more Skiddaw pix...

I was looking through my photos with Crysse and discovered these from Skiddaw that I never got round to putting on the blog... so here they are.

Autumn approaches...

AT LAST, a decent walk today - only two hours or so, but possibly about six miles. And I've (hopefully) solved the problem with my boots; I put in a piece of sponge between my ankle and the boot wall, and no probs with the ankle today- even though it's still tender from yesterday. Even my knee didn't begin shouting at me til I was in the bath - it was my HIPS that felt the exertion first...
All set (I hope) for another longish stroll tomorrow. I have to start getting them back-to-back - just not overtraining so that I'm past my best by the end of October... Have lasted all today without a fag - but might not manage the whole evening... (felt grim this morning, really hungover, and as I had zilch alcohol last night, it has to be the nicotine making me liverish...)
Ath & I have agreed no smoking in the house again. Well, it worked OK in January - I felt ridiculous sitting on the doorstep of my own house, puffing away, so I hardly smoked at all (except in my car).
Walking in wind today, I'm shocked by leaves beginning to drift - it's nearly Autumn already! Lots of hips and haws ripening in the hedgerows, and blue-black berries I assume are sloes. I picked a few brambles on my travels (let's hope I haven't ingested too much pollution alongside the berries sweetness).
Found another interesting circuit today, along below Marston House, past the church and then back round - practically the opposite direction to my usual circuit from Tytherington.
Will try to upload some pix - but if blogger doesn't want to co-operate, I've got my tax return and a job application to get in...
(third time lucky)

Promised holiday catch-up...

Some of the fabulous vistas we're immersed in during our annual camping trip... and this year, we did so much more walking than in previous years...

I felt the benefit of all the training I've put in so far - in spite of a couple of lazy weeks, and the fact I haven't managed to maintain my status as an occasional smoker (unless I define that as on various occasions throughout the day!) The first few trips to the beach and back usually feel excruciating, it's not till the end of the week that it starts getting less painful. I wouldn't say it was by any means easy, but it was much more manageable.
Keeping up Steve's pace on our long walks was another thing entirely - but I wouldn't expect to be able to compete with someone who cycles about 20 miles on a daily basis, and goes mountain-biking for hundreds of miles in his free time! Even Carole was whacked out after our coast meanderings - and she's much fitter than I am.
A very different prospect this year than my first year, when I struggled to join the group activities.
This place has been so significant for rebuilding my lost stamina...

The journey to this paradise in itself provides a phantasmagoria of landscapes - outside Frome, we drive through woodland; tall straight trunks with their soft green canopy, then the evergreens on the edge of Longleat Forest.
Into rolling plains, undulating wheat fields decorated with random copses and tractor tramtracks scoring the corn yellow, roads frilled with hedgerows. The tailored lines of shorn hay, tall pillars of traditional bales - I feel a sharp nostalgia - alongside the great wheels of the disc bales. The gentle undulations intensify into more extreme hills and vales, and my overloaded Polo makes its unweildy progress along the curving highway, and the spirals through thatched villages.
Trying to capture the essence of the landscape we passed through elicited an unusual
nervousness from my navigator!

Trialling Rod's thermals for Nepal meant I was warm as toast in my sleeping bag - now THAT'S a tip I'll use in future camping trips!

Best things from our time:
Carole - finding the thatched cottage by the stream in Wool that I want to retire in... not now, I'd be bored in a backwater, I like my London life, but in the future...
Isla - going to the seaside
Gintare - the park (she's only 4, bless).
Steve - not being in London - EVERYTHING'S good, because you're not in London, you can relax and enjoy the fresh air.
Mingeile - yesterday (the fossil forest trip).
Dan - all the people we've met, and yesterday was the ballocks (our trip to Lulworth Castle).
Graham - coming away with people I used to live with and be close to, being part of the camping gang again.
Ath - mine and Dan's jog along the beach the other day - made me feel like I was in Baywatch; all I needed was the brightly-coloured shorts and boogie board. The hike to Mupe Bay and the cliff climbs that me and the boys did (eat your heart out Tom Cruise!).

