Well, still time for one last blog entry in 2007! We were all invited to Joan Jones' for the evening, but as I'm down with the flu (aaargh!) I stayed at home in the quiet. In spite of paracetamol, I'm sitting in a room with no heating, in a T-shirt and I can feel the rivulets running down my back! So the plan was, I'd come upstairs at 9:30 feeling tired, wee, switch off the computer then get an early night..... But by the time I'd weed, I was wide awake again, so I've been catching up on my Facebook friends, looking for a couple of elusive pimpernels and watching clips of the Two Ronnies on YouTube. So I decided I may as well finish the year doing something useful: a quick blog, then scriptures before midnight.
So what about all this New Year lark then, eh? As a teenager, I used to take every opportunity I could find to set goals - I was ALWAYS aiming for something! Something very lofty usually, something I couldn't possibly ever achieve given all the resources in the world. But somehow, I never stopped to think whether or not my goals were ever possible; somehow, I was happy just to set them, as if writing down my secret inner dreams would make them all come true!
Unfortunately, this bad habit grew with me into adulthood, where it made friends with disappointment and disillusionment. For every goal I never reached, my self-esteem took another beating, until failed attempt after failed attempt, there was none left to beat.
I've learned now that goals are very different from dreams - I even wrote a course on it! Goals are steps we plan to take in order to make dreams come a little bit closer. Goals must really be steps, and not leaps - they must be gradual, they must challenge our best efforts but also allow for bad days, interruptions and setbacks. Whilst they are a tool that can be very useful, they must not become the central focus of our existence.
So what are my goals for 2008? (Hey it's an Olympic year, just thinking about it!) Probably not very inspiring to you. Probably not even enough to make you break into a sweat. But here are mine, for what they're worth:
1) Still have four chickens at the end of the year.
2) Have a Daddy-Daughter Date with each of my girls, every month.
3) Study the scriptures more than I did last year.
4) Spend more time talking to Linda.
5) Learn to do whatever I can, when I can, and to take it easy on myself when I just can't.
So there you go. Now, get back to your parties wherever they are, you've got Shloer to drink and Party Poppers to let off! I hope that your 2008 is every bit as fabulous as you hope it will be. Dream dreams, make plans, never lose sight of what you're doing it all for. God bless you in all that you do. May you be richer, wiser and more fulfilled by the end of 2008.
Happy New Year!!!!
x
Monday 31 December 2007
Tuesday 18 December 2007
December in the garden
I nearly froze my bum off today. Whatever time I've been able to spend outdoors this year, I have loved - the garden offers a superb variety of colours, shades and species. But today, it was really bitter. I managed to get the whole chicken run painted with "forest green" woodstain - as I was building it, I had no idea actually how big the surface area of the run was! So now the hen-house is built, the run is done except for the wire and the door hang been hung and bolted. So as soon as the wire's been stapled on tomorrow, we're all finished.
I ordered a feeder and drinker today, so hopefully they'll be here before Christmas (fingers crossed, I know it's late in the day...). I also piled the wood shavings into the nesting boxes today as well, so that's that done. The legs of the house and the ladder are also stained now too, so in theory, it should also stand for a while!
I was thinking about all that we've learned, tried and achieved this year in the garden, and I thought I would share a few of our successes with you, as well as some of the lessons we've learned (of which there have been plenty!)
Successes
1. Grew huge crops of lettuce, carrots, onions and nasturtiums, all of them very delicious indeed.
2. Built a composter and have now made about 120L of fabulous-looking compost.
3. Removed two dead or disease-ridden apple trees.
4. Invested in (or otherwise acquired - by honest means :D) a garden shredder, 12 demi-johns, a sewing machine (OK, not for the garden, but helpful to wannabe smallholders) and a wide variety of screws and other bits and bobs.
5. Reduced toilet water wastage by two litres per flush.
6. Reduced household rubbish from a full bin and a bag or two, down to a third of a bin each week (and yes, there are six of us in the house!)
7. Got rid of our TV, video and DVD player (not garden again, but green, so I'm counting it!)
8. Had the cavity walls insulated with rock wool.
9. Built a greenhouse and planted a huge number of plants.
10. Converted a flower bed into a second vegetable patch, and also extended it.
Lessons learned
1. Make sure you get someone to water the veggies while you're away for two weeks in the summer..... we lost sooo much produce to the heat because of this silly mistake!
2. Figure out what to do in case of vegetable patch flooding - we also lost loads this way :(
3. Think about the sun's path when planting things - we had sweetcorn hidden away in a shady corner and it never really grew. Next year, we'll put it in the sunnier of the two beds.
4. Don't try too much all at once. We planted close to a hundred different plants, fruits, vegetables and herbs. Some were successful, some not. Next year, we'll concentrate on producing a bigger harvest of what we like best, and diversify in years to come once everything is established.
5. Produce a year plan in advance, and break it down into what needs to be down each month, then plan into your diary when (every week) you will do it. Veggies thrive on regular weeding, pruning etc rather than energetic bursts every now and then.
6. Most importantly of all though, I've learned that there are no finer carrots in all the world, than my own! Very soon, I'm going to make a carrot cake using my own carrots, my own apple sauce, flour that I have ground from wheat and eggs that my own hens have laid. And it will be the finest cake man have ever put to his lips! I'm getting ravenous just thinking about it!
