Day 137 - Victoria Sandison

Victoria Sandison. Total leg-end. I couldn't be more grateful for her. 

That is all. 

Day 136 - Dead Animal Weirdness

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

 Still grateful for my computer. Today could have been so different, eh? And it's by the by, I suppose, but that backpack is one of the best I've ever owned (and I've had hundreds of them). Glad that's still there.


I forgot some things from yesterday. I got changed outside instead of inside, which meant i got to watch  the birds flitting about. I also saw a magpie pecking at the head (possibly eyes) of a dead rat. Nice.
And male ducks trying to drown each other by holding each other's head under the water. That's what it looked like, anyway, but they seemed friendly enough afterwards as the bundled off into the the undergrowth near the bank. 

In response to 'magpie dead rat'

Looking for a picture to show the magpie/rat action coughed up this random offering. Just google Dead Animal Art. This man takes roadkill and makes it into new creatures. Like Medieval people did with food (putting pigs' heads on stuff etc.). Once again, things like this are information for me that there are men in the world who might suit me. Just maybe. Or maybe not.


Lovely water today. I could have stayed in longer. I went so very late. Not so late that it was shut, like it was the other day, but very late. Tomorrow earlier. I got a lovely email from Corinna, who's going quite early. It would be nice to go and see some familiar faces, much as I'm enjoying meeting new people all the time there. You can see how it comes about that I don't meet a lot of new men, though, isn't it. Well, I do, in fact, but either I'm not meeting many men who I see in that way or (probably and) I'm very closed to it. But I meet a lot of lovely women (not in that way either, mostly). Mostly, it's inspiring, intelligent, half-dressed women with massive life stories. They're good to talk to. 


I'm grateful for a very thoughtful email from Kate, full of things to do. I am blessed to count so many intelligent, inspiring (mostly fully-dressed) women as my good friends. Thanks too to Duncan, who sent fabulous music, and to whom I have not yet replied. Jules for his positive response to my enquiry, and to Rob for always being on it, Luke, Clive and Andy for dropping in. Lovely playing going on. Really was. I learn so much at every session. One of the things I have learnt is that I need to be a participant a lot more, and just get the playing time down. It can only be a good thing. And a performer. I need to get back into that too. 

Alien Baby/Pastry. Either way, not free.

Thank you for the grumpy-faced man at the counter in M&S, where I went to get some change by buying a decaf coffee. He was so non-plussed all the way through the exchange. I put into practice a task sent to me by Rob - the Daily Rejection task (http://preview.tinyurl.com/78aendn).  I asked the gentleman if I could have a free pastry with my coffee. Once he'd asked me to repeat it, he said 'No, we haven't got any', kind of gesturing towards the wall of pastries they did, in fact, have. And then he smiled. That was the reward (as well as the fact that the rejection, which I have become terribly afraid of recently, was offered up without too much resistance). Him finally smiling and being a person to me rather than a role. That was nice.

Sandison in my cupboard

I do appreciate my computer more today, it's true. Perhaps I'll sleep on the floor so as to better appreciate my bed. No, I love my bed. A lot. Maybe I will, though. Not tonight. 

Sandison in the GO Cafe

Ooh, and on the wall of the toilet, in answer to the question 'what new thing will you do on 29th?', I said 'get some exciting new work'. When I switched on my phone after the drop-in, there was an email from a new agency offering me some German work. Fuck, yeah. Thanks, Justin McCarron. I must find you and finally give you the small thank you gift I have for you for the last (two or three) times you've passed my name on to people. I'm so grateful.  I also said I'd flirt. Tomorrow. I don't do that very often. Oh dear. Why did I say that?


I get to see Sandison tomorrow. Everything's going to be alright. Not in that way.

Day 135 - Lucky Doesn't Cover It

Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you. Thank you. I think my lucky streak may be back. I think I've just been blessed.


I just went to Burger King in Islington (on the way home from yoga - how self-destructive, how pointless). I nearly didn't. I nearly kept going. But then I did. I ate the thing that was on offer. Then I cycled home. As I turned into my street (it's about 20 mins, maybe 25), I noticed that my shoulders felt nice and light. They were. I'd left my backpack (with a grand's worth of laptop in it) in Islington. On its own. That'll teach me to eat junk food. Twat!


At that point, I didn't know whether I'd left it in Burger King or possibly just put it down to sort out my bike (put the lights on etc) and ridden off without it. As I cycled back, I reminded myself to go fast, but safely, and I said thank you in my head. I reminded myself that I'm a very lucky person, as it goes. I already gave thanks for the extra exercise (if there's one thing that's really good for my head, it's that. 


I made it back. I took my bike in. I went to the table I'd sat at... and there it was, leaning peacefully against the wall. Nobody had touched it. Laptop still there, everything untouched. I said thank you all the way home. I'm still saying it now. I am SO grateful. This blog is brought to you by Masses of Luck. Thank you.


