Love Thursday - blowing the budget

I know it's irresponsible
I know it's outrageously expensive
I know I will probably only wear it very, very occasionally
I know it's impractical
I know, I know, I know...

But my bestest friend's hen do is coming up, we're all going to very shi-shi Primrose Hill (in London) for a weekend of full-on hedonistic fun, and we're even going to a disco in the middle of the day on Sunday afternoon. And to be a proper disco diva, I simply HAD to have the outfit to go with it.

So this Love Thursday I'm loving my Firaki catsuit by Malene Birger.

There once was a well-known politician named Blair...

On this Love Thursday it's all directed towards my father, who, as I mentioned yesterday, has made an almost complete recovery from his surgery six weeks ago. I love this photo of him, although I find it almost impossible to comprehend that it's actually him standing there. And isn't it amazing to think that the photograph is nearly 80 years old?

Waiting for me when I returned from Istanbul on Tuesday evening, was a little note from him, along with a limerick he'd composed. For as long as I can remember he's been writing limericks, but they have naturally always been in Swedish, so that he's decided to start writing in English at the ripe old age of 80 just blows me away.

Here it is, in his own words:

There was a well-known politician in Great Britain named Blair,
who had a nice-looking face and [a] beautiful hair,
but, Mr Blair, that isn't enough,
a modern leader has to be tough,
and of course, above all, against everyone fair

He signs off with the following: By the way I am 80 years old and have never seen an English 5 pound note. How about that? Is that a hint that he'd like to see it published I wonder?

Love Thursday - spring

On Saturday I refrained from turning on my computer for a whole day as part of shut down day. Instead I decided to grab the camera and go out hunting for signs of spring, which on that particular day still seemed eons away - it was bitterly cold and miserably grey.

I bundled up with hat and gloves and a big winter coat and headed off to the nearby park and I guess most people were either hiding indoors or running around doing errands, because it was almost empty. It was wonderful to wander around the scented garden all alone, noticing all the fresh shoots and bursting buds.



From the park I continued down towards the sea and came across a glorious cherry tree heavy with blossoms. I lay down on the bench beneath the canopy and stared up at the grey sky, watching the branches dance in the wind.



After a walk along the sea I turned back up and crossed a field full of daffodils. I couldn't resist lying down in their midst - careful of course not to crush any - and got almost high from their heady scent. I love the way their heads nod in unison, like they're all grooving to the same music. The daffodil head-bangers...



It was a very quiet and introvert afternoon, and I felt reconnected not just with nature, but with a part of myself. The fact that the weather wasn't very inviting actually made the whole experience more complete, it felt as if I was part of the elements again.



To finish off I went to a little cafe and had a pot of green tea before I went back home. A day spent in the slow lane of life. I felt so carefree and so happy.

Love Thursday - friends and bloggers and parents

Picnic in the woods like my parents used to do it 1987

There are many people I feel love towards today. First my lovely friend E who took me out on the town last night to see Buena Vista Social Club, perfect timing considering how low I was feeling about my dad (who was in hospital yesterday having surgery for an enlarged prostate). The music was fantastic and it cheered me up no end. By the end of the performance the entire audience was on their feet: swinging, clapping, stomping.

I also feel completely blown away by all the kind thoughts left on my blog yesterday. It makes me feel all warm inside knowing that there is such a large community of wonderful and caring bloggers out there who take the time out to send some good vibes when they are so desperately needed. Thank you so much Amy, Gattina, La Cubana Gringa, Mar, Blue Jude, Beckie, Brian, Dragonheart, Bearette, Harley, Cats-goats-quotes, Kelly, Sacred Suzie, Jamie, Nicole, Caro, Tricotine, Vanessa, Mrs Lifecruiser, Claire, Bex, KG, Gel (emerald eyes), Edvard Moonke and Sharon.

I spoke to my dad this morning and he sounded terrible. The operation was successful but it took fours hours, he lost four litres of blood (and so had to have blood transfusions) and then there were complications afterwards, which meant that they had to operate again. His poor 80-year old body is pretty battered and he is in a lot of pain. I cried buckets after we hung up. It feels terrible to be so far away when he is so unwell, and I want to be there for my mom too. So my darling has convinced me to go and see them. Which I am. I have booked a ticket today, and I'm leaving on Saturday. I can't wait...

