Unexpected Adventuring

Wednesday evening

It was only a few weeks ago I saw my first
 wild orchid but I'm now totally smitten
with these gorgeous flowers

The wonderful thing about Tiggers is... well, really, what this sentence is about is the wonderful thing about being Tigger. And that wonderful thing is never knowing what might happen next! From a fairly planned out and seemingly set in stone plan a chain of events was set in motion which has resulted in an entirely different plan and one which is exceedingly exciting to this particular little Tigger.

Through the trees outside I can see the last of the evening light fade from the sky, while inside the van which has been my home for the past few days I've treated myself to the luxury of warmth and lit the little burner. It's taken the edge off the evening air and, under my duvet and wrapped up warm I'm feeling really rather cosy. Were this van to be my home for  much longer I might consider some other lighting options (the bulb which is providing light at the moment is functional but doesn't exactly provide mood lighting...) but other than that its treating me really rather well. And reminds me that I am forever grateful that I'm fairly easy to please when it comes to a surface to sleep on - I generally sleep well and different beds and places rarely interfere with that too much. Huzzah.

So! This new adventure: BRILLIANT. Originally my holiday to Devon & Cornwall was going to involve two Mon-Fri weeks of WWOOFing, plus some teaching on the weekends and squeezing in seeing some friends. I had been feeling pretty pleased with myself for having a proper of "genuine holiday" days at the end when I get to play in Oxfordshire with my folks. Because, you know, it's been a really quiet couple of months, not much going on and certainly no real need for me to use a holiday for rest. Of course not. That's just a silly idea. More fool me.

A snapshot of my part of the gardens of my most recent WWOOF host

Turns out that having some rest during a holiday is a Very Good Thing and so I rejigged my plans and am now lined up with three nights of B&B accommodation (both close to the sea - first in Ilfracombe, or Ill-frack-cum-bee as it will now forever be in my mind, and the second at Tintagel), lots of exciting places to visit should I so wish and, if the stars align, I might even get to Lundy Island. Which would be ACE. But most importantly I'm giving myself a bit of space. To catch my breath. To recharge after a really full on couple of weeks / months. To enjoy pottering around. To have some me time. All wonderful luxuries and luxuries I'm in a position to enjoy - so enjoy them I shall!

Getting artistic with
silicon while fixing broken
greenhouse glass panes

 What sights I will see and what tales I will have to tell after this holidaying I don't know. It's unlikely they'll involve attacking the same quantity of nettles, docks and brambles I've been engaged with the past few days. Or, indeed, gluing bits of glass together to cover up small-human-height holes in very old greenhouses. But the mystery of what they will hold is super exciting. Eeeeeeeee!

When words fail...pictures come through!

I'm just back from an amazing and full and rich couple of weeks in Scotland. And my head is a bit blurry but absolutely buzzing! A good night's rest is the final ingredient to make sure the transition back into "Life in Morecambe" is as smooth as possible but I had a yearning to take a look through my photos so thought I'd do a bit of a gallery of some of my adventures...

So, it all started...with a traffic jam trying to cross the Forth Road Bridge. But enough of boring traffic: destination numero uno was the Monimail Tower Project, complete with historic tower, woods, various wooden buildings and shed moving (yes, that's a shed being picked up by a digger about to be relocated...):

The return of the feet - relaxing at the end of a day enjoying the evening sunshine

Welcome to Monimail!

The dome at the entrance

Looking through a new partially constructed building towards the orchard

The gateway through into the walled garden

View of the community allotments from the tower

The walled garden

Shed in transit!

Community allotments again - and a bit of the tower!

Looking across one of the wood stores and walled garden towards the main house

Another view from the top of the tower

My day off at Monimail (which I wrote about here) involved beaches, trees, sunshine, an ice house and an oil rig:

Dunes!

Not desertey - but definitely duney!

Unexpected sculptures in the undergrowth

The ice house

An oil rig on its way out to sea

From whence I was over to Tillicoultry for a lovely catch up with an old friend (who I hadn't seen for eight years! How did that happen?!), up to Forfar for a bit of teaching, across to Pitlochry to see family, a bit of time at The Hermitage as I journeyed south enjoying the amazing waterfall and then...to Laurieston Hall! Which involved more sunshine (yippee!), hanging out on the roof (well, I was just on the roof - companions got to hang from ropes on chimneys), taking photos of taking photos, and heaps of other stuff I didn't manage to take photos of (like swimming in the loch, using the sauna and amazing pond plunge pool, helping build a woodshed, working in the walled garden, digging drainage ditches, giving lots of Massage, getting a shiatsu treatment, playing Bananagrams and enjoying LOTS of great conversation and amazing food)

The weather vane - which apparently hasn't moved for decades!

Chris and Flis working on the chimney stack

The walled garden from the roof

The original "formal entrance" from the roof

The roof...from the roof!

The West Wing and tower

Photos of photographers (and my feet again)

Not a complete photographic record by a long shot, but a good start!

The Tigger Who Turns Up

Tuesday April 22nd I feel like I've been "turning up" quite a lot in the past few days - descending in to places and then setting off again on my merry way. It's an incredibly enjoyable way of doing things. There's something about an overnight stay with good friends or family that turns a visit into a very easy going occasion: catch up on arrival / talk into the evening / chat over breakfast and then depart. But as I sit here with the most wonderful cacophony of water falling over rocks as my soundscape, I am pondering how often others do this kind of dropping in. I certainly know it happens occasionally but I feel like I'm making a habit of it - mostly because these are people I would not normally get to see and yet, being "in the area" it seems only sensible to make the most of the proximity. And so I do.

Greatly assisted by motorised vehicle ownership, of course.

Virtually all of my trips with the Golden Chariot have been heading south from Lancashire and so a proper jaunt in Scottishland has been a real treat. Last night in particular (driving from Forfar to Pitlochry) took me through some gorgeous countryside, and with sunshine aplenty to accompany me it was a wonderful experience. Even this morning I've been enjoying fairly quiet roads as I potter around Perthshire and, despite it being immediately after a bank holiday weekend, I have found no congestion, no traffic jams - just sparsely populated roads and a sat nav to keep me on track. (Admittedly as I head further south and back on to dual carriageways and motorways I'm likely to get back into normal traffic levels, but having a break from them has been most enjoyable).

After such glorious sunshine for the past week or so the clouds have now joined the party and the contrast of a cooler, wetter day is presenting new challenges and opportunities. Somehow I don't particular feel like I'm in a sauna & steam kind of frame of mind but equally am not quite sure what else may take my fancy. But with trusty travel aids and books aplenty, methinks a cosy cafe may well be the sensible answer...

