Day 418: No Chocolate

Meggy

This is the cat that has been amusing me so much. Yesterday, she bit my face. Today, I bit her face. She didn't seem to mind. I don't have tiny, pointy teeth though, so... you know. She's also been making noises like a pigeon today... just contented ones as she sleeps at the foot of my bed. Very sweet.

Sandra visited me last night. How cool is that? Sandra who put me up in Berlin. Sandra I used to work with at Hasbro. Sandra who is now in England looking for where to live. It was lovely to see her and catch up. So much happens, doesn't it? God! Grateful for that, for her, for good words.

Great building, though

Speaking of which, I went to church today. I had a reason - I wanted to have some quiet time to reflect, but in a group. I had so much enjoyed the singing yesterday that I swayed myself away from the Quakers, which was my first temptation, and over to the Unitarians. Well... I think I've learnt. Hymns are not for me. I find no joy in them. The sermon was very sermon-like and though it was not exclusively Christian, it was turgid (with flashes of good) as I remember sermons from my childhood. The speaker was not used to using his voice to uplift, even though his words were suggesting that was his aim. 

Oh yeah... Happy Easter

Lovely chat with Cat. She's good, that one. Lovely exchange with Pudding, too, and Will (grateful to you, Young Buck). Yoga was good. I got it. Not really long enough, but fairly intense for the amount of time I'm actually there. 

I've been fasting and detoxy-grumpy-cold-tired-hungry today. More fool me. The church visit was also partly to be doing spiritual things rather than thinking about dumplings. It was no Bobby McFerrin gig, that sermon. Can't blame it, though. It wasn't that - it's that I'm fasting. That's all. I'll feel better in the morning. Woo hoo! Roll on six am!

Day 417: Soulful Singsong

The lady not at the edge showed us the way from the bus!

Aaaaahhhhhh, singing. Aaaaahhhh, Brighton. Haven't you done well. 

Thanks to Karen McMillan, Kate and I went into Brighton to sing this morning - African/Buddhist was how it was billed. It was AMAZING. Around 40 people, if my crowd perception is anywhere close (could have been 30, could have been 60). We stood in big old room at Brighton Dome and sang just three songs in two hours, but how rich and pleasing every second was. 

Brighter Star - that was the first one. There could be another brighter star, but in my heart, your light is all I see. Something along those lines. Five parts. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Lots of different rhythms going on too. So good. Then Alunde (which he had to spell, because most of us were singing about some bloke called Alan Day). It's an African worship song. We did the first bit before the break and that in itself was satisfying. When we came back, we added a whole nother bit. Brilliant. Better still. 

Mahashuka

And finally, the words 'maybe I was born to hold you in my arms' sung in five parts, plus a male and a female voice riffing over the top and a lady (the lady who randomly had guided off the bus and into the singing) dancing. I kept having to stop because I was so moved, I was crying. It was fabulous. AND I got to sing the bass part. Not hugely bassy, but it was a lovely melody.

Kate's whole visit was just right. Lots of lovely things to talk about. I'm always inspired by Kate, one of the most determinedly creative people I've ever met. We talked a lot, ate well and healthily (oh hello, vegetable risotto, hello, salad) and she very graciously went and worked on her Easter Sunday sermon while I squeezed in a quick Skype with Nicolò before dinner. It was a very nice Skype. I'm really quite excited about the plans that are taking shape. Desperate to use a smiley, but this blog has never seen one, and I'm determined it never will. Just imagine my face.

I normally pretend there's not telly in anywhere I live, so that's what I've been doing here. Today, I had an education. We watched Come Dine With Me (oh dear - crap and moreish like cheap tortilla chips). Next up, Britain: My New Home, which was well-made, moving, almost heartbreaking it moments: the boy who's holding out to go home to Pakistan to visit the grandmother who brought him up, but she died unexpectedly a week before the trip. What was most moving was his determination to stick steadfastly to his religion to explain it, at times blaming his own non-pious acts as a child for the fate of his beloved mother in kind; then the Zimbabwean boy who, when asked what would disappoint his mother, spouted forth with a revealing flow about how being gay would disappoint her, and that he didn't want to be gay, he wanted to be a real man... And the girl - a study in adaptability and mimicry - from no English at all to a full on North Yorkshire accent in about a year. She fits in like nobody's business and yearns to go home. 

