Author: Rare Bit Blogging

29 November 2017 is the date I started my blog, initially as an expressive outlet for some of the myriad thoughts whirling incessantly round my head. My intention was to attempt to attract people that were interested in my music and the life of a freelance musician to my website. Just over a year later, in one of my now regular stock takes and decluttering episodes, it’s become apparent that quite a few people enjoy reading what I write. My blog has already served its purpose in that I’m able to express in writing far more quickly and clearly what I most often struggle to shrink down into spoken words. This has helped me in more ways than I imagined possible. My style of writing is instinctive, emotional and creative so if it’s grammatically immaculate facts your after (pun intended), this probably won’t be your thing. If you want an intuitive and occasionally indulgent written meander in colourful language whilst picking up a few pebbles to skim over the surface of that stream water, let’s jump in - the water’s quite nice. Tonight I have no idea which direction this new page will take. All I know is that it’s a journey I’m ready to explore. Coming with me? What are we waiting for?

Holiday Blog Part 1 – Of grandeur, grenadines and gardens in Granada. And grief

22nd Feb 20246th Mar 2024 Rare Bit BloggingLeave a comment

This hill seemed to offer a welcoming smile at me on my way from Malaga to Granada

2023 was a hideous year on the whole. It was a year of endings and bereavements. Mum died in October and her sister died a fortnight later. At Christmas, my French landlady died, then one of my students died on Christmas Day. I played for my Aunt’s funeral, and for my student’s celebration of life. It was an upsetting and traumatic time and a lot to process in 2 months. At the start of 2024 I knew I needed to escape the Winter blues and the recurring negative thoughts quite urgently. I found playing the harp really torturous. I felt paralysed, unable to do much more than practice the bare minimum. There was no pleasure, no expression, no emotion. I stared into space a lot. I was numb. It was horrible. It was grief in one of its many guises.

I knew where I wanted to go and after scouring the internet every evening for a week, I had booked my flights and accommodation.

Excerpt from a travel guide I scanned through before leaving. I concur. Guitars were prevalent in Granada, a very musical city

I’ve had a soft spot for Spain since I went on a very short orchestral tour there in 2015 which involved a night in a hotel in Madrid, then a rehearsal and a concert in Valencia before taking the flight back to Blighty before I got a chance to say ¡Hola! I got a taste for Spanish life (even the coffee at the motorway services was great) and longed to return. I daydreamed over images of the Alhambra and Punto Nuevo and they were top of my bucket list.

I flew to Malaga where I had a 4 hour wait for a train to Granada. It was warm and sunny so I found an appropriate spot and soaked up the healing rays of sunshine. The inner greyness started to dissipate. It’s hard to feel miserable when you’re at a train station surrounded by orange trees. I was in no rush and had been in holiday mode from the moment I boarded the plane.

I had to change at Antequera where I had a 2 hour wait for the connection to Granada. Public transport was preferable to hiring a car. We arrived early at Antequera and I asked if it was where I was meant to change. No, it was the next Antequera – Santa Ana which was actually 10 minutes away. Good job I didn’t get off at the first one. When we arrived at the Antequera, the train door wouldn’t open. Panic! It eventually did and I was deposited in what I can only describe as Crewe station with no personality. A huge interchange, there was nothing there except some seating and toilets, and grumpy stern station staff. No newsagents, no cafe, nada. I found the exit and more sunshine.

Antequera Station Statue. Zoom in if you can

It’s all about the journey, not the destination but I was relieved to finally arrive in Granada at 5pm. I fully expected the Alhambra to be the first thing I saw in its much anticipated splendour but, to my dismay, it was nowhere to be seen! I got to my accommodation and felt reassured – the studio flat was lovely, airy, open and bright:

and the views from both sides were just what I needed:

I made good use of the lounger, even on rainy days. You can see the Generalife gardens in the distance beneath the third hill

I’d been up since 1am for my flight and wasn’t in the mood for eating out so I got some basic food from the local shop and had a simple supper in the flat. I had tickets booked for the Alhambra the next day. I slept like a baby.

I stayed in the Albaicín, a historic quarter located above the hustle and bustle of central Granada. The flat was nestled in a busy but surprisingly quiet pedestrian zone. Being perched on top of a hill meant an easy descent into the centre and a blast of cardio to get back home. I didn’t need to worry about exercise. After breakfast I explored the area, popping into peaceful parks and anyplace else which piqued my curiosity on the way downtown.

Tranquility and blue skies in the City Archive gardens

Guardian of grenadines. Or were they grenadines? I’m not entirely certain but let’s pretend

Then I saw it, at last:

It was imposing and much more impressive than I’d imagined. I couldn’t wait to get up there.