And me? The communal camping experience, in such heavenly surroundings, with such great company (and the freedom to do my own thing if and when I want to).
The dreams I had - cathartic and illuminating. So wonderful to have clear recall at last!
The photo of the jailed activist in the newspaper - I so wanted to use him as a fictional chracter, his face so interesting... I know I'm unlikely to, by the time I have that much writing space, my inspirational ardour will have cooled. But I enjoyed the quick speculative scribble I did manage - a reminder that as a writer I need headspace for my imagination to flex itself. If life (work, people, responsibilities) crowd my head, my imagination is too cramped to do much (except amplify my anxieties!) The best I can hope for is the occasional flowering of poetry... Kind of like a badly root-bound plant which sadly senesces - yet shoots out a vibrant bloom in its dying throes...

The meteor shower - man, that was so cool! I've never seen anything quite that spectacular in the night sky.

The rest of the 56 densely written journal pages will have to join the rest of my resource library. My notebook was small enough to squeeze into my bumbag; more Nepal preparation - my writing materials will need to be as economical on space and weighht as possible, I won't have a Sherpa just for my trade tools! (I almost wish I could finance an extra bod to do just that - camera, binoculars, novel, notebooks, water... I have no problems with that being a difficult power dynamic, if I was able and needed the money, I would happily be a bearer.)
A small writing space means a return to tiny handwriting - more circularity; as a child my writing was microscopic...

But it is so satisfying to create a more substantial post to capture some essence of the week...

the roller coaster cruises on...

hit reality with an extremely painful thump after our idyllic holiday... (& I HAVE to get back to more from my holiday writings - but I need to walk, and uploading photos can be more time-consuming than you epect!)

didn't even unpack until Monday morning.
Ath off sick this week, house a total tip... and potentially no income from end Aug...

the jubiliation of my final cascade training - high as a kite again...

...only to slump harder than ever as the anxiety began kicking in about my interview, & how much rides on getting this job...

...might have got a speeding ticket again this morning - so pre-occupied...

Anyway, I don't know which was nicer - GETTING the job (yippee!!!!!!) or having so many people obviously delighted at the prospect of continuing to work with me...

...maybe some more training lining up for Bath...

so today has been wonderfully uplifting- and the sun has shone during most of it...

setting up the annual camp...

the camp site... ...and the view of our furthest walk to the west...



you can see who became the self-appointed foreman (not that I did a huge amount as per... )

For Durdledoor fans

what do you see?

If you know Durdledoor, you might see what you think you see... or your eyes might make an assumption...

this is Ath's favourite pic from our trip.

Another kind of training...

Today was the final day of my second course of 3-day cascade training for the CAAAD Project.
The cascade training (training people to deliver training in pre- and post-test discussion for people at risk of hep C) has been the most daunting part of my responsibilities as HCV Pathways development worker. I don't feel like a 'trainer' - I'm a writer, and an experienced writing workshop facilitator. I haven't had any training myself in delivering pre- & post-test discussion - I just know what isn't good practice, from experiential learning...

Thank God for the mantra, 'transferrable skills, transferrable skills...'
Eighteen days of delivering training later (spread out over the last twelve months), I'm maybe starting to believe that perhaps those facilitation skills are transferrable after all. Particularly when you're blessed with experienced and creative trainees.

However, the step 'up' to 'training for trainers' remained terrifying, even after what I called my 'dummy run' - five out of six participants were already experienced in both training and practice of pre-& post test discussion. I muddled through that one, gaining (some) confidence that my concept was sound enough, I just needed to pull it all together better.

Today, I've had the pleasure of doing very little except co-ordinate the group's feedback on individual presentations - and enjoy learning from the group. People's experience ranged from zero to plentiful transferrable skills, yet I was thrilled by their creativity, innovation and courage - the variety of perspectives was inspirational.

I had a brief look at the Trust's newsletter during today's workshop, just before the 'discrimination' topic (which raised the issue of self-stigmatisation) and read it more fully when I got home.

The quote printed there on just that subject of 'internalised discrimination' really resonates for me. Yes, there IS stigma, discrimination and ignorance around hep C :

Diagnosis (after John Hegley)

At the clinic
gentleness
support
pragmatism
referral

Ice-water shock, then
my GP’s response
“You do realise people die of this?”

I’m dumbfounded
that people begin from the premise
that everyone’s dumb and work up.