I ordered a feeder and drinker today, so hopefully they'll be here before Christmas (fingers crossed, I know it's late in the day...). I also piled the wood shavings into the nesting boxes today as well, so that's that done. The legs of the house and the ladder are also stained now too, so in theory, it should also stand for a while!
I was thinking about all that we've learned, tried and achieved this year in the garden, and I thought I would share a few of our successes with you, as well as some of the lessons we've learned (of which there have been plenty!)
Successes
1. Grew huge crops of lettuce, carrots, onions and nasturtiums, all of them very delicious indeed.
2. Built a composter and have now made about 120L of fabulous-looking compost.
3. Removed two dead or disease-ridden apple trees.
4. Invested in (or otherwise acquired - by honest means :D) a garden shredder, 12 demi-johns, a sewing machine (OK, not for the garden, but helpful to wannabe smallholders) and a wide variety of screws and other bits and bobs.
5. Reduced toilet water wastage by two litres per flush.
6. Reduced household rubbish from a full bin and a bag or two, down to a third of a bin each week (and yes, there are six of us in the house!)
7. Got rid of our TV, video and DVD player (not garden again, but green, so I'm counting it!)
8. Had the cavity walls insulated with rock wool.
9. Built a greenhouse and planted a huge number of plants.
10. Converted a flower bed into a second vegetable patch, and also extended it.
Lessons learned
1. Make sure you get someone to water the veggies while you're away for two weeks in the summer..... we lost sooo much produce to the heat because of this silly mistake!
2. Figure out what to do in case of vegetable patch flooding - we also lost loads this way :(
3. Think about the sun's path when planting things - we had sweetcorn hidden away in a shady corner and it never really grew. Next year, we'll put it in the sunnier of the two beds.
4. Don't try too much all at once. We planted close to a hundred different plants, fruits, vegetables and herbs. Some were successful, some not. Next year, we'll concentrate on producing a bigger harvest of what we like best, and diversify in years to come once everything is established.
5. Produce a year plan in advance, and break it down into what needs to be down each month, then plan into your diary when (every week) you will do it. Veggies thrive on regular weeding, pruning etc rather than energetic bursts every now and then.
6. Most importantly of all though, I've learned that there are no finer carrots in all the world, than my own! Very soon, I'm going to make a carrot cake using my own carrots, my own apple sauce, flour that I have ground from wheat and eggs that my own hens have laid. And it will be the finest cake man have ever put to his lips! I'm getting ravenous just thinking about it!
Wednesday 10 October 2007
Life's a-maze-ing!!
I stand alone amid the hedges, challenging and fun;
But soon the fun begins to fade with the setting of the sun.
I wish I had a map with me, to guide me on my way -
so I'll be safe at home tonight and live another day!
I cry for help, “Is someone there who knows the way from here?”
(I hope they hear my bravery, don't notice all my fear).
“I'll help you, son” the warden says, his arms were stretched out wide,
“Just follow me, go where I go. The end is soon in sight”
That night I felt so grateful, that he came to my aid.
I'll always remember his kindly help and how my life he saved.
When life gets like a great big maze, there's no need for dismay:
just close your eyes and bow your head and humbly kneel to say,
“I'm lost dear Lord, I cannot find the way that I should roam.
Please find me Lord and comfort me and bring me safely home”.
I promise you as bright as sun, the 'warden' will be near;
He'll find you there and lead you home and bring you such warm cheer.
“I'll help you son” the Saviour said, His arms were stretched out wide,
“Just follow me, go where I go. The end is soon in sight”.
That night I felt so grateful, that He came to my aid.
I'll always remember His kindly help and how my life He saved.
Sunday 23 September 2007
Teaching an old dog new tricks....
I've been thinking a lot lately about the internet and all of the amazing possibilities it presents. For example, I'm now the proud owner of 122 friends on Facebook. These are (with the odd exception) all dear, dear friends from school, Austria, Chorley and now Wales, people with whom I have shared my childhood, my mission and the early years of my adulthood. We can share embarrassing school photos, watch each others kids grow and play Scrabble live over the internet - it's fantastic! Of course, working from home, it does take a superhuman amount of self-discipline to get some work done from time to time!
And talking of catching up friends old and forgotten (kind of), there's YouTube, which - like Facebook, totally rules the world. YouTube is a gigantic repository of video clips, most of which - I hasten to add - are the dregs left over when all of the quality is removed from a barrel, but amongst all of the chaff, there is some really good stuff. Being a huge fan of the UFC and not having Sky TV, I can view clips of all of the best bouts, and catch up with how everyone is doing. I can watch old episodes of Blackadder, the Two Ronnies and QI. We have watched all of series 3 of The Office and have nearly wet ourselves doing so. We have also used it a number of times as part of the girls' home education, finding nature clips and other gems.
We buy books at discount prices from Abe Books, having saved a fortune already this year. In fact at the start of the year, we bought a whole year's home ed curriculum from Sonlight. We swap DVD's with people from all over the UK and Europe using Eswapnow, and find all the latest bargains by logging into our account at Moneysavingexpert.com. Having saved all that money, we then bank online and pay bills and generally transfer money around (between the UK and the Caribbean, of course :D ).
