It came to me on the reiki table that I needed to shout and scream a bit. This Cornish cottage is on a hill with a few others on a track called the Saints Way. It’s muddy and weather is currently very variable and we had seen no one on the 7 mile walk we had undertaken the day before (until we got to Padstow and were besieged by clean Hunter Wellies) so I thought it would be safe. 

Often times the mud was half way to my knees, the water streamed down the middle of the road. All of which gave me the perfect cover to start talking to myself – well to him actually. I shouted to the wind talking to him about what a fucking wanker he was. I told him I still loved him but that I knew there was no future relationship possible between us because of who he is – I could not trust him with my heart ever again. I hoped he was unhappy. I was sure he was. 
After lunch in yet another poncy establishment created by Rick Stein I got the boys to drop me at the sea which was wild and beautiful. For 15 minutes there was sunshine as I dipped my feet in the freezing water and shouted at the waves. 

It felt good. I realise how I never do it. A few quiet tears downstairs when the child has gone to bed in order not to disturb anyone, a reasonable loving nature which hates conflict forcing me to see both sides of every coin. Just how much repressed anger and emotion is there in me now. 

I realised how impossible it is near London to find anywhere to be really alone. Anywhere where you can shout and scream and vent your emotion without fear of being overheard except by a few sheep .

At the turn of the year I went outside the cottage and looked at a clear sky in which the constellations were clearly visible. I promised myself this was the year in which I express my anger and emotion. That I have the right to do that and people will still love me. If they don’t they can fuck right off. I promised myself there would be no chasing men this year. If they want me they can come chase me. I had been nagged all day by the boys as well about how this had to be the year of my body. That my diet and exercise need serious overhaul and that I always focus on my brain because that’s my comfort zone. I am convinced they are right so this is the year I develop a healthy relationship with food and exercise in order to be well enough to keep making a difference into my nineties. 

2015 you were a fucking wanker of a year. Goodbye and good riddance. But no pain, no gain and you taught me a lot, which I intend to use to add peace with myself, and love of myself, to the already big life I have created.

And I intend to make sure I am alone to take stock on a regular basis. 

Preferably somewhere I can shout into the wind.



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