By mid August, a familiar sense of dread starts to descend to accompany the subtly shortening days. When September arrives I feel a little better since a fair few warm bright days remain before the clocks go back heralding the cold dark months.

Try as I might to see the positives of autumn and winter, I still struggle every year. My hands and joints have felt great this summer. It’s been a really good vintage and the feast of long warm sunny days have been a balm for my being.

I had to adapt my exercise routine mid July. I bought some 8kg dumbbells in April as I’d hit a plateau. I could manage some of the basic exercises with them. It’s so empowering feeling my body get stronger as I get older. However I started getting hand and wrist pain and realised I wouldn’t last long with a busy August. They’ll still be there when a quiet spell arrives.

I’ve been doing some deeper work on myself. I felt stuck in my grief process amongst other issues. It’s never easy to undertake this work but it’s vital in moving forward.

Yesterday was particularly rough after some poignant discoveries about my core complexes. I wrote, did some painting, went for a walk

and did some more painting before going to my creative writing group. On days like these practice is nigh on impossible. Being around people really helps even though solitude can seem preferable. What emerges during the writing process is always surprising.

My tailbone is 95% better and I did a bit of running in the rain and some plyo by the stream this morning. That really puts me in a good mood and helps me focus. The slide is a regular event but not the disc.