I don’t. I begin
from the premise everyone’s cleverer
knows more than me and work down.

Often below my benchmark
of me.

So it must be
with my GP
seven-year training to be a GP
I know more about this
than he.
nonsensical

If I were
a GP
I’d owe it to my patients to research their disease
at least a bit.

Not my GP
his next pearl of wisdom when I felt unwell
“Nothing wrong with you”

Huh?
crap bedside manner – though I wasn’t in bed –
if not
downright negligence
or maybe
just
stupidity
ignorance

I’ve got no faith in my GP now
- obviously.

*************
Personally, I feel my own journey with this virus might have been a bit less bumpy if I hadn't had such an extreme reaction from a GP who had been - until my diagnosis - helpful and empathetic. I was looking to him for my lead on hep C and how to deal with it, I didn't expect a total sea-change in our interactions - just when I was highly anxious, more than mildly symptomatic, and emotionally devastated by an internal demon...

But after that, I interpreted any brusqueness or peculiarity as attributable to hep C discrimination - when in retrospect, I was interpreting personality traits as discrimination, interpreting imbalances of power with authority figures as discrimination. Any personal power I might have had was decimated by my loss of physical vitality and the fact my precarious self-esteem had been fragmented by both external events (I had to give up my car, then lost my job) and the emotional warzone I existed in.

People with other diseases have painful experiences at the hands of authority figures, particularly those making important decisions about our health (and I've come across a few real horror stories).

But in tackling real discrimination, we have to slay our own demons first. Overturning internal prejudice is a slow and on-going process.

For me, being able to lay claim to the name 'writer' was wonderful. Writers can be alcoholic, manic-depressive, drug-dependent, obsessive-compulsive (even all of them) and still be brilliant writers (however ineffectual and/or damaging in their personal relationships).
- perhaps I ought to mention there may well be 'normal' writers out there, but I don't think I've met many. In order to write it's a prerequisite that you have obsessive-compulsive tendencies at the very least!

Adding the 'performance element' - reading material in public - was excruciating at first, and remains nerve-wracking, but it's brilliant for building inner confidence. Tutoring is another, albeit gentler, way of increasing self-esteem.

The last eighteen months working for, and developing, Bristol's Hepatitis C Service has been demanding but wonderfully rewarding. Being proactive is crucial in dismantling internalised discrimination ('internal oppression' it was described as today - sounds like feminist terminology to me; hence an apt illustration of blind spots in self-awareness).

About twenty-five years ago, I was used to the term 'junkie' being synonymous with 'out of control', 'unreliable', 'dishonest', 'thieving', 'can't be trusted', 'unfit person', 'unfit parent', unpredictable', 'desperate' - to name but a few.
Even when we had habits, we still used the term in a derogatory way.

I can lay claim to the word in its more anodyne versions; 'sugar junkie', 'adrenalin junkie', 'text junkie'.

After working in a drugs project, it's easier to find other potential synonyms for 'junkie' - resourceful, survivalist, creative, enterprising, courageous, adventurous, rebellious, alternative, sensitive...

All those years ago, I couldn't maintain a heroin habit by myself even if I wanted to - it's too hard! To be a successful junkie, there's all that running about, ducking and diving, stealing, forgery, turning tricks... and it's dangerous - not just the health risks involved in self-administering injections and attendant incipient disasters, or the risks of losing your freedom from contravening laws, but, worst of all, the violence that underpins anarchy.

Getting a proper job and switching to societally sanctioned dependencies is much easier; nicotine (though that one's changing), sugar, caffeine, co-dependent partnerships and relationships, work, writing...

At the start of my post, I came across an interview with Doug Scott in The Eildon Tree. The courage of mountaineers fascinates me - I grew up in the house opposite Dougal Haston's mum. What struck me about that interview (alongside his being a fascinating individual) was that many of the words he used - taken out of context - I would have associated with drug-taking, not climbing mountains. It seemed to me that these groups of people, seemingly poles apart, actually had points of commonality. How we view their behaviour is likely to be very different - and yet, albeit from vastly different motivations or towards very different goals (depending on how you interpret them), testing the limits of a body's and/or mind's endurance is a trait shared by extremists and adventurers of almost any sort.