Then, just to round off the night with a different flavour, we watched Made in Chelsea. Fuck! Shhiiiiiiiiiiiiit. Any other expletive you can think of. What the fuck was THAT? It is, according to Wikipedia, a 'scripted documentary', where real people play scripted versions of themselves living their 'real' lives. It was like the worst of soaps, except are these people real or not, or what? What? The main theme seemed to be people being pretty nasty to other people. Thing is, it was fascinating, like surgical procedures are (if you're me). You can only just look. We talked all the way through it, of course, and did quite a lot of research. Unlike the real documentary, I won't be seeking it out again, but I'm glad I saw it once, and in such good company. 

In the morning, I had the pleasure of doing a guided meditation I'd written for Kate. I was a bit scared that it wouldn't be good, but I really enjoyed writing it and more still delivering and recording it, with lots of little ad-libs at the same time. Very good indeed. A very pleasing thing to do. Thank you, Kate, for this opportunity, and for lending me your ninja recording creature so I can do another one for the yoga teens I'm teaching tomorrow.

Singing harmonies, though. Have to do more of that. Really really. 

Day 416: Ruminate

Brilliant flower design

I was having a think this morning and a little look around the internet. Here's what I found.

“Cultivate the habit of being grateful for every good thing that comes to you, and to give thanks continuously. And because all things have contributed to your advancement, you should include all things in your gratitude.”  (Ralph Waldo Emerson - Goodreads quotes)

Every little thing - that's the key. The things that piss you off as well as the things that fill you with joy. That's not to pretend that the things don't piss you off - it's just to assume some good intention behind it. Good intention makes it sound all fatey (sorry, Rob Grundel). Sorries aside, that's not quite what I mean. What I mean is that pretty much every thing that happens will have SOMETHING useful about it. It might not outweigh what we perceive as 'bad' but it will be there. It's a question of focus. 

Search: grateful for everything

I'm well aware that I've gone on about this before, but the thing is, it's a daily practice, like mindfulness. Every day, it takes remembering. Every day, there's a little habit that slips into believing that experiences that aren't pleasant are bad. Those two things are not equal. Pleasant experiences are not necessarily 'good' either. A faceful of iced rings will attest to that. Every bit of overeating. Every bit of damaging gossip which might seem titillating at the time will tip the balance. It's not quite like it's eating away at the good bit of you - more like it's covering it up with a tiny bit more padding and the padding's not really needed. It just gets in the way. When it out-ratios the core, it gets tiring. That soft centre is potent - all sorts of extraneous stuff can go on around it and it will always remain there, strong and shining.. it just gets suffocated sometimes. 

Search: 'grateful for every little thing'

This isn't about Being Good, or being saved or reward/retribution in an afterlife - it's about how you feel right now (I'll be specific - how I feel right now when I do things that cover up that pure-love-core good bit). The more I do to feed the things that feed me, the less I need to graze on thoughts that are empty of nutrition - the more I'm filled up. And all this from being grateful? Fuck! That's good, isn't it.  

(looks like I still have to work on the swearing thing) 

Day 415: Happy Baby Day

Happy Baby Day, Lilley and Daniel Harvey. This is momentous. I am terribly, terribly glad for you. The full moon did its bit to get her moving, but she hung on in there until today. Well done, Lilley. Thanks for all the updates, Daniel. I am so happy for all of you, most of all your little girl, who will have the Most Fun Ever being your daughter. 

Some fabulous cat action today, including laser gun (she's clever - she knows to look at my hand if it disappears for too long), jumping up walls and falling off the bed when something made her jump. She's made me laugh and laugh today. Only really annoying when she tried to bite my face as I did my dolphins. 

Yesterday was theoretically a big event. I promised to explain. It will come when it's ready and it's not ready yet. Grateful, mainly, for the wonderful people I have in my life - all of them. Thanks for a station pick-up for me and my stuff after a four-hour train journey. You rock, J. Thanks for Brighton smiling people helping me off the train with my bike even though I was at 'The Wrong Door'. 


(Pictures thanks to 'The Wrong Door' google image search)

Day 414: Full Moon Baby?

Here's hoping today's the day

Graaawwwww. So tired, it's not even feasible. 

Maybe I should accept defeat and write this tomorrow. I will do just that, unless 'it' takes me. I am watching a small grey cat go mental over my (undoubtedly stinky) ponded towel. She's little because she's young. Six months or so. She's playful and weeny. She's very cute. The funniest thing, though, was watching lovely J be so un-cat. She made facial expressions most people would reserve for a tarantula or a bowl of brains. That pleased me more than anything. 