It's hard to find an area of our lives that hasn't been greatly blessed and enhanced by the internet. We made a conscious choice a number of years ago to reduce the amount of rubbish that we were watching on TV, so that we could spend our time doing more useful things. So we got rid of the TV license, and just used the TV for watching videos and DVDs. Several years later, we have now got rid of the TV, video and DVD players, and have moved the computer into the family living room. We've always made an effort not to have the TV being the central point of people's attention as they walk into our room. Now we don't even have one for them to look at! Of course, we can still watch DVDs, but we are now more selective about what we watch and when. Since we made this quite bold move, we've noticed a big difference in the girls - they certainly weren't regular viewers before, but they hardly ever ask to watch films now. Instead, they ask to play internet games or to spend time working towards the next level in something like Study Dog, one of their English programmes.
I was trying to remember a time when we didn't have the internet. I had never even heard of it as a 20 year old missionary. I don't think we owned a computer until we moved to Chorley and I needed one for University, but even then, it was used as a word processor and nothing more. It wasn't really until we signed up for broadband in Wales that we started to realise the potential the internet had to change our lives. We started to watch some of the other sessions of Conference, research materials for lessons; in my work, I used it to carry out enormous research projects for client business plans I was writing. And so the transformation began, and we started to embrace it all whole-heartedly.
We often discussed the idea of selling up and travelling around Europe in a big camper van, and as much as that idea still appeals to us, it would mean having to learn how to live all over again, as we would have to do things without the net. Whether that is exciting or sad, I'll leave for you to decide, but either way, it shows what enormous changes life has seen since my parents were growing up. It fills me with a mixture of excitement and fear to try think how our children will be living when they are ancient like us!
And talking of catching up friends old and forgotten (kind of), there's YouTube, which - like Facebook, totally rules the world. YouTube is a gigantic repository of video clips, most of which - I hasten to add - are the dregs left over when all of the quality is removed from a barrel, but amongst all of the chaff, there is some really good stuff. Being a huge fan of the UFC and not having Sky TV, I can view clips of all of the best bouts, and catch up with how everyone is doing. I can watch old episodes of Blackadder, the Two Ronnies and QI. We have watched all of series 3 of The Office and have nearly wet ourselves doing so. We have also used it a number of times as part of the girls' home education, finding nature clips and other gems.
We buy books at discount prices from Abe Books, having saved a fortune already this year. In fact at the start of the year, we bought a whole year's home ed curriculum from Sonlight. We swap DVD's with people from all over the UK and Europe using Eswapnow, and find all the latest bargains by logging into our account at Moneysavingexpert.com. Having saved all that money, we then bank online and pay bills and generally transfer money around (between the UK and the Caribbean, of course :D ).
It's hard to find an area of our lives that hasn't been greatly blessed and enhanced by the internet. We made a conscious choice a number of years ago to reduce the amount of rubbish that we were watching on TV, so that we could spend our time doing more useful things. So we got rid of the TV license, and just used the TV for watching videos and DVDs. Several years later, we have now got rid of the TV, video and DVD players, and have moved the computer into the family living room. We've always made an effort not to have the TV being the central point of people's attention as they walk into our room. Now we don't even have one for them to look at! Of course, we can still watch DVDs, but we are now more selective about what we watch and when. Since we made this quite bold move, we've noticed a big difference in the girls - they certainly weren't regular viewers before, but they hardly ever ask to watch films now. Instead, they ask to play internet games or to spend time working towards the next level in something like Study Dog, one of their English programmes.
I was trying to remember a time when we didn't have the internet. I had never even heard of it as a 20 year old missionary. I don't think we owned a computer until we moved to Chorley and I needed one for University, but even then, it was used as a word processor and nothing more. It wasn't really until we signed up for broadband in Wales that we started to realise the potential the internet had to change our lives. We started to watch some of the other sessions of Conference, research materials for lessons; in my work, I used it to carry out enormous research projects for client business plans I was writing. And so the transformation began, and we started to embrace it all whole-heartedly.
We often discussed the idea of selling up and travelling around Europe in a big camper van, and as much as that idea still appeals to us, it would mean having to learn how to live all over again, as we would have to do things without the net. Whether that is exciting or sad, I'll leave for you to decide, but either way, it shows what enormous changes life has seen since my parents were growing up. It fills me with a mixture of excitement and fear to try think how our children will be living when they are ancient like us!
Sunday 9 September 2007
There can be only one.......
I've got a challenge for all of you internet-savvie brain boxes.... Find me a Googlewhack. Just in case you're not a lifelong fan of Dave Gorman (and how could any self-respecting Brit NOT be??), a Googlewhack is a pair of words which, when searched for together in Google, produce only one single result. That's one single website in the entire 15 billion + webpages out there, which features those two words on the same page.
"Aha!" I hear you say, "But that's easy!" Really? Good luck! I've tried some pretty random couplets and found over a million responses for them!
I really struck gold on Friday - I have to point out in my defence here that I've spent maybe a half hour in total (ever) on this quest - when I searched for "amorphic tiswas". Quite why ANYONE would want to write about a brand of nonsense without physical shape, I really can't imagine, but apparently somebody out there felt the need.
Bitten by the bug, I then searched for a more nutritious option, typing in random fruits as they popped into my mind. Finally I settled upon "blackcurrant carburretor", which again scored me only one response. The fun didn't stop there, oh no, and I ended up finding three within minutes of each other, with "endomorphic bipolarism" finishing off the triumphant trio.