In two months time, I intend to undertake a trek run by Doug Scott's company. There's a certain satisfying circularity to that.

And if I hadn't had a brief encounter with a miniscule virus a very long time ago... so many people I wouldn't have met, so many challenges I couldn't have attempted. So many gifts I wouldn't have been given...

And if I can trek in Nepal, I can do treatment...

It's dark now. No trek training tonight. This trying to reconcile time for writing and time for training is driving me nuts! So there's obviously important learning embedded in the process...

Training week...

A week's camping at Durdledoor always feels like a week at a health farm... it's a mish just to brush your teeth, or take a shower, or go to the loo, or go for a game of pool... let alone a trip down to the beach (which feels practically vertical, even if it's not quite!).
Carole & I usually take a short walk most days; this time we went for three major coast walks. Perhaps not enormous mileage, but over excellent terrain for training.
My estimate of 25 miles for last week is extremely conservative (for once). If I'd had a pedometer on, it would have been a lot more, I'm sure.
I did, of course, keep a journal while I was there.
Which I hope to extract in here at some point...
I've had three unsuccessful attempts to post some of the pix, will try again as soon as I can.

This post is just 'keeping the faith' - and updating my mileage count...

Thanks for a handbound book...

One of the blog posts that has got lost along the time-crazy way is that the gorgeous handbound book - Fran's generous donation to the auction of promises - was bid for online and won by Helen, who in turn gave it to me as a gift.
Inside, Louis MacNeice's 'Entirely'.

Wonderful choice by Fran, encoded in a beautiful and individual script in mahogany ink.

For a treasured gift from my talented artist and writer friend...

One of those pearls for life's narrative.

And inspirational to turn the pages again and again...

more pix from the skyline walk...

thanks for sending on these pix, Crysse - and sorry I'm so abysmally disorganised to get them up so late!

Another packed week...

Work... bit of a struggle to focus this week.
Crysse's birthday Monday night...
Bridport on Wednesday, Golden Cap to Charmouth and back again (makes me feel like one of the Fellowship of the Ring, that 'and back again'. Just as long as I'm not a hobbit...)
Annabelle's for a 'debrief' on progress so far...
the Harm Reduction Strategy meeting...
Helen's...
Mike's...
... and another clothes-swap fundraiser, ably hosted by Marina, proceeds split between my venture and hers... (& another lovely evening it was too - more additions to my wardrobe...)

admin Saturday morning before haring off to Winchcombe. While Kit serviced the Polo, I went for a stroll - a mistake to take the Rover, after an hour's walk I was hot, tired - and compelled to procure a cache of junk food and read the paper while listening to the radio...
& we had a VERY lazy Sunday...
that's the trouble - when you're so busy, you need 'down time'. Which there isn't really time for in my training schedule...
so it has to be the social side which is junked again for a while... that and newspapers!

BATH SKYLINE

This one was a challenge.
I was pretty knackered.
It was HOT.
I was still standing by the end! (well, once I'd got up from the canal bank after a welcome respite in the shade...)
and this one I just couldn't have done without Crysse's and Peter's support (a bit like turning back to look at our descent path on Skiddaw - left to my own devices, I'd have wimped out of this).

We started on the Cotswold Way, and up Kelston Round Hill, over to Bath Racecourse, and on to Solsbury Hill. Down by the toll bridge, along the canal, up the ancient railway built to transport Ralph Allen's Bath stone from the quarry to the canal (that one held memories of some of the Skiddaw trek!), then back down into Bath, as we were running very short on time (and energy - even after a leisurely picnic on Solsbury Hill).

I need to do this one again, when I feel more lively. Even the views didn't boost my system much beyond grim determination - but the sense of achievement after DOING it was worth every gruelling step!!! So thank you, Crysse and Peter - it was a grand day, even if I wasn't exactly at my scintillating best (always I assuming I manage scintillating at my best...)

dreamweaving...

Saturday was lost to sleep.
I know it was a demanding week, but it was still a shock. I consoled myself at the time that I was due to walk with Crysse and Peter the following day...