I have to be asleep. This just won't do. 
Thank you is all. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I will go into detail when I'm able to be conscious. Today, though, of all days, I have to say it. 

Day 413: Woomp! Lunk! Foom!

17th flooor! I asked for a room near the top of the hotel. By chance, I ended up with 17th, top floor. The views from the stairwell are stunning - not because the landscape is beautiful, but because it makes me feel exhilarated and free being this high up. From the room, not so much. They have sealed a net curtain between panes of double glazing. You can't see past it. Shame. The room is questionable... the thing that keeps it warm also sounds ridiculously loud. I have earplugs, though. The novelty of waking up warm will be well worth it.


Grateful that the internet, for which I WAS about to go downstairs and get a refund, now seems to be working a little bit better. Maybe some people have gone to bed. 

Also loving this image of a lady. It's from something called 'elders wearing vegetation' or something like that. This woman has the face I aspire to have. Not yet. I don't mind waiting. But at some point. I quite like her hat as well. 

Steve Jarand, Marc Rowland and especially Nicolò Bernardi, thanks for giving me such a brilliant dilemma. I'm aching with it, in the best of ways. I'm blown away by the options I have right now. I have what I've been telling myself is a difficult choice to make. I think I'll know I've made the right choice when the answer feels easy. Hmmm. 

Tom Gauld rocks

Thanks, Jess and Danny, for quotes on roof work that needs doing. Thanks for an entertaining rehearsal and progress made; for news from Yorkshire and a chance of completion, or almost, as early as tomorrow;for a welcome text from Bear to Owl, bringing news on the animal grapevine. Thanks, Rob, for this noisy alphabet. There is no end to the pleasure it's given me in the short minutes I've spent looking at it. 
http://www.tomgauld.com/index.php?/portfolio/noisy-alphabet/

Day 412: Late Plethora

This shit is serious work

A winter quilt, two blankets, three hot water bottles. I didn’t put on my fingerless gloves. I regret it. I may sleep with a scarf to avoid a stiff neck. I love a good attic, but lordy, this one’s cold! I’ve had good times here, though, and I’m grateful for it. Tomorrow Bristol.

The day after Brighton and cat-bothering, then ninja Ashtanga daily. Get in.

Thank you for yesterday’s skype. Still got that glow. And for emails today and suggestions and clevernesses. I am full of awe and warmth and love and the most ridiculous of excitements at this adventure. 

Thing is, I know these faces

Thanks for an email from Montreal Marc saying yes to mask workshops in English and French and even giving me dates. I can do them. We can do them. This is good. I’m going to Montreal! My plan has always been to book a ticket on a Tuesday. Looks like the right Tuesday has come around. Let’s DO this shit!

Yeah, this will help sell it

Thanks for magic whiteboards, weebly, brilliant conversation, patient running, encouragement to swim and the best oats ever from Mel. That was one fruitful morning. It was hard to get out of bed, but I’m so glad I did, for the company, the exercise and the satisfaction of having done so much so early. I should run more often. Running, for me, is so much harder than getting into cold water. By comparison, the dip is peanuts.

Her dog is actually sweeter

Hats off to the lovely lady whose name I never retain. She has a very sweet dog with an upturned little expectant face and a ready wag. Not only does she swim religiously, but she changes outside unless it’s actively raining or snowing heavily. She was out there today. Good God! It wasn’t snowing much, but flakes drifted in the air the whole time, carried on the bitterest of breezes. Even at a brisk walk, my fingers were pretty much useless when we got home and I was cold most of the way through. She is one hardy woman, that one.

And thank you for the loveliest text from Sheila of the Pond, asking for regular yoga lessons for her and her girls, and offering to pay. How nice, and how warmly it was worded. I’m not going to be around, but I shall do my best to give them at least one more lesson, and to work out a doable program to relieve exam stress, help with focus and stretch the mind and body. I’d also really like to record an mp3 for them, to help them relax. I could make that exam-specific and all about clear-mindedness, couldn’t I. Oh, what fun!

And this evening, I got to play at facilitating again. I really enjoyed it. I love being in front of a big group. It really pleases me. Let’s do more of that. Thanks, Sarah Dawrant. Thanks, people. That rocked.

