Phoned the bank to check out we had travel insurance.
Having given the wrong security details my call was blocked. A very nice Scottish lad helped me out. Resetting the security number and advising me not to use birthdays or anything sequential I resorted to my mothers Co-op number from 1956…
Then I meditated in the bathroom with a pile of onion and garlic paste plastered on my belly.
Jeni Barnett
Flat Out?
There’s an undulating discomfort in the bottom of my belly, and it’s not the mung bean soup, it’s the thought I will have to give up my lovely flat.
‘It’s only a building.’ says George.
‘Don’t get so attached.’ says Monica.
It’s time to re-group, move on, take stock.’ says Roberto.
‘You’ll be in your lovely cottage with Jim,’ says Marie.
‘But the man who is tired of London is tired of life.’ say Ben.
So what’s my problem then? If it is time to move on, change, give up the ghost, look to the future?
There’s always Grouchos to stay in if I need to be in London. There’s also friends, family and a host of boutique hotels that will be willing to take my nightly rate. BUT I love my mad flat and anyway it’s not the giving up of the apartment that hurts but the reality of the move. Seven years of books, cd’s, furniture, paintings, tables, chairs, bedding, weights – yes weights – shoes, clothes, toiletries and memories.
If you are what you think then if I keep thinking that the flat will remain in my life will it?
If it’s time to move on, how will I know?
At what point is holding on giving up?
From fasting to slowing…
I fasted yesterday.Not for religious reasons but because I am getting my body used to cooked food again. I have been totally raw since April first, no joke let me tell you. But over six months it has done wonders for me. Now I need to introduce a cup of coffee here, a plate of rice and beans there, a pile of chips, or soup made with lentils and coconut.
My ten day cleanse is an Ayurvedic tradition, and I love it. Four days of mung bean soup, one day of fasting, and five days of mung bean, rice and vegetables. I feel a little unsteady on my pins, but in a nice way.
The notion of dieting is beyond me now, at my age eating for the soul means I may get to see my grandchildren if the biological daughter ever decides to lay down her musical instruments and find a father for her unborn eggs.
Spicing up my life
First there was the dresser.
Then there was the pantry.
Today I set about spicing up my life. I bought three little boxes and two mug type containers.
Stripped one cupbarod of Macadamia Oil, Sesame Oil and Vegetable Oil – the sell by dates were SO last century.
Then I emptied the spice cupboard of dead dill, overwrought baking powder and several jars of ineffectual spices that wouldn’t put any hair on any chests that I know.
PULP Fiction.
Duddleswell Cheese is a creamy white concoction made from sheeps milk. I bought some from the Old Spot Farm shop when I went to collect another batch of gluten free chicken sausages. That’s dinner tonight. Whilst driving I listened to Johnny Vegas on ‘Desert Island Discs’. He described his choice of music as melancholic, and … Read more
Crumbs….
I’ve just driven from Seven Oaks. Dropped the daughter off, she is finally making her own way in London. The operation was on August 7th, so her recovery has been remarkable.
She is a little like me, more like the old git, but the little that is like me is the fighter.
So Dear Wolfie, when you say I can’t have my cake and eat it as well I beg to differ.
I wouldn’t have had such a daft, dramatic, interesting, wonderful life if I had listened to your wisdom. When life takes a curve ball, out of nowhere, when life drops a ton of camel cack on your head, what do you do?
What do you do Wolfie, Donna and Matt. What do you do when your life splits asunder?
What I do is wash off the pooh, wail for at least three days. (although the shock takes three weeks for the Chi to disperse I am told by my very expensive German Acupuncturist), then cash in my pension and book a holiday for me and them in Costa Rica.
Don’t na do it Donna
Never fails to amaze me how people, who don’t like me, still read my blog, or find the time to track me down. If you dont like me, or disapprove of me Donna and Paul, please refrain from writing to me. I have published all my blogs, warts and all, since I feel it is … Read more
Polishing my balls.
Tom Jones was on ‘Desert Island Discs’. this morning. The old git and I lay in bed and listened as Sir Tom played a selection of music that, although not always my taste, indicated what a brilliant geezer he was.
There’s something about a human being who is focused, has faith, believes in themselves, and inspires others to get on with their dream.
At 70 he is still living his. Of course into every life a little rain must fall. sometimes its torrential, sometimes it spits and sometimes it just drizzles like a soft day in Galway, but The Jones made me take out my umbrella and listen to the pitter patter of my life.
Farringdon Oh Farringdon…..
It’s very wet in Battersea.
So wet the lights of the cars are making the road shine like a cheap bauble.
I left the cottage at 12.30, expecting to arrive in London at 1.45, in the event it took me until 2.50 to get here.
I walked into the flat and felt very strange.
Orlas Feast.
Monday, the beginning of a new week.
I put my dressing gown on at 4.00 p.m.
Lay on my back with my legs in the armchair, threw my arms behind my head and fell asleep.
My body had taken a battering from Orla’s sweet potatoes – pureed..
Lentils – with tofu and tomatoes.
New potatoes with dill, capers and olive oil.
Hummus.
Walnut and something pate.
Chopped Liver.
Egg and onion.
Smoked salmon, bagels and cream cheese.
Mulberry tarts.
Soda bread.
Parsnip crisps.
And way too much champagne. I mean way tooooooo much.