We Don’t See Things the Same Way

We all make assumptions.

I recently went to the opticians. I haven’t been for a few years, so I’d forgotten some of the more torturous tests – for instance, when they take a picture of the back of your eyes. I put my head in the chin rest and willed myself to stay still as the lady shot air into my eye.

‘Try to keep your eye open this time,’ she said, patiently, as if she was talking to a young child.

‘I’m trying,’ I whimpered.

Things were better when I saw the main optometrist. After a few simple tests, he was confident that there was nothing wrong with my eyes.

On my way out, he smiled and said, ‘Your eyesight is four times over the driving limit – your vision is in the top 1%!’

I can see better than 99% of the population. * I had a surprising sense of achievement, considering that I’d had relatively little to do with it! Well done, eyes!

It was a useful reminder that Continue reading

Life is Risky: Crossfit or Couch?

Should we take the risk of exercising, or the risk of not exercising?

You can’t avoid danger. Not completely. You might be the most careful person in the world, but there’s still a chance you’ll be walking down a path one day and not see a little step…BAM! There we go, a badly-sprained ankle. Life is risky.

Crossfit is labelled as ‘dangerous’ by some, as if the athletes are let loose with ‘all the gear and no idea’, damaging their bodies with movements they don’t understand. This is the total opposite of my experience. I have never been injured. My coaches are knowledgeable, experienced, understanding, and wise in their dealings with athletes of a wide range of age and ability.

But still, training your body at high-intensity is not risk free. In fact, no exercise is risk free. Even the most careful and competent athletes get injuries, whether it be general wear-and-tear or a specific incident. Is it more sensible not to exercise? Continue reading

A Day in Cornwall

Tuesday 3rd October 2017

9:00

The view from this window is like a moving postcard. I watch the blue horizon and the low waves that are queueing up to break on Porthminster Beach, where the morning dog-walkers are scuttling back and forth.

The town of St Ives looks small from here, stretching out onto the peninsula, and I wonder what sort of wave could… No, don’t think about that. Everything is perfect today.

I had some deep sleep last night, only waking twice – yes, that’s good for me. Each time I turned over I thought for a moment that I was at home. Don’t tell Continue reading

Eating on My Own

Wednesday 4th October 2017

I am sitting in a restaurant on my own and have never felt less lonely. Why doesn’t everyone do this? Well, I suppose not everyone is introverted – and many introverts would still feel uncomfortable eating alone in public, because of the dictations of society.

When I’m by myself, I tend to feel awkward if I don’t know exactly where I’m going. I worry that someone might steal my bag, and my senses are heightened, as if I’m on red alert. It’s wearing.

So, this is a breakthrough for me. I don’t know why it’s been different today, wandering Continue reading

People-watching at Paddington

Aunty and I sat in a café area at Paddington station, sipping deliciously-milky lattes, with our bags safely tucked under the table.

‘Do you love to watch people?’ she asked, peering over my shoulder. I knew I’d chosen the wrong side of the table.

It seems we have far more in common than a big nose. ‘Yes! It’s the best thing ever.’

‘Some extremely glam people here…’

I smoothed down my dress and flicked a stray lock of hair (well, one of them) behind my ear. ‘Love that about cities; such a mix.’

We were soon walking down Platform 10 and boarding the next train, with its almost deserted carriages and much bigger seats than the previous ones – they made me feel as if I’d shrunk in the wash!

As we passed Exeter, our eyes were drawn away from our books to the Continue reading

A Sense of Belonging

30.9.17

Aunty and I are on the train to London Euston. First Class; a first for me! We have already raided our goody bags and I’ve managed to consume the heavy brioche muffin (or whatever it was).

I have a slightly nervous stomach, or perhaps that’s because I’ve already written my journal on the rocking train, and I’m excited. It’s as if I’m heading home.

I wonder how I feel this way when I’ve never lived in Cornwall and probably never will; I haven’t even visited for sixteen years. Yet here I am, on my way to St Ives, home of the Continue reading