I got my hair cut. By Johnny Scissorz. Ooo that name! I love hairdressers with Instagram accounts of their creations. It’s so useful. In the past, I’ve ended up with some weird ass haircuts in even weirder assed salons. Now at least I know what I’m getting myself into. I’m hap.

Since I’m in York. In the buzz. I’ll be frequenting coffee shops. I’ll be writing in the outside world. This is a new experience. I used to read in coffee shops. Now I write. I’ve gotta say it, I feel kinda cool. With my silver shiny Chromebook. Sipping coffee. Writing down ideas. Living my purpose. Especially now I’ve had my haircut (pics later). I always wanted to be one of those people. Working. Drinking coffee. Looking like they’ve got their creative shit together. Now here I am.

First up is Daughter Cafe. Big windows, lots of light, tasty coffee, pleasant enough. Only thing is, if I’d know I’d be breathing in the fumes of cooking bacon the whole time, I wouldn’t have stayed. It’s not my thing. So a separate kitchen or at least an open door is essential. Coolness vibe has gone down dramatically. Luckily a coffee can be drunk extremely fast where I’m concerned so I’m about to vacate into the fresh air. Byeeee.

A Walk in York

I explored the streets of London a fair bit in my 20s. Headphones on. Listening to an amazing soundtrack. I’d walk all over the city. It was flat and even ground. The best kind for me. I’d admire fine art in the National Gallery, take in the grand architecture and bright lights of Piccadilly and get intoxicated by the retro vibe of Camden Town. I’d sit in churches and parks. I’d watch caricature artists in Leicester Square. I loved people watching. I loved being in the vibe.

Then I left. Got older. Lost my mojo. Lost my soundtrack.

Today it came back. This time walking the streets of York. I felt nostalgic. I was 20 again. There’s something special about walking in a beautiful city with the music you love. Nowhere to go. No-one to meet. Just you. Exploring. With gorgeous music and curious eyes. That’s freedom.

The dnb soundtrack energised my spirit. I’ve made a playlist with all the tracks that get me moving. That have the most exquisite melodies and beats. At points on my walk my dancing arms just had to come out to play. My dancing legs made an entrance too. Usually at traffic lights. I felt life running through this city. I’ve missed that. I lived in the countryside for a long time and used the car to get everywhere. It could be physically hard for me to walk the countryside paths too so I wasn’t into long walks over hills and valleys. I always loved the fresh air. I loved the solitude too. Up until recently.

Now I’m entering a new phase in my life. Gone are the days of being introverted. I’m no longer a she-bear, hibernating in her cave. I’m looking around. Making connections. Getting curious. Basking in the buzz. Today, just out the front door I was walking along river banks, under bridges, past geese, over cobbles. There were people and cyclists and smells and life. Half an hour later I found myself in a Yorkshire tearoom where I bought a florentine. Bonus!

So I’m breathing in this city with gratitude. The magic of the river running through it nourishes my soul. Its historic streets sing of history and stories and adventure. I’m on top of the world right now. I’m awakened. My London adventures are back V2.0. This time York style with my 39 ¾ yr old booty taking up the pace.

Day 22 - There’s familiar power now. I’m grounded and centred. I used to wobble and walk the tightrope each day. Not anymore. I’m balanced. I’ve new strength. I’m able bodied. I dance for my future. It’ll keep me alive.

Stay - Delta Heavy (Maduk remix) is the song of the hour.

Travel continued…Dad made a travel documentary of our road trip so I had to be on my best behaviour on screen. I walked down steps in boring old ruins trying to look at least midly interested. At 8 yrs old and without a playmate, this could be fairly challenging. I walked across city plazas trying to look elated when really all I wanted to do was find the ice-cream shop (obviously). So there were still many moments of looking grumpy and uncooperative with a few poked out tongues that had to be edited out. Grown ups could be sooo boring. Technologically, Dad was pretty advanced back then (1989) and carried a camcorder complete with VCR recording equipment. It must have weighed a ton. Not to mention all the wires. He was known for the amount of wires he could use at any one time.

I’m recalling a moment in St Mark’s Square, Venice where I was let loose with a bag of seed and a thousand pigeons. They were on my head, my shoulders, flapping all over me. I didn’t get pooped on thank goodness. Bonus for mum. I’m also recalling a particularly fine chocolate crepe around that area and a fun gondola ride where mum ended up buying the gondolier’s hat.

Some of my most fond travel memories link back to friends I met and connections I made along the way. I had a crush on a Dutch boy on a cruise aged ten (I can’t believe he went off with Cheryl). There was a whole gang of us who’d run round the ship causing mischief, hang out in the deserted cinema or play fruit machines in the casino during the day.

I went on a coach holiday to Spain. The coach would become a giant den for all the kids to play in and all the people would become toys to mess around with and talk to. I developed a habit of pretending to be asleep around other children on that coach. I loved tricking them. I have no idea why. It could last for what seemed like hours until I did actually end up falling asleep. Children play the funniest games with themselves. I met a four year old boy who knew the make and model of every single car we passed on the road. Back then I had no idea about cars so I found it fascinating.