The tragedy of me telling you all of this is that once I hit that red "Publish" button, there's no going back: my prodigies will all die and become extinct. No more will there be only one entry on large-framed manic depression. There will be no more single source of data on fruity car-parts. Body has now been cruelly added to previously un-formed nonsense, and all proof of my half-hour's labour will be destroyed.
Still, there's comfort in knowing that they are not really 'dead' as such: they will live on in another form. They have now shaken off this mortal coil, and will be resurrected as "dis legomenonae", or words which only appear twice in a spoken language. (Scholars may argue that since the phrase 'blackcurrant carburetor' is not a regular feature in everyday spoken English, it cannot officially count as a dislego-whatsit; but frankly I'm inclined not to care about the opinion of anyone that would care to argue such pedantry as that).
You see, I try to educate the world with this blog. I don't know if there will peace in the Middle East tonight because of it, but one day, one day this blog will have a positive effect on humanity.
Incidentally, the deepest joy of a Googlewhack comes not after an hour's hard labour, leafing furiously through a dictionary trying to find ridiculous words that can't possibly be connected. Oh no. The greatest joy is when you find one, quite by accident, when you wander through the interweb as a serendipitous Indiana Jones. It all happened because of the pain I was having in my neck, sort of a "my whole head is going to explode from the neck up" kind of feeling. Since I've been on antibiotics for a couple of days, I started to Google for potential problems that might cause this kind of phenomena, but I found none. Now somewhat urgently looking for guidance, I typed in "amoxicillin contrainidications", not realising that I had added in a n extra "i". And there before my astounded eyes lay a bright, new shiny Googlewhack of my very own. You can't explain the desire that you get to just reach out and stroke it, like a tiny yellow chick that's hatched before your very eyes. It's something you have to experience for yourself.
All of which nonsense leads me to three clear conclusions:
1) Never under-estimate the power of the internet to rob you of half an hour of productive time at work
2) Always read the label first
and
3) Never trust a website written by a Doctor who can't spell "Contraindication"
Goodnight.
"Aha!" I hear you say, "But that's easy!" Really? Good luck! I've tried some pretty random couplets and found over a million responses for them!
I really struck gold on Friday - I have to point out in my defence here that I've spent maybe a half hour in total (ever) on this quest - when I searched for "amorphic tiswas". Quite why ANYONE would want to write about a brand of nonsense without physical shape, I really can't imagine, but apparently somebody out there felt the need.
Bitten by the bug, I then searched for a more nutritious option, typing in random fruits as they popped into my mind. Finally I settled upon "blackcurrant carburretor", which again scored me only one response. The fun didn't stop there, oh no, and I ended up finding three within minutes of each other, with "endomorphic bipolarism" finishing off the triumphant trio.
The tragedy of me telling you all of this is that once I hit that red "Publish" button, there's no going back: my prodigies will all die and become extinct. No more will there be only one entry on large-framed manic depression. There will be no more single source of data on fruity car-parts. Body has now been cruelly added to previously un-formed nonsense, and all proof of my half-hour's labour will be destroyed.
Still, there's comfort in knowing that they are not really 'dead' as such: they will live on in another form. They have now shaken off this mortal coil, and will be resurrected as "dis legomenonae", or words which only appear twice in a spoken language. (Scholars may argue that since the phrase 'blackcurrant carburetor' is not a regular feature in everyday spoken English, it cannot officially count as a dislego-whatsit; but frankly I'm inclined not to care about the opinion of anyone that would care to argue such pedantry as that).
You see, I try to educate the world with this blog. I don't know if there will peace in the Middle East tonight because of it, but one day, one day this blog will have a positive effect on humanity.
Incidentally, the deepest joy of a Googlewhack comes not after an hour's hard labour, leafing furiously through a dictionary trying to find ridiculous words that can't possibly be connected. Oh no. The greatest joy is when you find one, quite by accident, when you wander through the interweb as a serendipitous Indiana Jones. It all happened because of the pain I was having in my neck, sort of a "my whole head is going to explode from the neck up" kind of feeling. Since I've been on antibiotics for a couple of days, I started to Google for potential problems that might cause this kind of phenomena, but I found none. Now somewhat urgently looking for guidance, I typed in "amoxicillin contrainidications", not realising that I had added in a n extra "i". And there before my astounded eyes lay a bright, new shiny Googlewhack of my very own. You can't explain the desire that you get to just reach out and stroke it, like a tiny yellow chick that's hatched before your very eyes. It's something you have to experience for yourself.
All of which nonsense leads me to three clear conclusions:
1) Never under-estimate the power of the internet to rob you of half an hour of productive time at work
2) Always read the label first
and
3) Never trust a website written by a Doctor who can't spell "Contraindication"
Goodnight.
Saturday 8 September 2007
What it feels like to be a grown-up...
Well, first impressions of being 30 are good! It probably sounds daft to say that it does feel a little bit different from being 29. I think that's mostly the sense of optimism and hope that this is going to be a great year. I'm in a very different position indeed than I was last birthday, and there are a number of key factors that are also very different now than they were then. The future's orange, as they say.
