Tag: gratitude

When you’re between life’s highs and lows …
```
".... seems sometimes 
you’re travelling 
in circles
mountains you thought 
you’d conquered
rise up before you 
again and again ..."
```
It’s hard to believe that we returned from our big trip to Iceland and the Faroe Islands in mid-November. Winter has been and gone and before too long, we’ll be setting out on our next trip in the camper van. I’ll be honest, it took me some time to adapt to being back home, to being fully present. Part of me was still operating at a much slower pace, Scandinavian-style. I’m not sure I’ve every truly caught up, which suits me just fine.

Of course, I’ve slipped back into lots of things almost unconsciously. I’m mentally planning out my days and writing lists. I’m back to doing all the admin stuff that takes up so much of daily life: thinking about what to cook, then cooking it; wondering what to wear; doing laundry; sorting the household accounts; tackling housework. The trappings with which we’re all familiar, right? This is normal. I get that completely. Yes, occasionally it feels mundane. Part of me yearns for the road we took round Iceland’s West Fjords, choosing where and when to swim. But, at the same time, I sometimes have to pinch myself that I’m home in what is a beautiful part of the world. Spring is in the air, and I can go cycling or running straight out of my front door. I appreciate the comforts of home, the convenience of my washing machine and kitchen. I can meet friends for coffee, have lunch with my mum, sleep in my own bed. With a wardrobe full of clothes, I can chose to dress up or dress down (let’s be honest, it’s mostly the latter!). I’ve had a winter of cinema trips and dinners dates to add variety to all the household jobs aforementioned.

This is the reality for most of us, if we are lucky. It isn’t lost on me, that it’s a luxury to have a house to clean, clothes to wash, money to spend. You only have to listen to the news to appreciate just how privileged we are. Right now, I imagine a lot of people are going through very tough times. Life sometimes can appear very black and white, but it’s rarely that straight forward.

This week’s poem could easily have been written in these times; it feels as relevant today as it did when I wrote it over a decade ago. In my experience, most of life is lived on the plateau between the peaks and troughs. It doesn’t always feel that way, most especially when you’re going through a bad patch. But a patch it is: it isn’t permanent. For good or ill, nothing ever stays the same. The highs are just as impermanent as the lows. For the most part, we live in state of flux between physical and emotional states. Every now and again, the balance will feel just right. In my own experience, that’s rare, but can and does happen.

If you, like me, are blessed, you’ll have stretches of time when life feels normal, perhaps even ordinary. Don’t underestimate times like this! I have a ceramic coaster in my house that reminds me to: enjoy the little things as one day you will look back and realise they were the big things. It sounds simple but also very wise. I wrote this poem during a difficult time in my life, juggling competing demands both at home and at work. It forced me to focus on what matters most in life. I realised it wasn’t the highs or lows where life was most lived, but in the spaces between. Give me mundane any day of the week, I’ll take it and be grateful.