I’m just remembering how forthright my mum was on that holiday too. We’d stopped at a service station and there was a huge queue for the ladies. So mum decided she wasn’t going to wait and bundled me, with her hand over my eyes, into the men’s toilets. Into a cubicle. What a woman. The men must have freaked out!

Lefkas in Greece was a place of happiness for me. Along with the fact that it had chocolate flavoured Mr Whippy ice-cream, I also had good times riding on the back of a motorbike with a local fisherman. I’ll always remember that exciting, adrenaline filled moment. Without a hemet on. Eeeek. I met a local family there, who ran a gift shop. They said I could choose anything I wanted from the shop. Bizarrly I had a premonition that this would happen the evening before. I think I was so overwhelmed that it had come true, I said they could choose for me (even though I was coveting a very 80s looking elegant white china hand holding a feathered pom pom). I got a dog dinosaw instead complete with pink wig.

I became fond of the lady who ran the clothing and jewelry shop. I would spend hours in there with her. Soula was her name. She would pretend to be the customer and I would serve her. I loved being in charge, sitting behind the counter and taking the money. I especially loved wrapping the little gifts up in little bags and sticking sellotape on them. She had a tape dispenser. I felt grown up.

Aww. Just looked out the window and saw Georgie sitting next to a squirrel having a chat. What a sweet sight.

Rose water high.

He wasn’t hungry in fact and just wanted to hang out. Aww.

Can’t get enough of the lil flying furry beans today. I’m surrounded by delicious herbal aromas too. Heaven is happening right here.

A bee in thyme ☘️🐝☘️

Since becoming more nimble and light footed I’ve wanted to do short sprints on walks. Not for long. But there’s something exhilarating about those moments, lost in the pace.

I’ve been told I have dinosaur arms when I run (The T-Rex kind). I look a bit puppety. I’ve tried making fists but it doesn’t feel right. I think I’m too much of a dancer now. Clenching my fists feels like I’m stopping energy from being released. As I run, I can’t help but open my hands and stretch my arms in all kinds of ways. I love to release energy through my fingertips.

I remember being in the gym, on the treadmill. I had a mirror in front of me and some banging tunes in my ears. I was really getting into it. I could feel my arms becoming restless. Wanting to move. Wanting to reach around their space. Before I knew it, they were in the air. I was running and pumping and bouncing my ass (and arms) off. It felt powerful.

I saw someone do this in a supermarket once. Headphones on, in the tea aisle, he must have been listening to something epic because he was dancing down that aisle like a diva. I loved his freedom to be able to do it. It made me smile. Supermarket Dance

So if you see someone in a park, running with their arms pumping the air, or their hands floating in space, that’ll be me, in my element, listening to an incredibly uplifting tune. Having it large. Feeling free.

Cheat day. 12 hrs early. I bought baklava today. There’s no way a box of baklava would remain unopen for long. We didn’t eat them all. Instead we cut little slivers off and appreciated each and every morsel. Each and every sweet flake. Now we can do it again tomorrow too yay!

What a special pond. Bursting out with life as birds sing. What a special rose. Bursting out with scent as raindrops fall.

Day 21 - I danced. I moved. I pumped my toned arms through air. I realised how much extra power I could make if I focused on putting my heels on the ground more when I bounce and move. Heels are important. I’ve never really made use of mine. I have ‘equine’ feet - walking like a horse, with little heel strike. There’s a lot of power and balance that comes from ‘planting’ on the earth, heel first. It stretches out the calve muscles and sends energy to other parts of the body. I can feel the difference it makes to my whole body now. I’m going to practise this more.

My new mirror is the glass of an elegant bookcase. I watched my body energetically flow like I was watching someone else with really cool rhythms and grooves. But it was me. I’m becoming! I felt confident in space. I didn’t wobble around like I used to on weak legs. I slowed down and explored fascia and muscle knots. I helped them relax and pop. I incorporated weights into my dance. There were some 5kg dumbbells nearby. I held them steady and honed my back and shoulder muscles. I’ve got toned strength going on in there. I’m getting me a fine sacred temple of power to live in. Yeah!

Then I ate a fish.

And my whole body sang with the nourishment it gave me. Thank you lovely fish. Thank you for helping my body to strengthen and bloom. You are part of me now. I honour you.

The song that sent me soaring, I’ve mentioned before. Friction - Freak - feat Josh Barry. His voice is smooth and full of soul and passion. And the beat makes me explode into stars.

Georgie Porgie.

Dear sweet catto snuck into our room to curl up on the bed whilst we were out. We only know because of the lovely warm patch he left. Well done catto for being braver around the house. He’s a bit of a scardy cat and sticks to his own space usually.

If there was a way to live in these flowers, I absolutely and wholeheartedly would move in. I’d also feel closer to Dr Seuss.

Experienced Catto sought for top notch cuddles, perfect purrs and delightful company.

Excellent benefits will be bestowed upon the successful candidate - High quality food, catto massage, supreme bed linen, a supply of organic premium catnip, various toys, beautiful outdoor space, peaceful surroundings.