The Alhambra thoroughly surpassed my expectations. I hadn’t looked at too many photos as I wanted to experience it afresh with my own eyes. I couldn’t get over the scale of the site or the detail. Everywhere I looked there were intricate designs and unexpected surprises:

Then there were the gardens:

Generalife gardens. The Spanish do gardens brilliantly

I walked a lot that day. There were benches and seating dotted around where I could rest awhile and regain a sense of peace.

There was a lot to take in and I would have definitely returned for a full day, pausing longer to admire the intricacy of the architecture and the elaborate patterns.

I enjoyed a surprisingly good coffee from the kiosk in front of the Alcazaba. I was served a small perfectly formed cafe con leche and asked if I wanted anything else. I thought for a moment and said 2 new feet in my best Spanish. The barista laughed. Bereavement caused me to go inwards, losing the more outgoing and daring aspects of my nature, as well as my sense of humour. If I was in an extrovert mood, I was able to engage with the locals, and at least attempt to cobble together some words and Duolingo phrases.

The next day I headed into the city centre to see the other major landmark in Granada – the Cathedral. It was immense, a huge sprawling edifice:

It was an interesting visit and I’m glad I saw it, but nothing could compete with the sensory feast which had sated me the previous day. I paid a quick visit to the tourist office on my way to the centre to ask if there were any concerts or plays on while I was there, as well as asking for information about the cathedral. The assistant’s eyes lit up. She gushed about the Royal Chapel which was in a separate building. The way she described it was compelling. She said it was a spiritual experience.

It could have gone one of two ways – delight or disappointment and I’m afraid my verdict was the latter. I think it’s the way she sold it to me but her description conjured up divine images of golden light and rainbows in my mind. Along with paintings, artefacts and sculptures, there was a crypt down a flight of stairs bearing 5 small safely guarded coffins. I’m not sure what I expected but that wasn’t it. I was still under the spell cast by the magic of the Alhambra, and I’d seen my unfair share of coffins.

True dat. Wise words from the Cathedral guide

As you can see, the weather was perfect. That’s the other thing about Spain, there’s so much light, and grey days don’t last long. It wasn’t too busy either. I don’t think I would have enjoyed it as much in the oppressive heat of summer with hordes of tourists.

By day 3 I had started to relax properly and the internal chatter/list making had slowed down and was getting quieter. I felt moments of peace. That’s my ideal holiday – when I’m able to shelve my worries.

I didn’t go to Spain to grieve or with the intention of processing recent events. I went to escape and forget about everything, to draw a line under that chapter. It worked.

Despite having lived in France and South Africa, I’m not particularly well travelled. I used to drive a lot for work, so I enjoyed staying at home when I had time off. Holidays weren’t really a priority. Then I had a brilliant 5 night break in Malaga 2 Christmases ago which gave me confidence to explore just a bit beyond my comfort zone (2 destinations, train logistics) and it’s given me a boost. I did manage it all and with no mishaps. Everything went smoothly. It was an opportunity to gain closure on last year’s losses and anguish and I feel much better since I got back. I feel stronger and definitely more independent. Most importantly, my holiday has shifted my grief to a more manageable level. I’m already planning my next trips.

Meanwhile, onwards to Ronda…

Learning my limitations – the trials, tribulations and inspirations of a freelance musician

27th Sep 202328th Sep 2023 Rare Bit BloggingLeave a comment

For 2 days now, I’ve woken up with a sense of dread. I managed to get a physio appointment for yesterday lunchtime. On Sunday I knelt on the floor to tidy underneath my table at the wedding fayre. I put my weight on my left hand and felt shooting pain in my thumb, hand and arm. I shifted my weight and tried it again. There it was, that troubling pain like a searing hot needle travelling from my hand towards my shoulder. 20 minutes earlier I’d had a call informing me mum had fallen again and an ambulance had been called. I phoned my sister who was at work. My brother in law was with mum. She’d unlocked the door to let the cat out and had a tremor. The keys went flying and she fell backwards. Nothing’s broken but she’s hurt her coccyx. She’s a tough old bean but she’s really having a lot of knocks.

I struggled to get in the zone. Obviously this news affected my playing. I warmed up half heartedly and tried to ignore the discomfort in my left thumb. I played as much as I could (too much – hindsight’s a beautiful thing.) I packed up all my gear after a 4 hour fayre and struggled to change gears driving home. 3rd was painful, reverse involved 2 hands.

I can’t remember suffering from hand problems. Shoulders yes, not hands though. My sister said it might be arthritis. Great, thanks sis! I played a chord yesterday. It came out ok. What worries me is playing for extended periods of time. Weddings last on average 3 hours with breaks but it’s unlike orchestral playing which is focused and intense for short bursts. Weddings are marathons and there’s nowhere to hide. Pop music is repetitive by design. I’m going to have to learn some moderation and decide if it’s worth buying a heavy amp and lugging that with me on top of all the other gear.

