We all remember the first time and in the majority of smart people, the last time, we get sunstroke. Mine was at my first year at boarding school and the weekend we asked all parents to join us for the summer fayre. It was an Incredibly hot day and I was on 'splat the rat' duty. I was wearing a pink flowery skirt, an oversized black 'phantom of the opera' t-shirt and my trademark red Alice band of the time; fashion was of no interest to me at the young age of 10. I learnt my lesson that day – never wear black on a hot day and that I do not function or respond well in prolonged periods of heat.

My least favourite part of today, the early hours, was seeing Tom suffer from spending all day in the sun, dangling from the back of boat in a rubber ring. A quick shout of an alarmed 'mummy!!!' And I spent a while stroking his back and covering him in cold flannels. Fortunately I am ok with sick… spending several months of cleaning up projectile vomit from undiagnosed coeliac disease for willy prepared me. 12 hours later, multiple bodily expulsions and he was back on the rubber ring…. but with cap and t-shirt and for a short while, taking himself off to lie in the shade. I hope he has learnt a valuable lesson.

After the vomit, my favourite part of the day, is a close call: in 3rd place, taking the dinghy to explore caves and the cool waters, 2nd place watching the mortimer crew drop anchor and securing a shore line to the most beautiful secret cove walled by dramatically by cathedral striations in the rock face.

But my top rated, most favourite part of the day was beaching the dinghy on a creamy pebble shale beach and watching my family, beaming and tripping into the cool waves. With no Camera, it was a memory to treasure and imprint on my mind, the white smooth sugared almond pebbles, the pale turquoise softening to deep royal blues of the sea and heads bobbing as the boys shout in unison 'big wave'!!!!

Last night we ate chez Stavros and tonight chez George. Last night we had neighbours from Israel and tonight from New Zealand.

Life brings lessons and experiences and that is the best educAtion for ourselves and the generations to come.

Tonight, after 2 days in a bikini, I am wondering where this unsightly, soft squidgy, lumpy layer all over my body has come from. Has it arrived because I am well established into my 40's and now just part of the female ageing process …. or 4 months off exercise and healthy living, my refound love of cheese, wine and bread probably not helping….

Perhaps I will never get back my stick thin, highly toxic body of 20's or my athletic lean body from strict diet and disciplined exercise, bordering on unhealthy obsessive years of my post baby body of my late 30's… It only bothers me when I see it in photos or in a mirror or when I try once loose clothing, now tight, because I am quite happy really….

How can you not be happy sailing?

My morning, pre breakfast stretching and pilates, with my little sidekick on the deck and a swim ashore to raise my heart rate and wake me up… sleeping on a boat is intermittent with the splooshing and slapping of the waves against the hull by my head, the jangling of the ropes and boom…the early risers and callers, washing the decks, footling with lockers and 'wotnots'… and Tinkler's off the side.

My days, reading, jumping in the clear seas, watching the islands wash past and laughing as the boys dangle on a floating line.

My evenings, loving reliving my youth, waiting in lines, showering in communal, cold jets, flip flops and speed mandatory: eating delicious fresh sardines, cheese and more cheese accompanied by carafes of local wine with ice.

Does it really matter what the outside looks like, when the inside feels good?

Perhaps I will just ban mirrors and live in my 'one size' dresses! At least while I am in Greece anyway…

My theme of gratitude continues… and today for the ability to wake up in one county and country and to be having lunch in another.

Sailing is a huge part of our extended family life and the boys have been brought up with adventures you can have on the sea.

I am just grateful for the simplicity of island life; sun and sea … and just family. No airs. No graces. Just the simple lessons of respect, as much to each other in small spaces and the open elements, wind and tides; ropes and fenders.

And the simple pleasures of carafes of cold red wine, skimming stones, souvlaki and midnight adventures on a tender.

It is that lovely part of the day again, and today as the heat dissipates and the sun dips, instead of a headache I have a peaceful mind and a cold glass of wine.  There is still mowing going on, and watering and food cooking and I am taking my now habitual five… or 10.

 

I read a while back and scribbled on my mirror notes, that gratitude is the antidote to depression.  And I am grateful that that has rung true for me.  I am grateful for the act of making it a daily, sometimes hourly, even instinctive practice for any moments or dips, redirecting me back to positivity.

 

I am also grateful for the practice of journaling, helping me find the weeds and nasty stinging nettles of my mind, so that the fragrance and beauty can be rediscovered.

 

And then there is my new found love and gratitude for meditation and mindfulness.  Even if only for a few minutes a day, in the longer, darker days, this brought peace and hope and a calmness I didn’t think would be possible.

 

So perhaps, as I sit here in my pondering moments of 5… or 10… that is my recipe for getting through depression, or dark days, challenging times even.

 

Gratitude + journaling + mindfulness, give it time and patience and wrap it all up with compassion and love:  for yourself, until you can find it in your own heart to muster up enough energy and the courage to give it away again to others.

