Author: Rare Bit Blogging

…I saw a sky of the brightest blue. A brisk sunny day in January is most welcome, especially when it follows a cold day of perpetual rain. As usual, I lacked the luxury of time to languish in the surprisingly warm sun so I soaked up the brilliant warmth with an urgent thirst. I love being outdoors come rain, wind or shine although I won’t stay out as long if it’s wet, and cold rain is my least favourite weather.

While I was perched on one of my favourite stones, I recorded a cheerful birthday video message. It’s impossible to be miserable on such a day.

By this evening, a thick veil of fog has enveloped the village and I’m pleased not to be out in it.

I received 2 books for Christmas which I love and they’re giving me some deeper insight into seasonal cycles. I now know that this intriguing specimen

is a hoof fungus. Look at its underside:

The only problem is that there are no photos or illustrations in the book so I end up using my phone in bed to help me recognise UNO’s (unidentified natural objects).

One of the books is an almanac. I’ve never had an almanac. I love the feel of that word in my mouth. Try it! I patiently waited to stumble across a piece of shedded silver birch bark for this exercise

although it might be a while before it dries enough for me to write on it.

It’s been a good week and it picked up as the weekend approached. My mood has been more buoyant and I’m sure that’s got something to do with waving goodbye to the longest ever January. I swear it gains a week every year.

Last Saturday I played for a wedding promotion event at a venue where I’m a recommended supplier, and on Sunday I played at a regular local fayre. These events are really tiring and as yet, no uptake. I try to reassure myself and not take it to heart but it does cause me some concern. Paying to work and getting no business is the pits, it really is.

However, on Sunday evening, after the fayre, I got an email from a couple I met a year ago who are now very keen to book me for their wedding this year, so there’s a silver lining if ever I saw one.

And today, Monday 2 February, feels like my blue Monday. It’s a grey damp day. I hear the rainwater dripping steadily into the drain outside. Imbolc is behind us and the full moon arrived last night bringing with it an ensuing flatness today. Yesterday seemed a good day to pack away my Christmas tree and its embellishments, a day earlier than planned – today is Candlemas – but it felt like the right time. That might also be a factor – delayed post Christmas blues. I spent a significant amount of time working on my laptop over the past 4 days, so that’s definitely a factor and, somewhat unusually for me, I’m not in the mood for exercise.

I want to be in southern Spain but I can’t go this winter. I crave light, brightness, sea, sand. The weather seems to exacerbate my negative outlook and my problems become a hundred times bigger than they are in reality. I’m finding planning ahead difficult and I’ve slowly been coming to terms with the fact that I probably won’t be undertaking any more major home improvements once the remedial work is completed on the kitchen. I’m grateful for my home but the shabbiness grates.

There’s only one thing for it – bed by 7pm.

In my reading group yesterday, one of the exercises was to choose a line from a poem as a starting point. Here’s the line I chose:

“The smoke travels deep to the seat of memory.”

And here’s where it took me:

She sits to attention in her armchair beside the blazing fire, logs and coal aglow, her fingers blackened by the ink from last week’s headlines in the Free Press. She licks her thumb and forefinger before deftly rolling the large sheet of flimsy flammable paper to make a tight stiff scroll. She twists the tube and folds it like giant origami. And there it is – kindling for tomorrow’s fire. I look at her in silence, marvelling at her skill.

She disappears into the small kitchen. I hear the hot water tap gurgling while she concocts a heady mix of green Fairy Liquid and Imperial Leather to remove the stubborn ink from her wrinkled fingers.

A few years after she died, I asked Mam for Nain’s wedding ring. It was a simple gold band but the magic for me was where the band was worn thin from years of hard work. She never ever removed it.

Stars shine tonight

A moon full and bright

The frost’s bitter bite

There’s no more fight

Be gone all spite

Reindeer in flight

They pull with all might

Sleep is in sight

Put out the light

Goodnight, goodnight.

I was out all day Friday. I went to Sowerby Bridge followed by Hebden Bridge, Halifax, Slaithwaite and finally Marsden. My student couldn’t come to me for her lesson and I needed to go to SB anyway so I decided to make a day of it and offered to teach her at her home on her lovely new harp before doing the rounds.

I’ve got a church wedding before Christmas in SB. I wanted to check out the access and get my bearings beforehand. It’s an 11am ceremony so I need to be on the ball. I’m a bit jittery about playing in churches in Winter anyway.

Even though I had checked my route prior to leaving, Google maps proved to be unpredictable. It took me through Slaithwaite and up Scapegoat Hill. I’ve always disliked going up this incline as it’s narrow and occasionally, big lorries get stuck there. Maybe those drivers were using Google maps too.

