Sunday Medicine

Sundays to me have always been a little bit about tradition… Family. Walks. Sunday Roasts. Peeling potatoes. The Archers in my childhood, more recently Downton…

Today was the perfect medicine and I found my off switch.

There is nothing lovelier that being brought a cup of tea in bed on a Sunday morning, the curtains opened gently so the sunshine streams in. And as I watch Downton this evening, I wonder how lovely it must have been to have had that every day…. I must have been Lady Mary in another life!

There is nothing lovelier than gathering soft cushions and pillows all around you to have a peaceful 30 minutes of reading a good book, with the gentle noise of 3 boys having breakfast together and I leave them to it for this is the only day a week they get to have a ‘man breakfast’ together…

There is nothing lovelier than pulling on your favourite winter jogging pants, slipping on your trusty trainers and letting popping tunes fill your head as you pound the pavements… There is nothing lovelier than jogging in the autumn – watching your breath whisper in the cool as you sigh at the beautiful countryside in the clear autumn sun, reds, oranges, yellows still mixing with the greens….

There is nothing lovelier than coming home to little boys wanting to throw rugby balls, tennis balls and run around the garden with you.

There is nothing lovelier than an impulse decision to go for lunch and a walk… 2 minute hot steamy showers, grabbing coats and scarves and pocket snacks as we fly out the door…

There is nothing lovelier than the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, rolling lawns, random enormous sculptures made to seem insignificant in the giant spaces, but beautiful, impressive against the blue, blue skies of the North today.

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There is nothing lovelier than seeing your boys race and run, twist and turn, scrap and laugh, clamber and roll… sweaty noses, dirty knees, fishing for pocket treats, asking for ice creams.

There is nothing lovelier than family potato peeling, table laying, Grandparent teasing, clean plates, full bellies… there is nothing lovelier than the first roast ham of the season, nothing lovelier than comfort food.

There is nothing lovelier than hearing the boys read, how well they are doing, hearing how Tom helps his brother recognize words….nothing lovelier than 3 in a bed around one good book.

There is nothing lovelier than a full pot of tea, Sunday TV… and while I am a little melancholy the big man had to leave unexpectedly early, there is nothing lovelier than the realization, I am seeing him on Tuesday, just the 2 of us, our favourite London pub, bottle of red… nothing lovelier.

There is nothing lovelier than going to bed on a Sunday and waking up to brand new week…

Where’s the off switch?

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Today, I have a real sandwich going on. A lot of noise in my head. A lot of tension. I am an elastic band waiting to snap… a few little pings have already happened and poor Tom suffered my sharp tongue, his ball in the bin. (How many times do you have to say ‘no balls inside’??)

Mum has lump.

Willy wants pancakes. Now.

Mum also has bad blood results – something about her pituitary gland not functioning properly.

Tom wants to play mathletics and needs my help to turn on the computer. Now.

Mum has an appointment for a mammogram on Tuesday. I need to book my train tickets.

Willy shouts that the pancakes need flipping… NOW.

The doctors have said that if the pituitary isn’t working, it could mean a tumor.

Tom has won his mathletics race and I need to go and see it! And where is his pancake?

How do you encourage an elderly lady into an MRI scanner, to see if she has a brain tumor? The thudding would completely freak her out…. Is it worth it?

Willy finds me.. He has spilt water, he has tried to clean it up, the cloth was too wet, so he has used loo roll.

How do you encourage an elderly lady to de-robe and place her breasts on a cold machine? In front of people she doesn’t know?

Tom can’t untie his stud boots.

I need to book my train tickets. I need to be with my Mum. Hold her hand. Tell her everything will be ok. Support my Dad as he supports my Mum.

The dog has walked through the bog roll mush on the kitchen floor.

Oh god my dad… he fell at tennis and has a black eye. I need to hold his hand too.

Willy needs to take his laxative and we have no chocolate treats left. I lie. I tell him I’ll find one if he drinks it.

Would you even give an elderly Alzheimer’s patient an MRI? If it is a tumor, wouldn’t that be a way to let her escape her living hell?

It’s 10.25. We need to get to football. The kitchen is a bombsite…. Loo roll, muddy paw prints, open and discarded yoghurt pots, flour from the pancakes…

Is it cruel to think like that? Did I bring that on? Manifest the tumor, the lump? Because I can’t bear seeing my once glamorous, multi-lingual, articulate mum alive in the sorry, pitiful, shuffly, grunting state she is in?

