I felt as if I was in an altered version of Bambi this afternoon with some added cattitude. A herd of deer grazed in the buttercup field as I danced. Their little white tails bobbing and swishing. They walked then galloped across the paddock like school children running across the playground behind their teacher. One brave doe lead the way. The male took the rear then realised he was being left behind so had to warm his hooves up to catch up.

Thumper hopped on by with his own bobbing tail in the air to graze alongside them. I was waiting for Flower the skunk to turn up too when things began to occur inside the house with the cats. A huge dead squirrel lay in the hallway brought in by a formidable apricot coloured cat. He’s got some guts has Leo, taking on a squirrel. They’ve got a bite on them.

Outside, baby birds twittered and followed their mothers round begging for food and fluttering their little wings like they were having a dance off with themselves. And one lone cat, the gentle quiet Cookie, slunk away to the stables to get some peace and quiet from the boys and have her daily counsel with the horses.

Update - Tonight we rescued a darling little frog who found itself trapped in the conservatory being circled by two cats. Its little squeaks drew me in and I went into protection mode guarding it from danger. Now it’s outside, hopefully on its way back home. Goodbye little froggy, may you be safe from harm this night.

Day 19 - Sat down to start writing and a favourite song came on and I got a second wind. Woo! Quite exhausted now. In a good way. I feel like fat is shedding faster these days and tone is coming around my chest, ribs and shoulders. I’m becoming leaner up there.

Each day my posture aligns a little more and my body basks in new strength. The dance gives me vigour. My body is calling out for it - I do more dance - I get more aligned - I feel more power. Dance is making me stand up straighter. Stand up higher. Dance is giving me balance. This physical change is unreal after so many years of unhealthy suffering.

I’m finding my posture and losing my belly. I don’t look pregnant anymore. The shape of my body is changing. I’m never going back. To oblivion. To ignorance. Me and my gorgeously strong and sassy body are here to stay. Dance is my key to freedom.

Get a room boys 🙄

Brotherly Love

Fine specimens of yummy kissable ears.

Thank you Buzz for you ideas on punctuation. I will bear them in mind. No I don’t think we should put any more rude words about your brother in here. Yes I know he bit your bottom this morning and I’m sorry about that.

There’s something about cat’s ears that make them lush to kiss. They’re soft and springy, smell of sweet and comfort, have extra fluffy tufts where the ear meets the fur and my lips feel happy and nourished. Buzz seems to enjoy it too so I need no more encouragement than that.

After reading this article about high heels I thought about my own love for them as a kid, trying mum’s on when I could. I felt cool. And high. Then as an adult, I realised my feet (and body) didn’t like them. Have you ever tried walking in flip flop high heels? I have. Impossible.

Day 18 - I look in the mirror now and see health. I look in the mirror now and see strength. I look in the mirror now and see a sassy dancer dancing back at me. I’m so deeply connected to the beat, the rhythm, the passion. I’m soaring. The song - Into the Fire - Kove, Folly Rae.

I’m a sucker for green eyes. Cats or humans. Maybe not snakes though. They’re a bit too dangerous for my liking. I wouldn’t want to get hypnotised 😃

Most photogenic cat ever? Quite possibly.

Travel featured lots as I grew up. Dad was in the travel industry so doing deals with hotels and tourist boards in different parts of the world was normal. We got to explore. We had lots of adventures. Here I remember a few.

As usual, my most fond travel memories relate to food. Lefkas in Greece gave me amazing chocolate and vanilla Mr Whippy ice-creams, Montreal showered me with giant multi-coloured bubblegums, Boston introduced me to excessive amounts of donuts and pancakes (so did Egypt for that matter). I think I went to heaven right there when I discovered my first Dunkin Donut shop - we never had anything like that in the UK back then. I got delicious homemade lemon ice-lollies at the Acropolis (so needed in the sweltering 40 degree heat), and super posh orange juice and madeira cake in a swanky hotel on the island. Travel was great for a tummy like mine.

We went on a road-trip to Greece. It took us six weeks. I remember fast driving along hairpin roads through the Dolomites to catch a ferry (we missed it) and mum threatening to leave dad because he’d flirted with a French lady and taken a cigarette from her when she offered. He was supposed to have given up. I ate a lot of cans of tuna and fresh tomatoes on that trip. Mum had a whole crate of them in the boot. I remember my mum arguing (in English) with a watermelon salesman in Italy at the side of the road because she thought 1000 lire was too much (it wasn’t, it just sounds it, poor guy). I also remember reading a lot of Roald Dahl on that trip instead of looking out of the window at the beautiful scenery.

My parents put up with a lot from me really. Apparently I tripped over at the side of a famous cathedral in Milan and mum said we all had to go back to the car. I can’t believe dad agreed when all he wanted to do was go and see the front of it. Talk about being under the thumb. He would tease us about that in later years - the cathedral he nearly saw.

In a Danish hotel at breakfast I got overzealous with the muesli, enjoying the sensation of it cascading into my bowl spoon after spoon. Fast forward and I had a whole pile of it in there and then decided I didn’t actually like it. I can remember dad’s face now, scowling, shoveling muesli sawdust into his mouth so as not to appear rude or ungrateful for the host’s hospitality. I don’t think I’d ever seen him eat so dramatically before. I learnt my lesson. Don’t like muesli. Definitely don’t like upsetting dad.

I remember police turning up at our apartment in Cyprus because mum had taken photos of an army base and they’d tracked us down and confiscated the films. They thought we were spies ha! I also remember sleepwalking to the end of the bed, peeing, and then climbing back in and going back to sleep. The next day I asked, did that actually happen? Yes. It did.

