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Archive for January, 2015

I’ve got lots of plans for 2015, and due to a slightly obsessive planning streak I’ve undoubtedly been spending a disproportionate amount of time thinking about goals. I have three major ones for this year; the house (“Number 26”, which is such a big goal, I’ve decided to chronicle my adventure on it over here), nurturing my creative side by dancing more, learning to play my uke, and generally playing when I can, and running and evolving and running the New Year’s Resolution Club for 2015. But despite my big goals for the year, there is one elusive goal that has fluttered into my sights on more than one occasion and for some reason has always escaped me. The early rise.

I am most definitely not a morning person. But I would love to be one more than anything in the world. I’ve tried in the past to rise early but the call of the warm duvet suddenly turns up the dial on gravity and I am physically unable to swing my legs out of bed. It’s just never stuck. I am, instead, a night owl. Often staying up late into the night reading on my Kindle with my little light in the darkness, him on the pillow next to me groaning and rolling away “turn OFF that light”, as I retreat under the covers to keep reading…

I’ve planned all the things I’ll do in the morning. Time to meditate, time to stretch, time to dance or hoop, time to write, time to cook or prepare a breakfast (even just a boiled egg), time to enjoy getting ready in the morning, pack my bags, time to walk or cycle to work (rather than running to the bus). Time to get all those self-nurturing things done before I start my day. I do love the mornings when I am up, the serenity of it all. That beautiful stillness before the world properly wakes. And the sunrise.

So today I took a day off work, to get some of those things done that I don’t have time in the mornings to do, and I took one of my favourite strolls across the park to our local library. Here I piled books high into my arms before heading back to light the fire and settle down for a cosy afternoon. One of the books was Life Lessons from the Monk Who Sold his Ferrari, as as I was flicking through the lessons, the book fell open at this page…

Page on Early Rising

I’m taking it as a message. I can do this. I am going to beat the “Battle of the Bed” by putting my “Mind over Mattress” and, according to the “monk”, it will:

  • Reduce my stress levels
  • Give me more “me time” – doing the things I love (maybe NOT playing the uke or tap dancing!)
  • Allow me to use my mind when it’s at it’s best (apparently!)

So the advice is to be patient – it doesn’t happen quickly – I need to give myself time, so I’m going to try this in February and see how it works out. It’s a new habit I need to allow to settle in. And it will be difficult and perhaps a little stressful, so I’m ready for that. I also have to be careful to not go to bed late, not read in bed, not eat after 8pm and not watch TV an hour before bed.

Phew. OK, here we go, the night owl is about to try and catch the worm….

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fireplaceBaby, it’s cold outside. And inside. We moved into our new house just under 3 months ago, and there is a lot to do. It’s a project, a do-er upper, a one-day dream house. One of the reasons that we managed to secure a house with such potential on a fab street in our amazing city is because of all the work that needed doing. And that included a serious lack in central heating. So it’s been a fairly mild winter so far, we thought we’d got away with it, but the cold snap seems to be snap snapping at our heels at the moment, and the house is getting cold…

So, it was time to get the chimney sweep in, he came last week with his special sweep contraptions and cleared our two downstairs fireplaces, and then we hit the local junk shop to get ourselves kitted out with fire-building paraphernalia…

And since then we have been perfecting the roaring fire. With all the joy it brings. Chopping logs, drying logs, de-slugging logs. Building pyramids of kindling, stacking up the coals, getting the core temperature up, and then, watching it burn. It’s a beautiful, memorizing thing. We sit and watch it, literally for hours. The flames jumping and crackling up the chimney. That deep orange glow of the coals. And the beautiful heat that it brings with it, although not able to warm up the whole of the house, certainly makes our downstairs living room cosy. I can shut my eyes and feel the heat against my face, and transport myself to a sunny beach a million miles away, away from that cold snap and the long English winter.

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