Love Thursday - afternoon reading with mini eggs

The rain was coming down in sheets and it was blowing near gale-force winds as I left work yesterday afternoon. Determined I braved the elements and eventually reached my destination: the local supermarket. I was on a mission, and had one thought and one thought only on my mind. Mini eggs. I searched high and low, and just as fear started its descent I located them (in the aisle next to the one where I once saw Cate Blanchett) and I bought not one, but two bags.

Struggling against the wind and the rain I climbed the steep hill and eventually reached home, absolutely drenched. Opening the front door was pure bliss. I dried off, made a pot of tea; I grabbed my book, my mini eggs and armed with a blanket and several cushions I snuggled up on the sofa.

I love nothing more than a few hours alone with a good book, especially if it's raining cats and dogs outside. A pot of steaming hot tea and a cosy blanket are essential accessories, a bag or two of mini eggs optional extras. And desperately aware that I would today embark upon a mini egg-free 43 day challenge (my 38^th birthday is only 43 days away…) their crisp sugary shells and rich milk chocolate insides tasted extra sweet yesterday.

Happy Love Thursday everyone!

For more Love Thursday entries click here

Love Thursday - me...

Even with the best intentions life sometimes gets a little bit out of hand; focus is lost, mindfulness goes out the window… and that’s what’s been happening to me lately. At first this change in attitude was almost imperceptible, but very gradually I started noticing how my priorities had changed, and yesterday I suddenly found myself in the middle of a really bad patch, feeling generally miserable about anything and everything, but particularly about me.

I haven’t been looking after myself: not my mind, not my body (and it’s not all down to the semla). It’s like I don’t care about me, about how I feel. It’s as if I have just forgotten about my self, and so gradually I’ve been feeling worse and worse.

Last night it all came to a head, I slouched on the sofa all night, watched a useless film on TV that left me feeling almost brain dead. And afterwards I beat myself up because I’d let another evening pass just like that, in a near vegetative state. I went to bed in a lousy mood, skipped the evening pilates, didn’t even bother to wash my face. Why do I do this to myself when I know how lousy it makes me feel? I know what I need to do to feel better, and yet I feel compelled to do the exact opposite, to make myself feel worse.

And so today I have decided to take a day off work and I’m going to spend it mindfully. I’m going to do yoga/pilates, I’m going to meditate, I’m going for a long walk, I’m going to put on some silly music and dance around the flat, I’m going to write, I’m going to eat simple food and maybe towards the end of the day I’ll meet up with a friend I haven’t seen for quite some time. This Love Thursday is about me, about loving me again…

Photo by Ron

Love Thursday - this little boy

This photo, taken almost three years ago, perfectly captures the innate serenity of my wonderful godson. When he was a baby he was like a little buddha, hardly ever crying, just quietly observing life around him. Once he started talking he would share these observations with often baffling clarity, and at other times with almost perfect comic timing.

His mother is my very best friend and when she asked me to be present at his birth it was the most amazing gift anyone could have ever given me. To watch him arrive in this world bound him to me in a way I had never anticipated. In fact when I occasionally (well, regularly if truth be told) dream of leaving the UK, it is the thought of losing regular contact with him that ultimately stops me from going anywhere.

For the first few years of his life, while I was still doing my degree, I had him every Thursday, and it was during one of those days that something happened which brought us even closer together. We were in my flat and he was eating an apple when a piece suddenly got stuck in his windpipe. Not knowing what to do, I turned him upside down and shook him, desperately hoping to dislodge whatever was blocking his air supply. This didn't work, and as I frantically hit him on the back, he started turning blue. I finally scooped him up and ran for the door (there was a GP only a few doors down from my house). And it was that movement of picking him up, which finally cleared the obstruction, and after much coughing and whimpering, lots of hugs and tears (for both of us), we settled down on the sofa and watched his favourite film. I tried my hardest to be calm and relaxed, but inside I was shaking and kept going over the events in my mind.