 

 

It is that lovely part of the day, to me, when the white hot heat has gone from the sun and the breeze is cool.  I am sat high on my terrace, another of my favourite places, where the pink fragrant roses bend and twist through and around the railings.

 

As the sun dips, so does the intensity of my headache.   The origin, reason or source I don’t know…  perhaps the heat, perhaps the intensity of a new ‘body blast’ gym session in a closed window’ed room, perhaps the tantrums of my youngest, perhaps my list of endless things I want to accomplish in the house, but can’t quite get to… or perhaps the pile of laundry I need to do before we go on holiday this week, the multiple insurance claims I am chasing but getting no response, the John Lewis order I cancelled but keep receiving multiple items from, the fact Tom has broken my Grandad’s watch…

 

Maybe all of those things thrown in a boiling hot cauldron, which is already bubbling from the chaos of change in the last 2 weeks, worry and concern for those I love…. And the memories of ‘kinky boots’ that keep popping up to say ‘hello, forgotten me yet?’

 

As I sit in the breeze and type, rather than listen to my thoughts, I know a meditation that would help the tension, but I am also conscious, my mind is too busy.  So a mindfulness practice it is, becoming aware of my surroundings …..  and a soft smile greets my lips as I hear the boys in the garden, all 3.  Tom all grown up and mowing the fields to pay back the cost of repairs to my watch;  Willy flip flopping in my Converse as he waters the pots and plants to earn money for more nerf guns;  and the Big Man strimming the long grasses and cutting the grass between the rose beds.

 

And then all of a sudden the smell of BBQ … and time to eat!

 

Mindfulness brings me home again, to this beautiful place, in this beautiful moment.

 

 

There were so many beautiful memories from today, dancing a waltz through and giving silver linings to some of the more sad ones.

 

As the Mortimer Senior siblings spent long overdue quality time together, cycling the Chiltern Hills, the Brooks sisters spent time together visiting the homes and the people of their childhood.

 

I hope I am an ounce of as good a godmother as mine.  As we catch up on my wellbeing and hers, I watch a master at work; just as she did when I was the same age, for the boys she made games and adventure out of everything from a cauldron of buttons, counting pots, finding spiders and faces in the never-ending garden, answering questions on the Australian bushfires, opening secret treasure boxes, but all the while, connecting with me, hearing me, letting me know she is ok;  holding hands over tea and cake in my favourite room from my childhood, full of curios and treasures, shrouded by flowers and colour and light.

 

From one room of my childhood to another, one where we used to sit and play cards and eat cherry jam sandwiches.  Like my memories, the colours of the room are faded and my aunt looks frail;  but the boys and their cousins brought light and laughter back, playing their own games of hide and seek and tig.

 

From one garden of my childhood to another, one my Mumbo designed and loved; roses and lilies in abundance, ornamental trees and grasses with a dry river bed running through it.  Each of us took handfuls of her ashes, her Johnnie, her daughters and her grandchildren, and sprinkled them with tenderness just as she used to tend her garden, giving life and love to each bloom and display.

 

The day reminded me of simple pleasures, of the importance of curiosity, friendship, family, adventure, but mostly about connection and the calm it brings.

 

Connection with those we love, while we still can and able.

J 

 

I have previously found the phrase ‘enjoy the journey, not just the destination’ a good rule of thumb in achieving most things. However today, as we drove south, it was rather tricky to believe. 
Leaving our new home reluctantly and being bone tired, slightly hungover didn’t set us off in good stead. The Big Man slapping his face to stay awake did also not bode well after 60 miles. Multiple long sections of 50mph on the M1 and loose horses also added to a prolonged delay and intensified time on the iPads whipped up a frenzied, intense atmosphere so much so that we had to stop and line up in a lay-by and have words.
The destination was an oasis, a haven. Fresh air, cousins, sisters and friends… food, wine, laughter and excited preparation for the Mortimer sibling cycle… 
Today, the journey is best forgotten! 