Nepali Dinner Evening

A gorgeous garden, an idyllic English summer evening... and people sat round on sumptuous fabrics like gaudy butterflies, enjoying the feast Pippa had prepared... A perfect evening of breaking bread together in support of my adventure with the Hep C crew on our trek...

...later, Rod lit a fire in a giant wok, and we sat round the flames in the fragrant woodsmoke...

the total raised yet to be finalised.

What a lovely way to end the week - thank you, Pippa and Rod! - and thanks to everyone who came and supported the event.

Sunset on Cley Hill

Just as Frome is gearing up for the last Saturday of the festival - I'm heading for the hills... or hill. Cley Hill.
This seems fairly typical at the moment - being out of step with the communities to which I belong...

SKIDDAW TREK

This is what I've been just itching to put on my blog all week... Frome Festival week, so two gigs to fit in - and back to work; I always pay for time off with stacks of catching up... training to organise, and the pathway launch to cater for... Not to mention the - er, 'hiccups' - which beleager my work at the moment...

from my journal, 8th July 2006:

'Today, I climbed Skiddaw.
The feeling of elation at the top was wonderful, leaning into the gale as we headed back down...
Done it, done it, done it!'

I've never scaled a big hill before.

I lived at the foot of the Pentlands for 15 years - and never went to the top of one. I rambled around the slopes, but never actually scaled the summit... (to be fair, as a tiny child, I couldn't, really - well not without an adult, and as an adolescent, I wasn't that intrepid). I worked in Yetholm for a couple of years, and never once went hill walking. I listened to numerous tales from triumphant walkers in the Black Swan in Kirk Yetholm, at the Scottish end of the Pennine Way, and wished there was somebody I could try to walk it with... (who would carry the tent...)
But at that time, I traversed the Cheviots on horseback. I might walk the 5 or so (largely flat) miles to the pub and back - but steep uphill stuff? Hadn't the 'oomph'...
Then, I wouldn't have considered walking by myself. A different thing, roaming round the foothills of the Pentlands with my dog. But to tackle hills in my late teens, I'd have wanted company... Probably a good thing - I'd no doubt have got hopelessly lost on my own! Or twisted my ankle or something...

So the sense of achievement on getting to the top of Skiddaw... I didn't even attempt to describe it fully in my journal. (Not like me to be understated!)

'It's lovely walking with a group. You can push yourself more than you'd dare on your own... The VIEWS! Across the Solway Firth to Scotland, across to the Pennines, over toy-town Keswick and Derwent Water beside it. Hills as far as the eye can see...
Space. So much SPACE!
Going down, I look back.'

A steeply winding trail that makes me think of the hell of the fire and brimstone crew - a Sisyphean task; the higher you get, the more there is to climb. If I'd been faced with that as an ascent, my heart would have quailed... As we joked with Jeff, it could have been 'you can keep Nepal! - sod this for a lark!'

'Back at the Blencathra Centre, I'm full of sugar and caffeine and endorphins and achievement - I feel like Tigger...'

I want to bounce off the walls with excitement.
But of course, I don't.

'A shower proves nearly as good as a soak to sluice away the aches...
Hauling myself up on the poles, I get into the zone in the wake of Sergio and Jeff, walking solo between the clots of walkers toiling upwards - safe but solitary. Lovely. Just how I need to be for concentrating on the ascent.'

Another metaphor for my life... The above excerpts were taken from my scribbles on our return. I did manage to write more before going to sleep - which I may have a chance to return to...

As a writer, I can't fully express how hard this time constraint business is. The longer you leave writing about events, the 'colder' they get - and besides, MORE writing stacks up as time marches inexorably on...
I wanted to document the quiz night... setting the questions for the music round with Crysse, 'helping' Jill's team on the night... Brendan's brilliant Retro Cafe night - I was so thrilled at all the effort he'd been to, and profoundly touched by the beautiful poem Alan dedicated to me... the weekend in Totnes - Sam and Sally's unique wedding celebrations, our glorious river boat trip, the Russian ship moored at the mouth of the River Dart, later watching the herons through my newly acquired binoculars (thank you, Mike!) ...

All those things that I listed in my catch-up post have been languishing sadly, awaiting reflection and processing... which hasn't happened; life whirls on and slips through my fingers as through they're coated with lard...
There are about 40 emails in my inbox, and a pile of mail to wade through... Catching up seems impossible, let alone preparing for the next few hectic weeks...

