeling, that giddiness of having your eyes and brains and chest filled with the idea of someone, or even the reality. People in love have a general capacity to be warmer and more open with anyone they meet. It's like the world is kind to them, so they can afford to be kind to it and everyone.

I have been the opposite of in love this weekend. I have been small and closed and cross. Sometimes, that's just the way things go. Sometimes, there's no point making it worse with the big beating stick of 'shouldn't'. It just is.

Oh, and yesterday, in the throes of glumness, frustration and self-pity, I tried the teeth. I put them in and looked in the mirror. It was like some kind of NLP parts integration exercise. Laughing, genuinely laughing, and genuinely weeping at the same time. It was grotesque. But I did my experiment. I tried it, and I got an answer. If it happens again, I'll try again. Let's see where this thing goes.

Despite my arse-face, I found m

yself delighted this morning as I parked my bike by the Heath. On the tree behind the railing, someone had salvaged Christmas dried chilli displays from the discarded Christmas trees behind (the whole place reeks of pine - in a good way) and hung them up. Next to them were some cherries in a branch, a careful satsuma skin, carved with a knife, in patterns. And just along from that, a finished-with banana skin, draped. I'm not sure if it was making an effort to join in as a decoration, or if it had just been left there willy nilly. Either way, the whole spectacle pleased me very much.

I ached to bother someone's dog today. I wished one would bound up to me, all wag and joy. They were too busy sniffing, curiousing, chasing balls. I did see this, a very cool balancing dog, which kind of counts even though I wasn't there: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=ADvZy1Y_QNo

It was on Steve W's page. He also has a deeply pleasing profile picture, the sliding fox above.

Now, into my head has sprung this fact: Steve's brother, who used to work in the same place as me, found me scary. Or was the word 'intimidating'? I can't remember which. And I remember the occasion. I genuinely thought I was being warm, approachable and friendly.

I was excited about the connection, silly as it was, having spent the weekend before in some random field in Wales with his brother (and lots of other people). I wasn't trying to scare him, hit on him, bite him or otherwise do him harm. But I take the point. I felt all warm and buzzy and, well, I looked like this.

So many things to work on. So many things to change. Oh bugger it. Some things, I'm just not really willing. Some things will just have to do as they are. There's always the teeth.

Grateful: Day 98 - Monsters and Butterflies

There are monsters at the door today. They have bad teeth and they are unkind, but no doubt all they want is a meal or a bit of fur ruffled behind their ears.

The pond was gentle with me this morning. And how fantastic - Ruth came too! First time in two months, and in she went. Middle of January. The woman is inspiring, you have to admit it. I read a definition of courage today: 'being brave enough to do something even if it scares you.' I like that. Even after a week, I was scared. After two months, that's more, but in she went. I think I need a bit more courage. I think there's more I could muster.

The water 'gets' a different part of my body every day. Today it was my legs. Most noticeably my ample calves. Do you say calves when you're talking about limbs, or calfs. I don't know. Those big bits that help me get up hills and stand on my pedals. They prickled like they were lying on tiny beds of nails. The rush of blood that comes on getting out was delicious, the water of the shower hot and fast. It was a high point of my day.

I have worked all day. I am grateful for the document I proofed today, and the tiny bit of Spanish work that acted as a respite. I was disappointed when I realised I didn't have to translate anything. There I was, doing it anyway. If only I could have, I'd have carried on and done it for the fun of it. That's information, that is.

The other work, not so much. One set of comments that I think I'm supposed to respond to is in a language that I don't speak. Another set are (to me, at least) unintelligible. I don't know what to do. The third lot, okay. Much clearer to understand what to do, but so disappointing. All the bits of it I'd thought to be creative, inspiring or at all motivating have been cut. But that's quite right. It's not for me, what I'm writing. It's for people with completely different perspectives. It's all information, this. I need to move away from doing work that hurts and focus more on joy and play (and good friends). I feel like I'm turning writing into a painful chore, and that's not how I want this thing to be.