Silver linings. Don’t you just love them.

What a stunner.

I love the little ones at the back popping up and singing ‘hellooooo’.

Ever since I was little, I’ve adored the colours pink and purple. I was obsessed with keyrings, dolls, clothes, flowers in those colours and wore them often. My eyes felt happy when I looked at them. They made everything look perfect.

Then I grew up and became a teenager and everything went black. For years. Black hair, black clothes, black stuff. It was slimming I told myself. I looked unassuming. I didn’t want to be noticed. Maybe I wanted to disappear into my own shadow.

Then I became a hippy. Hung out in hippy communities, thought hippy things, sang and danced in a hippy way and was at one with everything. And my pink and purple re-emerged again, as bright as ever and I was thrilled about it. I could be a rainbow fairy again. I spent the next ten years tripping everyone out with my clothing choices. What colour would I wear today (it was always coordinated, I couldn’t bare colour clashes)? Would I have sparkles on my face? It made everyone happy, especially the kids in the school where I worked.

Now I’m enjoying a more simplistic appearance after my shift last year. I cut my hair, I gave my sparkles away, I welcomed in trousers and went minimal with black and grey tones - completely the opposite colours to what I used wear (I would once have screwed my nose up at wearing grey). I was inspired by Charlize Theron’s character as the bad-ass spy in Atomic Blonde. She was smart, sassy and sexy (and fought very well too). Colour is still there, I just can’t see me in a purple fairy outfit anytime soon.

I love these changes. I love not being stuck in certain patterns of behaviour. I love shaking things up. It’s good to remember that nothing lasts so enjoy it while it’s there. Go crazy, make wild choices, make people smile. Hide if you need to, enjoy the attention if you don’t.

I still love pink and purple. Now I admire their hues in flowers and it makes the bees look even more beautiful. 🐝🐝🌺🌺🌸🌸

My helpful garden companions follow me round, hang out while I water and take in the sunny breeze. They’re delightful company. I’m so lucky. It’s lovely. They’re super Zen. They chill, they sniff, they lie, they get the zoomies. Anything goes. Living in the present.

Purple pom pom flowers and bright fuzzy bees are a match made in heaven.

I’ve reintroduced cider vinegar into my morning routine. It’s a powerful cocktail taken in warm water, with coconut oil and a bit of honey. Still working on the volume of vinegar as yesterday it blew my throat up. When it’s just right, it feels like a special healing elixir. Sometimes, when I’m feeling extra brave I add a sprinkling of cayenne in too.

Day 17 - here we goooo! Something majorly profound happened in my dance today. I felt new sensations I’ve never felt before. I felt my CALVES. I could feel muscles tightening. Itty bitty sinews engaging. I was focusing on ‘Showgirl’ moves (one heal slightly raised and hip moving out to the same side - imagine seductively hailing a cab) when I sensed strength in my leg rather than numbness. Woah hello leg! You feel new and improved. Welcome.

They’re finally awake. Bring out the champagne. Ring a set of glorious golden bells. I can feel my calves. By Jove I nearly wept but instead I kept on dancing. Damn I feel strong. My posture is incredible. I’ve gained an inch in height. Everything’s coming together to make my life better than it’s ever been before. Yeeeehaaaaa.

This picture was taken when I’d finished some sit ups. Cookie loves me being horizontal. She zoomed over to give me her affection and received lots back in return. She’s such a darling little thing.

I’m really grateful for the musical journey I’m on. It’s helping me connect with my body and spirit. The spirit of movement. It started with trance, went harder, went softer, went slower and now it’s dancing to a different dnb beat with rhythmic explosions, passionate singing, cosmic trance vibes and full on stomp round the room industrial samples. I adore this process. It’s like my body is grinding and grounding down into the earth, playing with gravity, touching things and reaching places that have never been reached before. I adore discovering what I’m capable of and I couldn’t do it without the eclectic musical mix. Thank you creators and producers. You are part of my radical healing. I wonder what I’ll discover next.

The song today (I’ve had it on loads) - Stand High - Mind Vortex, Daniela.

Leo lovely, I wish, how I wish, you could always be kind to everyone you met, especially your ancient Auntie Cookie, rather than the demanding, clawing, bullying butt hole you sometimes turn into.

OOooo that was a lovely sleep. Thank you Holly for providing me with your snuggly clean shirt to lie on. It was all soft and warm for my sweet furry head to rest on. Think I’ll get up now…

Actually…maybe I’ll catch a few more winks. I’ll be up for dinner. Zzzzzzzz.

I have dyscalculia. Of lyrics.

All my life I’ve never quite been able to hear words in songs. I hear about one in every six though it depends on the singer’s vocal style. Now I look back at some of the lyrics and I think, my goodness, I had no idea that’s what they were singing about.

A beautiful melodic song, so sweet in its delivery can turn out to have not particularly nice lyrics. Sometimes dark. Sometimes derogatory. Then I’m torn because now I know, do I really want to fill my brain with negative stuff? I’m still deciding what I think about a Radiohead song I’m covering. It hasn’t got the brightest of lyrics but the melody is what attracted me to it in the first place all those years ago. It’s such a beautiful lament.

Melodies and beats are the way I connect with songs primarily and then anything I understand past that is a bonus (or not). Maybe I’m like it because I mostly listened to classical music as a kid.

I only just found out that Miss Hannigan in the musical Annie had a bathtub full of illegal gin. I thought it was water 😂