Falling From The 30th Floor

‘OK Sarah! Let go of the rails now,” easier said than done when you’re hanging 125m above Alexanderplatz.

My knuckles turned white as I clung desperately onto the platform. Eventually I pried my fingers away and instead held tightly onto my harness. For a few moments I swayed suspended in the sky. I watched the people below, the size of ants scurrying to and fro, hardly stopping to see where the screams were coming from.

I heard my friend shout goodbye as she pressed the release button. And I fell. 125 meters in seconds. I screamed, I laughed, I threw my arms wide feeling the air rushing between my fingers. It was exhilarating.

Thank you Berlin.

 

A GOOD Morning.

After a horrific nights sleep I woke up this morning growling in response to my alarm. “No I’m not getting up at 6 to exercise and have a nutritious breakfast before work.” I lay in bed for another half hour grumbling and moaning at the birds outside, how dare they be so cheery in a morning! Eventually I dragged myself out of bed and after giving myself a good talking to I donned my comfiest gym wear and hopped onto my yoga mat.

My one stop place for yoga is always Yoga With Adrienne on Youtube, this morning was no different and I followed her video entitled, ‘Intro To Yin’. I had never tried (or heard of) Yin Yoga but it turned out to be exactly what I needed this morning. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RQyX48NtDrQ It’s slow pace and easy going poses were the perfect cure for my foul mood and sleepy body. Near the end of the video as I lay on the floor feeling supported by the Earth, Adrienne said, “give thanks for your body”. I did just that and realised that I have no justification for feeling so annoyed at the start of my day. I am blessed with a body which, yes, may have it’s wobbly bits but works just fine. I have the love of a man who is kind and sweet. The support of friends who always make me laugh. A roof over my head and a kitchen full of food.

From now on I will try and face my mornings with positive vibes only and take stock of how lucky I am…even on the mornings I accidentally set my alarm two hours too early…

The Best Easter

Every so often I am lucky enough to have days that fill me with so much love I’m not sure my body can contain it! Yesterday was just such a day. We had first planned to join an egg hunt at Tredegar house but the weather forecast blew that plan away, rain, rain, rain. Instead I offered to throw a tea party and a mini egg hunt in our tiny cottage.

I spent all of Friday running around town getting supplies, decorations, cakes, prizes and anything else that caught my eye. I planned fun party games like pin the egg in the basket, egg races and guess how many eggs are in the jar!  Ossian, my nephew, is only three so I thought traditional clues for the egg hunt wouldn’t be much fun for him. Instead I opted to draw pictures of all the hiding places and filled each egg with a cute finger puppet!

The big day arrived! I decorated the cottage, laid the table full of lovely cakes and sandwiches and almost popped with joy when Ossian arrived dressed as the easter bunny!  We all filled ourselves up and began the hunt! Jonathan, my fiancé, helped Ossian find all the eggs seeing them together makes my heart melt. How did I make it through the day in one piece?! We all got to join in with the games and all had such a fun time.

Then a thing happened that made me feel such an overwhelming feeling that I have no idea how to describe it. The best I can do is liken it to the scene with the blind man in ‘Amelie’, after she has described everything to him and he fills with light which bursts from him. This is the one….

https://youtu.be/AgbNM4lH7mE

Anwho…After we had played all the games, I announced Ossian the winner and told him that he had won a prize! I presented him with some easter stickers and a big medal. His face light up with joy and amazement. He turned to me, beaming with pride and said, “I got a medal.”
So I told him, “yes, best you’re the best!”
He stared at his medal and whispered to it, “me the best.”
I’ve often been told that children grow with praise but I’d never seen such an astounding example of it before.

There we have it, my lovely Easter story, I hope you all have a had a wonderful Easter with people you love and gallons of chocolate!

Meet Cute.

EXT.   QUITE WELSH STREET. OVERCAST DAY, GREY SKY. PEOPLE PASS BY WRAPPED IN SCARVES THEIR BREATHE SHOWS IN THE COLD AIR.

CUT TO:

SILVER SUSUKI STOPPED AT RED LIGHT.

SARAH sings along to music playing over stereo. Suddenly she stops singing.

NARRATOR

As she waited for the lights to let her go, Sarah got the burning sensation that a person feels when they know they’re being watched.

SARAH sits upright, rigid. 

 NARRATOR

She fought the temptation to look around and confirm her suspicions, afraid she might find herself locked into awkward eye contact with whomever was admiring her.

CUT TO:

CLOSE SHOT ON SARAHS FACE.

SARAH turns around to look out of her drivers window.

