Hypnosis revisited

In July, I decided to give hypnosis a spin. I have been along to several sessions in the intervening months and it has been an interesting experience.  As I said previously, no, you won't bark like a dog. Or be controlled by some manipulative Svengali. But it is a deeply relaxing experience designed to direct positive messages to your subconscious. Kind of like meditation, but a guided meditation that feels like a mental mini break.

Hypnosis takes me (or I take it) to happy places. Places I didn't even know were my happy places.  Underwater swimming across a white sand seabed amongst gently waving seagrass. Or to a sunny walled garden with a fountain, relaxing on a lounger under a tree listening to the water. (Re the watery theme - I am Piscean you know.)

And the general takeout from the process is that I am in control of my life, there is lots to look forward to and what a jolly good chap I am. All very nice messages thank you, and somehow they seem to have been sinking in. Because 4 months down the track I have lost a big chunk of weight, am more focussed on career change and am of a generally happier demeanour than I was  6 months ago.

Hypnosis - I recommend it.

And to things Secretarial...

I have been to a lot of committee meetings lately - the Wandle Trust working party and the Piscators, our associated Angling club.  Somehow the role of Secretary landed on me this month, in the absence of certain key people.  So I have spent the morning writing up (somewhat tardy) minutes of the meetings and circulating them to the group(s).

I carry a very antiquated image of the Secretary - a quill pen and parchment sort of view.  Of course, completely belying the actual mundanity of the task - taking meticulous and attributed notes and regurgitating them at a later date.

Never mind, while I haven't actually captured the romance of the role this morning, I have caught up on the minutes.  Job done. Onto the next pile of papers...

Abuzz with figures... and java.

Many of my friends would be surprised to hear that I am the Treasurer of an urban fly fishing club.  In fact they may fall down laughing.  I'm not normally known for my perspicacity with figures. However, many years of running my own small business accounts (and half a brain) qualified me for the role.  And generally it's not a hard one, check a few statements, write a few cheques, a bit of online banking etc etc.  More or less the same as my household accounts.

However, once a year I have to prepare the annual accounts for the AGM and it is a time fraught with  anxiety. Armed with a calculater, piles of reciepts and bank statements and a half completed accounts spreadsheet, I start on the task this week. Oh, and copious coffee - a rather turbo charged approach, in the hopeful expectation that it will sharpen my calculations.

Actually, it wasn't too bad, until I hit the final stretch and discovered a surplus 13p appeared on the bottom line.  No matter how many times I go through the spreadsheet, recalculate, tick things off, add columns up, divide by 3 blah blah blah, this unwanted 13p turns up on the total. It's got me stumped. I am now cross-eyed from peering through the figures (actually the coffee hasn't helped me here).  Time to put it away for a while and see if I can bury 13p in the cost of materials tomorrow....

Sloe Gin season!

Yes, it has come upon me again.  After foraging at my friend Sallys a few weeks ago (her blackthorn hedge carefully cordoned off from the contractors clearance - thank you!), and having washed and frozen said sloes, today is the day!

Last years batch was made with dried sloes and was not as rich and fruity as the year before, so I am going to recycle some of it into this years brew (more hunting around in the garage).

However, the gin making has to take it's place in the queue behind the crabapple jelly and mustard pickle which will be first off the line this morning.  It's been a real autumn harvest weekend - jelly, relish, pickle, cakes, apple compote and tomato pasta sauce for freezing.  But that will be it for me for the season now. I've run out of both jars and freezer space!

Swimmming

I just woke up from a beautiful dream about swimming.  Large outdoor pool, warm water and sunshine. As in all dreams, I looked much better in a swimming cozzie than in reality but that is the nature of dreams you know.

I've been thinking about swimming a lot lately, especially since my sojourn in France when I was in the pool every day.  It reminded me how much I love it. 

Anyway, I think it's time to act on these impulses and take the plunge (so to speak). While me and the swimsuit have not been the best of mates in recent years, I'm willing to renew my acquaintance. David Lloyd, here I come...

The Delicious Ms Lumley...

While catching up on a tv rerun of Lewis (mmm James Fox...), I recently caught an episode starring Joanna Lumley playing a game but aging Rock Chick.  She gave a spirited performance as a free spirit of easy virtue with a hidden past.

Now, while a certain friend of mine channels Doris Day, I would like to think that Joanna is one of my heroes. She sets a particularly aspirational example as the cool blonde with a dry wit and a wicked eye, who refuses to age gracefully.

In a recent Good Housekeeping magazine, in fact she revels in the 'mutton dressed as lamb' look and wears skirts which are perilously short. (And don't even get me started on Ab Fab...)

Good on her is all I can say.  As a women who is bang smack in her 7th decade, I think she sets an example for us all.... Viva la Lumley!

Sleepless in Wimbledon

I think it must be the abrupt change in the weather - from steamy heat to windy chill. Combined with 2 big catering events in the next few weeks that have me compulsively running through menus and shopping lists in my head. And flying to NZ for December and Xmas, so anticipating Xmas shopping lists now. It doesn't help that the foxes seem to be fighting WW3 in the street every night....

Whatever it is, I have been waking up at about 3am and not getting back to sleep again.  Instead, I've been thinking, reading, twitching, thrashing, thumping pillows, throwing covers off, pulling them back on again.... You know the drill.

Going to sleep isn't a problem.  I've been listening to a hypnotherapy CD when the lights go off (although I swear I can't stay awake beyond the first 2 mins of soothspeak). It's the getting back to sleep after I wake which is the issue.

I'm thinking that some vigourous exercise in the day might help.  It's worth a try.  And maybe cut out the late night cups of tea....

Ain't France Fab?

Had a lovely 3 days away in a small rural hamlet near Limoges. 30+ degree heat, beautiful old converted buildings, lovely pool and rolling green countryside. We were celebrating my friend Allans 40th - I should have known it might be a bit of a heavy weekend...

We managed to get out most days, but frankly the lure of the pool was too strong and much of the day was spent in the sun with seemingly endless bottles of cold pink wine...  I actually picked up a bit of colour, which given my shade seeking habits and consequent vitamin D defficiency, was a bit of an achievement.

Dinner was laid on (no cooking for me!) - massive 4 course feasts which sent me to bed replete but with indigestion most nights. Note to self - say NO to cheeseboard and desserts. And of course the company was loud, quirky, colourful, multinational and marvellous....