I felt quite overwhelmed with the loving wishes that seemed to pour in yesterday, with cards through the door, musical e-cards and wall messages on Facebook. I frankly wondered what all the fuss was about! Then I re-read the training course I was busy trying to finish off ready for a client, all about Personal Development. It looks at how our sub-conscious mind builds up a set of values and beliefs, not all of which are true. We have to challenge them and re-train it in order to achieve things. This, combined with the last counselling session I attended, is starting to move things in my head - long overdue too. My therapist (oh my goodness, I'm talking like an American!) asked me why I'm so ashamed of my illness, and why I find it so very difficult to talk about. I said I don't know, and since that session, I've thought a lot about it.
It feels a bit stupid sitting here saying something like "Hello I'm Richard and I suffer from Clinical Depression" but the fact remains that it's true. I do, so there. And since there are only a handful of people that actually read this, and I love them all dearly, here goes..... Some days I feel fantastic, unstoppable, limitlessly talented. Other days, I feel like the lowest piece of scum on the earth who is selfishly taking up other people's resources like air and food. Apparently J.K. Rowling based her Dementors on depression: how the world goes icy cold, and drains of aevery piece of happiness that was ever there. Harry describes how he felt that he would never be happy again. Welcome to clinical depression.
Sometimes I just can't face people, even the ones I love, and I have to just hide until the feeling goes away. I think part of it is that I don't want people to see me like this, some sort of British inability to ever admit that anything's wrong. Linda (my therapist) reminded me that if I had a broken leg, I wouldn't think twice about putting in an appearance, so why should I, just because my condition is mental not physical? It all sounds so logical, so sensible! And yet it's so very difficult to implement when they're swarming around you.
So, in the spirit of the freedom of information act, there are a few things that you all you need to know:
1) First and foremost, I love you all to bits! Cottrelly people, thank you so much for making me part of the family, I feel very welcome amongst you and that's nice.
2) I find dealing with depression very difficult, and I don't always deal with it in the best way (if there is one...) Sometimes I hide away, and that's not always the best solution, but when I do you HAVE to know that it's not because I don't like you or don't want to be with you.
3) May the Lord bless you all to never have anything to do with it. It's the most evil, debilitating illness I can think of. There's not a facet of your life that it doesn't have the power to utterly screw up.
4) You all need to know what an AMAZING sister you've got in Linda. She has put up with a stroppy, sulky teenager for so long now, and there's never been an inkling that she's ever wanted to give up and walk away. I can't put into words how much she means to me and how very grateful I am for her. She has quite literally been a rock that I've clung to when the seas have just about swallowed me up and I have longed and even begged not to be here; she has held my hand until the storm was over so many times. Sorry to get all slushy, but I needed you all to know that.
So how is being 30 so different from being 29? Well, in my case, I now have an excellent Doctor who actually listens and is prepared to experiment to find the right medication; I have a superb psychotherapist who reads me like a book and is really uncovering some juicy stuff; I'm now in a fitness habit which is getting stronger, and already I can feel the difference; I'm working for myself again which I love, and things are starting to grow and progress; I've finished my AAT qualification at last which puts me in a much stronger position to secure work. There will still be down days, I know that, but I feel so much more prepared to handle them than I ever have done before.
So... there it is. I'm 'out of the closet' so to speak. No more secrets. No more hiding. I'm not ashamed it any more. This is me, so there. God bless you all for loving me the way that you do.
And thank you, thank you for all of your birthday wishes.
xx
I felt quite overwhelmed with the loving wishes that seemed to pour in yesterday, with cards through the door, musical e-cards and wall messages on Facebook. I frankly wondered what all the fuss was about! Then I re-read the training course I was busy trying to finish off ready for a client, all about Personal Development. It looks at how our sub-conscious mind builds up a set of values and beliefs, not all of which are true. We have to challenge them and re-train it in order to achieve things. This, combined with the last counselling session I attended, is starting to move things in my head - long overdue too. My therapist (oh my goodness, I'm talking like an American!) asked me why I'm so ashamed of my illness, and why I find it so very difficult to talk about. I said I don't know, and since that session, I've thought a lot about it.
It feels a bit stupid sitting here saying something like "Hello I'm Richard and I suffer from Clinical Depression" but the fact remains that it's true. I do, so there. And since there are only a handful of people that actually read this, and I love them all dearly, here goes..... Some days I feel fantastic, unstoppable, limitlessly talented. Other days, I feel like the lowest piece of scum on the earth who is selfishly taking up other people's resources like air and food. Apparently J.K. Rowling based her Dementors on depression: how the world goes icy cold, and drains of aevery piece of happiness that was ever there. Harry describes how he felt that he would never be happy again. Welcome to clinical depression.
Sometimes I just can't face people, even the ones I love, and I have to just hide until the feeling goes away. I think part of it is that I don't want people to see me like this, some sort of British inability to ever admit that anything's wrong. Linda (my therapist) reminded me that if I had a broken leg, I wouldn't think twice about putting in an appearance, so why should I, just because my condition is mental not physical? It all sounds so logical, so sensible! And yet it's so very difficult to implement when they're swarming around you.
So, in the spirit of the freedom of information act, there are a few things that you all you need to know:
1) First and foremost, I love you all to bits! Cottrelly people, thank you so much for making me part of the family, I feel very welcome amongst you and that's nice.
2) I find dealing with depression very difficult, and I don't always deal with it in the best way (if there is one...) Sometimes I hide away, and that's not always the best solution, but when I do you HAVE to know that it's not because I don't like you or don't want to be with you.