Thank you to Anna Levy for giving me a beautiful and ridiculously tasty cupcake. Very sweet in every way; Sarah Lonton for being a lovely friend; Rob, for a great meeting; Ruth, for her loving text. Alex, for masks and a quick chat, and for lending me his coat while we had our chat, so I wouldn't freeze. And thank you to my bike, for sorting me out and carrying me around, even though I know I sometimes tire it out.


Thank you to lovely yoga couple for a chat outside the building, and for giving me their card. Oh, I'm in a pickle. I went again today and it was really good, but I felt very sad and conflicted. I didn't manage to talk to my teacher about this. I felt strange about it. I don't want to launch into a stream of criticism. I just want it all not to be true, but I know it doesn't really work like that, does it. Oh bum. Oh BUM. And on that note... sleep. I have to. My eyes are going. 

Day 134 - Lies, Curls and Melanie C

This is a actual dog. Not a mop.

I've stopped writing 'grateful' in the title, so it reads nicely when I publish the blog, but sometimes I write it in anyway, just to remind myself of why I'm here every day. And then I delete it. But it was there. It left a trace. I am grateful.


Why do people go up to Parliament Hill? Because it's beautiful, that's why. I cycled up there slightly after dusk. I did a bit of walking too, because I am terribly Good and I don't want to break byelaws (or more importantly, to piss people off or run over their dog/child). I'll break a byelaw with the next person as long as it does nobody any harm (see Mixed Pond Lies). A slice of yellow moon hung in the sky, framed by two bright stars. I looked and looked a that. The sky was lighter up above, as it is when the sun's not long hidden. 

I never saw this

As you walk up towards the top, you see silhouetted lovers, dogs and dog-walkers and a kind of lifting light, but you don't know, not really, what you're about to receive. I didn't, anyway. As you reach the top, London spreads itself out in front of you in its glittery beauty. The shard is impressive. The BT Tower too. Canary Wharf. The Bowels of East. There are colours and brightness and bits of darkness too. There are shapes of streets in the foreground and great rows of tallness in the back. And everything twinkles. Perhaps it's the thickness of the air between your eye and what it sees, or maybe it's a day's worth of traffic fumes. Whatever it is, it's awfully pretty. I stood there for a long time, awing gently. I can't even show you a picture. There's nothing on the internet that does it justice. Go. Go there at dusk and have a look. Take a friend or a lover. Stand and kiss in front of someone who's there with her bike. Do whatever you need to do, but go. I had to leave at some point. It didn't stop being beautiful. I just needed to get home. 



But most of a day had gone before, with its little gifts and dances. In answer to my challenge, I slept until 8-ish and stayed in my bed all dozerly until about 10 (Heike, you win, hands, feet and face down). Then I made tea and drank Floradix and sat out on the roof terrace to write my morning pages. It was still coldish, but full of tweeting and family sounds. The air was clear. Outside air touches you in a way that inside air doesn't. I felt gratitude. I drank tea. I wore slippers. 


I had plans to meet Kate around 3 and to swim before that. I meant to swim earlier, but I left it until late. I must have got to the Ladies' Pond about 2.20. It closed at 2.15. BUM! I was calm in my disappointment. My own fault. I knew it was 2-something but I thought it was later, 2.45 or so. I left and headed over to Hampstead to leave my bike. I passed the Mixed Pond. I had intentions. I went up to the gate and tried to scour my memory for the code. I got the digits right, but not their order. A man let me in, and helped me with the inside gate too. I was telling Mixed Pond Lies about being a member (not yet true) and truths about normally going to the Ladies' Pond (true), hence having forgotten the code (a lie). The gentleman was very sweet. He let me in and buddied me while I swam, thus saving me breaking another byelaw about not swimming solo. Turns out, he was the membership secretary. I think he'd sussed me from the start, but he let me have my swim first. Then he asked my name and said 'you're not a member here, are you?'. 

I am lying

Already ensconced in deception, I porkied it up a bit more. I said yes I was, and talked with open eyes about having sent my forms in over Christmas and having remembered the codes (or not) from last time. It was a lame lie and I regretted it. Next time I see the man, I shall tell him the truth. He's going to email me the codes and another form. I'll pay, of course. It's not the paying I didn't get on with, it was the acres of form and the fact that I thought I'd never use it. It's not anywhere near as nice as the Ladies' Pond, but it is fabulous to be able to go if ever I miss the Ladies' boat again. I thanked the man profusely for letting me swim, even before my discovery. It was such a gift. Are we more prone to feel gratitude for something we didn't think we were going to get? Isn't it true in narrative? If a story gives you all the good bits one by one without making you wait or work, it's a dull old story. If it teases you and makes you clever by giving you enough information to fantasise but withholding the facts, those same facts have more clout. I loved the warmer water of the Mixed Pond. I loved my stolen swim.

