Fab, Feisty and Sixty (ish)

Historically I have always been tall and slender, even skinny after having children in my mid to late 30's I gradually gained weight. Eating for comfort is a western symptom of unhappiness, the one pool into which I dived headlong and remained underwater for the past decade. During THAT week  in February this year I lost one stone, then over the last few months another stone silently dropped off and stayed off. Although I have recently been eating a healthy meal each day, I have not had a suitable breakfast or lunch. Of course though sufficiently nourishing, this will make me sluggish, as my metabolism will not be functioning properly. So I have enrolled on a healthy eating plan to train my self back into proper eating habits and it helps for me to have this structured guide. I am now eating better, more regularly and l have lost another 5lbs in two weeks. A total of 33lbs. A bit more cycling and I may have this cracked. Though l wouldn'...

What is a girl to do? I have been pondering over the value of keeping my car, the costs of running it, compounded with fixing it when it gets ill, can be overwhelming. But this would mean l would rattle around town like a bag lady, weighed down by my wares and my woes. I could let the train take the strain on visits to Kent and on days out etc, no worries there, time to read, listen and think. But then l wouldn't be able to run Mum around and visit friends without planning the trip to the enth degree, which takes the fun and enjoyment out of it. I do value my new found singledom independence greatly. I am my own woman. Mine own. The car allows me choices in the moment and adds to a feeling of control. Control. Yeah l like that. Mine own. A few months ago whilst driving in town, the gear stick went limp in my hand (steady), then fell horizontally to the carpet. I felt the anger of the clutch and drove Miss Daisy style, in the one gear ...

As the stars, sun and moon keep balance with each other, I too feel blanketed in the synergy here that shines its light through this place of writing. Often times posts appear on the same or similar subject. It constantly amazes me how this happens within this vast land of u nited creativity. In my imagination I see us all as a force of fertile overlapping circles. Bridging the gap. A balance between imagination & frustration. We are in the same space, different place. Different stories, same tune. Like minded exchanges. Some challenging thoughts, views to stimulate thought. Each story, each journey miles apart, but here we confess, unburden, fess up, confide, enlighten, encourage, incite, evoke every emotion. Friendships made. Stories written. Hands reach out. Holding on. Breathing deep. A lifeline for some. A light for the night time. A few words for the day ahead. Alone, but not lonely. Though for some, the fear is always in residence, punching through the darkness, ...

Sometimes – it’s okay to accept less than your/their best Sometimes - it's alright for things to be less than alright Sometimes – its hard to cope or to manage the daily grind and that’s okay Sometimes - life isn’t great and that’s okay too Sometimes – it’s difficult to see past the hump in the road, this too shall pass, so wait Sometimes – life is crap, that’s just the way it is. Accept. Move on. Sometimes – the housework doesn’t HAVE to be done, the world won’t end if it's not done. Sometimes - just put your feet up, grab a book, DVD, sleep. Sometimes - that list doesn't need doing TODAY . Let it go. Sometimes – It’s okay to feel guilty. It’s okay to feel crap. It really is. Sometimes – ask for help, we all need help sometimes. No one will think any less of you. Sometimes - is a way for living. Whatever keeps you afloat. Sane.

1955 aged 44 My Nana (grandmother) Iris Eleanor Young, June to her friends, was to me a marvellous woman, a glamorous woman and a brave woman. My earliest memory of her was when I was about five or six , I guess she would babysit me as I was often round her home and probably like most little girls, I' d to love looking through her jewellery box and her cupboards 'n' drawers. For some reason I remember I used to play with her box of rubber bands she kept in a drawer, of which there were many - I suppose she would save them or buy them so I always had them to play with. When I got to school age I used them to make french skipping bands. Her makeup and jewellery was a stash of glamour and I felt a sense of naughtiness playing with them I know not why! This memory has a touch of irony as it was many years later I would powder her face and pencil in her eyebrows, after she could no longer do this simple task for herself. Something I recall daily as I pencil mine in. Like ...

and I can smell the change in the air. The wind has an edge to it, cutting into the end of August. The new month when school is back. A new term. The kids and life is structured again. A semblance of control within the loosely organised chaos. When I was a school kid, I looked forward to the new school year. Each new term. The new start. The wiping of the slate and the turning over of the leaves. I felt I had another chance to do it well. To do good. As an adult I miss the having of new beginnings. I have to forgive and forget myself. We all tend to ring in the changes at New Year. A celebration which always leaves me cold. Cold as the winter. Too bracing to embrace the new. Autumn is a time when the trees wear a brightly coloured coat of an orange, brown, yellow and gold mosaic. A dream coat. They drop their technicolour leaves. Divesting of the year long journey. They stand naked and vulnerable in the wind and rain. A rebirth. Renewal. Reinvention. In the humdrum of routine. The ...

(June 2009) It was only yesterday you would run to me when you were upset or hurting. It was only yesterday you held me tight. Rib crackingly tight. For no other reason than that you felt like it. Only yesterday would you share every discovery. Every happiness. Every fear. Every dream. Good or Bad. Every new step. Each fall. Was it only yesterday you kissed me goodnight for the last time. Telling me gently, but firmly. It wasn't necessary any longer. My heart missed a beat. It isn't? Where is that written? Show me. I wish to silently protest. I'm not ready. Not yet. I think it was only yesterday when I listened furtively for your each sleeping breath. One to follow after another. So then I too, could breathe. It was only yesterday you tied your shoes. You buttoned your shirt. You zipped up your coat. First times. By yourself. Beaming with pride. You. Me. This week you have been on work experience . You've been surprised by the joy and the satisfaction you felt. A c...