I let down a good friend because of this work. I take responsibility. It was me who let her down. I'm really sorry for that, and it's the choice I made. To stay here and work rather than go and keep my promise and see my friend, who I've missed. The work is making my head hurt. I feel like it's eating up my soul in tiny bites. I think I need to turn around and eat it up instead.

This writing, though, is soothing. It salves away the worries of the world, the weight of pushing against that door to keep the clawed ones out. It turns the monsters into butterflies and lets them lift themselves away on gusts of wind.

This 'monster' really made me smile. I'm grateful for that. He was at a games conference of some kind. A lot of effort has gone into his look. The's worked hard. I like to think that none of this is pre-made, that he's been collecting rags for weeks to create this creature. That the mouth was fashioned from a colander stolen from his auntie's kitchen somewhere in Nordrheinwestfalen.

And look in the background. Nobody's even looking. I hope the person taking this is his wide-eyed girlfriend, totally in love, dressed as a pixie or some fantastical nymph of her own choosing. I hope she's so proud to be seen with this, her monster man. Yes, that's the way it is. You just have to look.

Grateful: Day 97 - Flamboyant

How nice it was to come home. Ruth had cooked a regal cauliflower cheese, complete with cheesy breadcrumb topping an secret bacon. All with steamed vegetables and potatoes and some delicious ginger drink.

The meal was delicious and the company was too. It's feeling quite extreme, how much I'll miss her when I move. It's also feeling quite silly that I am about to move and then promptly be away for already a significant proportion of my time in there... but that's okay. We'll work it out. I still think it's the right thing to do. And there's one good way to find out.

Thank you for delicious, refreshing maté tea (below) and for two more boxes of it waiting in the health food shop. I am excited. Silly to be excited about loose leaf tea, but there it is. I am grateful, if a little full of trepidation, at the amount of work I need to get through this weekend. I'm glad of it, of course, but I'm going to need to be both organised (a step I fairly often acheive) and disciplined (often my downfall) to get all this done this weekend.

I am determined to have at least a tiny bit of time doing something else, and that lovely thing to do is to meet the lady Juliet Merridew tomorrow evening. So I have a whole stash of things to be done before that. And I HAVE to finish all of it tomorrow as I'm working all day Monday at The Hub. I am blessed to have such work all flowing in. I have to start to make choices - which work to focus on and which to drop. I am nearly there.

Thank you for a slightly earlier finish than expected, and that I liked Lauretta (newly met actor) so much. She has promised to send me a link to another yoga/meditation place. She was inspiring. Andy Snowball was hilarious again. Their corpsing nearly made me wee. I love it when laughter takes over like that, when it shakes you and just won't let go, even when nothing's really funny.

And isn't Lucy Davies good? She ran our rehearsals for two full days. She's lovely, funny and very skilled. When she was drifting into what to say as a trainer, I felt all small. She is so fluid and natural. I can't believe she doesn't do delivery any more. Everyone has to do what makes them thrive, and she is very good at design.

I'm so glad I made the opposite call, though. Even if, in my mind, she'd do the most brilliant job - I couldn't even touch it - I wouldn't have it the other way round for anything. I love being in the room and playing.

I'm excited about this job and its opportunities and challenges. I'm also pleased I did my write-up work on the train on the way home, while it was still fresh. Oh, I loved that gentle time alone, no pleasant conversation, no slightly tense listening, as I've been doing for the last two days. Though I enjoyed the conversation with Lauretta on the trip back from Paddington, and that with all the delays and changes too.

Oooh - I realise that maybe I haven't lived up to my promise of proper listening these last few days. I have spent a fair amount of time in my own head, playing, thinking, reflecting, hearing other voices. Perhaps I could have been more present. Pleasant?