I am genuine

I loved my very noisy tea and scone with Kate. The lady next to us (I say 'lady') was coughing and coughing, very loudly and unguarded. She didn't get the 'turning away' bit, or the silly hygiene habit of covering your mouth. She hacked over her own food and that of her colleague. At one point she leaned in to look at the cakes, and hacked in their, and Kate's direction. The cafe also served smoothies, which they prepared very loudly, very long, with a blender. During that it was like the being on the curvy bits of the Bakerloo Line, or Central between Holborn and St Pauls - screechy as fuck and jam-packed with decibels. The facial reactions of most people in the cafe were a source of pleasure. I thought the woman on the other side was going to stalk up there, pick up the blender and bash it over the cafe owner's head, but she didn't.  One thing these two experiences have in common is a rush of gratitude when they stop. I nearly did a standing ovation when Cough-cheeks left. She had a fingernails-on-blackboard voice too, so it was a double whammy of relief. I could finally hear what Kate had to say, which is so very often so very interesting. It was today.


A walk, then, through the top-hill backstreets of Hampstead. Very pretty indeed. There were cobbles and the highest of walls. There were tall buildings and squatter, older ones. We saw some adoring graffiti outside the flats where Mel C off of the Spice Girls used to live. They liked Mel C a lot, those devoted fans. They'd come from as far away as Spain, sometimes, and they'd all brought Tippex. Well done them. I like Mel C in her early days. Less posed. Kate and I walked and talked and again I was grateful for my friend, one of the inspirations for this blog. 

Like this, only happier

And now, post-Heath, I'm almost in my bed. I'm grateful for a day's base-mood of neutral rather than grim, which means I can appreciate the good things going on rather than look at them through thick panels of soundproof glass. I'm grateful for a white, curly dog digging in a hole with what can only be called 'gusto' and then running in giddy circles to celebrate. I am grateful, in advance, for the lists I'm about to make and the time I'm about to allocate to certain tasks. Yes. Oh yes. Esther Lilley, I'm going to do my best. Both the list and the curly dog are today in your honour. 

Day 133 - Toads of Death

Nemotoad/Nematode

Oh, that pond. It welcomes me so heartily. Every day that first plunge steals a little bit of breath, but after that, it's just a noticing game. Today, my elbows felt the cold like little pinches, especially the left one. I felt that wrinkly skin all present. I stayed in a long time. The water must be up to 5 degrees again by now. It is silky and very calm. A coot has started to nest on the lifebelt. There's been nestage there all winter but she (or he?) has started to build. He (or she?) sat on the nest making sharp sounds as I swam past. Just in case, you know.

A lovely breakfast with Ruth. So refreshing to see her. She is wise and inspiring and passionate about all sorts of things. We talked about which seeds she was going to plant, and the merit of growing food not for the sake of saving money, but for the sake of the pleasure of growing it. Ruth has a plan. The plan involves nematodes - (which I spelt Nemotoads) the toady nemesis of the slug. They are worm creatures you buy and put in your garden. When you water them, they come alive and set out on a slug hunt to feed their hunger. If this was a science fiction story, they would of course take over the world. It's not, though, so they won't. Shame. 


We talked about other things too. Her down-to-earth wisdom showed. And we drank maté and ate mini-macaroons. But not until we'd picked up litter. We joined a team of Parkland Walk volunteers at 11am. Armed with litter-picking claws and bin-bags, we started behind the bus stop on Muswell Hill. We looked like we were doing community service for shoplifting in Dixons (oh dear, Dixon's doesn't even exist any more, does it? Or is it Curry's that doesn't. I can never quite remember.) Anyway, I've decided maybe I nicked an iPod. Or an iPod sock (even shitter) and perhaps Ruth tried to make it out of John Lewis with a decorative cushion stuffed up her jumper. Perhaps not. Anyway, people looked at us that way. 


It was fun, though. I found a blue hoody that I really should have washed and kept, and a suitcase. We didn't manage to open it. There was something in it. I decided it was a single, skeletal finger which had been stitched together so it wouldn't fall apart even once fully decomposed. A small ring finger. No ring. There is a story in it. Probably a better story if we don't open the case. Not yet, at least.


I am grateful for the closeness to nature. We scrubbed about in undergrowth. It smelt funny, as in bad funny. We picked up hundreds of tiny pieces of cellophane. Many from cigarette packets. Some from god knows where. There were many buds budding. Green ones, brown ones, tiny pinkish red ones. The hawthorns already had leaves. There was burgeoning going on all over the shop, and without that session, I would have missed it. There's a killer view from there too. From the back of M&S in Muswell Hill, it's amazing, and just below it is the Parklands Walk. Not has high, but broad and beautiful. I am grateful to Ruth for calling it quits at a healthy time, so we could go back for more tea. 


While I was at her house, I picked up a folder full of love letters from times long past - from Christophe Challange, most of them, but there was a folder of them from other people too. All that time ago, when I was a different person. I think I've managed to convince myself that I have never had love affairs, been loved, been in love, but it's just not true, is it? Not at all. Christophe was a very special love affair, though. Very special indeed. It was so often conducted at distance, that relationship, so the letters are comprehensive. I shall read them through. Christophe was - is - an artist. He has always had a determination about his art and a commitment to it that I can only admire. 

www.christophechallange.org

I found myself talking about him to Sarah Lonton the other day, remembering the time when his wife Rachael (this is many years ago, and if I understand rightly, he is happily married to someone else now) called me to talk about him. I refused, in the end. Gently, saying that I no longer knew him - she knew him - and that I'd happily meet with both of them but not just with her. It didn't go down well, but for me, at least, it was the right thing to do and say. 


