Charlie. Quite an odd little pickle. I could spend half the night letting him in and out if he got his own way. Last night he lounged in the middle of the lawn in the cold darkness. He’s got a bit of a vacant stare like he did too many drugs when he was a youngster.

I remember I didn’t like getting told off by teachers. Or being left by my mum in any way, shape or form. I was four when mum took me to Derby High School Kindergarten. I lasted a day. There was a small wooden climbing frame in the middle of the room, water and sand trays around the sides. Everything was fine when mum was there.

I loved playing in the home corner, using the pans to cook on the stove, putting the washing on (how stereotypical). I used to love the advert for the A la Carte kitchen toy (Cue kitchness - I thought it was pronounced Anna Kart and that girl was Anna 😃). She made real beans for her dad. I never understood how she could do that - like get the beans into that plastic saucepan. Where did they come from? I never got real beans, mine were just imaginary. I’m sure I wasn’t the only child to think like this. I never got the kitchen, it was only ever a beautiful fantasy.

In the nursery I needed a wee. Mum came with me and waited outside. She told me she’d wait. I recall my horror and fear at coming out of the cubicle to Mrs Morley’s huge frame staring down at me. My mum had gone. Mrs Morley had told her to go, that I’d be fine. I cried. She gruffly told me not to be a baby. I was mortified that mum had just gone and left me. It was traumatic. A part of me had disappeared.

I can’t remember the rest of the session. Maybe I even had a good time, but to my dear little four year old’s mind, freedom and familiarity came the moment I got out of that classroom and back into my mum’s arms. I didn’t go back to that school until I was twelve and that’s a story for another time.

Yay for mums! What a rollercoaster of love you’re on. Strong, brilliant, full of unconditional love ❤️ I admire you. You’re wonderful. Here’s me and my mum. She’s full of eccentricities and craziness. I can go a bit nuts when she’s around. Patience calls me often. I love her.

Day 8. Back from an enforced break. I have the biggest dance floor ever. Kitchen. No island in the middle. No chairs. No table. Just space. I practised old moves, said hi to my stomach muscles again, swooshed. Learning to spin now. With grace. I’ll get back to you on that one 🤪

When I was born I had a clicky hip. I spun round in the womb and tried to come out feet first. A caesarian section was necessary. Different from the very beginning, amazing I was born at all. Mum had five miscarriages before she had me.

I didn’t walk until I was two. In and out of hospital, confined to my legs being in a frog plaster to make my hip stable. I spent weeks lying on my back. It’s the position I feel happiest in even now. But during that time I was having my hips stretched outwards. It was called being ‘on traction’. Sometimes my legs were stretched so far apart that mum had to intervene because I cried and she couldn’t bear it.

I had a lot of x-rays. A nurse told mum to make sure my ovaries were always protected from the radiation and that I may never have children. It’s something I’m researching now because I would like to have a baby. I’m hopeful and positive and healthy and these days don’t take what one person says as the truth. I want to put all the best bits of myself, all the love and joy I feel into my child. Yet, while I wish for this, I also accept that if it goes a different way, I’ll be ok.

People waiting around on me became normal and I expected it. I had no independence. It was easier if they did everything. I got used to that. Even in my thinking, to a degree. This mindset has followed me through life. It took until age 17 for me to stay away from home for even a night and not cry and miss mum. It finally happened when I met a boy.

My parents invented a special high chair that hooked onto the end of a table and meant my legs could rest stretched out to each side. I was a happy baby who liked eating coal and cooing at pigeons.

I finally learnt to navigate gravity and understand my legs. I ran along the hall leaning against the wall as my mum called out letters of the alphabet that were stuck along it. I still love walls. Leaning against them, sometimes using them for support if my foot hurts, they are my friends but I’m learning not to rely on them too much. When I spent time in Australia I found out it was best not to lean on walls because redback spiders live between the bricks. Eeeek.

I love this man. Despite heavy rain, he sat reading his paper while droplets poured down. I was impressed and full of giggles in equal parts.

Cheat Day. All day. Mwah ha ha. Let the chocolate games begin.

You couldn’t get two more different cats than at our new house-sit. Relaxed docile teddy bear Charlie and intelligent panther Squiggy. We’ve arrived pretty much in the middle of nowhere on the Warwickshire border at Charlie and Squiggy’s house. Two boy cats. They’re hunters 🙄 (there’s a mouse still hiding in the house somewhere). We’re near a fair few towns and going to Oxford tomorrow to meet an old friend. Yay.

Transitioning between places can be a little stressful and disorientating but I like to focus on the beauty I see round the place. It keeps me grounded. This evening the birdsong was deep and velvety and the air thick with dewy damp scents. The area is green and lush with flowers.

Through arriving here and leaving bustling Dartmouth I’ve realised how much I’m now missing the vibe of being around lots of people. I’ve realised how much I love the community and vibrancy of a populated area and how I’m moving away from enjoying the solitary life of countryside living. In the meantime, whilst learning more lessons like these and finishing a year’s worth of countryside housesits (I know, the irony), I’m going to get as fit and strong as possible and concentrate on my development and purpose. Dances will be danced and kitchen floors will be polished as I demi-pointe and shimmy across them. Tonight I flexed my hips again, got back into the rhythm and remembered how much my body and tummy muscles love to move. I’m going to be the best version of myself here in no-man’s land and when the city’s ready to call me back, I’ll be there.

