Ka-plunk and Ka-pow

A couple of days ago I had my first Thai massage…ever. It was sort of by accident.

For those that don’t know a Thai massage is different from an oil massage and it’s because of this distinction that I’ve always done my best to avoid them. In Thai massage the person giving the massage moves your body around into different poses and exerts pressure or pulls muscles or pushes their elbows, finger into your muscles; hell, they may even walk on your back. You are stretched; your body might go ‘click’ and ‘clunk;’ it might hurt, it might be relaxing but it will probably be a mixture of both.

The reason that I have done my damnedest to avoid them is because of a seventeen-year relationship with physios, osteopaths and chiropractors. This connection began only a few months into my first pregnancy when my lower back went ‘kaplunk’ and produced all kinds of hideous pains. During pregnancy chemicals are sent around the body to loosen up joints, ligaments etc to facilitate birth. To someone with hyper mobile joints (me) this can be a problem: flibberty flobberty body parts (the technical term.) A physio at the maternity unit was my first port of call.

I love physios and osteopaths: I rate them highly. BUT, I’m nearly always in pain when I go to see them. So, I’m nervous of Thai massage on three counts: I associate being manipulated with said pain. Two, I’m afraid that they may not be as trained as they should be and what with my wibbly wobbly joints I might end up in pain after the session. And three I have an old shoulder injury and a present hip issue: Gosh, I really am a specimen of good health and fitness. Not.

So that’s how it came to be that Husband and I pottered up the road to a massage place (infinitely more affordable than in our hotel) for a Thai massage for him and foot massage for me. However because the foot massage only lasts for one hour she did a sort of Thai massage on me for the remaining thirty minutes.

I don’t think I can be an easy candidate for such things; I don’t switch off easily. I'm cautious that she’ll do something that will hurt and my brain goes careering off but that can be useful for all sorts of inspiration. But by the time I was turned over onto my back I’d totally lost the use of my arms and legs; they were leaden.

Pretty damn incredible it was.

The eagles have landed

Son and daughter returned from the UK yesterday: Hurrah. They’ve had lovely time everywhere they went and have come back with lots of funny tales, including the one where they were sellotaped into a crate at my parents. Their cousins were told a big box had arrived for them; it was too heavy to move and too large to leave in the hall until Christmas so they should open it now. Apparently one of the cousins spotted Son’s furry head and was momentarily appalled at the prospect of what was in there!

Of course there have also been stories emailed to me by the surrogate Mummies, including this one about British Airways’ unaccompanied children’s scheme, Skyflyers Solo:

“[Your children have] sung the praises of BA and the Skyflyers people … Son made me laugh when he told me that he and Daughter had slept through the first meal on the journey out and, waking up hungry, had gone to the cabin and asked for some food, claiming “It’s one of the perks of being a member of Skyflier’s Solo.” Apparently they missed their second meal too, because the oven broke down, at which point Son contemplated “making a fuss” in an attempt “to be upgraded”. They’re such cosmopolitans!”

Or spoilt brats, maybe? I do hope not.

I’m feeling a little wobbly about my lack of writing: the lurgy really knocked me off my pins, and after a full day yesterday I’m feeling a bit lightheaded again today. I have two articles to get done by … very soon… and I want to get on with the novel to see if I can… feeling a little bit unsure if I’m up to it!

Now, I’m off to my bed to see if I feel better after some zzzzzz.

Wibbly Wobbly

I am feeling very wibbly wobbly today.

My 'baby' started secondary school today ... It is, most definitely, the end of an era (and the start of a new one) and I feel... strange, a bit weepy for some reason.

I didn't do that weepy number when they went to nursery and started school, so it must be my turn to be fragile now.

I think it's because I know I have to plan for my future now.

However, I know what I want to do, but ... what if it doesn't work out?

I am a Libran after all

Maybe I’m not decisive enough to write a book.

Making my mind up is my problem.

How many characters are too many? Can the sister do the job that the best friend was going to do? Or should I use both? What are the advantages and disadvantages of having both or only one?

(Note to authors: A reader should never have to keep a ‘who is who’ list, tucked inside the front cover. They only realize this on page 56 and then it is too late.)

The writer in me has no experience on which to base any decision. Even when my head has chosen the way to go, it starts to uhm and ah all by itself. Again.

So I start to wonder if I’m telling the right story.

Can I do this?

When I am not doing it, I know I can do it, but when I begin to do it, I doubt myself.

I am pondering with abandoning my novel, and starting again… something different.

Maybe my demon has reinvented himself because I won the last battle. He has come back as Indecision with a question mark of Confidence.

Today is for writing

I am going public to say that today is for writing and that's what I'm going to do. I will come back and report what has been done.

Please harangue me if I don't.

Update:

Oh bollox, bollox. bollox.

I wrote my article for this month, I wrote my website report, and then I wrote a total of about 500 words of novel. Pathetic.

Am I telling the right story? Am I the wrong storyteller?

Not feeling good; feeling distinctly wibbly wobbly. Hopefully no-one will notice this since I have written it very small.