Write

Write, it tells me in the top corner. So I write. What has happened to me recently? I stayed in Britain’s most haunted hotel for two nights – and if that doesn’t sound like a Woman’s Own (or maybe Chat) headline, what does? I did what I do everywhere to find comfort – I channel surfed, looking for episodes of Law and Order broadcast between the hours of 11.30pm – 3.30, when I relented and settled on Suits and Dance Moms. I may get myself a t-shirt emblazoned with the single descriptor: ‘Survivor’.

I found some terrific recipes and a new old favourite chef; Marcella Hazan. I learnt to eat more consciously. I did very little exercise and thought about food, good food. I enjoyed the flesh roll gathering at the top of all trousers purchased before October 2014. I thought about Carrie Fisher, even going as far as to read one of her books (really!) and it gave me courage just to write and see what happens.

I had some time, less time than I thought, but some time, time which I maximised by de-prioritising work and focusing on fun, creative fun that my dutiful mind had reframed as flippant or arduous in turn, anything to stop me from engaging.

I looked at my son; furious, defiant, learning, gorgeous.

I could have looked at skies and clouds but I don’t feel bad for not doing so. I did enough.