the plateaux between Download
15/04/2026
Why I’m glad of this life …
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"... I am glad of this life
though it’s not what I planned
the rural retreat
with its long lazy days
not the idyll 
it first appeared ..."
```
At the turn of the century, way back in 2001, I took a career break, to coincide with my husband’s early retirement. We went to live abroad for a few years, which was an adventure to say the least. As I approached 40, I chose to go back to the UK and my full time job. People thought I was crazy. It took a while to sell our house and for a few years, we commuted between two countries, before finally settling back in Yorkshire.

This week’s poem comes from that time, partly inspired by Helen Dunmore, who read some of her poems in York as part of the York Literature Festival in 2008. I was in the audience and completely captivated. She’d recently published a collection of poems titled Glad of These Times and read the title poem. Now, don’t quote me on this, because whilst I feel this was the right year and the right event, I can now find no trace of it in my journal! She certainly came to York and I heard her read that poem. In any case, my homage-poem still rings true for me, despite my circumstances having changed repeatedly since then.

It’s a timely reminder that life does continue to evolve; whether you’re having a great life, or it feels tough right now, be assured that change will come. It always does; not only for us but for our planet as a whole. Even our landscapes are constantly shifting: I read in the news just recently that the black sand at Reynisfjara Beach in Iceland has disappeared back into the sea following a violent storm.

The truth is, nothing stays the same, which can feel both liberating and anxiety-inducing at the same time. If you find yourself torn between those two emotions, then try bringing yourself back to the present. That’s probably what you can most influence.

I felt glad to go back to work and pick up aspects of my life in the UK in the early 2000’s. I appreciated all the more the things I had missed when abroad: routine, purpose, bookshops and the opportunity to catch up with a friend over coffee, to name but a few. People assumed that our life abroad must have been better. It wasn’t better, it was just different. I was glad of the experience but equally glad to be home.

Now, I’m embarking on another life chapter, having recently retired. I’m ready to explore new opportunities, many of which will be extensions of activities I already enjoyed such as writing, cycling and keeping fit. It’s so important I think to make time for things that bring you joy now, in whatever present you’re in. Don’t wait. Do it now. Make it happen in a way that will work for you, even if it means compromise. Some joy is better than none at all, right?

I feel sure that some people reading this will be thinking, it’s okay for you to say that, now you’re retired. Yes I appreciate that. But I haven’t spent the intervening years between that career break and retirement wishing my life away. I’ve loved the challenges that work posed and fully embraced them. I enjoyed my job. But I loved my time off too and crammed in as much as I could, and I’ll continue to do so because it’s true what they say about retirement: time passes very quickly indeed!

I was so lucky recently to be able to spend a couple of days hiking with my slightly older cousin, who is also retired. My younger cousin, who still works full time, couldn’t join us. I sensed his frustration but I hope he stays anchored in the now and able to enjoy both work and play in equal measure. One day soon, perhaps he’ll join us on a hike, even if it means snatching precious time from an already busy schedule. That’s life isn’t it and we either embrace it or resent it. I, for one, am glad of it.

glad of this life Download
25/02/2026
How paying attention enriches your life …
```
"... this sense of peace 
typifies the way 
you always 
made me feel 
my stride confident 
because of you ..."
```
Earlier this month, on what was a grey, dreary day, I rustled up a quick dessert, to pop in my fridge ready for friends coming for dinner the following day. So far, so good. Except it wasn’t as quick as it should’ve been. Trying to do two things at once, I let a pan boil over, ruining the cream that should be hot but not boiling. The second attempt was easier. I slowed down. Concentrated. Not that you need much concentration for this painfully simply but delicious pudding, but you do need to pay attention!

When I cook or bake, I often listen to music, but other times, I prefer silence. Silence prompts thoughts that otherwise might not make it through the noise. Mopping up the mess on the stove, I soaked up the silence, reflecting on why paying attention matters on many levels.

American poet, Mary Oliver, inspired her readers to pay attention to the world around them, most particularly nature. In her poem, Yes! No!, she announced: To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work. (from her collection, Owls and Other Fantasies, 2003). I think so much of poetry is a testament to how poets pay attention to the world around and within them. I used to always carry a notebook and pen wherever I went, just in case an idea came to me that I simply had to record. I learnt the hard way that hoping I’d remember it when I got home simply didn’t work. I never did remember. For the same reason, I kept a notebook on my bedside table. The notebook by the bed still exists, but these days I rely on my phone to record my thoughts when I am out and about. It’s perhaps not as romantic as a lovely notebook, but it’s certainly easier to read the typeset rather than my dreadful handwriting!

