Category: On Life
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The Joy of Getting Older…
Last month I turned 50. Fifty! A big number. Half a century. Centuries certainly carry some weight in the things to celebrate department. Just ask Steve Smith or anyone who got a letter from the Queen on their 100th birthday. We think of centuries as significant – as if standing the test of time. Maybe…
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My watch is telling me I’m unproductive. But maybe that’s okay?
My new fitness watch keeps telling me I’m unproductive. It’s hard to not feel insulted, but maybe there is a lesson in the message?
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Turns out, I’m a MAMIL.
I’ve taken up cycling. Along with running and swimming I am now a triathlon in parts. My husband is completely bewildered. We have known each other for most of our lives, and he has never known me to put my hand up for cardio-vascular exercise without a litany of complaints. Granted, I’m not doing the…
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Future-me called… and current-me better make some changes…
Future-me is not going to be pleased when all she can fit into are pants with elasticated waists. It’s time for Current-me to take some action.
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Just a bit discombobulated!
If ever there was a time to use the word discombobulated, this is it. It’s been a long and unsettling summer but just as the air clears from the ravaging bush fires and Autumn touches her umber paint brush to the leaves on the trees, we find ourselves, yet again, in a surreal world for…
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On death done well.
I reflect on my dad, as always, as we approach the anniversary of his death. How is it seven years have passed already? I had to look it up. It seems impossible, but time is relentless. It moves us away from things and blurs them in our memory. I have the sense of him often…
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On doing, rather than being…
The thing I am not very good at is sitting. Being still. Waiting, contemplating. I tend to jump right onto things, without thinking too much about why. I am restless, I suppose. I rearrange the furniture a lot. I believe I am a person who likes an action plan. I like to know where I…
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Life lessons from the Mud
There was mud, a lot of it. Stinky, sticky, slurpy mud that sucked off people’s shoes and clung with a desperation of an addict to legs and feet and knees if you happened to sink that far into it. There were heights – tyres and ropes and walls to be scaled. There were small spaces…
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Snowy lessons in Christmas.
Christmas Day dawns quite unceremoniously in Cervinia, nestled in the outstretched arms of the Italian Alps. While this quaint ski-town is bedecked with sparking white lights, and the odd decorative reindeer, the shops will be open today and people shall go about their business with, apparently, scant regard to the occasion. This was the first…
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The art of holidaying
We have different holiday styles, my husband and myself. His involves a lot of sleeping and reading and resting and relaxing, while mine seems to moving, doing, visiting, seeing, achieving. I think he may have the right idea, but I don’t seem to have the skill set required for restful recuperation. I am trying though,…
Reflections from Middle Age 