My frame of mind has been quite negative lately and I’ve allowed news of friends and family illnesses and injuries affect my usually cheery disposition. Since I can’t really use my hands much, I’m taking a week off my attic gym activities and just walking and stretching. I know how important movement is – it calms my head and improves my mood. Tomorrow I’ll try a bit of practice ahead of Saturday’s wedding.

I feel like a hypochondriac but I think it’s just general wear and tear. It’s also a reminder to rest and relax. I feel guilty and lazy if I don’t work a certain number of hours in the day. Idle hands… I’ve had to relinquish 2 of my anchoring activities already this week. I couldn’t go to my creative writing group yesterday as that’s when my physio appointment was, and aerial yoga is a no-no at the mo. It’s very much a hands on class. I’m up to date with my emails and I’ve done the fayre follow ups. No uptake yet but these things can take time.

It’s been a steep learning curve. When I first started exhibiting at fayres, I used to play a little and hand out leaflets and cards. Then I’d feel frustrated when nobody contacted me! Now I enjoy meeting and chatting with prospective clients and I ask for their details and contact them, usually within 24 hours. The spam folder is always a concern.

I took Monday off and met a friend in town for coffee. I then tried to make a dent in a lengthy shopping list. I managed 2 hours before calling it quits. Shopping’s boring. However I got myself some brushes, watercolour paints and a thick roll of paper to do some crap art. I don’t mean any disrespect here, it’s just a nod to perfectionist me to clock off for a few hours. In my creative writing group a while back, we did an exercise involving blobbing paint freely onto paper, playing about with it and writing about what we saw. I loved it. I had a go last night. It was very interesting.

Or that? Either way there’s a string of stories in there

After shopping I treated myself to a thrifty Thai lunch. It was just what I needed. Vegetable green curry with wontons is a hug in the form of a bowl.

I went back home to rest before attending the first performance I’ve been to since Easter. It was called Sonic Threads present VASTRA and it took place at Heritage Quay in the University. It was given by Carnatic vocalist Supriya Nagarajan accompanied by Lucy Nolan on harp and Duncan Chapman on sound and flugelhorn. What a fascinating combination and quite different from traditional concerts I’m accustomed to. There was a selection of ragas and some Bollywood music to lighten things up and I enjoyed a fair few foot tapping moments. There was no applause between pieces. The audience seemed deep in a trance-like contemplative state. It was an immersive experience, like being flown to Bombay via Huddersfield.

Great to be on the receiving end for a change

Lucy is such a natural relaxed performer and she looked completely comfortable on stage. She responded beautifully to Supriya’s chants and plaintive tones with impressively attentive communication. Her voice was full of emotion. I wondered exactly what she was singing. Duncan’s flugelhorn later introduced a soft eerie earthy colour to the sound palette.

Lucy used a wide range of effects, loops and extended techniques in an unpretentious authentic way. It was a mesmerising, hypnotic and meditative evening.

I came home hungry. I felt empty. I’d hoped music would fill the gaps for a while but alas, this wasn’t the case. I’m still numb, still quite impenetrable. I can’t cry. And that’s ok. I am where I’m at on my journey.

Wheels in Motion

17th Sep 202329th Sep 2023 Rare Bit BloggingLeave a comment

I’ve just about recovered from Mum-sitting in Wales. Getting back on track takes longer these days and I need to remember to factor in additional recovery time, especially after gigs. I got behind with my emails and admin due to technical difficulties. I couldn’t get the household Sky internet and TV to work so my laptop was useless. It might have been a blessing in disguise, one less distraction from my practice. The distress from Mum being unable to watch telly for a week was horrible. She got through a pile of reading though and sorted some papers.

We got out 3 times! The wheelchair was christened on a short ride to the park. I needed to practice using it. Where’s the brake?!! Even though I wheeled it super slowly, she still grumbled at any bumps. I know she’s in pain. I felt a bizarre sense of deja-vu as she observed me messing about on the playground equipment.

Food was a focal point and I think she appreciated having a personal chef for most of the week, except a couple of days when she had to do it herself as I was cheffed out. Cheffed off? A foodie highlight was a trip to the coast and the obligatory Mr Whippy which was lapped up with great satisfaction. I asked if she could do 2. She said not. She asked if I could. I said I could do 5. The sea air did us both good.

Back home, I realised how lucky I am. My house might be shabby but it’s very peaceful and generally well organised. I got about my business. The most pressing matter was getting my new car. I dislike change and since I had my last car for 12 years I knew I was in for a steep learning curve. I’d seen my new car, been taken for a drive in it (it felt like a limo in comparison with my trusty old banger), checked my harp fitted but I wasn’t able to drive it myself. I collected it on Tuesday and was given a 20 minute crash course (no pun intended) on its functions.