3) May the Lord bless you all to never have anything to do with it. It's the most evil, debilitating illness I can think of. There's not a facet of your life that it doesn't have the power to utterly screw up.
4) You all need to know what an AMAZING sister you've got in Linda. She has put up with a stroppy, sulky teenager for so long now, and there's never been an inkling that she's ever wanted to give up and walk away. I can't put into words how much she means to me and how very grateful I am for her. She has quite literally been a rock that I've clung to when the seas have just about swallowed me up and I have longed and even begged not to be here; she has held my hand until the storm was over so many times. Sorry to get all slushy, but I needed you all to know that.
So how is being 30 so different from being 29? Well, in my case, I now have an excellent Doctor who actually listens and is prepared to experiment to find the right medication; I have a superb psychotherapist who reads me like a book and is really uncovering some juicy stuff; I'm now in a fitness habit which is getting stronger, and already I can feel the difference; I'm working for myself again which I love, and things are starting to grow and progress; I've finished my AAT qualification at last which puts me in a much stronger position to secure work. There will still be down days, I know that, but I feel so much more prepared to handle them than I ever have done before.
So... there it is. I'm 'out of the closet' so to speak. No more secrets. No more hiding. I'm not ashamed it any more. This is me, so there. God bless you all for loving me the way that you do.
And thank you, thank you for all of your birthday wishes.
xx
Thursday 9 August 2007
Just call me Bruce...
Well, after shedding a few unwanted pounds recently, I decided to take it a step further and invest a whopping £4 on a wide elastic band with handles from Tesco. The idea (I think - there were no instructions in English on the box...) is that you hold it or otherwise suspend from various bodyparts, whilst pulling in the opposite direction with another. It's a gentle form of resistance exercise, so it's ideal for the rather overweight and feeble. Having had lots of fun with that for a few weeks, I started to feel brighter in myself and have more energy - hurray!
As a teenager, I was really into martial arts and weight training, though sadly, I spent more time reading "Muscle & Fitness" than I did actually training. But the desire is still there, so with my new-found energy, I decided to start kickboxing - a fitness class rather than combat. And oh my goodness, do I ache! The session lasts an hour, and I was determined that however much it hurt, I had to not puke until it was over and noone was looking!
We spent much of the hour doing punch bag work, which develops power and speed, and then we moved onto focus mitts, which makes sure you're looking where you're hitting! Everything about the session was geared towards developing stamina, and the ability to recover quickly from high intensity exercise - I guess like you would do if you were recovering in the corner between rounds.
One hour after the end, I still haven't puked, and actually feel very good, though I was careful to drink a lot during the session, as well as afterwards. My shoulders are hurting with exhaustion like I've never known, and I'm sure my legs will start to complain in the morning. Which leads me to another of my deep and meaningful questions... Why is it that you can walk past something time after time, day after day, it's always in the same place, but then when you actually need it, it's never there??!!?? I'm thinking of the Arnica tablets now - regular attenders on my living room shelf, but now that I need them, they've scarpered! Never mind, I'll go and watch some TV and fall asleep - I usually wake up at 3 in the morning remembering where I last out them!
As a teenager, I was really into martial arts and weight training, though sadly, I spent more time reading "Muscle & Fitness" than I did actually training. But the desire is still there, so with my new-found energy, I decided to start kickboxing - a fitness class rather than combat. And oh my goodness, do I ache! The session lasts an hour, and I was determined that however much it hurt, I had to not puke until it was over and noone was looking!
We spent much of the hour doing punch bag work, which develops power and speed, and then we moved onto focus mitts, which makes sure you're looking where you're hitting! Everything about the session was geared towards developing stamina, and the ability to recover quickly from high intensity exercise - I guess like you would do if you were recovering in the corner between rounds.
One hour after the end, I still haven't puked, and actually feel very good, though I was careful to drink a lot during the session, as well as afterwards. My shoulders are hurting with exhaustion like I've never known, and I'm sure my legs will start to complain in the morning. Which leads me to another of my deep and meaningful questions... Why is it that you can walk past something time after time, day after day, it's always in the same place, but then when you actually need it, it's never there??!!?? I'm thinking of the Arnica tablets now - regular attenders on my living room shelf, but now that I need them, they've scarpered! Never mind, I'll go and watch some TV and fall asleep - I usually wake up at 3 in the morning remembering where I last out them!
Sunday 5 August 2007
Things that make you go BOOM!
I found a drafted blog entry from mid-June that I wanted to share with you - it really tickled me looking back on it. I hope you enjoy:
I had an interesting experience this morning - I moved something off the kitchen table only to reveal a very strangely-shaped pop bottle. In its heyday, it contained 2 litres of Tesco's best effort at ginger beer, but being the adventurous type, I decided to try and make some Elderflower cordial whilst the girls were away. We'd run out of white sugar, so I had to use to brown instead, which has a much stronger flavour.
It just didn't taste right, so I took it out of the fridge and left it on the kitchen side, just as a temporary measure until I could be bothered to pour it on the compost heap. Well, this morning, one week later, I re-discovered the bottle, now expanded to bursting point, having now fermented a good part of the brown sugar into finest home-brewed elderflower wine!! The bottle was shaped more like a barrel than a bottle, and was so hard to touch, it felt like it would blow any minute! I immediately sprang into bomb-disposing-hero mode and sent everyone out of the way, which did nothing but attract them all to the danger! I carried it out to the garden at a snail's pace, fully aware that not only could it have taken my eye out, but I was also wearing my Sunday best, and didn't really fancy ironing another shirt.