And there's the issue of training. Having climbed Skiddaw, I have a far better idea of what to expect - and how much more time I need to devote to training if I'm to avoid a great deal of pain while trekking in the Himalayas.

The writer in me is hugely frustrated and marginalised - neither wonder I'm more than a bit crazed right now and uncontrollably weepy sometimes...

On a positive note, there's something indefinable about all this walking that clears the mind and helps the process of prioritising. It generates energy and positivity.

If the lesson I learn from all this is how to junk the unnecessary, that's a precious gift.

the Solway Firth

I haven't been to Maryport during such fantastic weather...

It was idyllic.

And check out the dearth of crowds... Just how I like my landscapes - call me greedy, but having all this to MYSELF is the most wonderful way to walk in the world...

Golden Cap

with time at a premium, it's a swine when uploading pix can be such a hit or miss affair...
...is half the world on the net, or something?

I have to say, this was a phenomenal walk. My first time with walking poles - they make SUCH a difference...

IF TIME IS A MERINO WOOL JUMPER...

... then someone has put mine in a boil wash.

Repeatedly.

Four weeks since my last post.


this is the view from the hostel Sam & Sally hired to hold their wedding party... see (much) later below - no way to position these pics that I can find...

A whistlestop tour, then, of the last month:

the Griffin quiz was great fun, & raised about £40 or £50 quid (the actual amount will be on Peter's spreadsheet)
I took the advice of the debt line, and wrote to all my creditors (with a slightly different outcome than anticipated - I'm now paying late payments in addition to the amounts I already owed, but we won't go there for now).
I'm delivering the Frome Times once a fortnight - might as well get a tenner while I do a bit of training...
I had a date, which was an interesting experience (but I'm not going there for now, either).
Mike lent me a digital camera, which I've been practising with.
Rod lent me some equipment for the trek - it's beginning to feel more real, now - horribly so, at times!
(Work, of course, goes on apace during all this).
I went to Sam's film screening at the Cube in Bristol - fantastic! He's SO talented... (well, would a son of Crysse's be anything else?)
I climbed Golden Cap (hope to come back to THAT one, too with pix).
My last class in Swindon was swiftly followed by the Retro Cafe Poetry gig in Bath (we raised £82 -THANKS, BRENDAN!) and on to Sally & Sam's wedding in Totnes - which would be great to get back to at some point, it was the most BEAUTIFUL setting... (see pic above).
Back to Bath from Totnes, met up with Karen and Mike, drove to Cumbria with them (sharing space with my baggage & theirs - the boot was given over to the new fairing for the Triumph Cosworth Daytona).
A few days with them in Maryport was just what I needed. OK, I smoked more than I have for a while, but to be away from all demands was just WONDERFUL. Especially as we had fabulous weather, so I walked along the Solway Firth nearly to Allonby - 'toughening my feet' (!) in the sea... (otherwise known as paddling...)
And on to Blencathra (which I WILL come back to...)
Home to a week's worth of washing-up and laundry - not to mention being short on the rent... (though number one son DID wash up on Monday, and made up his shortfall on pay day). Back to work, and it felt as if everything started to go horribly pear-shaped there, too... I think I was probably more exhausted than I realised from Skiddaw. It got better later in the week - at least, my positivity came back!
So, at least I'm kind of caught up...

Inner landscape....

This will be a VERY swift post - I need to get ready for the Quiz Night in the Griffin in twenty minutes...

My inner landscape on this journey mirrors the geography of Nepal...

We've been enjoying some utterly WONDERFUL weather. Sunny, hot, humid... a real holiday feel to most days (if I get out walking!). OK, maybe not the best weather to WORK in, but I hate to complain about good weather...

Which is why the total plummet of the last week has been so difficult to process. I suspect down to several things - the new supplements, on top of pushing myself damned hard last weekend and on Monday to get a grip on all the admin of my life AND keep up my training (TWO walks on Monday - nearly an hour before work, and over an hour after work; I was chuffed to bits, and making an extra effort to stretch myself - doubling back to do the slope three times, the sort of terrain I'll have to cover on the trek won't be the gentle undulations of Somerset, so the more hilly stuff I can practice on, the better...)

