Herb tea

I am pleased to report I made a full recovery after twelve hours spent hugging the toilet and lost 6lbs in the process. To celebrate I took an extra days sick leave and skipped along to my Stretch & Yoga Class. There was no faffing this morning, our space-cake teacher had the community centre unlocked before our arrival and had even laid out the yoga mats in preparation. Surprisingly windy posh boy Piers stepped to it, eschewing his usual ten minute monologue and going straight into a series of sun salutations. Sixty five minutes later and I was strolling back home, listening to the birds in the trees and thinking of the playlist for tonight's show at Portland Hospital Radio. I felt at peace, no stress, no distractions just peaceful. I got home, made a cammomile tea, threw the junk mail in the recycling and sat down to a slice of quiche my daughter baked last night. I ate it slowly savouring every mouthful, being mindful of my fork scraping the plate, really tasting the peppery flavour of the pre-packed watercress I had to accompany my home made delight. I practised mindfulness for a full three minutes. And then I thought, so what now? I felt restless. I felt bored. I thought 'where is the excitement'? Then I dropped the scalding herb tea bag on my foot and the phone rang, it was work. It was a relief.

Meal for One

I'm sick. Properly poorly with vomiting, fever and the sweats. It's either a bug triggered by the high temperatures or my microwave malfunctioned last night and my prawn korma for one wasn't warmed through properly. I threw up on the train this morning, narrowly missing a woman on her way to work dressed in summer whites. Thankfully the contents of my stomach emptied out onto my sandals, not her expensive leather ones, and soaked right through my socks. I have to go, the ginger and lemon tea my daughter made me isn't settling my stomach and I can barely see the keyboard, ideally I'd like to keep it bile free. I'll update you when I can tear myself away from the Armitage Shanks again.