Every morning I’m getting woken up by bellowing crows. The kind of crows that sound like they’ve been out all night getting drunk and chain-smoking. They stand outside my window cawing at the top of their voices in a husky, grating manner. One in particular is real gruff. In my dreams I feel like I’m being attacked by a velocirapter.

They messed around with the ornamental geese too. Sounded like tiles falling off the roof when they knocked them down the stairs. Sounded like they may have been taking pictures of them in compromising positions. Poor geese. They’ve only know a life of delicate respectful handling and then to get taken advantage of like that.

Crows = Absolute hooligans. (But I love them. Just not at 4:30am)

From tomorrow evening I’ll be writing everything on this little beauty. The keys are delightful to touch. I love a good button. I’ve got lots of smooth silver ones here. Yippeee. It’s touch screen too. That’ll come in handy seeing as I’m always touching non-touch screens 😃

Sometimes all you need to do is sit in a field full of buttercups.

Recently I panicked when I saw the cat about to throw up on the floor. I ran towards it like some sort of possessed person, ready to take it outside. Poor cat must have freaked right out. I ended up almost flying headlong across the kitchen. I survived and recovered (so did the cat) but it left me thinking, why did I rush and react like that? What’s the worst that could have happened if I took an extra moment to gather my thoughts?

I’ve had other incidences of panicking and rushing so I do know better. I fractured my foot rushing after a crystal I lost. Mostly I’ve learnt my lesson but sometimes a situation presents itself which pushes my reactive buttons once more and my brain flips out. Cats being sick is one of them.

I think in the past, overreactions from pivotal people in my childhood have made me a bit on edge. Rather than just saying ‘oh well, the cat made a mess, let’s clear it up’ there was more of ‘ohhhh nooooo, what have you done, on my nice clean carpet, it’s going to stain, blah blah blah’. The overreaction didn’t really match the deed. You own cats, you’re gonna have to clean up after them. Deal with it.

But deal with it how? That is up to me. And that is what I want to work on.

Over the years this feeling of panic has reared its head in the strangest of ways. I can panic about the silliest things. Like getting a phone call from someone I’d rather not talk to, getting beeped at by a another driver or watching someone pour too much maple syrup in their coffee. That’s weird right? (it could ruin a good cup of coffee though, but really?!).

How do I panic? I might do a little squeal which makes the other person jump for instance. My heart might beat faster. I might get a feeling of dread. I might get frightened for a second. I might drive faster or think less clearly. I might rush. Sometimes it would be useful being a bit less human.

What am I going to do to help myself? My aim is to keep remembering that I’m safe. That everything’s ok. I’m going to say it out loud. ‘I’M SAFE’. That carpets can be cleaned and crystals leave when they need to. That some drivers will always be idiots and some maple syrup pourers will always pour too much maple syrup into coffee. That everything will work out with or without my over-reactions. That I’m a better, more productive person when I embrace every situation (even the gross ones), whatever the outcome with the brightest of smiles and calmest of hearts.

Day 16. I love dancing more than walking. I explore muscles and postures in finer detail. I go deeper into nooks and crannies. Painful ones. I give my body the hugs and stretches it needs to let go even more and open like a flower. Thank you sun. Warming me. Embracing me. Yum.

Cat crush 😻🙃😻

My wings were big yesterday. Must have been all that love running through me.

Buzz the teddy bear cat is the most trusting I’ve met. His energy completely zens me out. I’m falling into a peaceful trance just looking at him. Ommmm. Zzzzzzz.

After-show after-glow. This is what you look like when you’ve consumed sublime angelic music for three hours and you’re integrating back into the real world again and remembering things like horns exist. And cars. And hustle. And bustle. And sunlight 😎

A beautiful thing happened to me whilst I was on the way to my seat. I was sitting in the upper circle and my row was down some very steep steps. The steps didn’t have a bannister and all of sudden it dawned on me how much of a problem this was. I always have the safety-net of a bannister nearby, even if I don’t use it. My legs were unsure, worried. They didn’t feel happy going down without something stable to hold onto. I’m getting stronger, but this felt too much. I fell down some stairs last year so there’s old trauma there on top of wobbly, unbalanced legs. Usually my companion helps me but we’d got to our seats at different times. I was on my own. But I wasn’t…

‘Madam, these stairs are very steep. May I help you down?’ a delightfully polite usher asked me. Life just got so much better, I thought. It was music to my ears. ‘Usually I go down one step first and then you follow’ he said. So I tried that and thought I can be stronger than this. I’m not that frail, I just need a bit of reassurance for my balance. ‘Let’s walk down together’ I said. And with that, I stood taller and more confidently and we walked down the steps in unison, arms linked, step by steep step, all the way to my seat.

I’m grateful for the small kindnesses of people. They don’t realise just how much difference they can make to another person’s life. They are, in those moments, guardian angels and it brings a passionate tear of gratitude to my eye to realise I met an angel today.

I loved Her Majesty’s Theatre. I wondered how many people had sat in there over the years. All the stories, history, dramas and laughs. All the songs and elation. I felt I was part of something magical. A kind of magic that makes your soul open up just a tiny bit more.

