Home early to some sadness

I arrived home this afternoon as all of us participating in spiritual nourishment decided that leaving during daylight hours would be the most nourishing of all.

It was a very good weekend and I'm now about to spend a bit of time catching up on Strictly so that I can be well informed come the results time tonight. But before I do, I have some sad news.

Although I've been spiritually nourished one of my coffee plants is in the withering stage and definitely in need of something, though I know not what. The poor thing is the weakest since the other weakest one died on me and this one seems to be doing the same. The leaves go brown and start to crumble and then there's a couple left on the top which are green for a while and then they go brown and that seems to be it. I'm at a loss to know what to do, but I fear it's not long for this world. So five might well become four in the very near future. The others are blooming and I'm just hoping that they don't decide to go down the withering route.

A weekend of spiritual nourishment?

I'm packing my clothes again today to head off to Samye Ling for a weekend of spiritual nourishment. The sad thing is that my preference would be to stay home, tucked up in the warmth of my 100% polyester, pink slanket watching unending rubbish on telly. I know I shouldn't, but all the unutterable crap that's on right now on Saturday/Sunday nights allows me to shout rude things at the TV and somehow seems to be an antidote for my work situation at present. I know really I should be reading erudite wordy works, but by the time Saturday night comes round I just can't be bothered... so a glass or two of vino and a good spleen venting seems like a good idea.

Of course going to meditate for a weekend means that I'll have to let go of any ideas of alcohol or venting of the spleen and satisfy myself that for this weekend, just this once, I'm going to be a 'good person' and nurture my soul instead.

I'm dreaming of a magic carpet

For all you eagle-eyed folk out there you might have noticed that I put I'd travelled a 261 mile journey... if only! The Borders to Aberdeen was already 164 miles and then the approx 100 from Aberdeen to Inverness would make it 264, so how I managed to get all the way back to the Borders in -3 miles is beyond me... unless of course I have a magic carpet which I don't.

So just for the record it was 361 miles in all and it certainly felt like it!

Social pariah

I'm just home after a strenuous 261 mile journey from the Borders to Aberdeen to Inverness to the Borders, and now I'm officially knackered!

I started out yesterday morning with fear and trepidation re the weather which was supposed to be snow and high winds, and I didn't encounter much at all. The wind picked up around Stonehaven, but apart from that the journey was a doddle. I then had my meeting which went well and then headed off to Inverness to spend the night and be ready for my meeting this morning.

The journey was a bit more tortuous as only the A96 can be, and I was supposed to meet friends in the pub on the outskirts of town. When I got there I switched my mobile phone on to find messages from pretty much everyone to say they couldn't make it for one reason or another, which reminded me of something that happened 39 years ago:

Dave, who I was going out with at the time, was in a band and they'd just got back from being on tour. He and I had talked about everyone coming over to mine for dinner and he'd agreed he'd tell everyone, so I left it to him. I then spent 2 days cooking my socks off on my 2 ring Baby Belling cooker with the pint sized oven, and then glammed myself up for the appointed hour. No-one came. I can remember feeling mortified. When Dave came round the next day he was very blase about the whole thing and said something along the lines of, 'oh well I don't know what you're fussing about, it was only a dinner and I can't help that I forgot,' which was not entirely helpful, and hardly surprisingly our relationship didn't last.

I can remember sitting in my flat in Chalk Farm that night feeling like a social pariah, and obviously the memory has been restirred.

At least last night She Who Must Not Be Named and Sheelagh made it, which was good. Though the arrangement with Sheelagh went slightly askew and SWMNBN and I were starving by the time said Sheelagh turned up. Still a glass of wine and some home made fishcakes made up for it, and it was good to catch up in person rather than over the phone.

And now I'm home. Not for long however. I'm off to Edinburgh tomorrow and staying there until Friday, when I head for Samye Ling (about an hour away from home) to take part in a weekend gathering with those who were on a course with me there earlier in the year. There were supposed to be 8 of us, but 2 people have already had to cry off and I've been in charge of the arrangements. Oh dear... I wonder how many more won't be able to make it.

Do you think the universe is trying to tell me something?

Home and away again

Well, my time in Wordsworth country had its good bits and bad bits. The awful memories of last year came flooding back as I sat around the table in the Jerwood Centre surrounded by fantastic first editions of handwritten William and Dorothy Wordsworth, and some very, very good modern day poets who showed their true brilliance by writing off the cuff poems of utter captivation. Mine of course were slightly more on the pedestrian side, but I tried.

I had to leave early as I'm heading off to Aberdeen tomorrow early in the morning and needed to be home to unpack, pack and get back on the road. Having time to do my washing was a blessing. I missed the last workshop, but did have the privilege of a critique of my work. Not great for the old confidence, but needed nevertheless... ah well.

And now it's time to enjoy the last episode of Downton Abbey and a good nights sleep before getting back in my trusty Honda and heading northwards for meetings and greetings back in my old stamping ground.

Glutton for punishment

I'm off again this weekend, but this time to The Wordsworth Centre in Grasmere for a weekend of writing poetry. This is the second year I've done this and last year was in some ways very difficult. Everyone there was a published poet and very good, and then there was me... no comment!

So why have I decided to go back and do the whole thing again? Because in spite of being the worst there and not enjoying it so much, I learnt a huge amount and the participants were really lovely and the same folk are going again.

I'm hoping this year I'll be able to cope with it better and not feel so anxious about my abilities. That's the theory... let's see about the practice!

Things to report

I got my OU assignment back... it was in record time as my tutor took only 3 days after the date it was supposed to be in to mark it, which was a huge relief. I got 72% which was pretty good, and I was pleased... for all of 5 minutes. Of course after that all the 'well why didn't I do better' self talk started and has been going on ever since. Some things just never change.

But the house in Edinburgh is looking good. Still got things all over the floor, but now we have curtains. It was at the second attempt. The first lot I bought from John Lewis were too plain and had to go back, so with much thanks to the curtain assistant who spotted the perfect curtains and then to my friend, Shirley, who persuaded me that they would be great and then, after a lovely birthday lunch (hers) at Harvey Nicks we went back to the house and she helped me hang them. She has obviously done these things a whole lot more than I have and they were done in no time.

And now we're in the process of celebrating No 1 son's 26th birthday a couple of days early as I'm away on the real day (5th November). So lots of love and Happy Birthday son... Christ... 26! How did that happen?