James left at the crack of dawn to cycle some ungodly distance, let’s hope I am back before he is… or I will get a dressing down from Mr OCD.

I must book my train tickets.

I must read up on pituitary glands.

I must get something for lunch.

I must get to football.

I must mop the kitchen floor…

I must go and thank Grandpa, find out about Granny’s golf…

I must put a wash on, change the sheets…

I must feed the dog, do Tom’s laces, get rid of the yoghurt pot, post this blog.

I must find my off switch.

Are you ‘Wendy’ enough?

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It’s 5pm… and I have a drink. A stiff one. My favourite cocktail thanks to a fab friend – very kitsch, very 80’s… it’s Cointreau, Lime and soda, lots of ice…. If you haven’t tried it… you seriously should. Long and full of vitamin C… it is definitely medicinal.

It is a Friday so surely allowed? It’s a little earlier than my usual weekend drink… but today I think I deserve it! A hot bus for 4 hours with 45, noisy, squeally, excited 7 year olds… Their excitement infectious, but at points I wish I had ear plugs… It was a school trip to ‘The Deep’ in Hull…. A fab day trip out.

The drink is to try and relax my tense shoulders and neck… I was responsible for 6 children, 5 not my own, in the dark, who ran from one station to the next, muddling and mixing and darting into other pools of similar looking children… running up and down ramps, hiding behind pillars…. I didn’t lose any, I hearded them up multiple times and started to use the phrase ‘Team Mortimer’ and like little homing pigeons, they would come back.

What was interesting and intrigued and totally fascinated me today was how I could recognise many of the children by the traits they share with the parent that I have met. And not just their faces, bone structure, eyes or hair… but the way they spoke, the phrases they used, the mannerisms.   Some parents would be so proud of their children.

It made me consider and reflect on the class discussions I had yesterday with my 15 ten year old girls. From totally different backgrounds, cultures, home lives and support networks from the children today. The topic yesterday, was about role models. What did they understand about the term? Who were their role models?

A role model, ‘a person looked to by others as an example to be imitated’.

We talked through many role models from Zoella (who I had not heard of before I few weeks ago, when my local friends with daughters provided me with some good ideas!), Princes Catherine, Jessica Ennis, Mary Berry, JK Rowling to Malala Yousafzai and many more. We discussed the values, behaviours and attitudes of these women, and men too (David Attenborough, Richard Branson) and put post it notes all over our class Role Model ‘Wendy’…

They wrote: kind, helpful, pretty, happy, strong, healthy, inspirational, passionate, committed, fashionable, smiley, believer, caring, listener, never gives up, motivated, creative, honest, giving, loving, generous and spoke the truth.

Once they knew the definition and characteristics of a role model, we asked who their role models were…   answers were parents, grandparents, social workers, their class mates, their brothers, sisters and celebrities I had never heard the names of but who apparently were brilliant according to them, but whom I have subsequently found out have rather unsavoury sides..

So my question to myself – am I the type of role model that my son’s, my nieces, my goddaughters, these girls I stand in front of should imitate?

If we are present in the lives of others, especially those younger, more vulnerable than us, then we owe it to them to be that role model. Be the good person, the committed person, the optimist, the authentic, compassionate as well as passionate, courageous, abundant role model who speaks the truth, acts with kindess and in servitude.

We owe it to the generations to come to be the best versions of ourselves so that our children duplicate us… because they do you know! When you aren’t there, they speak the words you speak, their bodies mimic the way you stand, gesticulate and hold your head. They copy your confidence, your happiness just as much as your fears and tears…

Our behaviour is a silent signal to those around us… and if you are in a role of responsibility, whether that be parent, leader, CEO, boss, manager, bigger brother, sister, that means you. People do what you do, not what you say and especially so when you are not there…..

So am I Wendy?  Are you Wendy?  Can we ever be Wendy enough?  Does Wendy exist in reality?  Who knows…? but if we each strive to be like her, be a better person, commit to being a little better each week, then the ripple effect would be enormous and the world must surely benefit…

Cheers! My Cointreau is dry and I need another!

Can I or Can’t I?

What a whirlwind day!

This morning feels like weeks ago…. So much has happened today.

