Contentment is not a ceiling. It is a floor. A stable place to stand from which you are entirely entitled to want more, ask for more, reach for more. If you’ve spent a long time being praised for how little you need, wanting more can feel like betrayal. It isn’t.
The Willie Wagtail Doesn’t Negotiate Its Wingspan Read Post »
My grandfather was sitting at the kitchen table and he rubbed his hands together. The sound stopped me completely. Dry and papery, like two pieces of fine sandpaper finding each other. I tried to replicate it immediately with my own hands and produced nothing. Smooth, hydrated, seven-year-old hands make no sound at all. I still think about those hands now that he’s gone.
My Grandfather’s Hands Read Post »
Shops used to close on Sunday. If you forgot something on Saturday you made do, borrowed from a neighbour, or went without until Monday. Now if my online delivery takes two days instead of one I find myself mildly irritated. That distance, from Sunday trading laws to next-day delivery impatience, happened gradually enough that most of us didn’t notice it happening.
Penelope Could Wait Read Post »
A friend of mine has a life that, viewed from the outside, looks like it has everything sorted. Then I found out she was doing the same thing with someone else’s life entirely. Which meant the person she was looking at was probably looking at someone else. An unbroken chain of people convinced the shiniest thing was slightly further across the field.
The Crow Doesn’t Know When to Stop Read Post »
Hebe never had to keep this many schedules straight. I’ve got a shaker bottle, a bedtime blister pack, a liquid iron sachet, and a phone reminder that still loses about one morning in ten. The gods had it easier.
Hebe Never Missed a Morning Pour Read Post »
Rufus was a senior ginger cat who had chosen me by showing up and declining to leave. When I couldn’t find anyone to watch him, he came camping. I had more kit for him than for myself. He tried to hide under the tent while I was still setting it up. This was, logistically, a problem.
Bastet Was Not Impressed With the Ibis Read Post »
I cared about my skin well enough. What I lacked was a plan. Every time I tried to build a proper routine, the information became overwhelming immediately. Which products. What order. How long to wait between layers. The skincare industry is not known for making this easy. There is significant financial incentive in keeping you confused enough to keep buying things.
Dorian Gray Had a Portrait. I Had a Mirror. Read Post »
There were others in the cohort doing exactly the same thing, mid-career professionals who had looked sideways at their current situation and thought, maybe not this, maybe something entirely different. Most of us went back to where we came from. We just went back knowing more.
Odysseus Took the Long Way Round Read Post »
The aching started young. Not dramatically, not in a way that made anyone reach for a clipboard. Just a persistent, low-grade wrongness in joints that should have been fine, in a body that was otherwise healthy and young enough that the obvious explanation was anxiety, or growing pains, or attention-seeking, depending on which doctor was having the conversation. This went on for a long time.
Cassandra Had Joint Pain Too Read Post »
Someone once told me I could almost hold an unidentifiable note. That’s accurate. I sing anyway, in the car, around the house, wherever the music lands. Turns out I’m not marketing my singing to anyone. I’m just in my kitchen with a song on.
What the Brownie Knows Read Post »