Wanderings

Friday April 18th Just when I thought this walk would end up not having a writing stop, the perfect spot appeared - complete with Forestry Commission bench, located slap-bang in the middle of a sunny glade, the sound of the waves on the beach and the birds on the trees my auditory backdrop.

Up in Scotland on my hols I was invited to take today as my day off from WWOOFing and take it I did! The Mon-Fri work ethic is so deeply ingrained in my mind that I often seem to find myself arriving and leaving on "working days" and not necessarily taking the "rest days" I have accrued. Which, although well and good on one level, on another (the level where I'm having a holiday and enjoying the locality I've turned up in) is a bit of a shame. So this mid-stay opportunity was perfect.

From the Monimail Tower Project where I'm volunteering I set off into the great (by me) unexplored lands of Fife, first stop the Hill of Tarvit. Although the house and tearooms didn't open until lunchtime my main desire was to drink in the gardens - and the sunshine. This was verily achieved with several hours on a very comfortable spot of grass in the formal gardens, by a beautiful dark-pinkish flowering rhododendron. The book I'd started this morning was devoured and in between bits of pondering and jotting occurred.

Onwards I found myself heading North to explore the woods just south of Tayport. I ended up on a merry magical mystery tour finding a convenient spot to park and then my aimless-amble began. It's a very unique experience wandering without a map, without a plan, without a deadline and without any expectations. Very soon I de-shoed and spent the best part of the next two hours following the coastline around, enjoying the different textures underfoot and the different temperatures on my skin (in the sun: really quite warm, in the shade: a bit nippy!)

As my amble crossed into the Tentsmuir Nature Reserve I started seeing an ice house marked on the maps. An ice house? In the woods, by a bunch of dunes? What's that all about? Well, it turns out it's a relic of an entirely non-vegan occupation: salmon fishing. The catches would be brought to this really quite sizeable ice house for storage before being transported south for further processing (and, presumably, eating). And this is where I find myself now.

Sunshine. Barefoot walking. The sea. An ice house. Without paying particular attention but just heading off to what felt like a good place to go (and was only one of several options suggested by my hosts) I've ended up on a pretty much Tigger-perfect adventure. Huzzah.

Addendum
On my walk back I realised that the tall towers I had (wrongly) assumed were part of a bridge were actually an oil platform being towed out to sea. Not something I expected to see! But it reminded me of a throw away comment from one of the room guides at the Hill of Tarvit - "Beautiful view - and no wind turbines!" A brief exchange ensued with me expressing support of wind turbines as an alternative to fossil fuel use (and CO2 production) and him countering with "Well, we're breathing out CO2 all the time!" True, yes - but not quite on the same magnitude as power producing combustion. Which brought to mind two of my current "thought projects":

1) the difficulty of doing "the right thing" while living in a very complex and interlinked world where impacts and subsequent repercussions are often entirely unintended and / or imagineable. Climate change and the energy debate is one such area - particularly given the scope of the challenge (and is a prospective future blog area when my thoughts have coalesced sufficiently!)

2) the importance of the Next Step. Humans are faced with an incredible array of challenges, choices and options - both practically and morally / philosophically. There is rarely a definitive right / wrong answer (especially when the whole human is taken into account - a wide range of crimes can probably be agreed upon as wrong, but the approach to dealing with a human who's committed such a crime - now there's a book in itself). But the simple truth is that the lifestyles being lived in "developed" countries at present isn't sustainable - which is where the next step comes in.

For example, I may* have decided that the answer to this non-sustainable lifestyle problem is for the population to live in housing communities, grow their own food and generally travel no further than 20-30 miles on a regular basis. However, presenting this to someone who has lived a life during which they have travelled extensively, generally purchased prepared food from supermarkets and lived only with immediate family is unlikely to have much of an impact other than for them to think of me as an idealistic nutter who should be ignored, regardless of what I say.

Learning more about where they are, what makes them tick and what would feel like a next step (rather than an intergalactic leap) for them as a discussion and exploration is much more likely to produce a long term positive impact.

All fairly sensible and possibly pretty obvious, but just my own exploration of how the world ticks and what I may be able to do to grease the cogs here and there.

*As much as I would love to have decided upon an answer to the question of how to live sustainably I can say with certainty that I haven't! I am really enjoying exploring community living and growing as what can be a very positive alternative to "mainstream living" but very much in the context of continuing to grapple with the reality of what the achievable "next steps" more broadly may be.

Long live parks and open spaces!

I, for one, wouldn't normally associate a visit to London with being outside - and yet this weekend that's exactly what has happened. With my car safely parked for the weekend (a multi-purpose trip, of course) I began my adventures by...going pretty much to the other end of the Piccadilly line. I don't think I ever really understood just how long the Piccadilly line is, but having spent a large portion of this weekend on it I can say with authority: It. Is. Long.

Anyway, the length of tube lines has little to do with parks and open spaces - other than the fact that London's best parks and open spaces seem to be at the extreme ends of these lines. Friday's delight was Grovelands Park in Southgate (which isn't South in the slightest - other than in relation to, say, Morecambe). I'd walked past it on Thursday evening and thought to myself "My, that looks like a rather delightful park" and indeed it was. I was treated to a proper little wood, replete with old but still serviceable bench, daffodils, the vivid green of new tree leaves and a woodland play area just far enough away not to be intrusive but close enough to know there were other young souls enjoying themselves.

 

After a lovely chunk of time in the woodland shade I moved on to soak up the sunshine on one of the large expanses of grass. Proper, thick, luscious grass which is a delightful mattress to enjoy. I get a real sense of longevity in these parks - not ancient longevity, but having been designed and developed usually at least a hundred or so years ago they are living still and providing such fabulous outside spaces for us mere humans to enjoy. Deeeeeeeeeeelightful.

When the time was right I then found myself meandering through central London, somewhat aiming for St James's Park but actually ending up in a delightful little square (St James's Square, no less) having stumbled across Saville Row quite by accident. St James's Square offered blossom, vivid tulips in reds and purples (it was the purples that really did it) and more marvellous grass to lie on as the heat of the day was beginning to fade. From thence it was on to Trafalgar Square and the noise and crowds of a plethora of street entertainers. But also: more sunshine. Oh, sunshine sunshine sunshine - what a glory you are! A free recital by a London chamber choir took me inside for about an hour and emphasised how much I was yearning to be outside again - so supper was had al fresco on the Southbank.

Saturday's open space was somewhat different - a friend is developing a growing project at a hostel in Peckham and I was able to join him (along with some other friends) for a Day of Doing. Although long term the hope is to get some of the hostel residents involved in the project it's very much in its infancy at the  moment and so my friend (and his band of merry volunteers) is getting things growing with a view to enhancing the environment if nothing else. Slow and steady is the name of the game and they've already made a noticeable difference with raised beds and benches - and with the growing season now upon us it's all about getting seeds (and the plants that are being grown on window ledges and rooftops) into the soil and letting them do their stuff.