Well, at arm's length, I slowly relaxed the bulging lid, expecting a little fizz as the bottle released its carbonic acid, but oh no! The fizz continued for nearly five minutes!! Finally, when all the gas had been set free, I took the lid off and cautiously took a sniff of my first, inadvertent homebrew, with the result that I nearly fell backwards, spilling the whole beverage on my white shirt. I've never smelled anything so powerful in my life: even sharing a missionary flat didn't come close to this stuff! I then proceeded to pour it liberally all over the compost heap, thinking that it would add variety of nothing else to the composition of my garden droppings.
For some weeks, there has been a strong and not particularly pleasant smell coming from the garden. In fact, all you need to do to experience it (should you want to) is step out of the back door, where you will be hit (and I use the word deliberately) by a strong, sweet, very alcoholic stench. Certainly, I intend to make the most of the experience and am now putting together a PhD thesis entitled "A study into potential uses of homebrew in modern biological warfare". I shall be adding that should my elderflower cordial not have the desired effect, we could simply catapult a barrel full of retired missionaries' shoes towards enemy lines!
Experiences in Bournemouth
So as you'll have gathered from everyone else's blogs, we've just spent a delicious week with the family in Bournemouth. But what you might not have picked up on are the wonderful subtleties of the fine English language. I'll give you an example... this week the girls have spent as many waking moments as humanly possible playing with their Uncle Steve's Nintendo Wii - a small games console with wireless controllers, for the uninitiated. That was fine, but it then led to a number of embarrassing experiences, as the tongue ran on ahead of the mind, leaving the speaker in considerable discomfort. At about 6 o'clock one night, Mum asked where Linda was, to which I helpfully replied, "She's in the front room Wii'ing". Mum was aghast! Having not yet fully attuned her ears to tell the difference between "wii'ing" and "weeing", I'm sure she must have suspected her third-born was up to some foul and vulgar practice of the Northerners....
This made me think back to a time about a year ago in the wastelands of Merthyr Tydfil, when we invited our two best friends round to play some board games. I tactfully asked Esther if they were busy on Friday; she checked her diary then replied "No, we've got absolutely nothing on". I couldn't help it, though I tried and tried to suppress it - the words escaped my mouth before I could stop them: "Oooo! Sounds good - we're going to have a Naked Friday!" Esther, bless her, went a shade of red I have only ever seen in sunburned beetroots, and we all rolled on the floor, genuinely laughing our bottoms off. And from then on, when we met on a Sunday at church, one couple would ask the other of they were up for a Naked Friday, much to the consternation of the occasional member who caught the wrong end of the stick when passing by...
Whilst we were in the mouth of the Bourne, we visited Littledown leisure centre for a dip on a hot day. I couldn't resist donating a pound to a machine that promised to tell my weight, height and fortune. I seem to be struck with a fitness bug at the moment, and decided to take the opportunity of having a machine speak blasphemy to me whilst I still can. So here, for the very first time in the history of the internet, you, dear blog reader have either the awesome privilege or the terrifying ordeal of reading my vital statistics, as of the 1st August: 5'11", 19st 12lb with a bodyfat of 32%.
Although my weight is not the recommended 12 stone ideal (so that I can hide in a box of pencils), what concerns me more is the fact that I've shrunk by 3 inches over the last ten years. I'm not quite sure - apart from in some hideous accident - how I could have lost three inches in height. Obviously they make up some of the many extra inches of waistland around me these days, but the question is why? Why would they abandon my height and settle around my hips? Why not around my bicep, or even give me one of those fabulous man-bosoms like Arnie? But three inches beware: the owner of these hips has hereby decreed that you are an endangered spcies. You, and many of the others of your kind are wanted men (or women) (in fact, do waistline inches even have a gender??). Before long, there will only be 30-something of you - aha!!
This made me think back to a time about a year ago in the wastelands of Merthyr Tydfil, when we invited our two best friends round to play some board games. I tactfully asked Esther if they were busy on Friday; she checked her diary then replied "No, we've got absolutely nothing on". I couldn't help it, though I tried and tried to suppress it - the words escaped my mouth before I could stop them: "Oooo! Sounds good - we're going to have a Naked Friday!" Esther, bless her, went a shade of red I have only ever seen in sunburned beetroots, and we all rolled on the floor, genuinely laughing our bottoms off. And from then on, when we met on a Sunday at church, one couple would ask the other of they were up for a Naked Friday, much to the consternation of the occasional member who caught the wrong end of the stick when passing by...
Whilst we were in the mouth of the Bourne, we visited Littledown leisure centre for a dip on a hot day. I couldn't resist donating a pound to a machine that promised to tell my weight, height and fortune. I seem to be struck with a fitness bug at the moment, and decided to take the opportunity of having a machine speak blasphemy to me whilst I still can. So here, for the very first time in the history of the internet, you, dear blog reader have either the awesome privilege or the terrifying ordeal of reading my vital statistics, as of the 1st August: 5'11", 19st 12lb with a bodyfat of 32%.