Today – there were moments I felt like a good mum, a great mum and even an awesome mum. When Tom and Willy presented themselves covered in mud from rolling in the fields… and I laughed and told them to run a bath, and they came running back up soaked and drenched me in a ‘mummy sandwich’ and I embraced it and laughed… When Tom flung his arms around me and told me how much he loved me…. when willy snuggled up close in bed for cuddles… when I see their happy frolicking play across the lawn and running towards the coach house Den we have been sweeping and tidying together… they have freedom, they are safe, they know they are loved and they are happy. All the signs of good parenting in my book.
 But there were moments, when I felt like a terrible mother, and out of control screaming fish wife. When I find dirty socks hidden under dressers, pepperami wrappers tucked between cushions and lecture them on respect … for the house and my time! And even more angrily, repeating the same again when I find their basement bathroom flooded, the bath overflowing and being used as a jumping pool, sodden clothes littered in corridors and on sofas …. earlier, my panic and silent questioning of myself and motherhood when the cries I thought were happy ones for 20 minutes suddenly turn to ones that make me run on my bad ankle regardless down the lawns to the derelict barns, worrying they had fallen through an old trap door…. 
But there they were… one crying, one laughing… blond heads peaking through an open sash window. They had closed the hatch and it had stuck and they couldn’t get down…. not even one dangling the other down to the old horse trough…. my heart stops at the thought.  
But in those moments, because they are safe, I have to laugh. And my voice of compassion in the form of Hagrid returns. And in his gruff voice he tells me to relax, give myself a break. I am still emotional, still stressed and suppressing enormous anger….
And what is that anger I am ignoring, I ask myself? That is perhaps making me over react to small issues … like the sky man, water on the floor and muddy shorts?  
I go back into my heart and ask. Trust is still the one thing that makes me feel out of sorts. And I do not like that feeling. It does not sit well in my stomach… we may have moved on, started anew…. but it’s still there and my IBS, tension and self doubt flares. 
Motherhood. A constant battle of self doubt, self gratificAtion or admiration and selflessness. 
And as I search for a quote – the first one is a kingfisher. I take that as a sign as I am doing ok. Given the circumstances.

And so it begins.

 

“How do you eat an elephant?”

 

Not that I would refer to either our dream house or myself as an ‘elephant’… but the first bites of many have been taken.

 

After 4 months of being ‘off games’ due to injury and the advice of physio and doctors, I have gained a stone of pure lard and lost muscle.  Probably no bad thing given the dramatic weight loss of the end of last year.  But I am now mentally and physically, emotionally ready to get back and enjoy leading a more healthy, active lifestyle.  I have enjoyed the first 3 bites of this ‘elephant’ this week, even though not my beloved running (my ankle unable to flex or point)… I loved the feel of my heart rate soaring at spin, the ache of my muscles, the inability to walk downstairs without groaning, the result of my first weights in nearly 5 months and the tightening and locking of my core after pilates.

 

I am going to love eating the elephant!  The journey and the results.

 

I have a feeling the other elephant, however, will be rather a different story.  The first bite took the longest, was the most drawn out chew, tough and hard work.  We took the brave next step and took a second bite today.  This will be where our rollercoaster will continue as we face the red tape and politics of planning with a listed building.  But I will remind myself to see it as a fun challenge!  Especially when we find the right team; and that starts with a good architect, one we trust and who can see and share our excitement and vision.   As we wandered around and discussed the various projects with our first architect, beers in hand, the sheer size of this elephant felt more than slightly overwhelming.

 

But “how do you eat an elephant?”

 

One bite at a time.

 

 

Journalling is time for reflection.  To play back the day and have gratitude for the moments that went well, brought you a lighter step, a smile to your lips and also to review those that didn’t sit so well, and to give yourself the time to replay the show reel in your mind in a more positive way.  I have also found it a way to empty my mind of the negative thoughts, pen to paper, letter taps to image on a page, to see them and release them.

 

I read beautiful words today, written by a friend followed by the words of Marla Gibbs.  And today I reflect on those.

 

“Life:  you can’t open up to a new chapter until you fully close the one behind you.  It takes time, one step at a time.” Kelly B.

 

“I truly believe that everything that we do and everyone that we meet is put in our path for a purpose.  There are no accidents; we’re all teachers – if we’re willing to pay attention to the lessons we learn, trust our positive instincts and not be afraid to take risks or wait for some miracle to come knocking on our door.”  Marla Gibbs.

 

You can’t open up to a new chapter until you fully close the one behind you.  There are moments I feel like I am well in to the second page of my new chapter:  as the boys and I embrace our new surroundings, our summer gardens, our local amenities, have fun sweeping out the old coach house to make a summer holiday den for the boys and laugh on the grass under the blazing July sun or simply eating cherries from a pretty bowl on the sunny terrace.

 

These are all the little steps, one moment at a time.  Inching my way, further from the old chapters of ignorance, the previous days of disbelief lying lacking in energy, floored by life .. and in to the future ones, making my decisions, choosing happiness and to be me.

 

If we are willing to pay attention to the lessons we learn.  I have learnt many lessons.  Some I didn’t want to learn or didn’t know I needed to learn.  The hardest one to learn right now, as I sip on my rose alone watching the Wimbledon highlights, is to trust my positive instincts, when my negative ones are sounding like sirens, for probably no reason at all.  In the last chapter, I learnt the lesson to not trust.  I also learnt vulnerability and to share my feelings.  And I have learnt to forgive myself for the negative instincts and thoughts.

 

It may be a small risk, but I am willing to believe the innocent phone call.  And I will wait for the miracle to come knocking on my door, as no doubt he has forgotten the keys to our home, in this new chapter.