Missing Mum

Some days are harder than others...

 I thought today I felt her touch
In the air as it passed me by
And then I heard her voice.
She said 'Child, my soul will never die'

Wet, wet, wet...

Well, that is one way to sum up our holiday. But, do you know what? It didn't matter a jot and we had a marvelous time despite the almost continual sogginess.

My lovely sister was able to make it after all - I'm so glad, and the four of us got on very well indeed. We walked loads, uphill and down dale, and talked even more, and we ate very well indeed (actually, they were low carb feasts). I'd say we probably consumed a good deal more red wine than is truly good for us too. What the heck - it was great.

We were surrounded by forests and beautiful mountains (and sheep!) and every day we breathed in the fresh, clean country air. We saw the amazing autumnal colours develop in the week we were there, and explored to find stunning waterfalls (the rain helped there, I guess), including one extraordinary one from behind, accessed by paddling through a rocky cavern - wow, what an experience!

We didn't get chance to light the log fire (damn!) as it was so mild, but those same balmy temperatures for this time of year (around 14 to 15 degrees C, both day and night) did mean we could go outside in just our slippers and nighties, when we got up in the early hours, to see the stunning night skies... er, between downpours, that is!

We did talk a lot about our lovely Mum, so there were some moments of sadness and a few tears were shed, but we both agreed that she'd have absolutely loved being with us in this gorgeous place... and she was with us in spirit.

I'm still tired (guess that'll be the case for a while still) but feel renewed in my mind and was ready to face the joys of returning to work after a week's absence. I may regret saying this... but (apart from an email inbox fit to bursting) it hasn't been too horrendous so far.

Let it be

A great mantra this, and one I'm leaning upon really heavily right at the moment.

Yep, when you find yourself in times of trouble... let it be! That is what I'm telling myself in the face of a variety of actual and potential disruptions to our holiday, having had a series of phone calls with various people last evening which may (or may not) cast a shadow on our break. I'm also telling myself not to be selfish, to go with the flow, to cut other people some slack, and employing various other clichés to stop my inner brat throwing her toys out of the pram!

The positive part of me is working overtime, and mostly succeeding, and I'm trying to smother the negative part of me, which is grumbling and muttering away under it's breath in the background about 'everything going pear-shaped', which really isn't true.

The main point here is, we ARE still going away, we MAY be joined by my sister and her hubby and we WILL have a good break. All the rest is just fluff and smoke.

Onwards ever...

Counting down

It's that time of year. Only a few more days and we'll be heading off for a well-deserved and long-anticipated break in a cottage in the middle of nowhere. No TV, no mobile reception, no papers, just trees, sheep, great walks on our doorstep and the chance to kick back and relax.

This is somewhere we've been before, but this time it'll be a little different, as we're going to be joined by my lovely sister and her hubby. That's great, and it'll be really good to spend some quiet time together. What between losing our darling Mum a few short months ago, and with everything else that went before... some of which is still causing problems...I think we both need it.

It will make the food side of things slightly more complicated though, as they aren't low-carbers. In fact they're dedicated biccy and sweet stuff fans!

No criticism intended but, in a funny sort of way, my darling lovely hubby and I feel far less restricted and more free with our dietary habits than we feel they are. Neither of them handle 'strong' flavours too well so we'll have to take care with the chilli, spices and even garlic. My sister won't eat beef (remember the BSE scare?) or anything even slightly offal-related, and my brother-in-law won't eat pork, er, unless it's bacon (I know, I know... I just don't understand).

They are not adventurous eaters, but us? Well, we'll not only eat just about anything that (as lovely hubby puts it) 'used to make a noise or move around', but we're 'hey, let's give it a go' when it comes to trying something new.

Still, we've had a long chat about it (I guess my sis was quite worried about our foodie weirdness) and I think we've convinced them that we'll be able to eat pretty much the same for most meals - just we'll load up on the low-carb things we do eat and ditch the grains/sugars/high-carb bits. It'll work out fine.

One thing we both agree on is that a drop (or two) of red wine won't go amiss!

Upwards - and a heartfelt grrr!

There was a little hike upwards in my weight at the weekend - aaaaargh, the shock and horror!

It was a bit of a surprise, to be honest. Looking back at the chart, since around the beginning of August, at least from the 10th, my weight has remained amazingly stable at 53.5kg (that's just mapping the Saturdays when it gets recorded, once weekly). But this wonderfully stable record, of which I was probably unjustly proud, took a knock...

Hmmm, you know what they say about pride!

So, this Saturday the needle on the scales was up half a kilo to 54kg. Not a lot I know, but I wasn't a happy bunny about it. However the logical part of me talked me down (as ever), telling me that it is understandable since differences in dietary salt intake and water intake will inevitably lead to the odd variation. Indeed, by Sunday morning it was back down again to 53.5kg but, of course, that bit doesn't get recorded.

And my point here?

Well, I've learned something about myself once again. It's amazing how truly crappy a small rise (one that I had to write down) made me feel. I'd sort of forgotten the immediate and very visceral reaction I have to seeing a gain in weight and having to be 'honest' and commit that to paper (well, to an Excel file). I have to confess that it put me in a real grump for a while.

Funny enough, if and when I've weighed during the week and seen a rise (even a more substantial blip) it hasn't affected me anywhere near as much as Saturday's incident. Usually, I growl for a moment, review what I've been doing, realise I'm being too obsessive and move on. Generally, when I weigh again another day, the 'problem' has disappeared - just as it did this time.

But... there was a difference. There's obviously something important (subconsciously?) about the act of recording it that's critical here.

Ho hum. However long I continue along this 'weight' journey, and however well I think I now know myself and think I can predict my likely reactions to a given situation, there's still something new to learn. Interesting, eh?