Anyway - now he's back in my mind for other reasons. I dug out these old love letters from long ago times (most of them addressed to Judy Moon - my name at that time) because a person contacted me on a dating website doing a project about people and objects they were given by lovers - objects that mean a lot. I've moved so much that I own pretty much nothing from that time - but I kept these letters. I have no idea what they'll say, but maybe they'll waken in me some memory of love that used to be. Not for a personal purpose with Christophe. Not at all. I never really managed to be a nice girlfriend to him - always bickery and harsh, I was. We found that out a second time once and I was sorry. But just for the sake of it, and for this project, and to see what it awakens. She's the only person I responded to on the dating website before disappearing from it. See, my heart's really not in it. I dislike that kind of dating so very much. Gah! Anyway - enough of all of that. I'm nearly 41. Time to shut up.

Just add womb

An afternoon of (fake) coffee and (genuine) talk with Hari, off of the yoga group. He has a history as big as a huge pie, and I hope he's going to write it. He also shares some of my trepidation about the group, but in a different way. He's got a lot out of it, though, so it's a bit different. The more I hear about them, their sexual initiations and their philosophies (such as 'sex between women is cool, sex between men is spiritually wrong'), the more I throw up my hands in despair. And they do sharing partners, apparently, which I don't object to in itself - it's everyone's choice - but I do object to it coming handed down from a horny old bloke who gurus the place up. Spread your seed in the name of spirituality. Or if not seed (it's tantra, innit - no seeding intended) then just putting your cock around a bit. Still, perhaps I missed a trick. Perhaps my old yoga teacher was grooming me for a threesome with him and his girlfriend (also allowed). Perhaps I could have had the time of my life. Or not. 


I suspect my goodbye to the group will have to come sooner rather than later. I'm on the hunt for new teachers. Perhaps I'll try the Sivananda. Lord knows how I'm going to afford to train with them, but magicaller things have happened, more recently than one could imagine. Here's hoping. I'll have to get working, though. And I'd better swot up on my Greek Tragedies. I don't yet know enough. I have a rehearsal on Friday involving them. Get your shit together, love.

I ate a faceful of red meat earlier. And spinach. And peas. Loading up on iron for energy and feelgood folic acid. And then I watched Australia. I'm most of the way through. It is, in my opinion, a delightful film. I love it. I love the broad brush-strokes of it, and the beauty. The child in it is incredible. I defy the most upturned of wombs not to twitch a little seeing his huge, long-lashed eyes and childish grace. Hugh Jackman's very pleasing indeed and I'm a huge fan of Nicole Kidman. I think she rocks. But it's the magical, epic, fairytale touches of glitter in this film that please me most. Jackman in the bush shower, romantic kisses on the plains, tragic moments, happy endings on their way, thwarted, almost there, scuppered again (etc). 


Back to Australia, then. Long sleep tomorrow. I'm testing myself. How long can you sleep? Not too long, I hope, but we'll see. Grateful, as always, for the very good friends I have. Very good people in my life. Sometimes I'm not able to see why they're there, but I am always grateful. 

Day 132

The water was clement enough to let me swim for long. Although it looked greyish on my way, the light was clear. When it's not dazzling, you can see the silhouettes of the tall trees better. I always think of them as three trees, but there are many more. 


I saw small, opening leaves on a bush. I saw finches flitting very nearby. I spoke to a smiling French lady. I saw birds in the water and in the sky. I wonder if I should start getting changed outside on days when I don't have my computer with me. It's beautiful down there, looking out over the bird pond. It's just a question of not showering, that's all. And that will do. 


Although I achieved nothing today, I had some nice conversations. The secret event we'd planned for lovely Anna went down a treat. I think it made a difference and I'm grateful for that. Thank you to Andy Hix for making such an ace video, and to Liora for sorting all that stuff out. And they liked the lemon cake too (it's all gone). 


Goodbye to Multi-Alecs. I'll miss him. I'm sorry I didn't properly say goodbye, but I had to leave and he wasn't there. I feel bad about that. I'm grateful to him for his bits of gentleness and kindness. He's a good egg.

Grateful: Day 131 - Synchronicities and Light

Serendipity Dog Shot

Already last night I had planned to sleep in and go to the pond late, but nobody, not even my secret subconscious, knew quite how late. As I slept late in the morning, I dreamt that I was walking along a street as the sun went down, heading for the pond and realising with distress that I'd missed my chance.


I didn't miss my chance, though, and for that, I'm grateful as always. After a long morning of not doing, and a conversation with my lovely friend Esther Lilley, I made decisions and took some action. One of the bits of action I took was to go out on the roof terrace that sits beneath my bedroom window. Immediately, I felt my shoulders drop and a gentleness appear on my face. 