Saturday was also the only bit of outside time I really didn't enjoy: London has many attributes but for me its South London butcheries are not one - and Peckham has a number! The beautiful sunshine and warmth I've enjoyed this weekend didn't help matters but it was but a moment of meh during a weekend of gentle enjoyment.

This morning saw me dropped off at Alexandra Palace, a place I have heard of often but never before visited. I didn't have a plan for the day, other than to make it back to Heathrow (from whence I'm typing) and yet found myself ensconced in yet another glorious parkland and, by great good fortune I managed to get on a tour of the site, provided by local volunteers. My interest and the fact that one of the tour guides took a shine to me meant I was squeezed on to the 11am tour. Huzzah! My curiosity to learn more about Alexandra Palace and, indeed, many of the other Victorian era buildings and parks in London, has now definitely been piqued, as has a desire to hunt down some guides to walks along disused railway lines. Plenty to keep me busy.

And then it was back to the sunshine and the grass (this time immediately in front of the back of Alexandra Palace (the south side of the building, which now could be considered the front, was originally the back - the original palace train station and main entrance being on the north side) to finish a fascinating biography of Edith Cavell. The daughter of a vicar, Cavell trained as a nurse and founded a nursing training institute in Belgium in the years leading up to the First World War. She stayed in Belgium at the outbreak of the war and was involved in helping Allied soldiers and Belgians of conscription age out of the occupied territories - for which she was executed by the Germans. The story of this remarkable woman who had truly devoted her life to the service of others was compelling reading - and somehow reading it in London added another dimension to the experience (London being much more evocative of the Wars for me, somehow).

It's been a glorious weekend on so many levels but the joy of the outdoors has been a true highlight - and has awakened a new interest in finding more of Outside London to explore on my next visits.

So much happening, so little brain power

The rollercoaster of life has been running at full pelt recently and, in truth, I've been running on empty just to keep up. It's truly wonderful to have such a full and fulfilling life - and even better to be able to have space to pause and catch my breath in the midst of it all.

I've experienced many sorts of exhaustion over the years but this past week has produced a new version entirely. It's been a version which has meant although I can function at some levels there have been chunks of time when my brain simply hasn't worked. I've pressed the metaphorical "go" button and had a response that simply said "That function is currently not available". Which has been really bizarre. I thought I'd got to know my tiredness warning signals but this one's a new one entirely - and for a thinker like me, a rather stark one!

But even in exhaustion, I get to enjoy self-discovery. It's been an intensive year so far and doesn't look to be slowing down. Not that I'd wish it to - but it's challenging me to be even more aware of myself, my needs, and my warning signals! All of which are things I know I've improved on over the years but, as with pretty much all of life, there's room for improvement.

So welcome to day 2 of Tigger-finally-stops-to-catch-much-needed-breath.

Day 1 was spent in and around Morecambe but most notably involved a mesmerising gig by Beccy Owen. She is an artist with a phenomenal voice, who writes beautiful and haunting melodies and has provided somewhat of a soundtrack to various moments in my life for a good few years now. An old friend gave me her second album (The Singer Kicks) many many moons ago and since then it's resurfaced on many occasions at just the right time. Yesterday's gig was literally round the corner from Chez Tigs in Morecambe at a wonderful music venue called More Music and my decision to go only coalesced on Friday. And oh, how glad I am that it did! A wonderful treat to see her perform live, I've walked away with 2 more of her albums (and the stories of each of the tracks on her latest, Imago, to accompany me listening to it) and having had the opportunity to say hello to this fabulous lady. I suspect the gig will be a very welcome ear-worm for me for the next good while. Huzzah.

And now day 2 finds me at my spa of choice up in Cumbria. Well, it did until I decided it was time to move out into the sunshine for an absolutely glorious day. Just down the road from said spa of choice is Wray Castle, a National Trust property I came to about 4 years ago with a friend who was visiting. At that point there will still plans afoot to turn it into a luxury hotel but, for whatever reason, those plans got kaiboshed and the NT is now plotting what to do with it. In the mean time they've opened it up and on a day like today it provides a wonderful setting for enjoying the sun, having a little sleep, picnicking, reading and generally feeling like I'm on holiday. Which I've decided I am - a one day holiday which will go on for as long as feels right. And may well involve a curry en route home.

I had pondered exploring some of the local footpaths (accompanied, of course, by an OS Leisure map of the area) but got drawn down to the lakeside and am now listening to the lake lap against an outcrop of rock I'm currently inhabiting. I've had motor boats, the passenger ferry, sailing boats and a kayak pass by variously but mainly I've just been drinking in space, time and gorgeousness. Which is altogether rather marvellous.

And, in moments of consciousness and, I suspect, trundling along in my unconscious, pondering the rest of the year. What's already planned, what I might want to fit in, what will happen unforeseeably and regardless of my plottings. But the reflection that has yet to be included in this particular bit of writing is about the tiredness with which I started.

I had a day off last Saturday. A day when I did very little and yet didn't leave me feeling much recharged or particularly refreshed - I just knew I'd avoided depleting my energy reserves even further. This two day period is incredibly different - primarily because I can rest psychologically. Last Saturday's rest came after 4 days in the office, a long day teaching (which was fabulous but, fundamentally, incredibly energy intensive) and preceded the first of four modules of one of our annual training programmes. I am very much one part of a larger team at said training programme but it's my responsibility to make sure all the course materials are prepped, get them there and unload - and on that particular first day of the first module of the year I had additional responsibilities too. So I may have had a day off (a luxury in itself, I acknowledge) but my brain knew there was no chance of relaxing - I was scared that by switching off "too much" I might miss something and create havoc as yet unknown.

This sense of psychological tension also reminds me that although my year thus far may not have involved huge amounts of physical exertion it has certainly had a high dose of psychological work.

Planning. Fitting in. Looking after. Dealing with. Being aware. Making decisions. Living with decisions. Offering support. Seeking support.

Finding balance is, perhaps, the greatest challenge. Life has dealt me a hand in which I am balanced and supported on many of Maslow's needs but as I reach the upper echelons of that infamous pyramid the challenge to find balance is all the greater. Perfection is certainly not what I strive for and the balance I have carved out is something of which I am proud and pleased with - and makes the moments of imbalance all the more pronounced. Life being the ever-changing beast that it is means this process of finding balance is one I know I will continue to dance anon but discovering this new side, this new recognition of psychological weariness has been momentous and exciting. Long may living continue.

Today I climbed a Hill

Some would call it a Mountain. Others, a Fell. But I feel like calling it a Hill as the purist in me feels like I cheated somewhat by getting to the high car park so missing a big chunk of the climb. That said, it was a memorable day despite this "cheating"...

