A strange, but lovely week.

Cannot tell you how enveloped with the pride at managing the second week of ‘Couch to 5K’ and the soothing voice of Sarah Millican, though I think I may require physiotherapy quite soon.  This is the body of the 60 something – there is the fortitude and strong belief, and then there is the reality of wanting to, from sloth to super marathon, in isolation syndrome.

It is a syndrome, like the Stockholm syndrome;  the angst and terror has become an intimate bond of small spaces and the real desire to ‘begin again’ – clear all, delete all and gather the threads.  Finding half embroidered project abandoned years ago – shall finish that.  Open the puzzle (did so with great fever) – if I can manage one piece per day, quite chauffed.  All these things being rather attached to becoming unattached, it is a syndrome.  One good thing though, as the Hag is slowly transforming into Corona Syndrome of coping, calculating and blah, am no longer succumbing to all day and night attire, or flicking the edge of the duvet in an illogical attempt to convince myself ‘what does it matter anyway.’  The hair is now balayage – am not going gray with threads of luscious platinum – it’s murky mordor with follicles of grey on the top and remnants of burlesque blond at the bottom. And I am getting used to it. Go figure, I haven’t lamented about the lack of salon once – except for the waxing.

I digress.  I am doing well, as I am sure you are.  I am also about to run out of wine again and the restriction on that front is a mirage, enough said.  There are ways and then there is always pineapple beer – if I can do the hair, I can ferment something in the garage. Depends of the level of mania.

One of the more fetching activities over the past few weeks, has been the restoration of my slither of a garden.  For want of any garden centre open, I have been talking (yes, we know) and coaxing my roses to what is now a shower of white blooms throughout.  Summer splendour. Was I not too acutely aware of how boring photos of single blooms are (little like some food photos) I would present my pretties.  Gardening and Spring.  Hence Monet’s garden. The book was bought there on my first visit in 2007 and I have been back for more.  Longing for the repeat.

Another, ‘The English Garden’ by Peter Coats.  At least twenty years old.  I have so many gardening books and always dreamed of owning one, with borders and a kitchen garden, how about you?  This has not turned out to be (though I still dream) and it does not lessen my love for visiting others.  It’s about the ethereal beauty of creating and taming nature. Ethereal beauty.  Makes me happy.

What else inspired me this week.  A few links you may enjoy.

  • Of course, a little gardening to begin with.  Love Alan Titchmarsh and Country Life has offers some of his wisdom.
  • Passionate crush on Peonies, and yes, more gardening advice from The English Garden, on how to grow them.
  • Do you know about the National Garden Scheme?  These are private gardens, some offering B&B options and if you love gardens, make a plan to see some in England.  Enjoy the virtual tours of some of the most stunning on show.
  • Longing for Paris? Afar will help you be a Parisian in the lockdown (not so much comfort) of your own home. Viva all those croissants.
  • Talking Paris? David Lebovitz will help you create a bar in your own home.  Look for his virtual classes on his website. Love his journey to Paris and making a new life, his own way.
  • Setting the background to a groundhog, lockup day. Hip Paris.

Is it  all about gardening and Paris? C’est vrai.  These are the happy places, the garden and a memory trip to Paris.  Been a week of real frustration, then feeling bad about being frustrated because so many are worse off, and then being frustrated because, at sixty, life has a few more chapters and I feel as if I am in limbo in one.

We are all in limbo. We are all feeling fragile and lost. Strange times indeed.  But is this not the perfect time to also take stock of that long … yes … long life and go … ain’t done yet, and plan.  Perhaps for the first time you are putting yourself first? Going for the make or break? Changing what you think was a given to a bust up of set things?

It has been a strange week indeed. Angry, annoyed, anxious but so worth buckling down to change.  For in the fear, the lack of fear is the one true thing we can give ourselves.  It is a gift to dream, and not fear if all is still out there.  Take care of yourself, give yourself a break and dream.  No matter where you are now … you owe it to yourself to dream, be it a trip to Paris, a lovely garden, friends and family and getting off that couch. You are worth more …fyi … you are here.  Where to tomorrow?

Let’s see and go there. My homework is done, I have passed (albeit with maybe not the best marks) but nothing like a little lockdown to fuel the ambition.

Take care …