The sun was not warm, but hot. The air was tangible. Immediately, I heard the birds. I felt altogether gentler. I wondered about doing yoga up there, on balmy mornings when the sun's been up for hours, getting it ready. 


When I finally made it to the pond, my energy was low. I wasn't feeling very happy, or very purposeful. Listless, rather, and like I had no point. As I walked into the changing rooms (expecting to be alone), I heard voices. One of them mentioned snarling. I said 'Oh, are we having a snarl? I'd be up for that.' Because I was so ready for a big old snarl with a couple of strangers. Any time. This time. Right now.

But that's not what they meant. The smaller lady, almost 80, with very black, very round spectacles, a hat and a trolley, had a migraine. She said it was like her brain was snarling. That's a fabulous image in itself. She said it was tight and excruciating at the base of her skull and I said, without thinking 'I have magic hands. Shall we see what we can do?' To my surprise, she said yes immediately and dutifully sat down and let me put my hands on her head. She didn't take her hat off. The other lady, a beautiful, noble-looking violin teacher a good few years younger, sat calmly nearby and said nothing.


We spent a moment. I felt nothing. She felt intense heat, and release. She got up a few minutes later and was fine. Chipper, even. I found it very hard to believe, as I feel pretty much nothing whenever I do that stuff. And I'm cynical. But it seemed to work. 


After a chat, she left. I didn't ask her to come and play in Islington. I wish I had. I think she would enjoy it. She was a dancer and did lots of contact improv. Thomasina (pronounced Thomas-eye-na), her name. Then Elizabeth, with wise blue eyes, shared other things - her work with Alexander technique, her violin teaching, Suzuki's healing hands. And she took my number, in case she thought of anyone she felt I should meet. I hadn't even started to get changed at this point, and already the pond had taken its effect. Very grateful, I was, to have gone to the pond so late. Elizabeth had the same thought. Her plan was to come earlier but she didn't make it. She said she was happy she delayed.


I stayed in for ages today. The pond was mine alone again. There was a beautiful cormorant stretching and posing on a lifebelt for a while, but he left before I got in. The sun was hot on my head and blinding in my eyes. The water was firm and cold, the skies blue. The sun did proper dappling. In the field above, ladies sunbathed on benches.


Afterwards, I went for a walk on the sunny heath. An excellent call with Dominique G was slightly interrupted by a loping Great Dane who came and stood right with me. He seemed a little jumpy, but he let me pet him a little. Then his companion showed up, a very straightforward Basset Hound. He was happy to be petted. That kind of thing pleases me greatly. Uncomplicated dog action. Wonderful.


The light on the heath was a gift. I stood there for a while, just bathing it in, grateful I could be there, not in an air-conditioned office somewhere waiting for the day to end. 

And a cake. I managed a cake. It's not perfect, but it is okay, and it will taste good. Grateful to Joan for sugar tips and readiness advice. It's covered in glaze, my cake, and filled with buttercream, so it had better taste good. It's coming with me tomorrow. And I did a curry too. Spicier than intended, but cooked, partly eaten, saved. Tomorrow, there are things to do. That's a good thing. Come on, love. Make it happen. 

Grateful: Day 130 - goatduck

A combination of two greens and a yellow on the footbridge over Woodford Station; a wise and funny friend, home-cooked chicken korma and good conversation; a phone call with Ruth and a breakfast date fixed.


Sanity checks with J and Rob and a decision finally, painfully made. And now the pain is over. At least for now. The respite is gratefully welcomed. 


For a disappointment that transformed itself into a benefit; for a friend who sounds happier again. For the possibility of a lie-in and a later swim. My body says yes to that. 


And for another possibility - that I post this now and continue in the morning if I want to. Because now, sleep HAS to happen. It won't wait. Not even for a goatduck like me.

Grateful: Day 129 - Beetroot and Black Pudding

Early to the pond again, to find the ice all gone and no sign of yesterday's sudden cold. I left the house a few minutes earlier again - by about five past seven. I still only caught a rapidly leaving Mary Bike-Politics, but found some of the regular early crowd in the water as I arrived.


Today's blessing was blue and white skies all mottley, with silhouetted trees in front. And the fact that the water made me calm. I felt serene and wanted to stay in there, supported and invigorated. I dropped into my body and noticed the sensations. I got out when the pain ones outweighed the bliss. I'm sure if I'd stayed in long enough, the balance would have tipped again, but only in my last moments, like on Titanic. No, the steps beckoned.


I'm grateful for the gentleness of friends and colleagues. I wasn't at my best today. I'm finding decisions pretty tricky and my patience is short. Sometimes I don't want to speak because I know how snappy I risk being. But people were warm and I was grateful.


We ran an impro drop-in today, Rob and I. Thank you to the lovely people who came and to the energy the whole experience gave me. I'm grateful for Rob - calm and present and determined to do what we're doing and to learn from it. 


Thanks for a great potential offer of work doing more of this. I love it. 


Thanks for a bed, a bath, beetroot salad (free) and black pudding (£1.10). And for dreams so very close. I shall drift into them bathed in gratitude.