Day 411: Cambridge Ladies

Aaah, isn't Clare nice. I'm up in Cambridge, having had a delightful day, truly truly. I arrived for a tea party today, not having read the invitation properly. The tea party was a Ladies' Tea Party and involved the wearing of dresses and the such like. I arrived in jeans and boots (it's been snowing all day! The skylight was covered in snow when I woke and it's been quietly constant ever since).

Luckily, Clare's helpful housemate Emma provided me with a very nice dress which fit just fine. I had lucky tights on (as in lucky because they keep me warm under my jeans - it's been snowing all day, you know), so that worked too. I did end up putting my big socks back on over the top before the tea party was over, but that's all good. It was cold. Dresses are brilliant. Being warm enough is brilliant too. Nobody was spending that much time looking at my feet. Were they?

A healthy group of happy women, many of whom had never met, talking, hanging out, enjoying. They trickled away in the end, leaving me and Clare to catch up properly.That was really something very good too. You don't need the detail - just the fact. I like this woman very much. She's driven and clever and playful and wise and... she's just very good. She does a fabulous stage punch (we didn't indulge today) and has the best watch of anyone I know. 

Now I'm about to do a happy sofa crash for the night, with a sleeping bag and a blanket so soft I may suffocate as I sleep with my face buried in it for pure pleasure. I have a book - The Children's Book by AS Byatt. Clare's just given it to me, saying 'Books are to be shared. Take it home, read it, pass it on.' I feel exactly the same.

Just before I left, I had a happy ten skype minutes with Kati Schweitzer. I do like her too. I'm sorry Clare and Kati haven't met yet. I think they'd get on, just as I think Rob and Nicolo would have lots to talk about too. How lucky am I to have people like this (and so many more) in my life. Speaking of such people, I wonder if Plum's done a baby yet.

Here's a catchup bit of blog joy. A few days ago I got an out-of-the-blue email from Loose Baker (supremely good egg) asking if I wanted to be part of this: http://everybodysit.com/   I do! I do, I do, I do. Playing for a living? Well yes - that's what I've always wanted to do. Thank you very much. Great name, too. Well thought up, Loose Baker. Well organised. Well done.

Decisions to make about tomorrow - sensible or not? Either way, happy to be skyping at 5. Woop! Good times. Good times.

Day 410: Oi, Bighead

This is actually Will Steele

Wiiiillllllll 'The Young Buck' Steele - thank you for agreeing to lend me some masks to help me take a mask workshop to Montreal. This is going to happen! We are going to do this. I'm going to Montreal! I may also be going to Nykobing Sjelland. Need to work out if I can do that and how.

Good people, good vegetables, good emails. That's all you need in a day, isn't it. Rob's lunchtime chat was much deeper and more far-reaching than planned. It was great. I always come away inspired. To see a proper smile on the usually grumpy waiter was such a pleasure today. I had a plate of various salads and asked him to choose one and surprise me. It was a task he seemed to take seriously and he made a very good choice. He also seemed so much softer than he ever has before. 

Thank you, Ruth, for your patience, for a roof, for internet understanding and for mighty fine potato scones. 

Day 409: Every Moment Is Different

grossed myself out with this picture search
- this image is relatively tame

The warmth and loveliness of people made yesterday a very good thing. I did something that I've been waiting to do for a very long time, and in the more immediate sense, since Monday. Yesterday, it was done. It wasn't very nice, but now it's over, like having a rotten tooth pulled out. It's gone now. Not in my head any more. In the bin (or in one of those human waste disposal bag thingies). My gratitude is deep. 

joy

The evening held much tastier fare. An evening workshop with the LSE impro troupe. There were only four people when we got there, so we hijacked the beginners' group that was going on in another room, just to make up the numbers (thank you, Tim, for your patience). I'm so glad we did. We had a lovely time, working on character and storytelling and generally good playing. It was great fun and it sounds like I get to go back and play some more with them. Good. I'm full of ideas already. 

tiny curveball

A tiny curveball as I arrived back after wonderful Archway Road. My poor bike struggled, its chain all dry and brown and tired from living outside Euston station for four days. Managed that hill fine, though, despite slippy gears and a few crunchy complaints. Worth not doing this blog to make time to catch up with Ruth. Good, wise, generous. 