Up up and away. Walking is still my preferred mode of transportation

It was like learning to drive all over again. The first thing I did was stall, then I couldn’t find 3rd gear. I kept reaching for the handbrake which isn’t there because it’s a button! It was cringeworthily hilarious. I’ve scanned through the 500 page manual for the important stuff. I’ve found the lights and the indicators and wipers and I’ve driven at night. I’ve also driven on the motorway. It has 2 types of cruise control though, the thought of which gives me the vapours. It took me a couple of years to pluck up the courage to try it on my old car…

Faced with mortality

3rd Sep 20239th Sep 2023 Rare Bit Blogging2 Comments

I’m in Wales looking after mum while my sister, brother in law and the boys are enjoying a well earned holiday in Turkey. It’s a full time job looking after mum. You wouldn’t think an 88 year old woman could be such hard work. I don’t feel comfortable leaving her alone for long. Her falls have become more frequent and she’s very frail. She does however have a huge appetite, which is a relief. She doesn’t have an appetite for life anymore though and who could blame her? I suspect she’s in quite a lot of discomfort and perhaps some pain and I’m certain the negative thoughts are on a continuous loop.

It’s day 3. I’ve asked her every day if she wants to do anything or if she’ll come for some air. She’s got a wheelchair now but I don’t think she’s used it yet. It’s parked in the garage, waiting, wheels poised still wrapped in their protective plastic packaging, ready for action and adventure – maybe a couple of hours at the seaside and a Mr Whippy or a trip to the shops. She doesn’t seem interested though so I won’t force the issue, but I’ll offer it up every day. I think we’d have fun.

I went for a walk at midday down to the stream and felt my mood lift after 10 minutes. I feel very unsettled here and it’s hard to get any focus. I need to practice and maintain some sort of routine so I’ve bought quite a lot of stuff and it’s all over the place – nothing’s where it should be. I packed my weights of course and it was arms and shoulders this morning. Did I feel like doing them? Probably not but I’m even more determined to stay strong after seeing how mum’s ageing. It’s legs tomorrow 😮‍💨 but my reward will be a walk in some picturesque scenery.

I’d walk for miles every day given half a chance. I feel slightly frustrated since Snowdon’s right there, a mere hour away. I asked earlier what time’s best for me to go out – the underlying message being what time are you most likely to fall?!! I have no idea how I’d react if she did but I’d rather be here. I purposely didn’t pack any serious walking gear to avoid the temptation of a longer walk, but the urge is there and it’s strong.

I’m so used to just thinking for myself that it can feel restrictive being responsible for another person, especially an elderly mother. There’s always something to do, even more so than when I’m at mine. Plants to water, bins to put out, animals to feed. I can’t switch off. I can’t at mine either mind you. I haven’t turned the telly on yet. I’d rather be outside. That’s my switch off zone.

I wish mum could see the magnificent hills, feel the lush grass under her feet, watch the sleepy cows grazing half heartedly in the sweltering midday sun, feel the refreshing coolness of the flowing stream water through her fanned (arthritic) fingers. Mother knows best, although she’d definitely benefit from exposure to a few rays of sunshine.

I go to her room and her head is bowed in contemplation. The osteoporosis makes her look like a table top. She went back to bed this morning. She said she still felt tired. I didn’t question it. She had a nap late yesterday afternoon while I was getting dinner ready. 5 minutes before I plated, I knocked but she was fast asleep. She stirred briefly and asked if it was time to go to work. Gulp.

It might be selfish of me but it’s made me think even more about how I want to go. If I had a choice, it’d be by heart attack halfway down Snowdon. Please 🙏

It absolutely blooming categorically definitely wouldn’t be death by cow stampede, which almost happened during my walk on Friday evening. I crossed a field on a well trodden footpath and halfway, a herd of cows took an interest in me. I walked on as calmly as I could. With a third of the field remaining, they somewhat disconcertingly gathered speed. I walked faster. So did the cows. I broke into a trot. They did too! I legged it towards the gate as fast as I could and got there by the skin of my teeth.

Lucky cow.

Rocky Road

29th Aug 20231st Sep 2023 Rare Bit BloggingLeave a comment

Walking observations

On Bank Holiday Monday I walked to Laddow Rocks in the Peak District. I wanted to get down to Crowden making it a total of 20 miles. I thought it’d be a good way to mark the end of August but I was quite tired after lots of driving for Sunday’s wedding in North Yorkshire:

So I settled on just over 15 miles. It’s not the quantity but the quality. I had a lovely time, lost in my thoughts. I set a comfortable pace, sometimes pushing faster before easing up to recover.