Grateful: Day 128 - Tinkle Tinkle

The ice I swam through was nothing like this

Finally! Finally, the tinkle. More of a clunk. Somewhere in between, in fact. In an attempt to introduce more mood-enhancing discipline to my days, I got up early this morning. While I didn't acheive my goal of leaving the house at five past seven, I did manage to make it out by quarter past, so I was at the pond in what still just about counts as the first shift. 


I bumped in to Mary Bike-Politics - which was nice. I haven't seen her for months due to my failure to get there early. The cold tonight was somewhat unexpected. When they expect ice, they put the aerators on, so it doesn't form. Today, they weren't expecting it, so when she got there, it was still proper solid. By the time I got in, you could easily swim steps to steps and a little bit further, but the ice started almost invisibly, very nearby.

So I swam. I was calm - I know the water feels less cold when the air is bitter - but excited to have my first ice dip. As I swam, there were little sheetlets of ice, some of them as big as faces, floating in the water. They were no more than a few millimetres thick, but they made a difference. I got one caught at my throat as I swam. Interesting sensation. I went back and forth in the swimmable bits a good few times. I was so excited! The whole sensation was And the Heath behind was beautifully pale and frosty. I saw dogs bounding. On the pond, the ducks stood not even half a metre away, already on the ice. I loved it. 
I feel very grateful. Oh, and thank you, Heike Reissig, for sending me a link to lots of pictures of smiling people in cold water. The above was one of my favourites.
I spent the day at The Hub. I was quiet, but it was nice. I discovered today that pleasing Multi-Alex is leaving. It's good for him, of course. I'll miss him, though. He's always so nice to me. And he's both determinedly negative and quite smiley. I feel kind of better when he's there, even if we don't always speak. Ah well. New moves for him. Has to be good. 

Today's 'no reason' image

I sent off a proposal today. I have everything crossed that it'll work. It'd be a good, meaty, fun challenge. Just after, a good meeting with Rob. Lots of ideas, still to be written up. We're playing with failing tomorrow. I'm grateful too for offers of work, whether or not I can take them. I have to accept that things aren't what they were a week ago on that front, and it looks like I'm taking steps backwards. Maybe it's just so I can adjust my direction. 


Yoga was calming, though I'm in big old dilemmas about the school. The whole guru thing is sitting heavy in my stomach like a bad Scotch egg. There's horrible things on the internet about the guru, and blogs by women who used to be in the school (or cult, as many sites call it). I have to make my own mind up, and the presence of striptease and lap-dancing associated with karma yoga disturb me, as does some of the terminology ('the women offered this dance as a gift to the men' - there are so many things in that sentence that make me feel a little bit uncomfortable). Discomfort, though, is not a bad thing in itself. It can lead to good things, and to positive changes. I just need to watch my gullible side, and be careful, careful, that old patterns don't lead me towards something that will be more painful the further in I go. 


This is one more thing to sleep on. And it's time.

Grateful: Day 127 - On Love, Passion and Being Wrong

I am grateful for that cold water, always there for the taking, even when, some days, it takes a little more effort to get there than others. The sky was stunning, crystal blue with movey clouds with dark grey linings. The air was cold.


As I arrived, there was uncharacteristic raucousness coming from the pond. I'm still not quite sure why. Someone was cheering someone else on. A big splash, a squeal and some very focused, fast front crawl. The changing room was packed and smelt of mushrooms. That smell disappeared in the end, when two of the four ladies had left. It was good that I didn't know who it was who took that smell with them. Like the firing squad and their blank bullets. The finger of blame cannot be pointed with absolute certainty. I'm sure it was on shoes, anyway. I've met all those ladies, and none of them has smelt of mushrooms before. Or there's another option...


I remember feeling silently angry with a man I was sitting near in a rehearsal recently because his trainers smelt horrible. Like mildew rather than feet. I thought 'how hard is it just to spray them or something - why do I have to sit here with that horrible smell up my nose just because he can't be bothered'. And then he left the room and the smell was at least as bad. Blatantly me, that was. My boots. they'd got wet and their syntheticness had shown its true colours by smelling like a musty old cupboard. Very glad I didn't take him aside and have a word. So here's to mushrooms. I'll have a sniff and make double sure.


Grateful for a walk on Hampstead Heath, letting the blood move gently through my body and moving some ideas. I didn't speak much during the first part of today. When that happens, there's no less chatter. It's just inside my head rather than out, and is quite likely to be somewhat less generous than it would be if it was made into words in a mouth. Walking doesn't stop that, but it's as if there's a tap in the top of my head (like trepanning, but with no pain or risk of infection) and some of it gets lifted by the wind or sucked up by the clouds. The air is kind to me. The light. The light was beautiful today, and I was so very grateful to be able to walk and not really know where I was. This magical Heath that's still offering me this gift, though I've now been there many times.

And very grateful for good friends, honest and compassionate enough to say things they really don't think I want to hear, and to ask very difficult questions sometimes. I realise how blessed I am with the people I have in my life. No man is an island, goes the quotation. No person, goes my version. Even islands are only islands because the sea surrounds them. We're not made to do all this on our own. Thank you, peninsula friend. You move tides with your words and reveal a stretch that's safe to walk on, at given times, at least.