The fabulous samba band I play with, Batala, have a habit of doing a slightly off-piste gig / event at least once a year. Last year it was the amazing gig in the Thornton Force at Ingleton. This year there are plans afoot (boom boom...the pun will become apparent imminently) to do the three peaks (Ben Nevis, Scafell & Snowdon) in 24 hours finishing with a gig a-top Snowdon. And with this in mind a couple of our members have been organising training walks. I made it to the first (and made acquaintance with my new favourite local-ish spa, at the Langdale Hotel, who do an awesome dual-entry day pass for less than a tenner. Win) but had missed out on the past couple due to other commitments. Not so today.

With indications of sunny weather I set off nice and early to get in a chunk of time pre-walk at the spa...but fundamentally the weather wasn't looking too clever. Ah well, a bit of a grey stomp in the hills isn't too bad, thinks me. We were about 5 minutes out of the car park when a kindly gentleman asked if we were heading for the top - only to advise us there was sheet ice up there. Hmm. On we strode. We didn't find any sheet ice, but we certainly found plenty of snow:

On the way up...

Visibility had been pretty abysmal most of the way (catching glimpses of tarns that were less than 50m away emerging from the mists) but having been well trained in my youth my drive to get to the top was simple: word had it there was a trig point and everyone knows that climbing to the top of a hill, regardless of conditions, is always worthwhile if there's a trig point to jump on top of. The truth was true and there was, indeed, a trig point.

I admit. This could be anyone. Anywhere. Well, anywhere there's a trig point. Or trig-point-looking-thing-to-stand-on. But it is me, on top of the Old Man of Coniston trig point, earlier today. Promise.

Having got to the top it seemed like a good place to pause for some lunch. Aside from the snow, wind and rain. But, you know, having brought a packed lunch it seemed rude not to eat it on top of the object of our efforts. That said, I wasn't feeling particularly hungry and, having stopped moving, was beginning to feel a bit cold. Which is where things got mildly interesting. When I'd been getting ready at the crack o' dawn I, in my infinite wisdom, put on one of my Batala T-shirts. Further, while climbing aforementioned hill I ended up taking my jumpers off as I was rather warm.

And so it was that I found myself at the top of the Old Man of Coniston, getting a bit cold, knowing there was only one layer between me and a Batala T-shirt, a trig point that I'd already proven to myself I could get on top of and not get blown off and some time on my hands while others were munching. Only one option, really.

Slightly more recognisable as me. Certainly recognisable as sans jacket. And a bit bonkers.

Sadly my camera phone isn't the high tech gadget required to render this moment in even great technicolor but you get the idea.

We set off again but, unfortunately, the wind got stronger and the rain heavier. Hmm. Didn't realise quite how wet & cold I'd got until, on reaching the car park, I realised I was struggling to press the button on my car key to unlock it. And it was a good few minutes before driving was a sensible option. And it took a good while in the gorgeously warm jacuzzi at the Langdale before any semblance of normal body temperature came about. But it did. And I've lived to tell the tale. This time!

All that said, it was a good tromp out with an excellent set of people (and a brilliant reason to revisit the Langdale) and has reminded me of trig-point-joy. Huzzah!

The essential nature of Nature

This year more than any other (perhaps because my life is generally so brilliant and balanced these days) I've found myself afflicted by Hibernatyitis. (Another possible reason is the replacement of one -itis by another: my severe bout of Londonitis seems to be well and truly over and lifted at the beginning of this year, rather suddenly.) Thankfully, life has been such that my Hibernatyitis hasn't been too torturous (I just find myself more inclined to curl up in a small ball and sleep) but I have been missing daylight so much. Walking to work means that for the majority of the year I get at least 30 minutes of daylight exposure, and in the summer often more when I loiter on the beach on my way home. But for a good while I've been lucky to see much daylight either side of being in work. Which just isn't a good thing.

Wednesday saw me go and administer an hour of daylight in the middle of the day (I hear some people call this a lunch hour...) but TODAY I got to get my favourite dosing of daylight - up on the hills, with a pair of loppers and a pruning saw in my hand. And the obligatory rain and hale showers here and there. Of course.

It wasn't a particularly strenuous day but I like to hope one of today's activities in particular will have made my Da proud: Beasting Elders. We have a long family tradition of attacking these poor, unsuspecting trees (in fairness, they generally get replaced with other native trees but I recognise how weird this family trait - one I absolutely share - may seem, particularly for a card carrying tree hugger). My beasting was of the mild variety (severe lopping rather than complete removal) and was inspired by the fact that another bundle of elders in the same location had been lopped last year and produced many more flowers and fruit. The whole business of pruning is an interesting one and although a brief visit, my time today in this local forest garden added yet more food for thought to my plottings of "Tigger's Idyll".

It also added comfrey to a couple of works' borders (removed with permission, I hasten to add!) Comfrey very much seems to be a double edged sword in permaculture applications, being a great nutrient accumulator, ground cover and voracious grower...but also being a voracious spreader. It's fairly contained in its new locations and (the theory goes) will help "feed" the fruit bushes it's planted alongside but at the moment its all very experimental. The process of devouring a great book on perennial vegetables with a view to choosing different plants for different locations (work may not have a lot of space, but being on various sides of a building it certainly has lots of rather distinct microclimates!) is continuing and I may even get around to hunting seeds and possibly small plants by the end of the weekend. With such a blank canvas ahead of me, anything could happen.

But best of all, I can feel the Hibernatyitis lifting as the days lengthen. Huzzah! That's not to say I won't still take the option of curling up with a duvet when the mood takes me - simply that I'll do it entirely through choice rather than by any midwinter affliction.

Why do damage when there's no need for damage to be done?

So, the title of this post could apply to so many things. And for me, does apply to so many things. But today I'm particularly writing about Massage.

I've been thinking a lot recently about my path to Massage.  Yesterday I was particularly struck by my absolute gratitude for having discovered a way to Massage which enables me to provide the amazing benefits of Touch to my clients while not only causing myself no damage, but actually enhancing my own health. Which is the way it should be, right?

Massage hit my own personal radar when I was about 17. Wow! Since then I've had the great privilege to discover for myself what I believe to be one of the biggest "secrets" of our age: the simple, incredible, healing power of Touch. Massage has been around for millenia and yet somehow the power of Touch and Massage have been degraded. Or simply forgotten about. I have had (and continue to have) some amazing teachers: every client I've seen, every Massage I've received, and every conversation I've had or witnessed within the NO HANDS community. And I'm passionate about doing what I can not just to provide this wonderful thing called Massage, but to communicate its benefits to people who might not otherwise have stumbled across it.