It had rained more last week than I’d anticipated and the ground was wet. My former nemesis, deep puddles, still freak me out a bit but once I felt the cold boggy water inside my shoe, there was no going back and I splashed freely through the murky water. I looked forward to crossing each stream, testing my balance and my ability to select secure rocks in the fast flowing water. I looked down at my feet and smiled at evidence of a good time:

Moist and muddy. Oh and ***that*** view of course

It was quite busy out. I greeted fellow walkers cheerily and chatted briefly if it felt right. I got talking with a 73 year young man called John. His skin glowed and his eyes twinkled – a seasoned walker. He wanted a longer chat so I went with it. He was walking from Crowden to Marsden to catch a train to Piccadilly and another to Glossop where his car was parked. His wife had died during covid and he was making every moment count. He was on a mission to complete the Pennine Way with only 3 sections left. High 5 John.

A while later, a man was congratulating his dog enthusiastically near a stream. I joined in. Apparently the dog got freaked out by deep water and streams so I felt justified in sharing my phobia. Chicken? the man offered helpfully. Oh yes I said, I’ll get my feet wet for treats.

The thing about walkers is their good humour. Nature does that. I know that after 10 minutes outdoors, any whiff of a rancid mood dissipates into the ether. I picked up on the higher vibration of hikers I passed, buzzing from a strong dose of vitamin FA. Fresh Air.

5 miles from home I spotted a young couple coming up the really tough ascent from Digley to Black Hill. He walked on past me as I sat on a cushion of heather enjoying a breather. She had stopped at the signpost and was looking enigmatically in the opposite direction. Uh oh. There’s trouble afoot I thought to myself.

After 5 minutes she turned to face the hill and walked past without acknowledging me. I noticed she was wearing Dr Marten boots. She didn’t look happy at all. I wouldn’t be if I was walking up a tough hill in those. They sat and had a heated discussion a few metres up the path from where I was perched. I walked on, shaking off any negative vibes. I sploshed my way through the extra deep puddle 1/4 mile away. Long stalks of tough thick grass had been flattened where other walkers had trodden to avoid the troublesome puddle but in vain – the entire area was water logged. Uh oh, I thought again. Her boots will be trashed. I hoped he’d gallantly offer to carry her over the boggy water to their happy ever after. Romance can’t be dead can it?

Dead gorse and plundered wimberry bushes

Sheeps and Leeks and other Welsh Wonders

17th Aug 202325th Aug 2023 Rare Bit BloggingLeave a comment

I was treated to dinner at Sheeps and Leeks in Caernarfon at the beginning of August. I had no expectations when I saw the quirky shop front hidden away in one of the city’s side streets. Pink neon lighting gave the exterior a slightly sleazy glow. A curious collection of small plants was growing on the window ledge inside the restaurant.

The kitchen is as open as the atmosphere – the vibe was busy but relaxed amongst the stacked stainless steel pots and pans. It was as though we’d walked into a friend’s kitchen. We were greeted with warm smiles by the team before they got their heads down again to prepare an incredibly intricate collection of culinary delights.

Simple elements – don’t be fooled, it was anything but!

I’d never experienced a tasting menu before. I’ve got some catching up to do and this was the ideal introduction. It’s the perfect concept. Sampling such a vast array of tastes and textures was sensational. Each dish had been lovingly conceived and every element was plated with great care and attention.

I don’t eat cheese but I was told the doughnut was very good. My first dish was an all-in-one-go steel spoonful of luxurious lamb. It was like experiencing food for the very first time. I let it melt in my mouth. My tastebuds danced to the tune of the flavours that developed on my tongue. I could have cried it was so good. Amuse my bouche it most certainly did.

Next up was the stand out dish for me – soup! Let’s be honest here, it’s often a dull dish which gets overlooked. Not so at Sheeps and Leeks. I didn’t get a photo – I was too busy enjoying it. The intensity of the flavours was incredible. An unexpected sphere of herby liquid was concealed at the bottom of the bowl. It brought it to life. The focaccia was crusty, light and full of flavour.

The maître d’ was a friendly modest man possessed by a passion for every single plate with which we were presented. His detailed explanations of each dish added another dimension to the simple menu. I’m still in awe of how he retained all the information about each course as well as the wine list.

The decor at Sheeps and Leeks is unapologetically quirky but without an ounce of pretence. The brick effect wallpaper gave a retro feel to the small dining room (20 covers) and photos of chefs and culinary paraphernalia adorned the wallpaper.

Back to the food. The fish was as fresh as the August weather outside (15 degrees), as were its accompanying crab and cucumber salads. The beautifully presented pork cheek melted divinely. Crumbs of crackling were crumbled on top and the meat rested on a pillow of silky smooth aubergine.

More than the sum of its parts – pork, peas and cabbage never looked, or tasted, this good

Every component ingredient worked in harmony together. It was a tour de force of culinary balance.

