Vitamin Orange

A few months back,  I came home from work feeling pretty shitty. Not because I have another 6000 or so  days to go until I retire, but because I had a cold. This isn’t a sympathy gathering post. I have a cold, not some tropical disease involving 2 metre long worms under my skin. Its just a simple little virus with a capacity for making strong women weak and miserable and just a little bit pathetic. Continue reading “Vitamin Orange”

Freakin’ Feelings

First day back at work after the new year. Old routine and  familiar faces are cues for habits I’m trying to extinguish. There are things I need to buy. Surely.

The answer is to do the groceries today. Two days early. When the cupboards are full because we’ve been away. Groceries are legitimate. Groceries will end the physical manifestation of my anxiety. My arms hurt. My mouth is dry. To go grocery shopping though will only prolong the feeling. Because my brain isn’t clever enough to know the difference between need-to and have-to shopping just yet. The groceries will just me an alleviation of the discomfort of withdrawal. And I will have to go through it all again. With an added air of disappointment, and a little less hope to draw upon.

It feels just like stopping smoking. Or more recently, stopping using my phone in the car.

It felt impossible until it was done.

The best way to keep a bad habit going is to keep doing it. So today  at least, I’ll stick to the goal, knowing that soon I will be able to bask in smuggery, old clothes and great intentions

what we do

Spend-Free 2017: A commitment to simplicity and angst

There was a moment last year when I decide to catalogue all the clothes that I had bought over the year. It left me unsettled. How could I have bought so much and still have so little to wear on any given day. New occasions, events, and people had me buying new items as I desperately tried to make myself stand out and not stand out in equal measure. I ended the year feeling overwhelmed by stuff and making a commitment not to buy more as I had end the year with more and yet I didn’t feel more anything.

It seems common these days to end the year with a commitment to simplicity and I can see how attractive this becomes after the richness and excess of Christmas. Certainly I could benefit with a paring down of my possessions and thus,  into existence swept  a list of rules that would see me more prosperous and connected by the end of the coming year.
Continue reading “Spend-Free 2017: A commitment to simplicity and angst”

On Track

Short and sweet for me this week, but I wanted to share my new thing!

I’ve become obsessed with bullet journaling lately. All because I was looking, obsessively (is there any other way?) for my 2017 Diary and I couldn’t find one that quite met my needs.

I wanted one that would do everything. With a week to view, and a monthly planner and space for all my brilliant (?) ideas. Then I stumbled across the bullet journaling phenomenon and the idea that I could make my own journal that could tick all my boxes.

Continue reading “On Track”

Slow and unsteady


In a world so impressed by going fast, I am definitely a tortoise in hare’s clothing. Even though I weigh more than most of the All Blacks, without the substantial muscle mass, I think that I should be able to muster the speed of someone sized more like an Olympic track cyclist. Instead of realising that when I heft myself up hill, that I’m doing the equivalent of hiking with two fully laden suit cases. Continue reading “Slow and unsteady”

The social phobics social media experience

People tend to think that I’m pretty sociable but I’m just like a duck. Looking relatively together on the surface with whole heap of frenetic activity underneath. Facebook is a minefield for those prone to catastrophic thinking. Given that I have a tendency to over explain all of my activities (I can’t even go to the toilet without announcing it in case people thinking that I am rudely walking out on them), here is an insight into the Facebook experience for the socially awkward.

Continue reading “The social phobics social media experience”

Five on Friday: The case of the missing words

​The words are missing and can’t be found. Missing words make writing pretty difficult it turns out.

The words were not on this cracker

At first I was resentful that my fellow lioness blogger had stolen them as she seems to be posting but not me. But then a lovely woman today encouraged me to write about where the missing words might be.


These are the places that I have looked for them

  1. Suzy might have them. Suzy and I started blogging at the same time with the same amount of gusto. Recently she has been posting a little more. Her last post I haven’t been able to read as I was seething with resentment. She’s taken all the words. We were at an event the other day and Shea writing things down and I’m thinking…we’re at the same event, hearing the same words and she’s taking the words and now I can’t use them. I said to the person next to me…she’s frigging blogging.  I did speak to Suzy and she has almost reassured me that there are enough words for both of us.
  2. There was a tip off that there were a bunch of words at the bottom of a large bag of salt and vinegar chips. I got to the bottom. It was a false trail.
  3. There are loads of words on Facebook but most of them are trump and cats and not what I am needing right now. I keep looking in case some want to come home with me. It’s 2am in a manky club and all my friends have pulled and I can’t even get the  really unpopular words to come home with me.
  4. Jenny Lawson seems to have written every word that I have ever wanted to write in Furiously Happy. She leaves me no option but to tell the stories that should never be told. It’s gonna be all xojane, first person confessionals. 
  5. There are no words in shoe shops either. Or clothes shops. Or book shops. But I looked all the  same.

It started to feel like the words would forever elude me. I couldn’t understand when we had been on such good terms. Then I remembered that I had been sad and tired and the words were taking a rest while I looked after myself. They were still there, but they were very quiet. Trying not to disturb me while I got my bearings. As soon as they heard me ask for them, and look for them, they started to show their heads.

Fast track to nowhere

The eagle eyed physiotherapist noticed it straight away “You’ve got another one”.

“Yeah but its second hand. I got it from trade me. It was cheap. It doesn’t really count”.

You know you have a problem with fitness gadgets when you’re having to justify their purchase to your health professional. I seem to remember a similar conversation with him when I bought the Garmin Vivoactive too. Although that time, I also remember trying to cover it up with my sleeve. I had relapsed. I had only declared to my personal trainer two weeks before that I wasn’t going to get one as I was happy pairing the Garmin Vivofit with a chest strap to get all the data I needed.

And here I am again, this time with a Jawbone Up 3 ( My second Jawbone) on my wrist.

“I got it for my sleep”desperately clutching at straws.

He looks a bit confused and says something akin to…”just go to bed”. Continue reading “Fast track to nowhere”

A place to lay my head

This week was an odd week. It had the whole range of emotional experience that left me a little tired. I’m not getting any younger and naps become more and more important. With this in mind, it was hardly surprising that I fell asleep in the MRI machine. Continue reading “A place to lay my head”

The  late arrival of The Leather Jacket


When I was young I was a little portly. I was built like a little cauldron.

I swam, I sported, I biked and I also had a penchant for toffee crisps. While this may have felt like the perfect lifestyle balance for me, not everyone else thought so. Some people thought that this finely honed little barrel could do with losing a pound or two.

This was me in Oliver. Even though my singing was weak I got a reasonable part as I looked too well fed to be an urchin.

My mum promised me a pair of dungarees if I could become a more acceptable shape. I don’t remember being placed on any particular diet. I do remember doing “shape up and dance” with Felicity Kendall in my Nan’s lounge. I kept sporting, and swimming and biking and remaining well upholstered. The dungarees were a dream that disintegrated as quickly as the fabric of my jeans under so much pressure. What didn’t disintegrate was the idea that nice things were wasted on the fat. Continue reading “The  late arrival of The Leather Jacket”