When his mother came to pick him up later that afternoon something extraordinary happened. Normally he was of course thrilled to see her, and he revelled in telling her the minute details of our day. But on this occasion he ran and hid under my table as soon as he heard her car, and when she entered the room he became almost hysterical; holding on to the table leg he cried that he wanted to stay with me, he did not want to go home.

I had been terrified that I had failed him, that he would now feel unsafe with me, but it seemed that his way of looking at it was the exact opposite, perhaps in his mind I had rescued him, made everything better. He undoubtedly gets much of his laid-back attitude from his wonderful mother, who took all this commotion in her stride. Never one to make a big deal out of anything, she simply decided to stay and so we all had dinner together. By the end of the evening the by now very sleepy boy was of course more than happy to go home with his mummy.

He is now seven, and with school for him and full-time work for me, we don't get to see each other as often. But the bond is still there, and about once a month he comes over and spends a Sunday afternoon with me. I love listening to him talk, the way he thinks and deduces will never cease to fascinate and amaze me.

Love Thursday - klogging and breaking a spell

When we were in Venice earlier this year we purchased a beautiful notebook from one of the many stationary shops that you find all over the city. We both knew that it was very likely that the book would never be used; that it, like so many of its predecessors, would probably end up being stored in a drawer, wrapped in silk no doubt, and only occasionally taken out to be caressed with a gentle hand, after which we would put it away again until its next outing.

We share an almost absurd lust to own beautiful notebooks. But as I explained in this post this longing is coupled with chronic intimidation, as we believe that anything we write in them must be both profound and written in the most beautiful script. Of course this serves only to more or less immobilise us and prevents us from ever using the blooming things. Needless to say our collection of empty notebooks is by now quite impressive.

And so upon our return from Venice, in an attempt to avoid yet another defeat, we sat at the table with said book in front of us, night after night, trying to come up a suitable use for it. And we failed. The curse of the beautiful notebook seemed to have enveloped us again, wrapped us tightly in its coils and effectively dried up any creative urges we may have had...

Fast forward to a Saturday afternoon walk about a week later and the concept of klogging was suddenly conceived, magically and out of the blue. Why not use this beautiful book to record how we feel about each other? A shared booklog (hence klog) or diary. And so we did exactly that. And we made a pact from the outset that these feelings could be as silly and as unprofound as anything, and on purpose we decided to do away with beautiful fountain pens and instead write with a scrappy old pencil. And it works, the inhibition is gone and we no longer care if our handwriting resembles chicken scratchings. Perhaps we have even managed to break the curse of the beautiful notebook for good.

So my second entry to Love Thursday is a picture of our klog. I love this image because it represents a completely new way of communicating. If you have a partner, or a dear friend and you don't yet share a klog, start one; it's lovely to spend some time with the book, read through past entries, write something new, or just sit and ponder...

Love Thursday - from a small kitten to a big cat

In the last few weeks I have really embraced the whole blogging thing, and it has been incredibly inspirational reading other peoples blogs. Recently it seems many of the ones I frequently visit have been on the subject of smiling and happiness. Encouraged by Nutter's notes I have been happyingUP! every day this week, writing down my top three "happinesses" from each day. This has been a wonderful experience, since it has helped me to pay more attention to the small moments of happiness that occur every day, like walking past a cookie stall and getting hit by a wave of freshly baked cookies. So often I forget that this very moment will never return again, so why am I wasting it?

I've enjoyed reading Sognatrice's Love Thursdays for several weeks now (the original idea came from Chookooloonks). And Dreamer girl recently wrote a wonderful list of things that made her smile that day. It doesn't have to be terribly important things, it's just about enjoying life and valuing what we have. And noticing it.

My first entry to Love Thursday is the photo above of our cat Heinz when he was only eight weeks old and he still lived with his brothers and sisters. Whenever I look at this photo I get flooded by a feeling of absolute love from head to toe, I just adore him so. He's almost two years old now, and a big handsome cat, in fact I'm convinced he's the most beautiful cat there ever was. Don't you agree?


Heinz the heart-breaker