Two desserts you say? Now that’s my idea of heaven! I actually loved the zingy palate cleansing yogurt pre dessert more than the star of the show, which was also excellent. I’d never have thought that 4 such simple ingredients as rhubarb, strawberry, yoghurt and mint could sing together so harmoniously. Wow. No photo again for obvious reasons, but here’s the main dessert to give you an idea:

We had delicious decaf coffee which tasted just like the real thing and petit fours to complete our experience.

One of the best things about Sheeps and Leeks is its lack of airs and graces. It genuinely is all about the food. Although it was high end dining, it was a homely relaxed experience. Brick wallpaper and soft lighting does that. I’ll definitely be going back. Meanwhile I’m on the forage for tasting menus here in Yorkshire…

My happy face in my happy place – fine food land

Summer ‘23 blog

17th Aug 202324th Aug 2023 Rare Bit BloggingLeave a comment

I’m having a pretty great summer and I sense it’s far from over in the close contender to my favourite season, spring. I’ve managed life’s ups and downs with relative aplomb although this week started with a slump on Monday evening. I had a tough wedding on Saturday. It was even more frustrating as I’d practiced diligently last week. Them’s the shakes. I didn’t really get the shakes but I felt I had to control each note. I couldn’t relax, let go. Then, in between pieces, I got heckled. The guests had already had a fair bit to drink and one particularly well oiled man had something to say to me, a witty comment he couldn’t keep to himself. I didn’t hear him so I asked him to repeat it. He refused, brushed me off. I tried to do the same but my focus was gone. I played ok but just couldn’t get in the zone again.

Back behind my harp on Monday morning, practice went really well. Phew. I could play freely with ease again. As the day progressed my mind took over and I became preoccupied with a challenge I set myself starting the following morning – boot camp in the local park. I started worrying about the most irrational things. I wanted to pull out and nosedive straight into a giant box of malty chocolate but I stuffed myself with after dinner fruit and homemade Wimberry and almond biscuits instead. Win. (Berry).

On Tuesday morning, I intentionally arrived with 3 minutes to spare but still almost bailed at the sight of a large group of women congregated in the park by the coffee van. I noticed some slam balls and a selection of dumbbells and other equipment dotted around on the grass. After a brief introduction, with high energy music booming from a portable sound system, we warmed up by running around in a circle and doing some jumping jacks and high knees. So far so good. My heart rate went up a few notches as did my mood. We were split into 5 groups of 4. I didn’t want to let my team down. Pressure! I remembered that sinking feeling I had in gym class at school of being the last one to be picked as I was so useless at sports. There was none of this here. It wasn’t about competition, just doing the best we could. I worked up a sweat, pushing just outside my comfort zone. Win again. I’ve booked on for next week. You won’t find me at the gym but a class in a park? I’m ok with that.

Stepping out of my comfort zone. There was a man but he left before the photo was taken

In the afternoon I went to my writing group. My output was flat and unimaginative. I couldn’t find an ounce of creativity or inspiration. By the third exercise, I felt a shift and colour started to permeate my sentences.

Yesterday morning I felt balanced again and today I feel better still. Writing’s cathartic. I spend a lot of time on my own and I really enjoy my own company but you can have too much of a good thing. I’d happily stay in and practice, read and write most days, going out for my daily walk of course, but I feel better, more connected after a microdose of people time.

I realised I’ve become extremely dependent on my phone and last week my daily screen time was almost 6 hours. Just think of all the things I could’ve done with that time. The biggest culprits were iplayer (Masterchef – undemanding viewing) and Instagram. I’m struggling more and more with the latter. I have 2 accounts and I’m not sure I need them both. My blogging account is just a bit of fun and my harpist one is for work but as an empath, I have to distance myself and stop pressing the like button for everyone’s posts. I feel uncomfortable posting on socials so I project that unease onto every person I’m following and find it nigh on impossible not to acknowledge their posts. Insta had become an emotional drain but now I think I’ve got my consumption back to a manageable level, although there are days when I visit more often than I’d like. I enjoy a distraction at the end of the day but writing and reading provide far better nutrition for my brain. This week I’ve used airplane mode every morning and that’s been a huge help.

I’ve been listening to the Waitrose Dish podcast, not so much for the audible food porn, more for Nick and Ange’s contagious laughter. It takes me out of my head and I always laugh along with them. They’re on a summer break at the moment and I miss the Thursday evening giggles.

Apologies for the abrupt ending. I’ve got 3 blog posts on the go and a deadline today. TBC…

Yo Yayoi!

10th Jul 202311th Jul 2023 Rare Bit BloggingLeave a comment

I’ve had 3 really great days. I’ve felt inspired and stimulated and I’ve had loads of fun. On Friday I drove (rail strikes) to Manchester bright and early to meet my friend for breakfast before visiting Aviva Studios/Factory International, the base of the Manchester International Festival.

