Lockdown sucks in so many ways.

If January was the trial month of resolutions and intentions, then February is not doing so well on playing catch up🤦🏻‍♀️

If last year was the leap year, then this one, based on experiences to date, looks as though we should be leapfrogging right over it. 🙄🤪

It’s beginning to look like there are 365 hours in the day instead of 24. Take yesterday as an example, or was it the day before?🤷🏻‍♀️ Went to bed late but was up early, which meant I had surplus hours. Rather than tidy the utility room; – (which, by the way, multi tasks as a home gym, recycling centre and general dumping ground, that I pretend doesn’t exist once I close the door on it!) – I move the mess onto the tumble dryer – yes – the rooms original purpose is to do the laundry…I know, what a novel idea!🤓😩 – I open down the treadmill and pretend to do something productive. Exercise is good right? 😳 If you’re tired already, welcome to the club!

Everything is an effort these last few days – my fitness wearable has given up pinging on me. It’s as confused as the rest of us on the covid carousel. Wake up, get up and then spend the rest of the day trying to figure out what to do with yourself between meals. I’m more than fed up with doing the same ole thing and trying to spin a new angle on a walk within 5km. I’ve a whole new level of respect for hamsters.🤪 Any self respecting Mary Poppins could use an umbrella as a getaway vehicle in the weather we’ve been having and it wouldn’t keep her dry either! The roller coaster of viable activity options is in direct competition with its nemeses; rain, wind and enthusiasm. Yes, aka lack thereof – nada – diddly, with n’ere a squat in sight. Today is the gazillionth day of whenever. I haven’t had a swim in what seems like an age. Days of the week are a challenge. Yesterdays blend into todays and end up as whenevers.

Where was !?

Rambling.

Nothing new then.

Except yesterday, – oh yes, the treadmill.

On the Treadmill – wait for it 😳😩- listening to a book as I walked. Unheard of for me, cos I love books. I kept walking, waiting for the chapter to end. Not that simple apparently 😂😂 You see with a conventional book, you can flick through and see how long till the end of the chapter and set yourself the marker of “just 1 more chapter”. FYI – spoiler alert if you’re new book listening as I am- that doesn’t happen in an audiobook. My new note to self is don’t wait for a new chapter alert – cos they don’t happen and that makes for a very long walk. I’m exhausted! The bloody book is 9 hours long. I had 3 fecking walks yesterday and I’m nowhere near finished it. I fear that subscription will not be renewed🤓 and can already hear the thump of the actual book falling through the letter box in the coming days followed by me retiring to ye olde reliable reading chair where I will wiggle my toes from a feet up position.

The utility room is less of a mess now, in case you’re interested. I moved the shit into the kitchen where it’s more likely to be tidied and/or put away…tomorrow, or whenever, well someday.

If you know me or Himself for that matter, then you will know that boats, and the water, have been a feature for as long as we have been together. There have been fishing boats, canal cruisers, a RIB he brought in from South Africa, no less (don’t ask 🤷🏻‍♀️ 😳)and even a pint sized harbour ferry to contend with. He has been known to hold onto boat magazines for so long that any potential boat purchase cruising through these pages have long since sold, sunk or sailed over the horizon.

If he’d had his way all those years ago, we may well have been living on a barge somewhere in The Mediterranean! He didn’t win the argument on that particular occasion, but he has persisted with the dream and I have slowly come round to his way of thinking, granted it has taken a while, and it has happened at about the same pace as that horse drawn barge would have travelled at…😇

Years ago, we used spend quite a bit of time on the Shannon; Ireland’s longest river and one of the magic liquid roadways that is connected to the capital by a series of inland waterways and lakes – going with the flow and enjoying the slower pace of not being in a hurry to get anywhere other than the next pub before closing time. It was the great escape from city life and made for very happy times and memories. It’s the kind of holiday where you bring everything along; children, family friends and pets too, but you can leave the kitchen sink behind cos there’s one of those on board! We did all of the above.

The kids used be fascinated going through a lock. I still joke about it now any time we pass one, if we drive along the canal. It was and remains the best way to describe how going through a lock on a boat is like being flushed down the toilet ! You’re picturing it now aren’t you? 💡🤪

Whilst I have witnessed and fixed any number of blocked lavatories in my time… you know – when the water keeps filling up and you worry you’re going to need more than the bath math and a large towel to mop up the impending mess 😩 – That’s one side of it and the other, not that I have ever been flushed down a toilet mind, doesn’t even require an explanation, now does it? I’m sure you get the picture.