I've gorged myself on Ted talks today... a proper fat liverful, I've had. It all started with a talk about marriage and then it spiralled. These three stood out:
http://www.ted.com/talks/helen_fisher_tells_us_why_we_love_cheat.html]
A very clever woman talking with passion and determination about the science behind romantic love and why it's important.
http://www.ted.com/talks/ben_dunlap_talks_about_a_passionate_life.html
A man with an unfathomable accent and a delivery style that makes me believe that he believes every word he's saying with every fibre of himself. 
http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/kathryn_schulz_on_being_wrong.html


So it's worth it, then, from the marriage one, to make it important to have a relationship. At least to be open. And not with some weird authority figure who's messing with my head, but with a real, honest person. It is important, of course (typo = curse... Freud!). It is important, and how I feel about it often gets in the way. And from Helen Fisher, I learn about being brave and passionate and remembering to love and about the implications, according to her theories, of long-term anti-depressant use. I need to think about dopamine and attachment and all those technical things, and remember than on their own, they're nothing. 

Zen goat. No reason.

And thanks to Kathryn Schultz, whose talk I've seen before, I learn about the concept of embracing being wrong and failing from an entirely non-impro perspective. I love the idea that how it feels to be wrong is just the same as how it feels to be right. It's not until we REALISE we're wrong that it starts to feel bad (if we've got into the habit of getting things wrong being associated with bad feelings, which most of us have). 


Thank you for idea-filled skype chats with Rob - I love that things can shape that way. Just fingers tapping away and thoughts coming from somewhere and there they are, saved, and often happening.


And thank you for the internet connection which failed regally mid-chat, and almost at the end of my blog, and made me switch off and go to bed. It may not have happened for a while otherwise, and I really needed it. 

Grateful: Day 126 - Clown

My dreams are starting already. You've been warned. It may be that none of this makes any sense at all. 


I missed my swim by minutes this morning. I cycled all the way to the roundabout at the bottom of Swain's Lane (about 5 mins from the pond), looked at my watch and 'realised' (decided) that I wouldn't have time to get there, swim, get changed and get to the Soho Theatre by 10.  However, I did decide to cycle on up and at least look at the Heath. There's a chance I might have changed my mind. 


As I trundled up that hill, though, who should come around the corner but Zoe Hind. I've been trying to get hold of her sister, my beloved friend Claire, for a week or two (after we first made contact again while I was bouncing around Germany with 30 mins internet access a day. It was lovely to see Zoe. It's also made my desire to contact Claire even more keen.


Clowning, today, with Phil Burgers (aka Dr Brown). He is a good clown. A very pleasing clown indeed. A total twat on stage, and very warm, very connected. The fact that he's kind of hot is nice too. Hot more because he's so there with you than just his physicality. I thought that might be a problem before I went, but it wasn't


Then over to Tara yoga. Nice people, good times, and times that will have to be described again in detail tomorrow. Mu brains are MASHED.

Grateful: Day 125 - Cyberman Sport

A stranger came to swim today. It was her first time at the pond. It was 2 degrees in the water. She didn't even have gloves. We were all concerned about her, and were so busy warning her to be careful, between us, that I worried we'd seem terribly unfriendly. So I asked 'have you swum in cold water lots already?' to which she answered 'I am from Iceland'. Oh. Oh yes. That, then. Dig in, love. We won't be too worried about you, then. She did, and she was fine. Invigorated. Icelandic.


I swam a little further today. I pushed on out. Not far, you understand. Just further. Birds flew overhead. Pigeons. So graceful, though. They flew in pairs. I watched Janet, who has a very sweet, small dog, stop for a moment as she was getting dressed (she always does this outside, on the bench that looks out over the bird pond) and gaze that way. There is still a little ice on there. It's beautiful. She exuded a peace and calm that I appreciated.


I had the pleasure of breakfast with Ruth and a trip to the tip. I very much enjoyed both. Very good to see her, very good indeed. And I like that at the tip, they have people to tell you where to put things. 


I remember once going to the tip years and years ago with short-lived boyfriend (short-lived after he said to me 'Just let me try and get back with my ex one more time - if she says no, I'm all yours). We took a sofa to the dump somewhere in North London. When we got there, we put the sofa down, and the men on hand came rushing up, saying... 'No, no, hang on... you can't just put it down. It doesn't say Put outside, does it, it says Dump. Dump it! Go on, throw it over the edge!'. So we did. We picked up the sofa and lobbed it into the furniture graveyard below. They were right, those men. It was very satisfying indeed. Much more fun that if we'd taken it to the put. 


A birthday call with Lilley, who liked her present (in a slightly surprised way, but good) and was enjoying her day when I spoke to her. I wish her good health and gentleness and joy, in swathes. 

'Iceland cold swimming' turned this up. Oh, you funny people!