We all know breakfast is the most important meal of the day and the Federal Cafe Bar have definitely got it right. I don’t often eat out so when I do, I like to try new foods. I’ve never had an açai bowl and I’ll be having it again. It was delicious and pretty healthy and I felt satisfied afterwards.

Perfectly balanced and easy on the eye too. It’s peanut butter.

Nourished, we headed to the Factory, a new arts venue which isn’t quite finished yet.

Factory International, a striking geometric structure overlooking the River Irwell

T had recommended the Yayoi Kusama exhibition You, Me and the Balloons. He’s got his finger firmly on the pulse of what’s happening and what’s not in the arts world, and I don’t remember ever being disappointed with any of his cultural choices. I’d never heard of Kusama so I was quite amazed when I discovered she’s a household name. Where’ve I been?

The exhibition started in a fairly small room with yellow spotted black tentacles sprouting from the floor reaching right up to the high ceiling. It was very cheerful and playful although I felt a slight frisson of fear – the spotted tendrils suggested danger, toxicity.

The room was hypnotic and fascinating – where did the tentacles start and where did they end? What was lying above and below? To which mythical creature did they belong?

We went upstairs onto a platform overlooking a vast dark warehouse. It was as though we’d gate crashed the craziest party ever. There were huge inflatables everywhere. What resembled big bowling pins reeled in the air along with the enormous dotted balls which might have clobbered them. We looked down at a bizarrely utopian scene with humongous inflatable characters, quite possibly made of parachute silk, frozen mid action as if posing for a freakish photo shoot. The hallucinatory creations looked benevolent despite their immensity, but the giantess certainly had a sinister presence.

Overlooking proceedings was the creator of this fantasy world, her face projected onto a screen, half-singing half-reading a poignantly haunting poem in an endless mesmerising loop.

We went downstairs to inspect a large young girl and her dog mid play:

Playful giantess and spotted dog – not your average Dalmatian

Super king sized cosy irregular shaped air beds were dotted randomly in front of a mirror – an intriguing touch. The mirror added yet another dimension to the space:

Lie back and relax – surprisingly comfortable inflatables

A gigantic pumpkin sat unassumingly opposite the giantess.

At the far end from where we entered the warehouse were yet more tentacles, pink this time. It looked a bit like a dance floor in a curiously respectable disco. There were quite a lot of children, clearly at home in this playful universe.

We joined a queue for the infinity mirror room, another of Kusama’s trade marks:

And a shorter queue for the kaleidoscope:

There was a lot of information about Kusama on the walls and it’s really worth reading about her background. She’s 94 and she still works in her studio every day. It’s fascinating how her background influences her creations. I found her story inspiring and it offered me validation and permission to keep playing music and writing, to keep living a creative life.

T and I both used to live in Manchester so it was great to go for a mooch around the city afterwards, observing how much it’s evolved since we left. We had more coffee of course, and we shared a piece of cake to soak it up, a delicious clementine creation so dark it almost looked scorched. It was strong and tangy with a lip puckering pithy zing.

After T took his train, I mooched around even more. It was a lovely hot day and I browsed shops I’d never been in. I visited the old arcades around St Ann’s Square and drooled at the mouthwatering aromas emanating from freshly prepared dishes served to diners eating outside in the pedestrian areas. People looked happy. Sunshine has that effect, especially on Mancunians. It rains a lot in Manchester, probably as much as it does in Yorkshire.

On Saturday and Sunday my playing was revitalised, inspired, in full flow. It reminded me how important it is to get out there and experience the art and creativity of others as much as possible. The exhibition is on until 28 August. Don’t miss it! Yayoi’ll be sorry if you do 😏

Footnote:

I went to the cinema last night and as I walked there, I noticed this in a shop window:

Burnt Out

28th Jun 20231st Jul 2023 Rare Bit BloggingLeave a comment

Scorched gorse up close after a recent moorland fire

“The cure for loneliness is solitude” Marianne Moore

Last weekend I burnt myself out. I gradually got so worked up throughout the week that by Friday evening I could barely get my fingers into the strings to correct all the wrong notes I was playing. The recurring words spinning round and round in my head were This Never Used To Happen. I was enmeshed in a negative spiral of destructive thoughts despite strictly maintaining the quintet of good habits which form the basis of my daily routine: exercise, Spanish lesson, meditation, journaling/reading and a walk. I put a ridiculous amount of pressure on myself just for a wedding. I reverted to my default setting when I played with orchestras which is no longer relevant or useful. Orchestral playing generally requires short bursts of focused playing whereas background music is more about stamina and a different kind of concentration. For this particular wedding I was playing in church and then at a different location for the drinks reception. It was a very warm day. I dropped my harp off well before the ceremony at the same time as the florist was setting up since the church was going to be locked until an hour before the wedding. Wise move – the caretaker didn’t return until 1.15.