In a nutshell this description mimics the palaver required to negotiate your way up and down through the various levels of our inland waterways, explained in a somewhat unique, memorable and comical way. You can thank the two year old version of my eldest man-child for what can be only be described as his weird fascination with all things to do with the trauma of toilet training. Boys and their toys eh?😂

The idea of a boat and the actuality of it are two different things though. The last boat we had, even though it was really only him who had it – was a work horse; purpose built and delivered brand spanking new to the boat yard. Can you imagine my horror when I was told it had to pass a sink test before it could operate with passengers?That’s almost like buying new suede shoes and ruining them by spilling something ghastly all over them before you’ve even had the chance to wear them. And yes a sink test is exactly what you think it is! They put her in the water and fill her to the gunnels with water! The tricky bit was she had to stay afloat to pass the test. Suffice to say I double checked the insurance policy was up to date, duly washed my hands of the whole affair and left him to it. I couldn’t bear to watch. It passed the test with flying colours, lost the new look for the price of safety and himself ferried passengers to and fro for a few seasons. That’d put anyone off boats but not my fella. If nothing else, he got a great suntan out of it while I was the paler person left stranded ashore. I’d be there for the last trip up the river or putting it to bed as I called it, when it was taken out of the water and stored at the end of each season.

Why the odd title? Simple answer is because the local church bells have started ringing outside and this is an off the cuff post, bit like me at the moment, nothing is planned, it happens or it doesn’t. These days, it appears to be more of the latter. Life dictates that we don’t stray far from home, so it’s time to get creative – mix up your walk, do it in reverse order, give the dog something new to sniff at, and I get a different perspective and an alternative angle to take a photograph from on the latest gadget I can attach to the phone

If you’ve noticed that this has nothing to do with bells tolling, join the club 😂 it was merely being used as a starting point. Cue photo of bell … eh, need to go find one, I’m afraid, so if you see one, I’ll have done retrospective homework ! By the way, the bells are ringing again🤓

A sensory experience then, tapping away on the keyboard, listening to the bells and gone somewhere else in my head. Oh the joys. did a post on Instagram the other day… I do stream of consciousness kind of posts – the filter doesn’t always follow through to the words and one of the comments likened me/my description/the post … or all of the above, to Reginald Perrin😂 Thank you 🥰

What does the bell say?

It rings, announces, reminds, calls, warns, insists, signals. It asks that you pay attention, respond, answer or at the very least, acknowledge its existence. It says listen, pay me some attention, connect or even communicate. Well, I’m all ears today (even if in a slightly alternative way).

If you’re reading this, then the laugh is on me and that’s ok too. I can’t be the only one prone to these flights of fanciful imaginings. (Not that I expect anyone to read them but it’s a hazard of pressing the publish button. The things we do to keep sane in the “ish” sense of the word cos I dont think saneish is a word 🙄🤔 (red underlined squiggles can count as confirmation of that)

Enough is enough – I’m off to search for pictures of a bell on my phone 💡

Ta-Dah….🔔🔔🔔

Do you remember where you were this time last year or last week for that matter? Me neither. I do remember though, where I was this day 12 years ago.

Ageing is inevitable and I would like to think that my increasing collection of wrinkles and scars has brought with them a modicum of associated wisdom, acceptance, and… appreciation. Strangely enough for my family and I, we have not moved house during that time, and have been in the same home for 14 years and counting. There’s comfort in that, and with it comes a warm fuzzy feeling of having planted ourselves in the right place.

What it has not been, by any stretch of the imagination, is, plain sailing. And that is okay. It is to be expected. As ups and downs, highs and lows, laughter and tears, positives and negatives, are what make life interesting. Whoever said “if it doesn’t challenge you, it doesn’t change you” has learned the lesson from the process.

This day 12 years ago, I took a days leave off work to watch a historic event unfold on TV. I wanted to acknowledge its significance. Today I’m a different and older person in the same room, following the same event on a different and newer TV with the up-to-date cast of characters. No day off required…we’re on lockdown.

I’m watching THE biggest reset button being hit.

Certain people are destined to remind us of who we are,what matters and what needs to change for us to move forward. I’m watching them as I write.