Tomorrow, the pond - after four whole, resisty days off. I missed it so much today. I felt crusty-cloudy until about 3.30. Only then did my shoulders loosen a little bit, my neck free up. It's been so painful recently. I hope the bed change sorts it after a while, and more yoga, more yoga. Even more. I want to be really, truly flexible. A sun salutation? Could that be the way forward in the morning? It has a bit of everything, and that doesn't preclude a longer session later in the day.

Ruth has said she'll come with me to the pond tomorrow. Perhaps not to go in, but just to be there, to see people, to test the water (literally) and to see how she feels when faced with it. I am very pleased indeed about this. Next week - get this - the pond starts opening earlier, because even though it's still only January, and not even quite 21st, the light is coming back and the sunrise it presenting itself earlier.

This afternoon, while waiting for my train, I looked up to see rich pink clouds hanging translucent in azure blue skies as the light began to fade. It was a small corner of sky, between the platform roof and the bulk of the train itself, but oh, it was beautiful. I am looking forward to being physically in nature tomorrow - within the water, all covered and wrapped up. Yes please. Yes please. Yes please.

No reason for the peacock. I found it and it was pretty. And it reminds me of Esther Lilley (www.peacocktreeyoga.com), which is ALWAYS a good thing.

Grateful: Day 96 - Massive Bed

Ooh.. I have Ozomatli playing in my ears as I type. I realise that I pretty much never listen to music when I’m blogging. It seems like it would distract too much. I can’t hear what’s in my own head. Well, that’s information. It might help me be more efficient at work.

So, I am grateful for so much work to do. I seem to have filled my weekend with it. I do need (or at least want) a day off but perhaps I’ll make that a specific day during the week. That could work. I could go to the flicks in the afternoon (in honour of Catherine Semark – she is the queen of that). I’d like to go to the Phoenix in Finchley (or is it East Finchley?). I have heard good things.

Grateful today for a seat on the tube, and then for the pleasure of getting up for an extremely pregnant lady shortly afterwards. Makes me feel useful. And a forward-facing seat all the way on the train – good stuff. My seating partner was chatty (a natural salesman). He helped me find my phone by ringing it for me after I dropped it. On his way off the train, he said he had my ‘digits’ and that if he was staying in Bristol, he’d call me. Is it, now?

I loved my greeting in the Power Train office, as always. Aly Veale is looking hot as all shit. She’s super healthy and slim and does hot yoga twice a week. Very impressive. Everyone is always so nice! Paul James (who’s not always there) was there, so we got to catch up.

Thank you again for that underlying base of confidence that I do not take for granted, because I remember when it was not there (and the situations where it is still lacking). Thank you for work done and ready to send, and work that keeps on coming in. Better do some of it really. On the train. On the train!

I did yoga – not quite a full set, but all but one posture I meant to do. I forgot one entirely. Shan’t do it now. Shall do it tomorrow in my routine. It was a proper little run. I need to get my back feeling stronger. It’s very weak and really quite painful at the moment. It's a bane. It's a monster that hides some of the time but comes out and bites me when I don't take it seriously enough. I want to be strong and flexible. I need to work at it.

On the theme of monsters, here is one. I like his human eyes and too many teeth. I like his shadow and his claws. I also quite like his background. The colour of Victorian public swimming pools. Quite soothing.

I am still reeling from my day of lovely people yesterday, and more today. Texts from both admirable women (Sarah Lonton and Victoria Sandison). How proud you both make me. How lucky I feel to have friends like you.

Thank you for a MASSIVE bed in the Premier Inn in Bristol. Can’t. Wait! And for a very hot bath that Itreated myself to earlier. I went to dinner with a little hot tomato face.

No dog action yet. I must keep my eyes peeled tomorrow. Here’s to a productive day playing with an actor new to me (Lauretta?) and Andy Snowball. I love that I get paid for this. It really is such fun.

This image came from the search 'no dog action'. It reminds me of the Airfix kits I used to build and paint when I was a little boy. I loved them. I'm surprised I ever had the patience, but it was a very meditative thing to do. I'd forgotten about that. No idea how old I was when I made them. Young. Before puberty, anyway. Go, Airfix!