Up and around the bend I went. An extra wide SUV was coming down towards me. The driver seemed unwilling to back up so I obliged but I got cramp in my left calf from holding my foot on the pedal. There was a car behind me too. The SUV eventually passed after much stubborn huffing and puffing. So much for Christmas spirit.

On I went. The route looked familiar and I felt reassured. Then I recognised where I was heading – Ripponden. I was filled with a sense of dread. 2 years ago, at the same time Mum and her sister died, I tried to help a woman who was desperate to play the harp. She came for a consultation lesson a few years ago but the timing wasn’t right for her to have regular lessons. She contacted me in September 2023 – she had been diagnosed with cancer. Her urge to play was still strong. We arranged for my teaching harp to be left with her so that she could play a little.

I delivered the harp on an icy winter’s morning. I couldn’t find her house. Ripponden has a network of narrow winding lanes. I eventually found her house, set the harp up and gave her a brief lesson. It was the only lesson she had since her condition deteriorated quickly. Her one wish was for me to play at her funeral. I couldn’t refuse.

All these memories came flooding back yesterday. My psyche and my body remembered that traumatic time in vivid detail. Up went my shoulders and I struggled to breathe.

Safely out of Ripponden, I started to relax a little. Oh no you don’t, said Google maps as it proceeded to direct me up even more twisting single track lanes which were waterlogged in places. There were nauseatingly vertiginous drops to the right.

I got to SB and clambered out of my car, relieved to arrive at the church. It was locked but at least now I know which route NOT to take!

I was agitated before I left. I dropped a jar half full of pumpkin seeds which smashed spectacularly – glass and green grains went everywhere.

When I got back, I did these breathing exercises which really helped me discharge the stored emotions and energy:

1. The “Soft Throat” Breath (very gentle)

Sit or lie comfortably. Put one hand lightly on the front of your throat or upper chest — just for reassurance. Take a slow inhale through your nose. Exhale through your mouth like you’re fogging up a window — soft, warm, unforced.

This relaxes the larynx muscles that clamp when we’re overwhelmed.

2. Humming (the vagus nerve’s best friend)

Even 10–20 seconds helps.

Close your lips gently. Hum on a long, low note. Don’t push sound — think “quiet fridge vibration.” If you can, rest one hand on your sternum while you hum.

The vibration releases throat tension from the inside.

3. The “Say Nothing” Stretch

This is incredibly simple but powerful.

Tilt your head very slightly up — just enough to feel the front of the throat lengthen a little. Take slow breaths for 20–30 seconds. Keep your jaw soft, lips parted.

Many people try to swallow emotion down; this gently reverses that reflex.

4. Jaw Release (because jaw and throat tension are linked)

Place the tip of your tongue behind your top front teeth. Let your jaw hang slightly open. Breathe three slow breaths. If you feel like swallowing, let it happen — that’s release.

5. A grounding phrase for the throat

You can say this quietly or just think it:

“I don’t have to hold it all right now.”

You may feel warmth, a sigh, or even a tiny wave of emotion — all normal signs of the throat releasing.

————

Then I went for a gentle grounding walk in the dark. The hoot of the owl nearby in the cemetery was reassuring.

It was an extremely uncomfortable experience but I’m so glad I did it. It’s easy to avoid potentially challenging situations but they’re where growth lies. I AM still capable!

It’s the last Sunday night in November 2025. I survived another Black Friday. Only Cyber Monday to go now. Don’t you think Christmas is being pushed more and more aggressively each year? It’s still November and it feels like Christmas is tomorrow! Did you remember your sprouts?

To dodge the relentless festive marketing messages, I went out for a longer walk today. It was a ruthlessly cold, thermals, 2 jackets and my warmest hat kind of morning but the sun was shining. I had very little energy. I was slow and I stopped a lot but it’s getting out that matters.

Yesterday it rained most of the day. I confess that I brought my trusted Christmas tree down from the attic and, in a moment of weakness, decorated it. I’m a sucker for sparkles at this time of year. The rain, darkness and endless grey dreary days make me default to magpie mode. My kitchen instantly looked more cheerful and the fairy lights chase away some of the winter gloom. It’s getting earlier each year – I mean, tree up in November? Me?!!

December is quiet until Christmas week. My mind keeps taking me back to Christmases I enjoyed, when I had festive orchestral concerts. I let myself get carried away on the wave of Christmas cheer. I’m not one for big gatherings. I think that’s why alcohol featured so much in the past, to ease the social awkwardness of post gig get togethers as well as the void which ensued. There’s none of that now. I occasionally eat too much fruit and if I’m feeling really rubbish, there’s always peanut butter.