It's easy to be mindful of the things that aren't as we want them to be and to build stories around them - nets of entitlement and indignation. A little breath, a little focus, a little coming back to centre and a calmer reality of now can settle in. I'm learning this. It's a journey that never has an end. Better keep walking.

Day 408: Saved

this hurts the soul

Bradford makes you want to kill yourself. Honestly, on a day like today - grey, cold, darkish, unforgiving - it's hard to understand how this place is even populated. I'd there to be washed-out, limp corpses lining the streets, desperate, forlorn and devoid of all hope, even in death. This is the Dementor of towns. It sucks the life and love and soul out of you and lets it trickle down a dirty drain. 

this is not the baby

Having said that, people are friendly (it's all they have - this town gives no gifts to its residents - it's up to them to do it for each other) and the accent has a sing-song warmth that makes me feel softer inside. Hence no corpses, maybe. For now. For now. 

I had a hot chocolate and a smile-off with a bald and toothless baby in Costa, trying to get warm after too long in the bitter Bradford air and a little bit of a shock at the top of a hill. It did the trick. Hot chocolate, I could live without, but guerning at juicers (that's Vic's word for babies) is always a winner. Even the ones that don't want to engage... when you win them over with a particularly graceless facial stretch, the satisfaction is hard to beat. 

this is almost the cat I spoke to

The work I was doing was physically painful in my brain and in my soul. It was dull as all shit, overly complicated (not complex - just done in such a way that it felt like it was) and a little bit unfathomable. This doesn't bode well. That plus Bradford... I was in danger. I had to leave. Thanks, by the way, for a fabulous sister and a wonderful friend there to catch me in a moment of flap. Bigly appreciated. Very bigly.

this is who

A search for yoga in Leeds city centre threw up gold. A class with the wonderful Joey Miles, of the yoga shala I was visiting in Leeds at dawn with Daniel while I was in York. I'd wanted to go to his early morning class, but there's no way I'd have got there. Thank you, Lilley, for ignoring my doubts about it being a long way, transport costs, general reticence and saying 'just go'. I just went. From feeling like a strand of lank hair, all limp and straggly and uncentred, I am now back. Lovely Joey was warm and welcoming and confused about where I could live if I was turning up at another of his classes... London? York? Leeds? Bradford? No - London, soon Brighton. It's a long story. And the class... oh, the class. 

this is where

Joey is the kind of person who gives yoga a good name (as are a few others I am lucky enough to know). Clear. If I only had one word for Joey, it would be 'clear'. He's also warm, very human, very strong and focused and good. Straightforward. This was a counted class. I've never done a counted Ashtanga class before. It was really good and really challenging, but it made the primary series make sense. My first (almost) full round. And afterwards? I feel in touch with my legs. I'm in touch with my hip joints and my triceps. I'm in touch with my breath and more than anything, I'm back in touch with my soul. God, I'm so grateful. It's good to be back. 

this is just silly

Great intro about watching his 5-year-old daughter at gymnastics class, doing many yoga poses. What's the difference, he asked? The difference is in the intention. The difference is in why you do this and in the gratitude you bring to the practice. My session was better for it. And the session was great. I was beautifully adjusted a good few times and very warmly looked after. I am SO glad I went. 

this is the town that needs an antidote

To end the evening, I had a skype call with a cat (no shit. This really happened) and dinner with a stranger (a woman I'd bumped into in the corridor last night and again today - it seemed only right). Oh, and I did a fruit 'fast' for half the day... I only ate fruit but I forgot at the hot chocolate choice point. Then I did yoga and was hungry and ate salad and green beans and possibly a rather special pudding. Very possibly.

Today went the right way round... from down to up. As Lilley said to me today, if you're ever in doubt about a yoga class, just do it. Yes. One to remember, that. Bradford nearly had me today. Grace, yoga and good people saved me. My hands are folded. My eyes are closed. Get ready for a lovely long OMMMMMMMM.

Day 407: Capped

my head

Shower cap! I've never used one before. I tried it this morning. An actual shower cap out of a little foldy box. I put it on my head and entertained myself by standing properly under the shower. Result: dry hair! It's a small step for mankind and a huge one for me. And on top of it all, it also shows that I am taking showers, which is progress.

