Should you be wandering past the Station House in Campsea Ashe on a Tuesday morning (non-Suffolk readers, unless you’re making a pilgrimage, this is unlikely to be you), you’ll see four or five ladies of mature years lying on mats finding their neutral pelvises and drawing chalk circles in the air. One of those ladies is me. Now you know.
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Frolicking with the gardener
I don’t want to shock you, but I feel we know each other well enough for me to be honest with you. Since lockdown began, I’ve been seeing other men. It all started in April. Things were weird, the sun was out and I was facing a year of many challenges. So, when a rather handsome gardener appeared and started building a polytunnel on our veg patch, I found myself spending a lot of time with him.
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I Never Thought I'd See the Day
This week, I’ve found myself doing things that surprised me. Aged 54, living a relatively comfortable life, it would be easy to get into a rut. Get up, make packed lunches, herd children into car, drop off at school, buy bananas and stuff from Melton Produce on the way home, load the dishwasher, put on a wash, get down to work. That’s pretty much how every day looks and that’s fine.
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23.06 and all's well
For the first time since I started Big Words and Made Up Stories, I gave myself a day off last week. Sorry about that. I’ve been inundated with phone calls, texts, WhatsApps and hand-written notes shoved through the door pleading with me to fill in that missing week*.
*I haven’t. This is all made up.
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