Each Christmas I try to make some gifts, usually something edible. I love cooking and baking but I’m not particularly gifted. It stresses me out too. Deciding what to make is hard enough, then working out the quantities and logistics adds to the pressure. It’s the thought that counts though, right? I reassure myself as I scrutinise the misshapen festive cookies I test baked on Saturday.

Other than an early January wedding, my regular teaching and a few fayres, I have very little work at the beginning of next year. I’m going to need to act fast or I will be in trouble. Thing is, I don’t know what I can do other than weddings and teaching. I’ve inadvertently pigeonholed myself. Oops. Another thing is, I don’t really like going out this time of year, especially with my harp. Big oops!

On a lighter more positive note, I am feeling an inner shift albeit very subtle. I have trouble letting go and I carry so much unnecessary shit around with me but this morning, before going out, I wrapped some choice words around a small carefully chosen stone and set light to the paper. It burnt really well and I felt some weight lift from inside me.

I know I’m fixated on my problems but I do count my blessings. I know so many people are struggling. The greatest gift is compassion for others and, perhaps a little harder to offer, for ourselves.

I changed my mind about going to the concert in the end – it was at 8pm and when I realised exactly how tired I was, I was tucked up by 7pm ☺️ Before I turned in, knowing full well I needed some creative inspiration, I booked a ticket to see this year’s Turner Prize at Cartwright Hall in Bradford, less than an hour away.

I arrived early since I wanted to walk around the grounds surrounding the Hall. It was a quiet Tuesday and the park was a gem. It even had a lake and small botanic gardens. Geese and grey squirrels were fearless – it must get really busy on a weekend.

I was irresistibly drawn to the water gardens

which were peaceful and relaxing. I sat on a bench in the sun and felt myself get warm again.

I had a coffee in the downstairs cafe before entering the main building. Cartwright Hall is very impressive and reassuringly old. Anish Kapoor’s familiar mirrored egg offered a reflective welcome at the main entrance.

Volunteers handed out leaflets containing useful insights about each of the 4 artists. They helpfully suggested options on navigating the exhibition and pointed out the videos introducing the artists and their work.

I decided to start with art, namely a flag and a collection of dolls and photographs by Rene Matić. I didn’t really get it and found the doll cupboard quite creepy. (No photos, sorry). I went back into the foyer and watched a short video about them. I was still flummoxed and only when I got home and did some research did I get the gist of Rene.

I decided to watch the next video about Mohammed Sami before experiencing his work. An Iraqi artist based in London, he was an artist in the more traditional sense. The video showed him hanging and priming his canvas. No team of assistants here. The paintings were powerful and had an anonymity and a touch of the impersonal despite being highly emotive. There were eerie scenes of conflict and devastation and ambiguous titles left much to the interpretation of the visitor.

Next was Nnena Kalu. Her works reminded me of Joana Vasconcelos’ Valkyrie. Big piñata style figures wrapped in thick layers of multicoloured tape hung from the ceiling. Her obsessive drawings of vortexes were compelling and looked as though they’d been done in an intense Spirograph session.

To complete my art circuit, I returned downstairs to see Zadie Xa’s work. I can be easily pleased when it comes to art and I did go a bit gooey when I walked into the room, which was like a tranquil holographic disco of rainbow colours, mysterious figures, shells, bells, and whales, with a discreet audio accompaniment. There was even a reflective gold floor. I loved her fabric patchworks which reminded me of brightly coloured stain glass windows. I found her work spiritual and quite moving.

Is there a clear winner? Not in my mind and I’ll be intrigued to find out who will take this year’s title. £25,000 will come in handy but even as a runner up, consolation prizes of £10,000 will ease any pain from not seizing the prestigious first prize.

Runs until 22 February 2026. Well worth a visit.

Winter arrived properly last week with plummeting temperatures and the heavens opening at every opportunity. I can handle cold and dry, cold and wet less so.

I’ve been busy practicing some festive requests and I had a lovely wedding on Saturday but my heart just isn’t in it. I took yesterday off and tidied up as well as starting a much needed decluttering project. I did a little this morning too and my house does feel lighter.

Today is dark and grey. I did my morning mobility – my shoulders were incredibly stiff after Saturday – and after a full body workout, I went for a walk punctuated with a bit of skipping and jumping. It’s a bit lighter outside than in my house but at 3.30pm, it’s already getting dark.

I didn’t sleep well last night which is unusual. I’m very fortunate that I can usually sleep for England, but not last night. I feel restless, unsettled. Change is afoot and inhabiting the liminal space is uncomfortable.

I’m gearing myself up to go out again soon. The Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival is on and I’d like to go along and listen to other musicians. It feels important to attend a performance, a reminder of what it’s all about. I’m sure I’ll report back, unless the safe warm duvet wins the day.