We all had plans. Most, if not all of them have been scuppered. Says she towards the middle of the 11th month of the year. Funny how the world throws curve balls – this particular one, so small the naked eye cannot see it. Do I really need a microscope to estimate the damage that is plainly visible the world over? I’m writing about something I don’t want to name but everyone relates to. 2020 might be the ideal score in vision but we didn’t see this coming did we? Ironic or what

Plans of every kind were the first casualty of this plague (still can’t believe I’m using that word in the present tense), as more than life got in the way. Everything put on hold yet the clock keeps on ticking and nobody gets the chance to call Timeout. We’re getting there but not in the manner that was anticipated. Now, 8 months in, when you blink a week has gone by and you still haven’t cleared out the wardrobe, or painted over the sample paint splotch you smeared on the sitting room wall. A work in progress 🤔🤪 becomes life in progress – at a much slower pace.

I’m talking to myself a lot more often. Is it lack of social contact? (no? Okay who am I kidding here🤪🤪 – it’s perhaps bordering on hell yeah 😩).. Notwithstanding all this, the constant stream of conversations I have with myself is a bit like a comedy sketch. Everything comes in waves; good days, bad ones, productive streaks followed by why bother moods. I’ve settled into yoyoing around a loose radius of kilometres from home. It is hard. If there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, then I’m in the wrong bloody tunnel!

But there’s always a remedy – this time of year (any other time is good too) toast comes into it’s own. There used be a time when toast was a solid meal. In fact now is one of those times for a carb coma. Be right back 💡

If you’re still reading, I forgive, allow and even encourage the urge for a slice of hot, buttered, very fresh, white sliced pan toast. There’s nothing like it and 1 slice is never enough. Justify the second slice, as not wasting electricity on an empty slot in the toaster, but you’re on your own if you have one with 4 slots 🤦🏻‍♀️

Caution: It takes an age to toast if you’re watching it, but get distracted for an “instagram/facebook second”and you have delayed lift off of a carb comet that, sets off the smoke alarm in the kitchen and leaves you scraping the burnt bits off with a knife AND ruining the butter that’s left in the dish …hate that!

For the record, if you noticed my mentioning the “11th month” and “8 months in” a few paragraphs up, then yes, blame the toast – it makes you forget things 🤔 like pressing buttons that publish posts when you had originally intended to, and sends you back for another slice! So, here I am, (same place, arse still in chair) on another lap around the sun, celebrating (?) a month named after some boyo called Janus; a god, no less, of beginnings, transitions and endings. Mind you, if Mr. Google is to be believed, this guy Janus is usually depicted as having two faces. Go figure!

This could lead to another problem though…

p.s. on a positive note, the sitting room HAS been painted, but the wardrobe remains on the TO DO list. I’m pacing myself 🤪 I’m going to press the button now in case I get distracted again. I have it down to a fine art at this stage – the being distracted bit, but you already knew that.

It could have been a summers day apart from the air temperature of 4 celcius and a water temperature of 10. It was calm, serene and there wasn’t even a ripple on the water… until a seal broke the surface and started following me. Maybe he was curious, wondering about the weird un-webbed creature bobbing around in what was his element ?
The water was crystal clear and there, winking at me from the sandy bottom, I spied some cool curly shells that swayed with the waves – within reach too – wahoo. I came home with more treasures, not driftwood this time either.

Any day your feet leave the ground when you’re in the water, counts as a swim. It doesn’t have to be a marathon event, and most of mine are quick 15-20 minute dips. You don’t have to swim for miles in a high tech wetsuit to count as a swimmer. Some people do and that’s fine. Not me, I’m happy in my own skin. I push my own boundaries and have developed a habit that is extremely liberating, even without the wetsuit. I’ve been tempted by the swim gloves but they felt alien – kinda like posh marigold gloves 😛 only way more expensive so they were a no no.

Pulling on my togs is the first step – and with it comes the intention; ‘They’re on now so I might as well’. It’s not always easy, desire and inclination are often interrupted – by the weather mostly. Looking out the window wondering what the weather’s gonna do, what’s separating me from a swim?