I have done pilates and a PT (big shout out to Andy www.sweatpersonaltraining.co.uk). Lead a vibrant, fun, interactive class on role models to 15 ten year old girls where they covered ‘Wendy’ in lots of post-it notes of positive behaviours and had lunch with a lovely friend.   Laughed so hard it hurt when Tom decided to go old school and listen to the CD’s and Christmas Crooners came on! We sang ‘Jingle Bells’ and ‘Santa Claus is coming to town’ and loads more all the way home. Took Willy swimming and dropped round samples of amazing new products to all my sporty friends who want to get more out of their workouts. Listened to some fantastic, inspirational people share their top tips for success and researched places to go for our 10 year wedding anniversary. Sat in a coffee shop for 40 minutes and ate a frog.

And then I just signed up for a Triathlon.

Just a sprint.

But it is still a bone fide Tri.

For ages, years in fact, I have watched James and many of our friends enter competitions. I thought it was a post baby phase that everyone was going through. I couldn’t be because they like wearing lycra (or is it?)… or that they like swimming in ponds and eating duck and swan pooh….

I kept telling myself, I can’t do that. I am not like them. Nah – that’s not for me…. I like my quick 30-50 minutes of exercise and it can all be done in just over an hour.

So many people have encouraged me to do one, or go on a big cycle ride with them. So why today?

Why indeed?

Why was it the lovely Pen who just happened to mention it, didn’t even really have to convince me. And I said – ok – I will do it with you. How do I sign up? What do I do? What do I need? Where do I go? Where do I practice? And then it was done.

So I ask myself why?   Why?

I have found myself doing lots of things recently that I have thought for a long time that I couldn’t do. It seems that I have cleared my mind of can’t… and replaced it with ‘can’… or the question ‘how can I?’.

Rather than I can’t leave my profession, the one I have worked at, excelled at and enjoyed for so long…. I now think, how can I use my experience to benefit others? Now I don’t feel like it has been all in vain.

Rather than ‘I can’t start my own business, I have no idea, I have always worked in corporate, I can’t not have a permanent, fixed, guaranteed salary. I can’t take risks.  I can’t teach, coach, be ‘just a mum’..’…. My mind is now always thinking, I can totally achieve success, grow a business, others have done it – I just need to copy the best! Read up on Richard Branson, Bill Gates, Ariana Huffington.. how can I find out what they did? What else can I do, set up, start?  I can be a mum and still do all this stuff!

Rather than ‘I can’t walk the dog, I can’t love the dog’… I thought to myself ‘how can I love Perdi – everyone else does’… so I started to write a blog about her (https://ididntwantadog.wordpress.com/) and I found the funny side… It seems I do love Perdi.

Rather than I can’t get up at 5.30 every morning as Hal Elrod passionately advises us to do in his book ‘The Miracle Morning’, I need my sleep. I need 8 hours. Willy often wakes up… I can’t have a productive day on 5 hours sleep… I looked at myself and asked how can I? What if I just try 6.30am? if I can do that, surely I can do 6.15… and if I do each day a little bit earlier… I get a whole extra hour in my day or even more! Hal says all I have to do is tell myself each night before I go to sleep whatever time it is… ‘I am going to wake up refreshed and raring to go’… And so it seems I can get up at 6… (still working towards the 5.30 but it’s a lot better than 7.30 and the mad rush that follows!)

Rather than ‘I can’t forgive the wrongs, the hurtful words, actions that have impacted me, my self esteem, broken my heart, made me lose faith in friendships, relationships’… I tell myself ‘I can’. I can forgive, forget… I recognise the hurt, I know the scars are there, but that’s ok. I can move on. I am bigger, stronger, better.

So I have cleared my mind of ‘can’t’….

And this Tri thing… why not. I can do a Triathlon… easy.

Can't runner

Dreamer… Nothing but a Dreamer!

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I have no idea where today’s entry is going to end up. I have 2 topics playing in my head… not sure which one to write about…

Maybe I will hash them together and see what happens!…

Or maybe I won’t… let’s just see where my fingers and my thoughts take me…

I am big on visualisation. Dreaming. Imagining…

Whatever you want to call it… but putting it out there, letting your mind wander to play out what you want to happen in any given situation. Since opening up my mind to the concept of the ‘Law of Attraction’ that is written about in the ‘Secret’ and so many other books on success in life and in business, this has played a major part in my life. In fact, I actually think it is something that I did before, unconsciously… Being clear on what you want, before you even have it and believing that there is no other possible future or outcome.

