Last week I bought (yet another) notebook and a lovely skinny pen, and the first thing I did – apart from sketch a thing that could have been a Sunday roast or an arctic roll being frowned at by an angry-looking fish – was write a to-do list on the back page in an effort to get thoughts and deeds in order.
I haven’t slept properly for the past four nights and, since I can’t pin the blame on caffeine, stress or much else, I’ve decided that part of the problem might be lack of decent exercise.
The Thursday after the Great North Run, I took myself off up to Scotland for four days alone. I stayed at an incredibly romantic and quite fancy shepherd’s hut (and completely recommend the place). No electricity, so when night started to fall, that was bedtime. After the first day, if I wanted a fire I needed to chop wood; if I wanted water, I had to fetch it from the next field over and slightly up a hill. Point being that even making a cup of tea involved some measure of effort. And I decided, in between reading a lot and writing a bit, to go walking. I bought a map of the area with trails marked on it, and went for a short explore on Thursday evening, and for longer walks on my own (six miles and ten miles each on Friday and Saturday. Sunday was a lazy day involving cake and a dog-sitting for the lovely people I met there).
I have never relied on the kindness of strangers, but this week the kindness of strangers was what kept me and my parents going. I tried to make a joke just then, but that’s a bit beyond me at the moment. It’s been a tough one. Continue reading
Pity me. I’ve been struck down in the prime of the bank holiday with some sort of head-achey cold hybrid monster.
I had planned to be up early this morning and run over to Brockwell Lido for a swim. Instead I’ve been lolling around feeling sorry for myself. My throat feels as though it’s got a shard of glass stuck in it, very specifically on the right hand side, at the top. My head has been banging so badly that last night I didn’t sleep at all. Instead I wasted Sunday’s daylight hours asleep on the sofa after painkillers finally kicked in. My nose is running on and off, and my skin feels super-sensitive and sore. It’s a bit of a let-down as bank holiday weekends go. Continue reading
Oh, hi, I didn’t see you there… no, no, don’t mind me. I’m just noting a few things down. I mean, I fully intended to just send you to other people’s writing this weekend, and not do a complete entry, but that’s a cop out, really, isn’t it? So here, have some of the stuff that’s on my mind. Why the hell not. Continue reading
The plan today was to spend the morning in Tunbridge Wells, cheering home the finishers, including one of my friends. I mean, the original plan was to run the race, but I dropped out because I didn’t train. Continue reading
If, like me, your mind goes everywhere all at once, you’ll like this entry. All the things, in roughly this order: feet, chairs, books, tv, tea, films, film writing. Add running to the end of that, and you’ve basically got my daily thoughts on a loop. Continue reading
Good news, everyone! I can train again! I’ve been let off the leash of medical uncertainty and released into the wilds of ‘you can train with due care’, and I can’t wait to run round and chase some PB rabbits and refuse to come back when called. (It takes skill to belabour a metaphor like that. Admire my handiwork, please.) Continue reading
I read a lot of feminist websites and blogs, and as such my little corner of the internet is completely swamped with articles on body acceptance, HAES (Health at Every Size), fat positivity, loving the skin you’re in and so forth. It has also, more noticeably of recent, started to see a surge in a backlash against those schools of thoughts from people who don’t feel it represents them.* Continue reading
Was I a bit of a pessimist in the last entry? I think I was. Sorry, faithful readers (or, you know, passers-by that don’t know what I’m on about). Here, let me make up for it…