Although my weight is not the recommended 12 stone ideal (so that I can hide in a box of pencils), what concerns me more is the fact that I've shrunk by 3 inches over the last ten years. I'm not quite sure - apart from in some hideous accident - how I could have lost three inches in height. Obviously they make up some of the many extra inches of waistland around me these days, but the question is why? Why would they abandon my height and settle around my hips? Why not around my bicep, or even give me one of those fabulous man-bosoms like Arnie? But three inches beware: the owner of these hips has hereby decreed that you are an endangered spcies. You, and many of the others of your kind are wanted men (or women) (in fact, do waistline inches even have a gender??). Before long, there will only be 30-something of you - aha!!
Sunday 22 July 2007
A week of firsts...
I don't know how it all worked out, but this seems to have been a week of firsts for me... first time standing in a queue for the midnight release of a book, first time being breathalysed, (first time I've ever actually written the word"breathalysed"!), first time in a simulator and the first time I've ever seen a dead kestrel. Wow, what a week!
Yes, I decided that at coming up to 30, I ought to have that devoted experience of going without sleep and sanity to wait in a queue full of fancy-dressed fans for the long-awaited final instalment of Mr Potter and his under-age adventures. The camera didn't really do justice to the length of the Asda queue, suffice it to say that it went all the way from the women's underwear, through the electrical department and halfway down the casserole dish aisle. After what seemed like not all that long really, a strangely dressed woman asked if I wanted the adult or child's edition, and fearing the former to include wizard-porn of some sort, I asked for the children's edition. (I later learned that the only difference is the more child-friendly cover painting, but you never can be too careful.....)
On my way there at 11:55pm (I wanted to stand in line, but not for long...) I was pulled over by the Police, who I assumed had clocked me doing 35 in the 30 zone. He informed that this being Friday night, they often find that people try to drive home after getting a skinful, so they were carrying out random breath-tests. Cool, I thought, but don't be long! The machine was clear and I even got to keep the straw as a souvenir, and I arrived at Asda at 11:59, ready to show my devotion to Mrs Rowling. Why Asda, when I'm a time-honoured Tesco shopper? Well, Asda were selling it for £5 and Tesco for £10. I might not be the best accountant in the world, but even I can spot the bargain in that one!
As you'll no doubt have read on the girl's blogs, we had a day out at Butlins in Skegness on Thursday. It was brilliant and well worth the £26 for a bulging family ticket. The girl's were in their element, and it looks like they're all going to become adrenaline junkies like their mother! Emily (the cheekster) calmly told me that simulator would be a gentle recreation for me, and that we could fly together through some nice countryside. Having refused to go on a variety of rides with names like "The Puke-o-meter", "Wall of Death" and "The Gut-slayer", I agreed that this one sounded more like it. Oh, how wrong I was! The simulator only moves about two feet in any one direction, but what a difference o0nce you're inside it! There was an emergency stop button right above my head in case you need to rush out and puke, and it took all of my strength not to push it after only a few seconds! By the time the ride finished, my gastric appreciation was on its way, and only the fact that the door opened quickly stopped me from chundering all over the screen (she also made me sit right at the front, the swine!)
On Wednesday teatime, I went out to the car and thought "Wo!".... there in front of me on the front lawn was a deceased kestrel... in Grimsby of all places! I couldn't help but think of that classic sketch complaining about the lack of vitality in a Norwegian Blue... my hypersensitive neighbour felt I should deal with it there and then, but with five minutes left before the tea burned and chips to buy from the village, there was no time to be squeamish: the bird would have to wait!
When tea was done and dusted, I phoned the Police, going on the theory that you have to report a dead dog, so why not a protected bird of prey? They told me to phone the RSPCA, who passed me around a few departments, before telling me to phone the Council, and they would come and collect it as a bio-hazard! The lady at the Council was slightly less dramatic, and calmly told me to chuck it in the wheelie-bin in the morning. From this, I think we can all learn two important lessons: 1) always eat your dinner before handling dead birds, and 2) never trust a grinning 7 year old who tells you a ride is stomach-friendly!
Sunday 17 June 2007
The Prologue
Well, I suppose it was inevitable really, that I should finally write my own blog. After all I'm fully conversant with email, I know my RAM from my MPEG's and I've even been known to connect to a wireless LAN for a quick game of Deathmatch Black Hawk Down - surely I couldn't have held on for much longer before being dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century!
Interestingly enough it was my 7yr old Emily who persuaded me to do it. Sure, she's been harping on at me to start one since she was brainwashed at a recent trip to the Cottrells - but it was more what she didn't say that one me over: I wish that my dad has started a blog when he was young, so that I could read back over his experiences, his triumphs, his fears.
So perhaps in these lines of what I'm reliably informed is no longer HTML ("That's like so 90's, man!"), some future generations of Cook's may learn something interesting about their old man. At the very least, I hope they'll come to understand why my shoes are always muddy, and what that awful stench is at the bottom of the garden!
Interestingly enough it was my 7yr old Emily who persuaded me to do it. Sure, she's been harping on at me to start one since she was brainwashed at a recent trip to the Cottrells - but it was more what she didn't say that one me over: I wish that my dad has started a blog when he was young, so that I could read back over his experiences, his triumphs, his fears.
So perhaps in these lines of what I'm reliably informed is no longer HTML ("That's like so 90's, man!"), some future generations of Cook's may learn something interesting about their old man. At the very least, I hope they'll come to understand why my shoes are always muddy, and what that awful stench is at the bottom of the garden!
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