I know my husband is like this. He is very goal (slash dream) focused. He is a little OCD. No, a lot OCD. He likes his ducks all in a row… in everything. Everything in it’s place. Everything in order. Just to explain how particular he is, he can’t allow himself to sleep if there is the tiniest chink open in the curtains, or if the drawer isn’t fully shut and God forbid if there is one of my pesky pink socks hanging out! His future is mapped out in a spreadsheet – he knows where he (we) are going… and is on a plan, a mission to get there. He knew how many kids we would have, where we would live, what car(s) he would have… even before I did.

I love him for it. Someone was in charge of our future. Knew our destination…

He was the one who started the conversation on each of our anniversary’s – so what is this year all about? What do we want to do? The year we decided to get married, the year we decided to move to Yorkshire, have a child, have a second child… the year we decided to take our health and our fitness seriously after the belly bulging baby years. In the year of his ‘reassessment of life’, we even had 5 year goals, 10 year goals… what did we want our life to be like? Where did we want the boys to go to school? And always the discussion of what car or 2… or 3. Fast ones. (The only way he differs from his father is in terms of cars.)

Everything we dreamt about and the life we designed on beaches as we travelled the world in our early 20’s has come true: we live in Yorkshire, we have a beautiful home, we live in Boston Spa (his home village – the only place he had ever wanted to live ‘because it has everything you need without having to get into a car’… and it is in Yorkshire, ‘God’s own County’)… we have 2 children… and only 2 as there are only 2 lines for children on his spreadsheet (!! You can see why he is so successful in his chosen career) … he has his Porsche and a Range Rover… we have a dog and a cat (both had to be grey – called Perdi and Percy!!). Our boys go to the school he went to and loved the most. We are fit, healthy, successful in our chosen fields… Wonderful friends, too good a social life…

It’s only recently, that I understand and truly understand the theory behind it all. It was all instinctive before.

Now I really believe.

Now I understand the theory. What you think about most of the time, you bring about. What you focus on, expands. And if you use the time to imagine, to daydream and feel…. Really feel the emotions you will have when it all comes true, that…. That my friends is when the magic happens. And it is magic… or I think it is because I don’t understand the neurological science behind it… the chemicals you release or the messages you send your brain, the way it imprints your life by design, where you are happy, proud, fulfilled, in love, joyful… at peace.

Be warned here though – for all of you worriers (and I used to be one, maybe still am deep down but have learnt to refocus …)… remember that line – what you think about, you bring about. So if you are worrying, scared, fearful of the worst situation… imagine what messages that is sending in to your brain to imprint. Worry, I have learnt is a waste of energy and of time… wait and see what happens and then respond (not react) at the time, in the moment in a positive, helpful way.

I know this works.

I have seen it happen. In my own life. Many times.

The time we lost our first baby… devastation, grief, lack of faith in my body that I would ever conceive again or even have a child. I was introduced to visualisation by my grief counseller. She tried to help me visualize my baby, my child, in my arms… but I couldn’t see it in my mind. But I couldn’t see an elephant either. Or a water bottle… or James’ face. But I could see the herd of elephants that ran across our path in Kenya… and I could see myself pouring glasses of water and James smiling. I could see movement…  I could see myself walking up the high street pushing a pram proudly… and voila Tom was conceived shortly after and 9 months later on Christmas Eve, I gingerly, slowly, walked up the road, quietly celebrating what I had imagined in my mind, crying softly with gratitude.

And most recently, it has happened again. Earlier this year I did an exercise on who and what I wanted to be. I chose these pictures to look at daily while I cleaned my teeth and imagine these as part of my daily life and how it would feel when that’s what I did, what I was.

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I had no idea how it would happen or when it would happen. But 6 months on, I am coaching and mentoring in schools for children in primary schools and I blog daily. And I finally came up with a way in which my friend’s business and I can help each other… another blog is coming your way… but purely for ride25 (if you are in to cycling – this is for you! Check out ride25.com) ..

And I took this picture this morning…

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So go… go and be a dreamer. Imagine your life as you would want it, feel the feelings, get all gooey inside…. Maybe it is a bit scary, a bit thrilling… but I bet it is exciting!

And if you are in a marriage, a partnership, a family… allow your significant other to dream their dreams and imagine their life as they would want it. It is so important to have your own identity and life plan. But connect. And reconnect… Share your dreams, find the commonality, the threads that are intertwined so you can feel together… dream together.

I believe the couples that dream together, stay together…

Know, feel and believe in your true destination… the fun is the adventure along the journey of meandering, wrong turns, successes and overcoming the lows in between. It’s even better if you have someone’s hand to hold while doing it.

Diamonds or Dust?

