A Place in the Sun

It is past 2 in the morning and the recent trend seems to be that my eyelids should be unable to remain shut. I am aware of the generous contribution being made by my erstwhile friend Caffeine - I've been binging unashamedly and unreservedly on sources of it.  Luckily, with this substance I know it's a fad that will soon be switched to something else, like sparkling water, tea or hot chocolate. It will begin to make me queasy, and I will just stop. Or perhaps stick with the dark chocolate.  It's an anti-depressant with delightful side-effects (weight not being one of them). It is during these silent mornings that my thoughts turn in on themselves and their cackles begin to echo in the caverns of my consciousness.  These audacious thoughts keep me awake and I know the reason. I sat in my therapists's room the other day.  This wayward one had strayed off for a few months and returned to its fold to ruminate.  He eyed me with amusement, as he always does, and a shutter

Of course the world gives us good things to look forward to!  How one earth would we carry on, without things to smile about, things to look forward to ? Life has an extraordinary way of balancing the yin and the yang, and unless we are truly unfortunate, or utterly pessimistic, then we always have something to smile about at some point. Anxiety can be good.  Not that it feels good, but it may be induced by positive situations. My current state of mind is a productive one - the anxiety is generating work and high levels of efficiency.  There are things to look forward to and one particular thing that has lit up my days, even if it does not let me sleep at night. I almost hardly dare to dream and I am just looking at the idea, the feeling, and letting it stay with me, allowing it to infuse me with joy until it does become a reality.  I am almost sure there will be a few obstacles along the way, but the human spirit is always hopeful and the resulting anxiety is to be used in order

I woke up at stupid o'clock this morning.  Yet again. Elizabeth Jennings' poems are stuck in my head.  In particular, her brief but succinct "Answers" and "Absence", my all-time favourites (alongside with "Invictus" by W.E. Henley). I have been so tired that I've not been able to do anything but sleep, or write. Even my arts and crafts have deserted me, though I've surrounded myself with my paraphernalia in order to encourage myself to pick something up.  To no avail.  As soon as I get home, I want to crash on mum's sofa, or my bed, after devouring dinner.  And chocolate. I've an interesting book line-up for reading. This includes "Lush" (Peter Benchley), "A Little History of the World" (E.H. Gombrich), "The Prince" (Macchiavelli), "Maritime Miscellany" (Julian Stockwin), and around 40 others. Sometimes I wonder whether our books define us, or who we would like to be. I'd love to

In the film, Bohemian Rhapsody, recently out in cinemas, Freddie Mercury is standing with his lawyer, Jim (AKA Miami) Beech, outside the office after attempts to reunite with the band, and Beech asks him to give the others just a little bit of time.  Freddie looks at him and asks: "What is I don't have time?"  In today's very rushed environment, we are accustomed to telling ourselves we don't have time - be it schedules that are too busy, or simply because our minds are occupied elsewhere.  "I don't have time!", we exclaim, each time another burden is loaded on us and we have to work out how to fit in yet another slot into our already over-packed time-tables.  It's the stuff nightmares are made of. Yet the above sentence was pronounced in another horrifying sense. What if I don't have time [to achieve all that I ever wanted to achieve] / [to reach my goals] / [to become the person that I was always meant to be] ... for some other

And then it hits you... I was browsing through some old posts on this, my first ever blog. Reading through some of the posts made me smile, or giggle out loud, even. However, some raised memories and nostalgia that made my stomach contract for a life lost, time passed ... it was like hearing the echoes of laughter through a hollow tunnel, voices of people who were in my life and for some reason have moved on or moved away.  Different walks of life, different stages of my life and theirs. It was like receiving a blow to my very core. They say that, for a tree to grow new leaves, it has to shed the old ones.  For a tree, that may be painless.  There is no scientific knowledge as to whether the tree feels its leaves becoming detached. With human contact it is different.  The person's departure from one's life will always leave a mark - no matter how good or bad that encounter was, or for how long a period. For me, their voices echo in my head and haunt my spirit so that I

... and I sit here meandering at home. Doing my own thing and pottering about with all the pretty stuff that has accumulated in my home - from my travels and my hobbies, as well as my love of books. I am trying to sort through things but none of this is easy.  How do you put away stuff which you so enjoy handling ?  From chocolates (to be eaten), to flowers, pens, pencils, charcoal and pastels, books and drawing books... you name it. Before being off the grid for a few weeks, I feel the need to be within my own home and I will miss it so terribly. Spending time with family is priority, but so is spending time with those who really care. This is where I have choices to make.  Society has taught us that one is supposed to be always on the go.  I have now decided that it is ok to be at rest and, while I have been working on and off today, despite it being a Sunday, I have paced myself, enjoyed a drive in the sun, and slept when I needed to.  Perhaps the anxiety which is looming on

This evening I watched "Belle", a 2013 film which brings to the fore the story of Dido Elizabeth Belle , an illegitimate daughter of a British serving officer, a woman of colour, who was raised by Lord Mansfield. This brilliant judge was involved in the court judgement surrounding the Zong Massacre , involving the mass-killing of 133 African slaves by the crew of the British slave ship, Zong. While slavery continued to be legal in England for a long time after that, it is said to have lead, perhaps  indirectly,   to the eventual abolition of slavery. During those times more than ever, it was a courageous judgement and Lord Mansfield had no small task on his hands, himself having been likely to have been prejudiced by his relationship with Dido. The beautiful painting to which the film (story) refers, hangs in the stunning Kenwood House , a beautiful mansion in Hampstead Heath, London, which is home to a world famous art collection besides having a stunning old library. I

I focus on a positive outlook. That is the nature of human resilience. A few months back, I wrote about having to move work, because of a number issues.  Of course, things always happen for a reason - we repeat this cliche over and over, when we are on the other side of the fence. Yet, only weeks later, I got a proposal for a very large project - to take over a business all of my own.  This would not have been the first time I branched out on my own but it wasn't going to be easy. "Challenging" is one way of wording it, I suppose, and the journey hasn't been some lazy river ride. Taking on the responsibility of two employees, one of whom has a child, is no mean feat. Neither is taking on a portfolio of new clients something to be overlooked. Summer flew by, and I must admit that the pressures haven't been easy to manage, least of all internal ones.  There comes a time when one has to take the bull by the horns, however, and to deal with such issues in the