I spent much of today sitting alone in a room waiting to go into another room. I meditated quite a lot. I sat so still that the automatic sensor lights went out. When they came back on again (when I clicked out my crunchy neck, the first time) there was a noise like a wind chime that really gave me glee. I spent quite a lot of the next hour making it happen again. 

nice image from Daniel

I never made it into the second room. There were hiccups (figurative, not real, despite a baked potato at lunch time). The upshot is, I'm staying in Bradford for another two nights. If I'm lucky, I'll make it into the room on Thursday morning. Fingers crossed. 

How nice is Ellie, the lady who's looking after the case in Bradford! She is warm and friendly, laughy and smooth-skinned (looks much younger than she is). It could have been a stressful day, but the fact that she was always so very nice certainly made it easier. She does important work, that woman. She told me all about it and I was impressed. 

Beectoreea am Creesteeam getteem the marreeee, jis!

Oh, and today, on the other side of the world, this happened: my beloved friend and co-twat, Victoria Sandison proposed to her wonderful man, Cristian Muscatello. They're getting married, innit! Well done, you brilliant creatures. Please can I come and watch, please, when you do? 

shower cap supreme

Lovely emails from very pleasing people, pancakes for breakfast (they weren't actually very nice, but you know, they were pancakes, cooked for me by a chef - that's great) and fabulous texts and calls. These were good. 

surprise!

And my evening headstand today? Hilarious! I stayed up for so much longer than I expected that I got all surprised and fell over... had a proper little roll and lay on the floor laughing. Tomorrow, perpendicular knees, please. Thank you. 

Day 406: Good Balance

Jochen Zaeschmar @ ecocruz.co.nz
best dolphin and whale photos anywhere

It's been a two-yoga day. I must have more of them! With the swami's accompaniment in the morning and without it this evening. It's amazing how much further my body goes later in the day. My hands went flat on the floor - they never do that! My shoulderstand was regal (this morning's was rough). And thanks to a tip from Nicolò, and a single day of extra dolphins, I held half headstand a relatively tiny amount of time, but a tiny amount of time longer than before. It is fun to be upside down. Maybe that's why the headstand is in the sequence. It's just very entertaining to be that way up, but still up. I'm getting there. Little by little. Step by step. Vertebra by vertebra. 

like this, only without the scenery

It's been a day of flux and change and not advancing and advancing nevertheless. Moving moments, interesting ones too. No actual fear. I've had easygoing, approachable and warm people around me, none of whom I've ever met before (although I've talked to one of them on the phone a few times). I'm touched by the lovely, thoughtful, loving people in my life and by the courage and patience of others. 

I'm grateful too for another sideways-sleeper of a bed, another tub and a Greek salad that made my eyes water in a good way. Between breakfast and evening, I was truffle-nourished. Can't beat them for goodness, though: dates, walnuts, ginger, agave syrup and coconut. AND I managed not to eat them all. 


All in all, it was good. I've done some work. I've taken quiet time. I've cried twice, but only a little bit. I've laughed a lot more. 

The balance is a good one. 

Day 405: Eat Meat

In theory, today could have been a pain, and yesterday was a hard act to follow, but in fact, it was a delight.

Yes to a clement morning swim, busy with women, most of them all smiles. The water was lovely. I experimented a second time with deciding I’m fully up to scratch and it worked. I swam further today than I have this year. It was 5°, so within the bounds of ‘not toasty’, but it felt wonderful.

Yes to texts with Mirjam and promises of Skypes. This weekend, I’ve had contact with Nicolò in Montreal, Cat in London and Mirjam and Caroline in Switzerland. Wonderful people I met for the first time in December… and what a month it was! Very grateful for them, as I am for all the other wonderful people I have the pleasure of knowing all over the world – this last few days includes Jochen in New Zealand, J in Brighton, Lilley in York, Laura in Spain and lots of lovely London people. I think I got lucky.

By Paddy Otley: http://toytoad.wordpress.com/

I spent most of the rest of the day tidying the room I was about to leave, sorting things out and getting them out of sight, cleaning and tidying. I hope I haven’t forgotten anything this time. Someone else will be using the room tonight, almost certainly. I listened to lovely music (thanks, Fox) and I got it all done, or most of it.

Just before leaving, I discovered that Paddy done me a picture! Here it is. I love it! I’m allowed to put it on my website and everything. Thank you, Paddy. You are a freakishly gifted and giftedly freakish. I am everso grateful very much a lot indeed.