If you have the following qualifications please apply within.

Essential criteria:

• Must be a relaxed catto.
• Be friendly and affectionate to everyone.
• Be happy lounging on laps.
• Be happy having extensive tummy tickles.
• Enjoy being held like a baby.
• Love their ears being fondled, kissed and sniffed.
• Keep their bottoms clean.
• Like snuggles in bed.
• Wipe wet paws before getting into bed.
• Must toilet outside, away from flower beds.
• Enjoy a chat.
• Must not purr loudly all night on the pillow.
• Be willing to sleep in (no 5am wake up calls).
• Enjoy loud dance music.
• Not bring furry prey into the house.
• Never catch birds.
• Never spray in the house. Ever.

Desirable:

• Be willing to learn to dance with human companion.
• Be interested in going on long walks.
• Be willing to undertake some training.
• Prefer the candidate not to jump on doors.
• Prefer a catto who’s kind to all animals.

Mmmm lovely bird song. What you didn’t hear after I stopped recording was the monumental squawking from the many crows living nearby too.

There’s so much to explore here. I never knew how cycle friendly York was. There are cycle paths everywhere into the heart of the city. Through lush woods full of bird song. Over architecturally stimulating bridges. I love this place more and more.

Oh golly. I’ve always wanted to try one of these on 😃

Housesitting is a wonderful lifestyle choice. I love it in nearly all ways. The travel, the exploration, the discovery, the change, new houses, new design ideas, meeting new cats. Almost everything is positive and exciting. The area I struggle with most is the physical act of packing up all our stuff, putting said stuff in the car - a moderately sized car - making it fit, making things that could get squashed not get squashed and doing all this to a time scale.

I’ve realised I can get stressed with my companion during this period. For no other reason than that I feel under pressure. A pressure I give to myself. He’s a meticulous packer. He looks after his things. Everything always looks new. He’s thoughtful and considered and cares about his belongings. I’m more of a ‘push it in until no more will fit’ kind of gal. Sometimes I feel like ramming things, though I only think about ramming in my head. I’ve learnt from experience that one does not ram.

I don’t fully consider things like he does - ie - the consequences. I like to just get on and get going. I start off well and orderly, then finish off with a general stuffing technique. This can result in a squished box or a scuffed shoe. Sometimes I pack a few things, then he unpacks them because he’s found something that’s being squished and damaged. Even though I know he’s right and it’s the sensible thing to do, the idea of taking things out of the car when they’re already in there freaks me out. And I get annoyed. On the inside. It feels like we haven’t got time. Even though we have, usually.

So I want to make it easier. I want to be more organised. I want to have the right tools. So nothing gets squished and everything slots into place. I want to have such an incredibly organised car that people admire our packing tools and capabilities. Gone will be the shoes in plastic bags, randomly slotted in all over the car. Say hello to our new plastic shoe box all neat and tidy and in its place. Goodbye massive plastic bag full of heavy condiment bottles (how many soy sauces do I actually need? Definitely not four), hello lovely new plastic food box, easily stacked, slotting in nicely. This is the way forward. Boxes that slot. I’m truly excited. By the end of our York house-sit I will be The Box Queen. If only my 20 year old self could see me now. I used to be The Bag Lady in university so I’d say things were improving immensely.

Yesterday I saw a podiatrist called Holly. She made my feet feel happier. She removed hard skin that comes from my individual weight bearing style. She had a look at my athlete’s foot which is quite sore but slowly getting better through diet, friendly bacteria and listerine foot soaks. It’s been a bit hard to walk because my usually stronger foot is now the sorer of the two. I think it’s arisen because I’m cleansing and usually when you cleanse and eat more simply (ie without sugar everyday), old stuff comes up and needs to be expelled. So I’m slaying it and it’ll leave me soon and won’t be welcomed back.

I might call on Holly to do a biomechanical assessment of my gait and balance points. Maybe I’ll get some insoles. Maybe she’ll conclude that my feet are better off left to their own devices. It’s good to get opinions on my enigmatic legs (that’s what the orthopedic surgeon told me they were).

I told her about my own conclusion as to why I walk the way I do. That when I was a little one and in frog plaster, my brain and hips lost connectivity with each other because I had surgery and didn’t walk or weight bear on my legs for an extended period. Holly said this was right. When people have injuries or pain in certain areas, their brains drop connection and reroute into other areas so as not to feel pain anymore. Bodies are great at adapting. Therefore, my brain learnt that in order to walk, my back had to play more of a central role in the process and my hips lost their place (and their suppleness) in the sequence of how I stood and moved. They were so down the list I haven’t been able to feel them working up until recently.

That’s why bellydance is so good for me. It gets me engaging with my hips. It gets my brain saying ‘hello hippos’ down there. I feel it. I feel the progress. I feel my whole posture changing as a result of my hips getting more attention. Bellydance moves rock! And roll too. Rolling feels amazing. That’s when you engage the abdominal wall and make it do things you never even knew were possible.