Tuesday was a real struggle - I was totally knackered. Slept in. Struggled to put in a full shift. Warning light - need time off... so I booked Wednesday. Luckily (or maybe not - I could have had the time off sick!) IBS kicked off Tuesday night and continued through to today (Sunday morning) though at least the ulcers seem to have healed over now... I slept most of Wednesday - haven't done that in an age! so must have needed it.

My class in Swindon was OK, but I was practically nodding at the wheel on the way back - this is NOT good. After two hours work? So I was quite badly rattled to be so low on resources - after a day's rest. Managed a visit to a friend - but indulged in several fags while I was there, so I felt pretty grim by the time I got home.

And Friday, between visits to the loo, my least painful position was stretched out on the sofa. Couldn't really sit, couldn't really stand - and I couldn't really drive, either. So a day off sick, which I always feel rotten about...

I finally managed a 'proper' walk today - maybe four miles, much slower than usual - and with interesting visuals, I think maybe I was a little hasty in donning the walking boots! My temperature plummeted on my return so much that I pulled on a fleece to drive to Sainsburys (I was too dizzy to walk, even though I only needed a few things)...

All of which has been accompanied by the most unsettling emotional leakings - unexpected tears, temper flare-ups and the worst 'downers' I've experienced in a long, long time.

The downers don't even feel necessarily connected to the low-level background anxiety about what happens once my contract ends, and about what's best to do with the morass that is my finances. Although I guess they are.

They feel chemical. Biochemical. Like there's a way to adjust that balance...

Which there will be. It's called eating properly, and exercising regularly, and getting enough rest and sleep, and not smoking and MANAGING STRESS.

Which sounds sensible and practical - and not nearly as bloody hard as it IS.

Maybe I just have to accept that I swing wildly between the poles of exultant elation and quiet desperation. Sometimes not so bloody quiet, at that.

The one I don't like to dwell on too much is that maybe it's the virus proliferating in my brain, inducing mood swings over which I have very little control at all...

Time to go - hope the quiz is fun...

next event...

TARGET NOW REACHED & SURPASSED!!!!!

Well, I know Crysse devoted great tranches of time to chasing up classy treats to put on the list of bids for the auction. We shared mounting excitement and delight as the list began to stack up... and up... and up...
I know that she tirelessly publicised the event, and generated a lively email traffic in bids, because she copied me in on all her mails...
I know there is a substantial reserve already as I arrive at La Strada on a gloriously sunny evening, after a day of dashing about. It's a rush to set up, distributing the Trust's leaflets and my poetry competition flyers as Crysse lays out the fantastic goods - many people have arrived ultra-promptly.
Which is probably just as well - I have no time to obsess on the fact that I have actually no idea what I'm going to say. I muddle through somehow, and then Peter takes over as auctioneer extraordinaire.

I'm utterly awestruck (& guess those who weren't there will be too) that Crysse's amazing creative energy has generated an incredible response, which is picked up on the night and extended...

The total surpassed the entire fundraising so far

- £1,872 !!!!!!!!

With £1,740 already raised, my fundarising target has now been topped.

With our trek training weekend rapidly approaching at the start of July, I can relax about whether or not I'll reach my target... and get on with training and dealing with the rest of my life (like sorting out work during September and October... and to come back to!)

The ball will keep rolling with the other events planned - a quiz, another poetry night, another clothes swap, and possibly a lunch...

I am so lucky to have friends who create joy and generosity around them, and who so open-heartedly invite me into that space to request support for this venture of mine.

And to share in family, too - Crysse became a gran for the first time last week, and I met the gorgeous Florrie on the morning of the auction...

Poetry Workshop on the theme of Dreams...

The last Thursday of the month is when the Grove Road poetry group meet.
Stepping Out financed my delivering a workshop to the group, payment to be added to the trek fund.

The reason I was facilitating this month's group prompted a short Q & A session about the virus, and then we got down to writing. Appropriately enough, our theme was dreams, both sleeping and waking. We had as much fun sharing our efforts as writing them - as always the diversity of ideas which came out of the afternoon was a real delight to us all.

Many thanks to all who participated, and to Steve for requesting the workshop.