A pleasant day at the Hub, full of Anna Levy and her lovely warmth, Andy Hix and his, a tiny, but gently appreciated, dose of Multi-Alex, and lots of lovely others. I was not very productive, and I instigated cake (oh, sugar... you are a vicious master). Very nice though. Bum, bum, bum, I forgot to collect cake money. Perhaps it will be there later, when I go back. 


And then to Russell Square, for a lovely chat, and a festival of sushi, with Celine. Celine is a very strong, very emotional woman. I love how deeply she honours both. She feels things and then moves on. She is direct and warm at the same time. She always looks outstandingly beautiful and is both glamourous and very down to earth. She is a rock. She's the kind of person who knows what to do. I feel very lucky to have her. 
And today, I love my bike very much. I am slowly building back up and embracing more hills. I noticed this morning that the more familiar the hill, the easier it is to ride up it. Strange hills are a drag. I got off and walked for a tiny while on the way up Hazelville today. It's a monster! Once I've done it a few more times, I have no doubt I won't need to do that. 


Clowning tomorrow, with Dr Brown. Can't knock that, now, eh? Eeep!

Grateful: Day 124 - 2+2

Why am I single?

My eyes are all prickly with tired, but I am delighted to be here. My fingers are happy in front of this blog, and my soul is breathing gently again. I have been feeling lost over the past few days, but now, even though I feel I'm still pulling on the pedals to get up the next hill, there is a glow over the lip of it. I'll never be 'there', but it's feeling like there might just be a revelation at the top of this one.


Beautiful water today. My breath is still disappearing for a moment or two when I push out into that cold water, and my vision goes slightly wild. Not quite enough to be sure, but there is some effect. I imagine that a Ribena berry toy sees like that when you squeeze it and its sticky rubber eyes bulge out. There's a liquidness in the way I see in that cold. 

Every day, though, I go a tiny bit further. My next step is to bring myself back to heel and start going early again, at a regular time, so I can see the ladies that helped get me started and keep me turning up every day. I miss them. I miss Ruth too. Have I said? I really do. But soonish, she'll come back to the pond, and there'll be an extra motivation to get out of bed that bit earlier, so I can get back to seeing her daily. 


My room is lovely, and the house is nice. I'm grateful, of course, for that. And I miss the conversations, and the company. There's musings of a trip to Barnet Dump tomorrow. I'd be game. Let's see, let's see. Fingers crossed.


Thank you for an out of the blue remittance notice. It's only enough to bring me back to almost the brink of in the black-ness, but it's avoided charges, so that's great.


Thank you, Catherine, for driving all the way over to play at making faces. Catherine started a brand new mask and I stuck papier mache on two part-finished ones. The paper's a bit too thick. The last batch was a bit too thin. Next lot will be perfect, I tell you. We'll get there. I'm going to go crazy with the sandpaper, see what I can do. 

Sausages - with added chouchou veg

We had fun. Good, wise conversation. Sausages. Cake. Laughing and musing. Getting covered in glue and clay. Looking at faces and building new ones. I am aching to play. I really hope I can get to Denmark. I'm not sure now, with this batch of cancelled work. I really don't know if I can do it - all my plans may have to change. But I kind of trust that the right bits will pull through. I need to sit and listen carefully to the tugging in my belly and find out what the thing is that I want to do. I trust I'll be provided for. 




And I've just had a long conversation with a beloved friend. I'm grateful beyond measure. I love her very much, and I've missed her. Life is big and it sometimes wraps things up and they need teasing out. Have you ever tried to eat one of those triangular food packages from Wasabi? They're supposed to be simple, but you usually end up with rice falling off, filling on the pavement and sheets of nori inaccessible between slivers of cellophane. Sometimes, you just have to be patient and eat the bits you can.


I'm loving the new updates, Blogger. You've made things so much more intuitive and easy. You've made the photo bit, a bit I really love, a whole lot easier. And there are all sorts of other new features. You've put a lot of thought into this. Well DONE! And thank you.


Oh, and the dog link pasted onto my wall by lovely Steve Wheeler. I have seen it before, but there are different shots here, and it made me smile all over again. 


This one tempts me to say 'see that, that's your mum, that is'. I'm not sure who I'm saying it to. But there you go, it's said. Not that your mum chases balls or has a hairy face, or looks like an alien baby. Anyway, in case you've missed it, here it is again:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/02/14/underwater-dog-photos-seth-casteel_n_1277404.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000003#s692316&title=Underwater_Photos_Of


There are some I don't remember from last time. The front shot of this link is delicious.

Underwater Dog Photography, Step 3. Ready?

This shot is the 'making of' one. I like how engaged he is with the dogs already, and I like very much the position of the front one's bum.




Oh, oh, oh... and I had a call from regal Jack Rebaldi today. He named himself for me, because he'd read my blog and knew I'd called him that. Well he is. A veritable king of all sorts of things, that man. With the best laugh ever. 

I'm looking forward to a productive day and to some gentle sleep, full of blessings. Thank you for this renewed gentleness in my mind. Thank you.

I asked you a fucking QUESTION! Why am I SINGLE? Oh. Oh yes...