Bikram begins again.

Have just come in from yoga.
Arrived a little early in Balham so I bought some provisions from a Halal meat shop. I love the blokes in there. Its like a club in Karachi, not that I’ve ever been to Karachi but had I been I think it would be like a club in Karachi high street.
I bought fresh spinach and massive tomatoes. Huge avocados and two handfuls of ochre. I’ll make something spicy with them tonight.
The washing is in, I’ve had a lovely salty bath and this evening I shall settle down to do something other than the television.
Its that time when the old git wants to be here, I want to be there, we both want to be together but we are playing the waiting game. I think we’re both too old for it.
Maybe we should cut our losses and just retire. We could walk the front in Worthing
Maybe not….

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Cutting away the old

You must read Kate Hardy’s blog. She is a terrific writer . Makes me laugh and cry. You will love her.
So how have you dealt with the biggest, most furious full moon this side of sanity.
I have been up there, out of it, under the radar and over the moon.
Good time to have your haircut I was told by Pierrepoint’s Dan. Apparently, and he should know his salon is a spit from China town, a lot of his Chinese clients won’t have their hair cut straight (or curly for that matter) after Chinese New Year as they don’t want to cut away any good luck.
I left my flat at 8.00 a.m. to do just the opposite. I wanted Dan to prune away every last bit of bad karma that had got tangled up in me follicles.

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Full mooon eve.

It’s 16.51. We have just come up from the cottage.
I hate saying ‘coming up from the country’ makes me sound SOOOOO POSH. However, Jim drove me, for reasons I will explain later.
I drove home on Monday and the last three days have felt like an eternity.
The cottage is quiet, no traffic noises, no lamp posts outside. The cat purrs on the back of the armchair.
I have to go upstairs to bed. The bath room is carpeted and very warm. The shower soooper doooper, and the bed much softer and more inviting.
But time takes on a different quality.
The nights feel longer. The moon ( which is nearly full ) shines in through our bedroom window. Getting up for the bathroom in the dark is easy as the moon lights the way….

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Pre Lunatic activity

From osteopths to facials. From hygenists to eye tests. The organising of my life and my mothers has consumed me. I am back in the cottage. The snow drops have bloomed and the guttering needs mending. Driving back to London tomorrow afternoon. The old git is driving as I have to have a diabetic eye … Read more

The ‘O’ word

Thank you all for your comments about the ‘O’ word.
I have been giving it a lot of thought.
I am like a reformed smoker who can smell smoke three streets away. Because I was so huge – not pleasingly plump, or mildly chunky, because I was SO huge and in big, fat denial, I now have that awful sanctimonious, holier than though smugness that all reformed sinners have.
When I was attacked for being fat, which I was from LWT to the BBC from magazines to proper newspapers, I know what its like to be at the receiving end of fattist barbs. I know what it’s like to pretend to be happy in your ever increasing skin; I know what it feels like to be the one pointed at, talked about and used as the jolly japer at the end of the table.
I do know what its like to eat secretly, to cover up embarrassment with baggy sweaters and even bigger buns.

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What does size have to do with anything you ask.
Well speaking as a person who has fought with her weight since 1949 I can tell you it has everything to do with everything. We live in a society that reads us by our adipose tissue.
Do I agree with it?
Of course not.
Am I subject to it?
Of course I am.
My reason for describing the nurse as obese is because she is. Does it matter in a hospital environment – well it’s obvious aint it? Would you go to a hairdresser who had dandruff, a comb over and a seriously misbeshaving rug?
I don’t think so.
I don’t have a problem with her being hugely overweight but there are some who do. My reason for describing her thus was to give you a picture of my day on the ward.

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You lodgee

Whiskey and water help to ease my head that feels like its caught in a vice. Joanna, as usual you misunderstand me. But hey ho you too are part of the process. My mother has pink cheeks tonight and two new nightdresses I bought her. My cousin bought her a furry housecoat. My mother will … Read more

None of us get out alive

Ron Mueck is an Australian hyperrealist sculptor he started as a model maker and puppeteer for children’s television and films. I saw his sculptor, ‘Dead Dad’, a few years ago and it stayed with me.
It’s a tiny version of his father, naked, lying on the floor. A life reduced. A life curled up and utterly vulnerable. A life, however it was lived, honoured in silicone and seen by thousands of people walking round it, over it, past it. Discussing it, criticising it, crying over it – but at least acknowledging it.

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Well the Chinese New Year came and went. I opened a big bottle of Sake and heated the contents up in the microwave. I know those ovens are lethal but then so is Sake. After a long, hard afternoon I finally gave in and watched THE PEOPLES SUPERMARKET I want the project to work with … Read more

I haven’t got it right yeti…

I went to borrow a red dress for a big charity do I’m going to on Saturday, Okay so I tried the dresses on over my trainers and jeans, but I still looked like a Yeti who had found some garments in a skip behind the bins in Balham.
I will have to revert to my old dress I have had for so many years now its come back into fashion.

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