Staying in Devon means you gotta love hills. I don’t, but I do them anyway 🙄 My lazy lizard brain yawns going up. Any reasonable communication shuts down when I see one too steep. I become a dramatic, flustered child. Part from exhaustion, part from exasperation (why are we doing this again exactly?). And under no circumstances can Simon make me laugh. Sometimes it’s better if he doesn’t talk at all because if I get the giggles (he’s usually saying something funny), I could be stranded half way up a hill, in fits of laughter, with no strength to carry on walking up or down. It’s always fun, especially when I reach the top.

The Yum Tower of Nom Nom. Low carb diets open you up to a world a juicy veg, ancient grains and crunchy smokin’ nuts.

Oh Dartmouth, how you woo me with your cobbled streets, sparkling sea and sexy french lingerie shop. I’m energised just being here in your happy, chilled out vibe. Tomorrow the wind brings new change but today, it’s you and me and the endless possibilities baby.

I love this mis-mash mountain of moss. Surviving sufficiently on gutter water. Enjoying living in a posh Dartmouth street. Left alone to do is own thing. Brilliant.

Wild flowers growing in walls are one of my favourite things.

Little tears well up in my eyes as I see beauty and struggle. The little girl who runs to her daddy to be picked up and cuddled in a warm embrace, the strapping young man with the beautiful beard who gets up from his seat and walks away on two prosthetic limbs, the bench where I sit with a sweet, loving memory from the past. I’m seeing life and I’m both terrified and elated by it.

Best vibe in town.

This is my dad. He’s not around anymore. He became actual stardust eight years ago. I’d been preparing for him to leave since I was thirteen. His health wasn’t great even back then but the sparkle in his eye shone through for another twenty years. He was a hard worker. Even in hospital I remember him on his laptop, designing magazine pages with nurses fussing and tutting over him. He worked for himself and had deadlines to keep. This was my dad. He wore a tie to work even though he worked from home. He was interested in technology. He could make the TV area look like a server room with wires and cables protruding from every machine’s input/output/scart plug/hole available. He loved recording in long play. He could get four films on one videotape. He would often miss the beginning of films so I grew up never seeing the beginning of The Goonies or Back to the Future. He introduced me to a light pen, an MSX, Theme Hospital and The Secretary. He drove me to Greece. He loved card games. He taught me Chase The Button. He played cricket with me. He was the baddie to my She-Ra. He talked about astronomy. He read books. He adored buying them in charity shops. He wore at least two pairs of reading glasses at a time and had a third in his back pocket that he often sat on. He told fine funny stories which made everyone laugh. I called him everyday from uni for a whole year. I felt like his best friend as well as his daughter. He looked like Albert Einstein. At one point he thought I’d joined a cult and gaily wrote to his friend about it, I found a copy of that letter a few years ago.

Today I drunk a strong black coffee for him as I serendipitously sat where he sat when I made him come to a vegetarian restaurant for my birthday. My dad, who told me there were more stars in the sky than grains of sand in all the deserts and beaches in all the world, what a brilliant, loveable devil of a man you were.

Water Magic

Staying at The Captain’s Cabin in Dartmouth, Devon. It’s a special place to us. A favourite home. We’re here to make the most of all the magical goodness, friendly people and wonderful coastline Dartmouth has to offer. This week is all about fresh sea air and mischief making.

So in love with these anemones.

You know those walks that are half hearted to begin with - you’re cold, lethargic, bored, hungry and want to be anywhere except here? Then they turn out to be epic, wonderful and full of magic because you slayed all your self defeating ideas and opinions. This was one of those.

Thank you for helping with the packing Catto. I know, it’s very tiring isn’t it.

I’ve become mildly obsessed with this video Dancing Pupper and the song. Now the rhythm is firmly planted and makes me giggle all time. I think Simon secretly loves me bursting into renditions of it round the house, making up my own lyrics 🤣 📷

I love spending time in The New Forest. I feel happy and at home. A soft lushness permeates the air and there’s something about seeing wild animals roaming free that brings me peace.

Day 7. New Forest belly dancing. Off road, in nature, sunrays through the clouds, wind blowing gently. It was a good dance. The ponies appreciated it. I’m enjoying the last couple of days here before the winds change and we move on.

Day 6. Had not one teaspoon of energy left last night to write about my dance. I didn’t even watch American Gods on the huge posh tv. This was serious exhaustion (in a good way) 😊 My dance was serene, strong, muscle engaging. My legs lifted higher, my waist was tight. I was able to hone in on particular parts of my tummy muscles. I have muscles down there wooo! I’m getting my shimmer on yeeeeehaaaa! I did simple things like dance from room to room - this used to feel unstable. I would wobble on my legs, perhaps bang into something. I’m moving through space now like I own it. I own my legs, my feet, my odd bits, my struggles. I’m owning them and slaying the old and flip me I feel fantastic. This, along with the low carb diet is taking me to places I’ve never been before and I’m dedicated to seeing the new me. Fav song Knight Riderz - Matrix and Future Bound ❤️ That’s a shakey booty song if ever I heard one 😊