But what I didn't discover at 17, and in fact only first became aware of when doing my first Massage qualification, was the incredible prevalence of work-related injury in the profession. How did I become aware that work-related injury was a problem? Because they told me so on the course. On the one hand (no pun intended) is this incredibly beneficial therapy called Touch. On the other, the knowledge that practicing this therapy can be incredibly damaging to the practitioner. And yet I was taught these damaging moves and told that this injury was "normal".

Good for Client + Bad for Therapist = OK

Even the thought of this equation upsets me. More than upsets me - is absolutely abhorrent to me. And not just in relation to Massage. "OK" to me does not involve inherent risk of, or actual, damage to any party involved. And yet my first professional introduction to being a Massage therapist proposed exactly that. It was proposed as so normal that at the time I didn't question it. Even when I was taking on my first full-time position as a Massage therapist (in a spa on a cruise ship) I thought a book on injury prevention would be enough to protect me. Looking back my naivety is almost endearing, were it not so damaging.

I was on that ship for 6 weeks. In that time the commonality of injury among Massage practitioners was reinforced further - but my accepting of it rapidly waned. Colleagues were prescribed anti-inflammatories and told just to get on with it. One colleague was medically disembarked in a wheelchair due to severe sciatica. As my own injury developed my first response was to do what those around me were doing - buy wrist supports for when I wasn't working, go to see the doctor to get the anti-inflammatories, and keep going.

Remember, this was barely a month into my first position as a Massage therapist.  

But my injury wasn't abating. It wasn't improving. It was worsening. The anti-inflammatories made me sick. I was doing everything I could to avoid using my hands and wrists (I still have a tendency to open doors with either my shoulder, back or occasionally my feet). And, finally, my own belief that my long term health was far more important than any short-term contract surfaced. I had signed a 9 month contract and I believe strongly in meaning what I say. But that contract was damaging me. And if one party's being damaged...you got it, that's not OK to me.

I didn't wait to be medically disembarked. I took the decision to terminate my contract, pay my way home and get myself out of this incredibly damaging situation. I remain eternally grateful that I was able to do that - financially, but also from having had the education and upbringing that let me value myself enough to invest in myself and get out. But I know I was a minority. I know that hundreds if not thousands of therapists in my position were getting injured every day and continued working as their injuries got progressively worse. The turnover in therapists in just the 6 weeks I was there was incredibly high. And, sadly, I have no reason to believe this situation will have changed. Financial profit over employee health. If you ask me that's completely bonkers. And is a situation that arises in so many professions beyond Massage.

So that's the story of how my injury came about. And I know I'm not alone. I know because of the people I saw at the time getting injured, getting medically disembarked. I know from the therapists I've met since who have had to give up a career they loved because it was damaging them. I know from reading the results of several international studies into therapist injury, and having helped with the most recent survey into Massage therapist health carried out by the NO HANDS Massage Company - all of which found that two-thirds of Massage practitioners are experiencing musculo-skeletal damage.

But I'm one of the fortunate ones. I wasn't permanently disabled (which many are). Not only did I discover a completely new approach to Massaging that was beneficial to my own health, but I found a company that taught me more about the power of Touch than I had ever imagined. And from which I continue to learn.

I also now have the great privilege of getting to work for that company. Of playing a small part in addressing this injury pandemic in a profession which I believe to be vitally important. And sometimes I feel like I shouldn't declare my passion, dedication and gratitude to this approach and the people who have made it possible. That somehow by being an employee of the company my opinion may be seen as barefaced marketing. But my reality this morning is that I no longer care what others may assume of my intentions because I know that this is my truth, this is my reality, and the NO HANDS Massage Company have made it possible. Does that make me biased, unfairly prejudiced? No - because this isn't an unfair prejudice: this is my reality and my truth.

And I absolutely LOVE being able to offer the power of Touch and Massage where the equation is no longer Good for Client + Bad for Therapist = OK but, instead is:

Good for Client + Awesome for Therapist = OK

And in that moment in my treatment room yesterday, it was my overwhelming sense of gratitude that prompted this blog post. Because this is my story. It's a big part of who I am today and what I do. It works for me and if there's a chance something here can help another human - all the better.

What a Wanderful Place

This morning, via a non-existent work party and the introduction to The Art of War, I have found myself exploring the wonders (and wanders) of Arnside Knott. And I have to say: I'm smitten.

Arnside Knott combines so many things I love - hilly undulations, the sea, trees, space, people enjoying being out and about, all sorts of flora and fauna...and it's virtually on my doorstep! I am far from being a familial trailblazer in this particular spot (my father having come here as a 16 year old) but I feel like I could come back here over and over and over again and find different paths let alone a constantly changing growth-scape.

And the wanderability of it is glorious. There are the obvious "main paths" and lots of "sub paths" but you're never a million miles from a sign that'll help you get your bearings if, like me, you're just wandering around with a vague plan of where you're heading but nothing set in stone. Admittedly, I had great fun perusing an Explorer OS map before setting out so have a bit of a picture in my head, but knowing I don't have to keep referring back to the map to make sure I'm not massively veering off track is wonderful. The rather significant features of the landscape help as well.

I came out without my camera this morning so have no illustrative photos, but I've come across some beautiful trees on my meanderings. Twisting and winding, straight up or curling around for reasons no longer apparent, these are trees that withstand some mighty winds and are mostly left to their own devices to come up with a path of growth that suits them. One tree in particular stands out - one of the major limbs (about a foot in diameter) had been torn (presumably by the wind) but had not completely sheered off, leaving an amazing section close to the trunk where the fibres of the branch had split into thick "sinews" - still attached at either end but with gaps  right the way through to the other side. That one in particular I think a photo would have done more justice to than I can in words.

And with lots of echoes of one of the fundamental principles of permaculture bouncing around in my head (that of observation) I've been enjoying lots of moments of stopping, being still and just taking in the scene around me. Another wonderous aspect of The Knott. Relatively untamed natured is (to me) utterly awe inspiring and invokes a meditative sense I struggle to capture in built up areas.

A wonderous way to spend a delightful Sunday morning.

Adventures in Permaculture

Not the beginning, and certainly not the end, but where I am right now.

I first heard about permaculture* many moons ago but my desire to get properly stuck in with the philosophy (and practical applications) of permaculture became apparent in the Autumn of 2012 when there was a residential Permaculture Design Course (72 hours of tuition) planned at a local venue...which I wasn't able to attend. 2013 saw me target finding a residential course that I could fit around other commitments. Found one, booked it - and had it cancelled at short notice. Nevermind, thinks me, I'll find another - and so I did! Booked it...and had it cancelled at short notice.

At this point it felt like I was pushing the river so I decided to stop looking for courses and see what happened. The time I'd already booked off work for the two cancelled courses was spent WWOOFing which was in itself incredibly valuable (and something I'm planning on doing more of in 2014) but I still felt the structure of the permaculture design course would help focus me on the topic in a way that reading the various books I'd got hold of hadn't.