Lots of things can stop me but the rain isn’t one of them. I’m getting wet anyway 🤪 Safety always comes first though, so wind, waves and current are all factors for me; I’m not a strong swimmer – slow and steady more like, so, being swept out to sea, or getting caught out by a tide on the turn and swimming on the spot going nowhere have, and continue to be a concern. I’ve been known to swim in little more than thigh high water for that very reason, but hey a swim is a swim.
Need I mention the cold 😳 My swim lasts about as long as it takes for my left hand to lose all feeling and cramp into a claw like vice. [feels as though I’ve broken it😩] When the seasons change, you notice it – the water temperature doesn’t change all that much – it’s the air temperature that makes the water appear colder. April through October happy days. November to March though, is hardcore to say the least. You get pins and needles with the cold and no, you don’t become immune to it, rather, the pros outweigh the cons.
When I get in the water now, there is no knee jerk reaction that upsets the normal breath, I breathe normally – I do however, utter the odd profanity with the first few strokes, or, when a leg or arm touches something foreign, harmless or otherwise, in the water. Most of the time it’s seaweed but there have been close encounters with jellyfish. [They give me the heeby jeebies. I don’t care, even if they are the harmless kind…yeuch]

The sea has stolen my heart in more ways than one. I could beach comb for hours scouring the shore line for heart shaped pebbles, or driftwood and sometimes even sea glass. I’ve not found a message in a bottle yet, but you’d never know.

I don’t claim to be a good swimmer but I’m better than I was this time last year. I do the breast stroke mostly. I can do the free style or over arm, but haven’t got the hang of the breathing with head under the water right, so i guess I can’t do it…yet. That’s the next goal. It’ll happen one of these days.

One thing I do know – swimming keeps you in the moment. My head empties and for those 10 or 15 minutes, it’s me, my breathing, my stroke [such as it is] and keeping my head above water – well, most of the time anyway😉. It doesn’t get old. Every single time, there is a sense of wonder, whether it be the colour of the water or the play of phosphoressence at my finger tips as I move through the water.

Life at the moment is not the perfect vision we had expected of the year that is 2020. So swimming offers me a sense of calm surrender and silent discovery in turbulent times. Like the tides and the weather fronts, we all experience highs and lows, complete with flotsam and jetsam. I’ve left a part of me in the water during these last few months and found another. Maybe we needed this interruption to our ‘normal’ – to recalibrate, to wake up, to appreciate ALL the things we take for granted. And maybe, just maybe, to nudge us in the direction we should be going in, the one that sits right, feels better, makes your heart happy, and your life less complicated.

Today is another first of another month and who knows what day it is. It’s Lockdown Living and I’ve had 2 walks and a swim,in what should have required Wipers, Wellies and Waterproofs. Surprise surprise, I had one out of three and yes, you guessed right, not so waterproof afterall. More drowned rat doing an impression of resigned nonchalance. (Helps being Irish, I’m used to the rain)

What does one do with the rest of the day? It’s not even lunchtime yet ! LOL as “let’s go around again” comes on the playlist. Throw everything into the washing machine, ignore the state of the place, and retire to a comfy chair near the fire with a book. If, like me, you can picture in your mind the setting as seen in hygge styled houses – I’m with you in spirit. Reality bites in my case, so this is how it is…

Fire is lit, dog is panned out on shaggy sheepskin rug in front of it. That’s where the idyll ends, cos the telly is on and Himself is watching soccer – (granted he doesn’t have it easy either. Things are bad when he’s watching the women’s FA cup final … Don’t ask.. suffice to say they all have long hair and appear to be flat chested – and yes I’m allowed to be pass remarkable. I’m running out of usable letters in the alphabet if we’re talking about cups …. (another story for another time perhaps🙄)

I can’t watch another bloody match. So the headphones are gone on and I’ve abandoned the book. This is me 👇

Can anyone relate? Who else does this? C’mon – be honest

Scroll through Instagram

play a few games of “Words with Friends”

flick through and read the mostly depressing, online news – we’ve lost another legend – best ever 007…Sean Connery)

I fall down a rabbit hole (was it really 2 hours?) and emerge like squinty square eyes herself, looking for the reading glasses that are not on my face, but ARE doing an admirable job of helping my hair to look better😇😇 I’m still in a hump over not being able to go further than 5km from home. Even though on a day like today, if things were “normal” (now cringe every time I use the word) – you wouldn’t put the dog out in this weather. Except we did, we even went with him voluntarily. Well spotted. You have to get out to save your sanity. Yes! I keep telling myself I’m sane.

Music in my ears, hot drink within handy reach, tapping away here, things could be worse. It’s dark out already, Winter is here. It’s Sunday, by the way. I checked 🤓