NARRATOR 

She couldn’t fight it any longer, wanting to meet this mysterious gaze. Her eyes drift across to the car next to hers, where she is met by a pair of deep brown eyes.

CUT TO:

CLOSE SHOT ON SARAHS EYES. SARAH BLINKS IN SLOW MOTION.

NARRATOR

 Sarah is in shock, she wasn’t prepared for the face that stared back at hers.

CUT TO:

GOLDEN RETRIEVER SAT IN PASSENGER SEAT LOOKING THROUGH WINDOW. DIRECT TO CAMERA.

CUT TO:

SARAH LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY TRYING TO HIDE FACE BEHIND HANDS.

FADE TO BLACK.

My Lovely Little View

It’s been so long since I’ve sat down to write anything that I think I might just have forgotten how to do it. I’ve been sat at my table staring blankly out the window for the past ten minutes searching my mind for a subject to spark my inspiration. Then the lightbulb above my head came on with a glaring light, write about the view. It’s gorgeous.

The view is what sold me on this cottage, that first visit over two years ago. I  came into this place with it’s pink textured wallpaper and brown floral carpet, squeezing around all the crammed in old furniture, wondering at the dust and filth that had taken tenancy here. This place hadn’t been touched in years, stuck somewhere in 1985. I was shown upstairs and as I struggled up the tiny twisting staircase I searched desperately for a polite excuse for leaving and never returning to this stale time capsule. Then I saw the view through the tiny window.

My photos don’t do it justice. Just the other day as I arrived home my breath was taken away, I looked over the field and saw the sun breaking through the clouds in warm golden threads which spotlighted the rolling greenery below the sky. How is it I can still look out there and find myself smiling? When ever speaking to somebody about our little cottage I thrill in telling them about the field opposite. It is often occupied by very friendly cows who love to moo in response to passing cars and tower over the shrubbery to look into my windows. They share the lush land with much smaller creatures too, the grey hopping kind with white fluffy tails. I love to open my curtains in the morning and watch as the wild rabbits stretch out of their frosty sleep. They chase each other around and delight in munching dandelions. It’s just like something out of a Beatrix Potter story!

So although my walls are still covered in stubborn textured wallpaper and the ceilings are so low I am forever banging my head, all is forgiven when I look out of my windows.

The Planning Cult

I don’t know how I stumbled across the planner community but once I found myself there I couldn’t help but laugh and sneer at it all. Women spending hours upon hours decorating organisers, filling them out with every detail, every moment of their life. Days worth of youtube videos of people showing page layouts, washi tape, stickers, shelves upon shelves of pristine Filofaxes. I thought how terribly ridiculous this all is, what an utter waste of time and money..

Then something strange occurred, I started to admire the colour schemes, coo over decorative sticky notes and covet golden paper clips. I don’t know how it happened` my body was overcome with the need for ribbon, I started a Pinterest board full of floral dashboards, vintage inspired separators..SO MANY STICKERS.

I’d say I’ve gone to the dark side but there’s nothing dark about this bedazzled world. I’ve been absorbed by it’s colour coded pages and yes, I’ve ordered my own planner..I wish I was joking.

 

Domestic Disaster.

You know that lovely purple diary you just bought yourself? Well I would like you to turn to todays date and write, domestic disaster! What on Earth happened to you? You’re handy in a kitchen, you know your way around a wooden spoon but today!? Oh today you made a mockery of everything Delia Smith stands for!

There was the pumpkin pie, which of course was not a pumpkin pie at all but was in fact a butternut squash pie. It took you at least forty whole minutes to peel, de-seed and dice the thing nearly loosing a couple of digits in the process. I have no idea how long it took for you to turn the damned thing into a puree, “push the cooked squash through a sieve,” the recipe made it sounds so breezy, so simple. You pushed and pushed that squash till your arms turned into tired useless dangly things hanging by your sides. Your efforts got you roughly one tablespoon worth of puree! Yes, yes the pie eventually turned out nice and was a hit with everyone but no, it was not worth the blood, sweat or tears.

Egg nog, seemed simple enough and with Martha Stewarts guidance how could you go wrong? Easily, is the answer to that question. Everything was going so well, you separated the eggs, you heated the milk, you’d even got a bit brave and added some spices of your own accord. You got cocky, you left the pan for a moment, distracted by Big Hero 6. Upon your return you found the egg nog was simmering! It was simmering! Horror of horror Martha warned you of this and ta-da the egg nog is no longer a smooth, silky, indulgent treat but is in fact creamy, cinnamon flavoured scrambled eggs. Everybody swore that it was still delicious but we know that was the rum talking.