Moody, vibrant, beautiful London. You come alive in the sun with so many smiles. It was good to see you again. Thanks for having me. Until next time. Keep shining on.

Whenever I’m in London, Carpo in Piccadilly is on the agenda. Such vibrancy. Such tastiness. They do chocolate and nuts like no other with lots of free samples 😉 And let’s not forget about the freshly ground coffee I bought too. Aeropress at the ready. Here I go.

Jami Hilton. In London town. Love this groove 🎶

Oh gosh. I’m here. All my childhood dreams and memories are coming back. I’m dancing and smiling with them. I’m finally getting to experience the show that set my heart aflame with wonder and excitment all those years ago. The experience of The Phantom of the Opera ❤️

Day 15. Hips got plenty of action today. Belly dance moves felt glorious. The music was incredible. The song, T-1000 by Metrik was cosmic pump. I stood tall + strong. I popped with alignment. I powered on. Hello new body muscles. Welcome. Make yourself at home. Let’s dance.

The Prince. He sleeps.

Ribbons, feathers and a Catto. What more could I ask for?

He’s been up since 4am the little poppet. Now he’s sound asleep probably dreaming of sardines.

Let’s talk about diets and healthy eating choices shall we? Hooray! What fun. 🙃 From my experience, it has certainly been interesting and enlightening.

Food used to be important. I seemed to feel full, in an uncomfortable way, most of the time. Food was at the forefront of my day. I was its slave. I would chop and cook for hours. I would gorge on incredible amounts of unhealthy stuff. I ate way too much rice and bread, cakes and chocolate. And always had BIG portion sizes.

I was chunky and my belly was the place I chunked out, since I was a kid. People would ask if I was pregnant. Bless them, bless me, how embarrassing. Sometimes I just said yes.

Food was my obsession and breaking that habit brought me freedom. I guess I’d had enough of the old way. Something seemed to click inside and with the help of my companion, we both set forward on a low carb diet.

Now I eat between 30 - 60g of carbs a day. Amazingly I don’t crave the old stuff. It’s because I see my body changing and I’m addicted to that change rather than addicted to the food. The fat is gradually disappearing off me.

I eat well. Lots of salad, fish, eggs, vegetables, protein shakes, nuts. And having the added bonus of a ‘cheat day’ where anything and everything goes, I never deny myself anything and it always stays a treat. Something to be appreciated rather than abused.

It’s funny because the new food choices have made me realised just how much sugar there is in processed foods. Sooo much. And it turns out that even on cheat day I’m more discerning about what I choose to put in my body.

I also realised that while I’m grateful to have delicious food choices and appreciate that I can eat more than others, it’s not my entire existence anymore. Supermarkets just make me feel tired whereas before the biscuit aisle would elate me (and then depress me after I’d eaten them all). My purpose has changed.

I don’t slave away cooking for hours. I don’t think about food or long for it. I feel wonderful being a bit emptier. I feel amazing having a couple of bites of something and then moving on. I want to spend my time creating and imagining and exploring what I’m capable of rather than spending my time thinking about what I’m going to gobble up next.

Leo loves his purple ribbon sooooo much.

‘This is unacceptable. I expect clean, tidy cars when I enter them. With treats. And toys. And sweet music singing out my name’

‘Yes Miss Cookie Cat. Anything you say Miss Cookie Cat’ (bows low, retreating).

Cookie The Glorious Empress of Tunbridge Wells gracing us with her presence.

I’ve been exploring different parts of my body during dance time. Today my twisted foot inadvertantly got the treatment. I used some steep stairs as a prop. The aim was to walk down the steps as slowly as I could, rather than plonking down them. I found that as I lowered my leg down towards the next step, my other leg gave way, before the other foot was fully down, unable to hold its weight the more I bent my knee. The leg muscles need strengthening but I wasn’t sure which ones to focus on because I can’t feel my legs a great deal. I asked Simon to help me and he described what muscles he uses to walk down the stairs with. This gave me more focus. I’m gradually waking my atrophised muscles up. It’s really happening.

In the past, my right foot has hardly ever had much weight put on it. I’m good at not keeping it down for long. It’s a protection. It’s had trauma. However, this exercise made me rest my full weight on it for an extended period of time and it’s not used to that. It’s not used to tendons working and flattening. It’s not used to being weight beared. I get a bit scared doing it - it can be excruciating. Because it’s never been used quite properly. It’s never engaged. But I perservered.

It’s protesting now. It’s hurts. It’s throbbing and vibrating. I suppose because something new is waking up, being explored. Change is afoot (haha). It’s annoying though because the pain stops me in my tracks, when all I want to do is move faster and do more.

The hardest part is this - I know that going through the pain and keeping on using my foot, keeping on digging deep is the way to conquer it. The way to have more movement. Sure have a rest, but don’t get lazy and make excuses. I’ve had this lesson time and time again and damn it’s a hard lesson to hear.

Breaking through a pain barrier is a sure fire way of giving me more freedom of movement. I long to be rid of it. I grin and bear it. I limp and grimace and cry but still, I keep on going. I am in control of my body, not the other way round. And when I own it, when I drive it home that I am stronger than its core, then just like that (clicks fingers) it’s gone.

What a little pixie.