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It’s funny… I always worry the night before that I am not going to have anything to say or write about in my blog for the following day. I say to myself… ‘it’s ok – you can just write a line along the lines of… ‘nothing out of the ordinary day, nothing to share, nothing happening….’.. But that doesn’t seem to be my life!

This morning, just after 9am, I was headhunted by a new small consulting firm in London to go and interview to be a Partner to grow their business.

Wow.

Just as I bravely, mentally cut the ties to my old life. Out of the blue. I am flattered. I am scared. I even get butterflies?!

Alarm bells ring! What is this? Is this a test? A flattering temptation or an obstacle to test my determination and decision to lead a new life? A life of peace and tranquility, mindfulness, health, present and presence in my boys’ life (3 of them… husband is always included in reference to ‘boys’)… my new slice of the bread in my career / life path sandwich.

I didn’t ask the universe for this? How did it manifest?! I haven’t updated my Linked-in or online CV in months…

All of this flashes across my mind in the split seconds that I listen to the lovely, complimentary lady on the end of the phone. In my head, I hear James rejoicing! How proud he would be … his wife back in the corporate game… the money! The accolades! But I see, I see clearly the weeks away from home for this is a job and company based in London – 200 miles away from my boys, the pressure, the stress, the unhealthy competition, brown-nosing, selling, the long days and nights, all the reasons why I am moving on.

So if this is a test, I passed it. With flying colours, I politely said that at this point, I couldn’t consider being away from home but thank you for the opportunity.

I ponder… my head tipping this way and that…as I drive to various drop offs… Pressure. An interesting word.

‘’A continual physical force exerted on or against an object by something in contact with it’’.

Or

‘’The use of persuasion or intimidation to make someone do something’’

I think we often see the word ‘pressure’ as having negative connotations. Pressure can lead to stress… stress can lead to cracks and ultimate collapse. Pressure on a person or object. I know that pressure in my corporate life, lead to huge stress, manifesting in poor health, eczema, tiredness, to cracks in my marriage, family life and final collapse of my world as I knew it. Ashes… Dust….. to be swept under the carpet or float away in the wind of change.

Yet today, I put pressure on myself to be healthy, do some form of exercise every day – from light to intense, pilates to spin, dog walk to gym. I have put pressure on myself to finding 30 minutes each busy day to write a daily blog about my life in the sandwich years. I put pressure on myself to grow my health, wellness and wellbeing business, to coach others to success with whatever health or career goal. I put pressure on myself to write the best class plans for my volunteer mentoring, the best speech for when I speak as a guest speaker in schools in the north. And yet this pressure, I thrive under! I am alive! I am happy… I am calm and energetic at the same time. I am being asked to do more, be more… live more!

So pressure can be good… I am reminded of a well known quote ‘ Diamonds are but carbon, until they are put under pressure’.

Be be warned… for there is a fine line between the good and the bad. The choice between Diamonds or Dust?

My experience is that you can do what you think you love to do, generate a big bank balance, but if the pressure is coming from external forces, you can end up lacking wealth or even health.

Or you can dig deep, follow your dreams, find out what it is you want to do … and do it. Do it for free. Do it for the love of doing it. Do it part time until you can do lots of it…   I strongly believe that if you are doing what you love, no matter how much pressure you are under, you will always shine, sparkle, spread your joy. If the pressure comes from within, you will create diamonds.

I love Mondays!

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I love Mondays!

I used to HATE Mondays…

Funny how life changes…

In my Accenture days or freelance consultancy days, Mondays meant reeeeeeealllly early starts… to get to wherever the client site was. My worst trip was the one to work for New Look in Weymouth on the South Coast of the UK, when I lived in South London. It consisted of tubes, buses, a train, a change, and a long meandering drive (beautiful if you weren’t in a rush!), hugely frustrating drive behind tractors or caravans as there were so few overtaking places…in a random hire car. Up at the crack of dawn only to arrive by lunchtime to get some terrible food in a meagre canteen above the ‘shed’ as we would fondly refer to the huge warehouse and distribution centre for this up and coming fast fashion retailer.

