As a winter storm named after someone's close relation, ripped it's chilly whisk through North Norfolk, the elderly population nestled in their homes. Whilst I foolishly ventured out to my Tai Chi class. Expecting a low turn out, but was a defiantly full complement. Today the air appears deceptively calm, and the sun is getting to work clearing the backlog of mist. So the day begins, with the usual sleepy headed meditation and the gentle muscular yank of Yang Ten. Once completed I sit and read, or as now, I write.
It's very easy for people in their sixties, such as myself, to write paragraphs bemoaning the physical privations their age imposes upon them. And leave the celebration of their continued existence a little underplayed. And yet, indulge me. For each winter I appear to have some new seasonal joint pain to report. Last year it was the shoulders, resistance band training to strengthen the enfeebled shoulder muscles, did the trick. This year, the winter aches have relocated to the hip joints. I spend time in the morning soothing the discomfort of hips. Some days, such as today, post the deeper isobars of a cold storm front passing over, those hips feel tender, almost raw. May be at sixty eight, I should take up radical hoola hooping or something similarly gyratory.
The kitchen revamp progresses. I started with the kitchen pantry. Well, pantry sounds a bit like we live in this grand house. It's quite a confined space under the staircase which had been shelved in a rudimentary manner since we moved in. There was a fair bit of sorting, chucking, and mucking out being done. Repainting the interior a pristine white, was the easy bit. Cutting down old IKEA Billy shelf units from our shop to fit the space, that proved to be taxing. This was similar to dressing yourself inside a paper bag.
I am the son of a very skilled joiner, and yet he passed little of his talent on to me. What joinery skills I possess were not genetically bequeathed to me, nor nurtured by any fatherly mentoring. Most of it simply rubbed off by hanging around people like my Dad and observing them. Though I can quickly get into a fraught state with even fairly minor woodworking tasks. Particularly if my cack handed abilities with cutting wood precisely are once more revealed to my ego. Let it be said, being a joiner's son does not do wonders for your confidence with carpentry. Lingering in the back of most men's minds are those mythical 'real men' who are supposed to be grand masters of any practical skill. Well. like many ordinary man, I can get by without looking too foolish or a complete tub of lard, but I do generally bodge with the best.
I was, therefore, heartily glad when I could return to decorating, which I heartily enjoy. To take colour, paint, paint brushes and rollers and slap it on ceilings and walls generously and everything be beautifully transformed, your room, your mood, your feelings about the precarious political economic situation. Plus, it has re-engaged both Hubby and I with a bit of interior design therapy. I've recently discovered what a joy a heat gun is when applied to vinyl covered kitchen cupboard doors, the facing comes off like an exfoliated rectangle of skin. Not that I'm an expert on the flaying of flesh. That would be a bit creepy. The first batch of doors are, however, now primed and waiting on skilful paintbrush work to transform them into an immaculate sage green. Before I get too ahead of myself here, the ceiling is now done, so it's onwards to the kitchen walls. I'm going to man the hell out of them.
And then, I removed one of the kitchen cupboards to prep the wall for the open shelving we want to replace it with. I expected the wall to be magnolia like the rest of the kitchen with a couple of holes to be filed. Who ever installed the cupboards slapped them in over the pre-existing wall and then painted around the cupboards. They also bodged installing an electricity duct and didn't plaster over. Leaving an open gash.To be honest, you'd have thought a much loved dog had just died, I spiraled from irritated anger into an exasperated despair. I became deeply deeply exhausted. It was as though this emotional time lag had just caught up with me, and wham!, was right in my face. I'm out of it today, but boy was I in a bit of a funk.
Today, another cold winter storm is blowing through. Rattling the outside hanging baskets, yes, we still have those. It's mild man. We travel to Blakeney, to Seagulls gallery to bring fresh stock for the new season. The gallery is reopening on Saturday. It was clear when we looked at the figures, that Seagulls performs really well, even when compared to our old shop. Which makes us think perhaps we should give it more consistent attentive focus. We have three new fabrics to compliment our range, that we are reasonably confident we will doing well with.
Talking of the consequences of a lifetime of sugar consumption. My month of Cakee Free Januaree has concluded. I've noticeable lost weight. In the past I've tried to maintain my diet, by keeping to the numbers, whilst still eating cakes. This never helps in the losing of weight. For two reasons, the tendency to under report calories in cakes, and the cluster fuck of cake calories go straight onto the waistline anyway. Post January, I'm aiming to keep to one cake treat per week, and see how I get on maintaining that. Wish me luck.
And Remember - Lash lift from every angle.
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