And lo - at the end of December, I found a free online design course! Yippee! Now, I've already discovered various challenges with getting stuck into this course but I've looked for (and found) ways to make it work and am successfully trotting through the various video lectures...while undertaking various time-consuming-but-non-brain-engaging activities like stripping rosemary from twigs to dry it, or shelling cobnuts I picked in Herefordshire in October. Activities which feel pleasantly apt.

The course itself is currently covering a lot of material which is already familiar from the books I've read or other parts of my life, but is bringing said material back to the front of my brain. I'm revisiting a lot of the books which have been sitting forlornly on my shelves and I'm getting new inspiration for the various areas I can plant in.

As 2014 starts and I reflect on 2013's growing activities, I've unfortunately concluded that growing things in the area in front of my house is not energy well spent - as those plantings have frequently been targetted by vandals damaging the plants or pulling them out of the soil. I find it incredibly sad that anyone has a mindset that things vandalising plants is OK. But spending energy getting upset or angry, or, indeed, continuing to grow different things which just keep getting attacked isn't what I want to be doing just now. However, with other areas to focus on I have plenty of possibilities to keep me entertained! I haven't given up entirely on getting greenery in that area outside my house but as an "unsafe" zone for the time being it may just have to wait a little longer while I work out a better strategy.

Permaculture design focuses heavily on observation before starting to design and I can already feel the "Doer" in me wanting to get stuck in. I am, however, in the enviable position of having loosely observed the areas I can plant in for several, if not many, years. There's always more to learn from observing and I intend to continue refining my observation skills and collecting information about these different spots. But I also see 2014 as an opportunity to continue experimenting with various growings in preparation for future possibilities as yet not defined.

Already I'm seeing why permaculture holds such interest for me: much like NO HANDS Massage, it is founded on a lot of principles I already hold as important and yet takes them a step further, while weaving in new concepts I've yet to fully understand. Brilliant.


*There are a host of definitions of permaculture here - I see the applications of permaculture as incredibly diverse and exciting but as a newbie to permaculture land am still formulating what I considering to be my definition of the essence of it.

Resolutions & Plastic Bags

Much has been said about New Year's resolutions (good thing / bad thing / indifferent thing) and I see the arrival of a new calendar year as an opportunity to challenge myself to take another step along a road I'm already travelling. It's not a success / failure thing for me - rather an exploration of what changes I'm not making because I'm just being lazy, and which remain for other reasons.

Last year my resolution was only to buy Fairtrade Chocolate. I've long known about, and supported, Fairtrade generally and do make an effort to buy Fairtrade. However, last year I discovered that my own challenge with only buying Fairtrade Chocolate was in choice and availability - usually when I'm out and about and want chocolate, I want "light" chocolate. "Light" in my books translates as average quality, easy to eat and in a snack sized portion. Most vegan Fairtrade chocolate doesn't fall into this category - instead it's good quality, very rich chocolate in 100g bars. And that's when I can get my hands on it. I don't buy a lot of chocolate (generally gifts through the year keep me fairly well stocked) but when I want it, I often struggle to find a Fairtrade option which fits my needs. A very middle-class problem, I acknowledge, but that's the place I live. So I have returned to buying Fairtrade where I can (not just chocolate - and, infact, Traidcraft's Fairtrade wheat & quinoa fusilli is one of my staples) and bowing to my desires occasionally when I can't.

So - this year! This year is plastic bags - not to ask / accept them when I'm shopping. Again, I'm not starting from scratch on this - I've been avoiding getting plastic bags for donkey's years but, I believe mainly through laziness, I do occasionally fold and ask for one. Perhaps I haven't got enough capacity in the bags I've got with me. Perhaps I just didn't think to take a bag at all. But given how unnecessary (yet ubiquitous) plastic bags are, this seemed a good habit to sort out.

Already I've learnt my first lesson of plastic-bag-acquisition-avoidance: plastic bags are sometimes a very handy resource to have! I was buying tofu yesterday and the containers were a bit wet (in fact I think one has a slight hole in it) - the temptation to ask for a plastic carrier bag was high but being Jan 3rd I opted to take the lesson and get my backpack a bit damp on the cycle home. So now I just need to make sure I have a couple of plastic carriers stashed along with my cotton bags when I'm off out to buy this and that. More lessons I'm sure will come along but already this year's resolution is doing exactly what I want it to - challenging me gently to live in a way that's one step lighter on the planet.

Enough

Reflections in the past 24 hours or so have led me here. To this place of Enough.

Not "Enough's enough!"

Not "Enough already!"

But - enough. Sufficient. In fact, even plentiful. There is a simplicity in my life because I have enough. And for having enough (and the simplicity it brings) I am incredibly grateful. By having more than enough I find myself wondering what to do with the more - to hoard, to share, to give, to multiply - but that's a reflection for another day. Today is of Enough.

On every level. I am enough. I have enough. I give enough (or do I? This one I'm still pondering). My tendency is to strive for more, to do more and be more - and yet sometimes just being and doing is enough.

What worries me is the belief which pervades many areas of life of "not enough". I absolutely recognise there are times when more must be striven for, and done, and achieved - but very rarely is the message "Well done. That's great. That's enough. Now - enjoy". Perhaps I'm straying into the territory of "live in the Now" but my biggest concern in the area of Not Enough is simply consumption.

It's a new year now but barely a week ago was the culmination of festivities around Christmas. I'm not a Christian so Christmas is not my festival - but I also somehow don't embrace the "well, Christmas is a cultural thing now, so that's what I'm celebrating, being with friends and family..." view either. However, with so many around me wanting to celebrate at this time of year I gladly welcome the opportunities to be part of that - simply enjoying those opportunities for what they are, and if anything celebrating the end of one year and the beginning of the next.  I do enjoy seeing friends and family. I do enjoy sharing good food. I do enjoy creating decorations from the wonderful plant life that still thrives at this time of year (and particularly enjoyed making three foliage rings this year entirely from matter I was able to choose and cut myself - with a little bit of garden string here and there for good measure). But I really struggle with the material consumption side of things.

Now, it's not a Christmas thing alone. There is marketing year round for the latest phone or gadget, the next big thing in fashion, the must have toys - but the sense of obligation to purchase and give at this time of year is what I object to. Giving is a wonderful thing to do - being stressed and worried about what to give, and what to get, and who needs a present and whether you can afford it: that's not wonderful. That's horrid. And the potential judgment for not partaking - I heard a radio host deriding a colleague for being "tight" because said colleague and his family had chosen not to exchange gifts. They all had sufficient. None of them had children so there was no sense of "depriving the kids of the excitement of presents". And rather than playing the consumption game they simply chose not to. Brilliant. And yet so publicly "judged".