It was those Mondays that used to eat in to your Sundays… rather than relaxing on the sofa, holding a roast-full-tummy, snoozing to the Antiques Roadshow, I would be restless, dashing around the house packing a suitcase, searching a laptop bag and paperwork that I may have thrown under a bed in disgust… and where the hell was my ‘on call’ phone?! Ugh – that was another hell… the fear of being called in the middle of the night to log into the computer system and work out why an overnight batch schedule had failed.. Black screens, green letters and blinking cursors – I hope I never see you again…. Cold, panic sweats as I used to fear whatever I did would bring a whole warehouse picking team to a stand still, waiting in a cold Weymouth car park at 4am, shaking their fists at me…. ‘the tech geek’, warm in a pink hotel room, under a duvet, laptop open, hair wild with frustration as I look for a bit of false information that has caused the system crash…

I digress… my old life… one I look back on, fondly, with good memories too of working with brilliant, talented minds, big drinkers… it wasn’t all screen time, only 90% of it. The rest was flaming drambuies, tiger tiger, back slapping….

So to the Mondays of my todays…

Instead of a nervous panic searching for lost items, it is more of a game… getting the boys to get their books together, do they have the right sports kit, enough socks, have they learnt their spellings? If not, they soon will…   I use a timer…How quickly can we do it this week? The quicker they do it, the quicker we can watch a family movie, snuggle up… play a board game (their favourite is Monopoloy James Bond 007 – brilliant if you have boys!).

For me, Sundays are the end of a week and a time for reflection. I look forward to waking up at 6, ready to plan the week ahead, start a fresh; out with the old, in with the new – how can we improve this week? Easy this week for me – last week was a write off! So I am re-arranging my cancelled meetings, back to pilates at 6am, back to healthy eating, back to the gym, spin and I may try something new this week? Hot yoga? What will I share with my class on Thurday – the topic is Role Models – what a great subject to research…  What coaching topic shall I share with my team, my leaders that I build businesses with..?

Who will I meet? What will I learn?

Bring it on Monday!

Blackberry picking

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Dobby is blocking my conversations with Snow White today. It’s one of those days… he is on my shoulder, in front of my face, relentless.

I feel guilty for eating a curry, for having cake, my jeans feel tight, I haven’t exercised for a week other than a couple of dog walks… I feel unappreciated as I peel potatos, sweet potatos, apples, carrots and make a gluten free crumble. Everything is winding me up – grass all over the kitchen floor from football boots and Timberlands from double rugby this morning…. I can’t remember any time anyone said thank you or made me feel valued or loved… I am sick of having a cold. Frustrated by inertia.

I am torn.

Torn between letting my emotions out and throwing cushions, having a trantrum or a cry… or just growing up and getting on with it. Jobs to be done, Sunday roast to be cooked, rugby kit to be washed, homework to be done… blackberries to be picked.

I pick blackberries… it makes me a little melancholy as I am reminded of the boxes of blackberries I picked with my Mum this time last year…  I wonder how she is?  Dad took in some shampoo and her favourite tea yesterday, I do hope they have washed her … given her a cup of Earl Grey with lemon.

….

I make a wise decision. I put on my earphones and hit the play button to listen to Oprah.

Wherever I had left off before, started with the right chapter, for sure. She talks about her interviews with men who all had affairs, despite their strong loyal ethics. They all had a common theme – they all wanted to be heard, valued, appreciated, listened to… to feel loved.

Isn’t that what everyone wants? The feeling bit anyway – the feeling of being loved and appreciated…

She makes an interesting point – we shouldn’t wait for others to make us feel this way… We need to feel this for ourselves first…. Value ourselves, love ourselves, appreciate what and who we are first…   For then we aren’t reliant on others to feel good, happy. Look inward and work out what is good about ourselves and our lives… Use gratitude as a way of recognizing how lucky, how brilliant, how wonderful we and are lives are.

How did I forget that today? Since reading The Magic last year, gratitude has played a major part of my daily routine – either in the morning or last thing before I got to bed.

How grateful am I to have gorgeous, healthy sons, a kind and generous husband, a beautiful, warm, spacious Yorkshire stone converted barn to live in with all the mod cons (soooo grateful for my washing machine and tumble dryer – imagine doing all that washing by hand?!). How thankful for a lie in this morning, a hand delivered cup of morning tea, a proud 90 minutes on the sidelines watching the boys play rugby and score tries…more than the England team did last night!. Talking of which, gratitude for good friends as neigbours who bring delicious puddings and beers….

Gratitude for Oprah, for itunes and audiobooks to get me back on the happy path and out of the pity party.

So now it’s back to the aga – my in-laws arrive home in a couple of hours, the pork needs to go in and the topping on the crumble needs spreading…. But first, I think I will gather my family for one of our favourite Sunday past-times – a family cuddle on the sofa!