Whilst on safari, I lost weight fairly quickly and it wasn't just to do with the heat. After enjoying a sundowner watching impala gambol happily in the bush, we would return to camp to find them on the dinner menu, which was just too hard to swallow. The only time I have ever been offered a gin and tonic for breakfast at 5.00a.m. was on safari and it was the only time I have ever refused one, sensibly realising I was getting enough quinine in my anti-malarial tablets.
What was going on in my teenage brain is unfathomable to me now. I was driven by the overwhelming desire to be expelled so I could spend more time with my dog and my horse.The only teacher that had any control over me was my English teacher, but only from the day, he asked us to write a poem. I wrote hundreds, then moved on to short stories which he helped me get published and I became more focused and a little less defiant.
By the time I was twelve, I had been at boarding school for a year and had become a bit of a comedienne. I was the classroom joker, not the brightest thing to be, but I was fuelled by an inner rebellion, which I seemed unable to subdue. So, I took my anger out on the system.
Memories of scooping up deceased rodents in the past are ingrained in my olfactory memory banks. Still in my pyjamas, I retch my way to the field, the final resting place of the victims of my killer cat(s).
A crackling log fire reminds me of many things. Loved-up evenings on the sofa in front of a crackling fire binge watching box sets and eating a ridiculous amount of chocolate, without realising it. My childhood, growing up in an age before Social Media, playing cards in front of the fire during long winter evenings; my big brother and parents always let me win. As someone who functions much better during the summer months, a burning fire makes the winter bearable, it is the pumping heart of a home.
I'm in the process of editing the fifth re-write of my novel in progress so there is no better time to give it a kick up the plotline and I cannot think of any better way to stimulate my creative juices than to spend a day in the company of:
It was love, not lust, because I missed him every second we were apart. Counting the days and hours until he returned every weekend. I spent a year in that dreamy lovesick state of mind, until I found out from a friend that the love of my life was living with someone else during the week.
When I actually turned fifty ... it didn't bother me which was because the biological clock had something far more menacing up its sleeve ... THE MENOPAUSE.
Cassie The Blog Dog and I have just been for a walk. Cassie to burn off some her exuberant joie de vivre and me to burn off the calories and the after effects of last night's plummy little Merlot. The sun was out, albeit a watery glow in the sky. I walked and she tore through the fields like a gazelle about to go into orbit. She is a joy to watch and I wish I had an nth of her va va voom.