Late, late, late to meet lovely Cat. I almost-whizzed down to Euston on my bike, then got the tube. We both came armed with yoga mats to have a stretch together at the RFH, but in the end it felt better to do some voice stuff and to have a lovely chat. That was very nice indeed, and a little less obvious (the mats were a giveaway, and as there was a concert on, the space we could use was a little bit limited). Gratitude flowing for time with such a fine person, who came once again armed with raw truffle delights – a sack of them this time, and with her flowy, clear self and lots of honesty. I do like that girl. She rocks.

I had a train to catch at 5.50. It was 5. I made a silly decision, that instead of taking the train up to Euston and walking to Kings Cross, I’d walk to London Bridge and get the ‘right’ branch of the Northern Line. Because ‘it would be quicker’. Yeah, right! Even at a yomp (and especially on a Sunday full of bodies), it takes about half an hour to get to London Bridge. I was planning to be at Kings Cross at 5.30, so I could get tickets and be leisurely about my travel. It took AGES, but on the plus side, it did bring back very pleasing backwards-walking memories which made me smile. 

I sat calmly on the tube from London Bridge as it became clear there was no way I’d make it. It was 45 at Angel and there’s a whole raft of corridor to get through to get to the ticket machines, let alone the train. Still, I did get to the ticket machines. They were all empty of people and the tickets came fast. When I got back to the boards, I saw my train still posted… it hadn’t left! I had whispered under my breath ‘please let it be delayed’ and it was. I’d love to take credit, but it had been late coming in from wherever it came from. Great for me, though. What luck!

Good luck pigs

My seat partner from London to Peterborough made me laugh. He was a neat, sharp gentleman, probably in his late fifties (though that showed mostly through his hands – he was very young of face). His opening line was ‘I’ve just had the best journey ever from Vienna!’. Great start! We swapped successful travel tales, his more comprehensive – Vienna, on time into Heathrow, slickly through customs and onto a train, boof boof boof from Paddington to Kings Cross and walked onto this train without a second’s wait. He was delighted. He was supposed to stay in London but he was aching to go home to his wife after his crazy weekend.

He talked almost constantly and within minutes had showed me the weirdy-chic hotel he’d been staying in as well as pictures of the flat his company pays for in Mayfair. He’d told me what it’s like to be a high profile divorce lawyer. He’d asked me all sorts of things too. He made me laugh many times and he was relentlessly happy and positive about things, even scary things (like defending the soon-to-be-ex-wife of a close friend of Vladimir Putin – he didn’t say the words ‘Russian Mafia’, but they were under the surface of his skin).

And the best bit? He wrapped up and left at Peterborough, landing me with a lovely compliment as a parting shot, placing it with no other intention but to please, and leaving me to do my thing. He was great, and that was the perfect dose of such intense and happy chattery.

I’m fasting today (inspired, once again, by Nicolò, who reminded me yesterday, by fasting himself, that I was also planning to fast today). I don’t think I’d have made it without him, especially not with Cat’s outrageously good raw truffles calling to me. I also had assistance from another source:

On the train, I did a thing I had to do and then I moved on to karma yoga… I worked on a German article until I felt tired and started to think about crisps and hot chocolate, working at the boundaries of fasting like breaking in a leather boot with the back of a spoon, trying to get them supple enough to let me consume something. I also had the test of a £21 budget for an evening meal at the hotel once I arrived.

Before I stopped working, I did a bit of formatting (the documents arrive with funny gaps). Reading so much further down, I found that the article turned onto the topic of… fasting! It raved about the benefits (physical, mental, spiritual). It even told stories about bad things that happened to someone breaking their fast. It recommended fasting every 14 days (exactly what we’ve been doing). By the time I got to Leeds, there was no way anything was going to break my fast, and I have plans for gentleness at tomorrow’s breakfast, rather than gorging.

'Feeling Lucky' coconut creature

And here I am. Just as I desired, my hotel has a bathtub, which I am about to go and partake of. It doesn’t have a double bed, it has a MASSIVE bed with five pillows on it, side by side. I could sleep sideways. There’s no need for such luxury bed width. Everything else about the hotel room is fairly standard. Perhaps I’ve been put in the threesome suite by mistake. Whatever the reason, the bed is a delight. The room is warm. I have my yoga mat. I have no internet (thank goodness – I wanted to talk to lovely Mirjam, but I find myself with tiredness and thoguhts).

I’m feeling lucky. I know it doesn’t mean anything in real terms, but nevertheless, I’m grateful.