We live in a rich time. There is poverty and imbalance in the distribution of this wealth, but there is also, I believe, an oft unspoken truth, an "elephant in the room", that this richness will not last forever and is, in fact, incredibly finite.

There is some inspiring work being done by millions of people around the world - seeking sustainable alternatives, creating new technologies, looking for solutions in the problems - but I fear there is also a significant proportion of those able to choose to consume or not who choose to ignore the fact these resources are finite and plough ahead regardless.

And so for my part I'm recognising Enough. (Yes, it's the material consumption which is the easiest to understand and recognise as Enough - but it's also every aspect of Enough, not just materially.) In fact, I'm celebrating it. I look forward to the challenges. I look forward to what's possible. But I also am enjoying where I am, what I have and what I can offer. And in particular my material sufficiency - because the only place we can start any change with integrity is with ourselves.

Written as the dusk was falling (along with the rain) on Heysham Head

I'm a Doer, not a Watcher

Beaters in hand, rhythm all around and utter joy in my heart. *That* is what I love about drumming with Batala. Tonight I didn't even feel I was particularly on form - a much smaller and lighter drum than usual felt quite different and I was also just a bit tired / distracted / out of practice - but the rush of drumming in such an awesome band was amazing. In my mind I have a snapshot moment of looking forward through the band to our awesome caller for tonight, as we played our second and final set in Garstang. The hoodies. The costumes. The smiles. The energy. The power. The DRUMMING.

Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. My arrival to the gig had been somewhat more stressful than desirable given difficulties I had locating our meeting point but throughout that period my concern was that I was going to miss out on playing. The event was pretty good itself - lots of shops open, stalls out in the street, street organs and the like - but I didn't want to watch it all. I didn't want to be the recipient of something that was organised for my entertainment. I wanted to be IN it. Doing. And that's what I got to do. And it was ACE.

The contrast was made starker by being much more of a "watcher" this weekend, with a trip down to a Sunday Assembly in Manchester. It was somewhat of a research trip as there's a small team of us hoping to set up a Sunday Assembly in Lancaster - but it was also another amazing "clarity finder" to add to the list in 2013. The Sunday Assembly concept is that of a church-type set up, but without the religion. I've heard it called the atheist church - but it's not really that either. Whether you have a faith or not, the Sunday Assemblies provide a non-religious setting to spend some time with others from your local community, sing some songs, hear some addresses and have a cuppa after. And that was very much what we found on Sunday morning.

This was the second Manchester Sunday Assembly, and was held in the amazing Victoria Baths (more on them in a bit). There was clearly a strong organising team facilitating the smooth running of everything and the format was very much what I'd been anticipating from a Sunday Assembly. But left me very much being a watcher. Listening to what was being said but not necessarily actively engaging. There was something about it that left me wanting to have "done" more. And yet, thinking about it, I'm not sure how in the set up that I anticipated (and was party to) I would have done more. I love the idea of meeting and getting to know more people in my locale and this seemed the perfect medium. Maybe it still is. But there's a nagging feeling inside me that this may not be the magic pill I was looking for.

But the Victoria Baths. Oh. My. From first looking at their website I had a suspicion I'd fall in love with them and I absolutely did. Stunning glazed tiles. Classic Victorian architecture. A sense of solidity. And just so evocative of, well, another age, another way of living, another world. Rose tinted glasses and all but I was entranced. I shared a delightful moment with three folk sitting behind me when one commented that it was really rather odd sitting in the bottom of an empty swimming pool (the congregation was on chairs on the rake of the base of the pool, the presentation happening from "the deep end") to which my only response was "Hmm, somehow it doesn't feel odd to me. Maybe I've been in the bottom of an empty pool before..." And I think I have - but the memory I've managed to extract from my brain doesn't have the hallmarks of one where being in such an unusual position would just go down as "normal" in my books. Another mystery for another day.

At the end of the Assembly "proper" we were invited to have a look around the building and I pounced on the chance - and somehow managed to snare myself the Baths' representative who was there in a caretaking capacity as a personal guide. I saw the Turkish baths and a contraption that was one of the first jacuzzi type affairs and had an amazing "control panel" to regulate the temperature etc. which looked like it could launch rockets. I saw the other two pool halls - one of which had been covered over for some time and was used as a sports hall, the other which was the most likely contender to become an operational pool again in the nearest future (and had been proven to be water tight just a few months earlier). And I got the opportunity to gaze and gaze and gaze. WONDERFUL space.

(I even got to see the basement and walk around the sides of the pools from the bottom, and go to the room which had the filtering machines and the old laundry. I feel so lucky to have had such a comprehensive and yet totally unexpected tour of this wonderful old place.)

So it's already been a week of contrasts - and it's only Tuesday...  

A quiet weekend in and around Chez Tigs

So, as friends around me seem to have social calendars fit to bursting I find myself having had a delightfully quiet and easy going weekend, with similar weekends to come over the next few weeks. By delightfully quiet I mainly mean that I spent the whole weekend either in Morecambe or Lancaster, did plenty of pottering around at home and feel wonderfully rested. There have been lots of adventures off and about around the UK this year which have been marvellous - but now I'm much more settled in Morecambe, being able to spend a whole weekend in my own locale is a precious treat.

It's also given me the opportunity to do and reflect on things that might otherwise have been a long time in coming - or had their moment pass entirely. Things which included...

Return of the curtain making
I love sewing. I have 3 sewing machines to my name (not to mention the overlocker) and still aspire to owning a treadle machine (especially now I've had the opportunity to get somewhat familiar with using one while I was in Shropshire). That said, 2 of the aforementioned three do rather need to see a sewing machine engineer and, having got a number of a recommended local engineer, this week may see me putting those digits into my phone and making contact... But this is a distraction. From. The. Curtains.

This weekend's curtains were in fact very straight forward - taking some existing curtains which I'd inherited and adapting them for The Snug. Two things. I wish I could remember where I'd inherited these curtains from. They're gorgeous heavy green fabric with a slight sheen to them and are now adorning three windows in two rooms in my house (with some still left over which I suspect will end up in a new skirt or dress). But, alas, their lineage is lost to me. I live in hope that one day their donator will visit and recognise them. Until then: a mystery.

The second thing. The Snug. I don't entirely know why it became The Snug. Because it's really anything but. A very large room that in the past has been a shop (it's most recent use I've been led to believe was a hairdressers, perhaps 10-15 years ago) and had it's own title deed. It's also a very tall room - possibly the tallest in the house. And with three external walls, even in summer it's not particularly snug. It's also a room which elicits mixed responses: most people love the raised double bed that's in there now, but I've had a friend in the past find it conjured an uneasy vibe. And part of its "unsnugness" was the inspiration for today's curtaining.