I’m blessed to have met and befriended people in my life who have inspired and encouraged me to pay attention, to look deeper, to be open to differing perspectives, and to be curious. Whilst preparing that dessert, I was thinking most particularly of one such friend, who was a very talented artist (and many other things besides). I stayed at her house many times over the years and she often made this same dessert. I enjoyed it immensely and finally asked her for the recipe. I’ve no idea what she called it, but in our house it is simply “Veronica’s Dessert”. I think of her every time I make it. It feels particularly pertinent in February because this is the month in which she died. Unlike the weather this year, it was mild on the day I heard the sad news; I was walking through the streets, under a bright winter moon. I was about to meet another friend for dinner, to celebrate her birthday.

That night, we also celebrated Veronica; she had lived such a rich, creative life. She was over twice my age, yet we gelled almost immediately and were firm friends for over 30 years. She was one of the most generous, engaging and inspirational women I’ve ever met. This week’s poem is one I wrote for her, which I read at her funeral. I’ll be honest, it’s not the most literary poem I’ve ever written, but it is heartfelt. Sometimes, we all just need to be reminded to focus on what truly matters in life. This blog is all about connection through creativity after all.

Perhaps there are people in your life that have been truly inspirational? I hope so. For me, the best people, are those in whose presence we feel enriched. They encourage us to pay more attention to life, to be the best version of ourselves and to show up for others in the ways they have showed up for us. I hope you can spend the rest of this day paying particular attention to what matters most to you.

Here’s Veronica’s recipe: Ingredients – 6 oz good plain chocolate, 1/2 pint of single cream, 1x egg, dash of salt, 1 tsp of vanilla essence. Method – Heat cream until hot but not boiling. Break up the chocolate into separate squares and place into a bowl. Pour the hot cream over the chocolate. Beat until the chocolate has fully melted. Then add the remaining ingredients and mix until smooth. Pour the mixture into 6-8 individual pots and refrigerate until approx 1 hour before consumption. This is a rich dessert and you don’t need a lot of it. I usually serve with a shortbread biscuit and some fresh or stewed fruit, depending on the season. (It also freezes well!)

winter moon Download
18/02/2026
Why bad weather can be a blessing in disguise …
```
"... the day offers up 
whatever it has 
your only choice
is to take or leave it 
be here 
be present 
who knows what gifts 
the day may bring ..."
```
Who remembers the comment made by Princess Diana in the renowned interview with Martin Bashir, when she stated that there were three people in her marriage? It was broadcast 35 years ago this month, and it’s a comment that’s become something of a private joke between me and my husband. I’ve said for years that there are three in our marriage: my husband, his camera and me.

During our recent trip to Iceland, the in-joke between us was that there were three on the trip: the weather, my husband and me. Without doubt, weather featured heavily throughout the three months of our travels. There were several occasions when, due to poor conditions, we had to change our plans. We spent days hunkered down in various campsites, waiting for a break in the weather. Heavy rain and then snow resulted in closed roads, even the wind got in on the act, closing the only route east, which naturally, is where we were heading.

There was nothing for it but to simply wait it out. Don’t get me wrong, we both had plenty of things to keep us occupied. I wrote, I crocheted, I even practiced yoga in the shower block, whilst my husband worked on his photographs. Even so, it felt a little bit like “dead time”, which got me thinking about all the times when I’ve been “in limbo”. Does that ring a bell for anyone else, or is it just me?

There are all kinds of situations in which I’ve felt almost stuck in time, such as when waiting for a big life event like a wedding or a house move. I ached for the moment when the thing (whatever it was) would happen. On other occasions, I’ve wanted time to go backwards, such as when I sat at my father’s bedside during his final days. I knew what was unfolding, and I would’ve given anything to wind the clock back. I feel sure we’ll all have times we can recount when we’ve felt stuck. You hear horror stories about people waiting in A&E for days on end. Lives are put on hold, whilst someone stays with and supports a loved one waiting for treatment. We often forget that life can be unpredictable, and plan ahead regardless. People track the days leading up to a much anticipated holiday (“x many sleeps!”) and, dare I say it, many are already counting down the days until Christmas.

The point I’m raising in this week’s poem is that, whilst ever we are fixed on whatever it is we’re waiting for, wishing time to go forward or back, we’re not focused on the present. How much do we miss, I wonder, because we’re too busy looking to the past or the future?

Sometimes, unexpected events, can wake us up to what’s happening right now. Being forced to stop provides breathing space; the perfect opportunity to review where you are and make different choices if you need to. Alternatively, it can simply help you appreciate what you have. When holed up during a bad storm, I felt immensely grateful for the safe haven that was the camper van, most especially the heating system!

On those days when we weren’t travelling due to bad weather, I truly appreciated the opportunity just to sit and think, welcome in silence and see where it took me. You never do know what opportunities may come up when you allow a day to unfold without expectation. Having penned this week’s poem in the van one blustery afternoon, I decided to take a short walk and grab some fresh air. Within minutes of setting out, a double rainbow appeared in front of me. It was, for me, the perfect example of being ready for whatever the day presented; it truly did feel like a gift.

How about you? When was the last time you were truly present in the moment and ready to receive whatever gift came your way?

waiting time Download
26/11/2025