Defeat upon defeat leaves you wary, you return to the old familiar recipes. Something easy, quesadillas! Nothing can go wrong there….you spoke too soon, you chop up the chillies and without thinking you lick your fingers. OWWW!! Your tongue is burning and you retreat to the couch, curled up in the foetal position you finally do something right, you call dominoes.

P.S The pie turned out pretty nice.

Follower Milestone.

I drank too much last night, got bills to pay my head just feels in pain. I missed the bus and there’ll be hell today. I’m late for work again and even if I’m there, they’ll all imply that I might not last the day and then I see wordpress follows and it’s not so bad. It’s not so bad…AND IIIIIEEEEE WANT TO THANK YOU!! FOR GIVING ME THE BEST DAAYAAY OF MY LIFE!!

After deciding to use Dido lyrics to help me convey a silly little thank you for hitting 50 followers I realised something dreadful. That song came out in 1999 and there’s a good chance that there could be people reading this that are too young to remember that song. This is awful for;

1. my attempt at opening this post with a terrible joke will be wasted.
2. it’s yet another reminder that I’m getting older.

Anyway..let us return from that tangent. I realised that my blog hit 50 followers today which I know isn’t a huge number for some but little ole me is very excited about it. So thank you. That’s all I was trying to say in my weird round about way. Sincerity isn’t my strong point. I’d love to write a heartfelt in depth thank you and explain how important this blog has been for me at this point in my life. However I’m sat here in a very awkward position and trapped thanks to a very stubborn, very fluffy Ginger Tom Cat. Must focus all energy on getting from couch without disturbing cat.

Seriously, he’s clinging to my knee for dear life! So many claws! All of the OW!

Dear Diary

I was gifted a beautiful hardback, Clockwork Orange notebook two Christmases ago. It sat on my self untouched for quite some time simply because I felt such a beautiful piece of stationary should have only profound things written in it and profound things were in sort supply for me. One day I decided, “to hell with it! I’ll just use it as a journal.” I’d write a short paragraph in it each day and I would always try to keep it positive, so that one day in the future I would have a collection of happy memories to look back on.

13-01-15 Tuesday

Have you ever had a notebook that was so pretty you didn’t want to ruin it by writing in it?

I’m reading ‘Not That Kind Of Girl’ by Lena Dunham. This stood out to me – “When someone shows you how little you mean to them and you keep coming back for more,ou know it you start to mean less to yourself.”

I wrote in this notebook almost every day, with my nicest pen and my neatest handwriting for six months.

22-06-15 Monday

Driving my car around on my own is the strangest sensation, I can’t truly explain how happy I am with all my new found freedom and independence. It feels amazing. Simple things like being able to go to town and grab some things if need be. Not having to rely on other people to get me places. I’m very excited that tonight I’m heading straight to the gym after work on my own. I know the novelty will wear off eventually but right now this feels brilliant! 

Those six months were blissfully happy, I felt amazing and so content with my life. The months that followed weren’t quite so sweet. I stopped documenting my days when things turned sour and eventually hid the diary because those happy memories had become tainted to me.

Time has passed and I’m ready to reopen the pages and record new memories.

19-01-16 Tuesday 

Hopped on the scales this morning for the first time in months. Expecting the absolute worst after two months of American breakfasts and junk food….I’ve lost about 5 pounds! Very confused but shall not question it, shall simply rejoice!

Adulthood #winning

Becoming an adult is a long and complicated journey which, perhaps, never ends. In the same respect coming to the realisation that you are an adult isn’t straight forward either. It would be lovely if you woke one Sunday morning to find you’d received an official letter from the Government declaring that you, now, are an adult. You no longer require a grown up to supervise you near sharp things or hot things. Congratulations.

Instead of this one defining stand out moment of realisation I’ve found it’s a series of tiny little moments spread out over time.

Realising you missed you last check up at the dentist and ringing them up to make another appointment. Adulthood! 

Removing something from your USB drive correctly, no ‘disk was not ejected properly’ notice. Sensible!

Knowing the correct way to sign an e-mail. Kind regards, actual Adult. 

Ordering a healthy balanced, wholesome meal at a restaurant. Grown up! 

Not laughing when someones seat makes a fart noise. Nope! That’s still funny.

Paying your credit card before the payment is due. Fiscally Responsible!

Being stopped and asked for directions and actually helping instead of flailing your arms around claiming, “I can’t help, I’ve never been here before!” ….(you’ve lived here for six years.) Maturity! 

AND! The most important part is to do all of these little things and pretend as though it was nothing, be blasé about each one. Well at least in front of other people, if you’re home behind closed doors it’s perfectly acceptable to have a celebration dance for successfully following Nigella Lawson recipe.