But the curtaining doesn't end with the windows. I've made many curtains for my house (and an increasing number for other homes and buildings - one such pair having their Grand Hanging on Friday. Photographic evidence is expected...) and am now plotting another "partition curtain". Part of The Snug's unsnugness comes from trying to heat such a large room. Generally only half of The Snug is in use at any one time so if I can create a large-panel-patchwork extravaganza I may well find myself with a more snug Snug. Which would be nice. But the windows needed to come first. Which they did. And they're done. Which is satisfying.

The Moving of Furniture
Since a young age I've had a penchant for rearranging furniture in my living space. Many were the times I shifted all the items of furniture, including my bunk bed, pretty much solo on a whim one weekend while living at home. Earlier this weekend (I forget exactly when) I realised the work-surface set up I had in The Snug wasn't optimal so after a mid-afternoon bath (it's been that kind of weekend: plus it's the fastest way to warm up in my house without much physical exertion) I had a merry little rearrange.

I'm really pleased with the result and even as I briefly sat at my desk it felt much more satisfying. The room's not entirely finished (curtain aside there's a sofa I need to collect from it's current loan-place so I've got somewhere I can curl up in comfort) but it's significantly closer than it was. Huzzah.

The weekend also included playing with candles as a heat source - current verdict: very positive - and the joys of processing harvests, albeit small. But those delights will have to wait for another moment - other than to say green tomatoes are my favourite new ingredient :)

Bonfires are Magical

I think bonfires are utterly magical. And I have done for years. But for me part of the magic is the fact that they never lose the magic. I've had the great pleasure of being around, feeding, building and generally enjoying bonfires for pretty much as long as I can remember, and yet still, I have more to learn from them.

The "man and fire" connection.

The amazing meditative quality of gazing at a fire as it burns.

The sense of peace evoked by being by a bonfire after darkness has fallen, the moon rising behind it.

And, perhaps most importantly this time round, their beautiful demonstration of the fact that Everything Changes. All The Time.

Some may argue it's somewhat cliched or trite, but change in any and all aspects of life and living is absolutely inevitable. Having spent a week at my parents' in rural Oxfordshire and resurrecting the bonfire ashes several times, these fires have somehow captured my imagination as a stunning example of change. Why?

Maybe it was the huge difference between being around a bonfire, and by being the bonfire builder, nurturer and carer. I hadn't been in the latter position for a while and being back where my bonfiring began was simply marvellous. This time round it was fairly "easy going" bonfiring - there was no big deadline, no pressure but somehow exactly the right amount of stuff to burn. But each day was a different bonfire. How it started. How it burned. How it needed looking after to keep it going. How the embers were left at the end of the night. How the ash pile was the following morning.

Maybe it was the evocation of memories of bonfires past - people who have been part of previous "burnings" and those who never quite made it. Where they are now. What they're up to. Those I'm in touch with - those that I'm not.

And maybe it's simply the fact that bonfires change. Constantly, organically and unerringly - even as ashes there's still an evolution going on. Sometimes the fire's nature is somewhat predictable (watching it build, the flames bursting through occasionally from the bed of hot ashes, anticipating where they'll go next) but there's never absolute certainty as to what will happen next. Bonfires, more than wood burners or even open fires, seem to me to have so much more space for their own way of doing things - the side that will burn more, the influence of the wind. And that freedom to me is what creates the utter mesmeric nature I found myself completely enfolded in as I sat watching.

Bonfires are special. And I think they're magical. But my newfound analogy of their constantly changing, fundamentally unpredictable nature is what's really warming my soul just now.

Lazy Sunday Morning

Having consumed the best part of a large block of tofu for breakfast (why have I not had more scrambled tofu Sunday morning breakfasts in my life to date? Something which shall, henceforth, be rectified) I'm still not particularly inclined to start dashing about. And, gratefully, I have no need to. Huzzah!

"Busy" is a rather non-descriptive term for how my life tends to be. Given it's more interesting when I'm *not* busy. So a better term to use today I think is incessant. Chatting to a friend over some Fentiman's CherryTree cola ("Hello! What's the red Fentiman's, please? Oh, it's a new Cherry cola? Brilliant! One of those please!") yesterday it was her who managed to identify what I'd been up to last weekend - so much has happened since and so much is lined up for the imminent future. There's a definite zest for life at the moment (as opposed to a relentless "just keep going") and with it thoughts mulling in my mind of possibilities - and enjoying making my house more of a home. I've also an acute awareness of "nothing ever stays still" - and the importance to be settled with the changing, while also enjoying memories and nostalgia.

All of which is rather airy fairy compared to drumming in the wind and the rain last night! Batala Lancaster had a gig as part of the warm up for Lancaster City Council's fireworks display from the castle. We played in two of the viewing areas - and arriving at the first in the dark, the rain threatening and the wind whistling, to a crowd of zilch was not one of the most inspiring audiences we've had! But (and it makes me proud to be a part of this brilliant band) we started with gusto at the designated hour and had a crowd of souls who'd come out to brave the elements enjoying the performance. If there's one thing we do exceptionally well, it's bringing energy, enthusiasm and gusto to every gig we do - regardless of the circumstances. Our second set started with a much bigger audience (being that much closer to the start of the fireworks display) but it rapidly became apparent the grass we were playing on had a strong inclination to become mud under our feet. That our caller for that set was completely unaware of that fact and called several of our "moving" numbers just made it all the more amusing!

We had a great reception from the audience and there was quite a lot of "Can I bang your drum?" after the set as many of us were staying for the fireworks. I love playing with Batala. That I'm now beginning to remember the tunes helps, too!

And the fireworks! An impressive display but my favourite of the night were the fireworks that had a large reach of twinkling sparkles cascading down. And no, words don't really do justice to fireworks. After depositing my drum back in another band member's vehicle (after the Ingleton Falls gig I know I *could* cycle to a gig with my drum on my back, but when there's no need to, I don't!) I headed off to the pub, only to discover I was really tired and much more in need of food than I'd given myself credit for. I'm always fascinated by the times when I get a really physical reaction to food (either a lack thereof, or an overload) and last night was certainly one. The fact I had a particularly strenuous cycle home (getting drenched while also battling gusty winds) just added to the craziness.

And the cycle in! Again I got drenched, but this time in an utter downpour during a thunderstorm that was followed by amazing sunshine, a double rainbow and the stunning contrast of autumnal leaves' sparkling colours against the black of a post-thunderstorm sky. That it was then dry for a good 90 minutes after (the ride was about 20 minutes - at least 7 of which were during The Drenching) just reinforced my satisfaction of *not* being a fairweather cyclist.

So now I find myself on a quiet Sunday morning, not quite in the mood to do much other than mooch. Which is pretty much what Sundays were designed for, in my book.