The kind and quirky vicar arrived on his bike. Of a similar age to me, bearing a startling resemblance to David Baddiel, he had a calming energy and I felt comfortable in sharing my concern about my anxiety. He asked if he could pray for me. I gratefully accepted. It didn’t work. I was too far gone.

7 days previously I had lost my wedding-free practice weekend as I went to visit Mum, who fell 3 weeks ago and broke 2 bones in her right arm. It was a stressful visit, really horrible to see her broken physically and mentally.

Upon my return I practiced as much as I could in between my teaching but I was already tired and feeling very edgy. My anxiety steadily gathered momentum throughout the week and I just couldn’t switch off. I was like a RareBit in headlights, constantly checking my phone for emails and messages, ticking off checklists, trying my darnedest to catch up and get a few steps ahead if possible.

Seeing Mum like that made me even more determined to build and maintain my physical strength and, without realising it, I overtrained. By Sunday my wrists were painful and every joint and muscle was aching. Never a quitter, I still decided to go on a longer walk and although it was fantastic to escape to the warm sunny moors and hills, I didn’t have an ounce of energy. And I was ok with that actually as being outdoors helps me forget my worries.

Dawdling means making time to notice the details

After teaching 2 students with as much enthusiasm as I could muster on Monday morning (my motto has always been if I can do it myself, I can help them do it – on Saturday I couldn’t, at least not by my standards), I played for an hour in the afternoon. That hour was crucial and I simply played with no sense of expectation or pressure. I just wanted to put Saturday behind me. It was fine, one less worry!

I can’t find a pattern. I played a blinder at the last wedding a fortnight ago. I was in flow, unconcerned about anything other than enjoying my playing. The notes fell into place with effortless ease.

On Tuesday I rested and went to my writing group. My creativity levels were pretty low but by the last exercise, my imagination was running free again with talking cats and dancing trees as the characterful protagonists of my nonsensical prose.

In Wales my healthy diet went out of the window. My food is 95% clean with hardly any heavily processed food and I prepare almost everything myself. In Wales I just can’t do it. My sister has crisps and snacks in for the boys and when I’m feeling weaker, I can’t help myself. On the first night I had 10 squares of comfortingly sickly sweet milk chocolate. On the second night I’d completely given in and bought a big Toblerone, on offer for Father’s Day. I had 5 triangles in one greedy go, seated on the bench outside with mum. She had 3 triangles fair play to her. The warm weather gave its texture a yielding softness and the cheap chalky chocolate melted all too quickly in our mouths. In my defence I left the rest of the almond studded chocolate for her to finish off, although I had to fight hard not to smuggle it in my luggage.

I suppose the purpose of this post is to remind myself not to ignore the warning signs of imminent burnout which seem so apparent after the event:

I had a lot of anger and a lightning short fuse.

I was triggered (I loathe that word) by the slightest thing.

I wanted to sleep all the time.

I couldn’t stop and rest.

I felt I hadn’t worked hard enough.

I felt incredibly tense.

I couldn’t laugh or smile.

My jaw was clenched.

I had no sense of enjoyment or pleasure.

I worried about the future.

What makes it harder to deal with is that I’m slightly depressed, definitely menopausal and I do have a propensity for excess. I don’t like to leave things unfinished and usually I don’t stop until it’s right. Good enough just isn’t good enough. Or is it?

Anxious

22nd Jun 202322nd Jun 2023 Rare Bit BloggingLeave a comment

Just caught it! Short summer solstice sunset stroll. Now say that fast!

I’ve been feeling anxious since just after 1pm. Woke early, 4.45 but decided to sleep some more as I had quite a late solsticey night and it’s upper body exercise day, so practice first. Did some good work, significantly better than the past couple of days with improved focus. Airplane mode is a godsend but I need to reinforce my online and tech boundaries. I think I went back online after an hour. I wonder why. Maybe it’s loneliness/isolation/the need to reassure myself that other people exist out there. I also don’t want to miss anything! Not that there are that many emails thank goodness. When I read an email which requires action, my mind goes 🤯 A few hours later, I can deal with it logically and easily.

I know I’m grumpy today. I finished practice at 12.15 and went out in the garden for 10 minutes to clear my head and get some sun before lunch. My lovely neighbour and her equally lovely dog were out there, both looking happy to see me. Nice that isn’t it? Except I wanted some peace and quiet and not a conversation. She repeated what she’d told me on Tuesday (maybe she’s menopausal too?) about her dog excelling at a show and having the s**s really badly for 2 days. TMI. I tried to muster some enthusiasm and nodded and shook my head, hopefully at appropriate times, but the moment of peace and mind calming I wanted was gone so I politely made my excuses and said I was famished. In an effort to make her laugh and not feel abandoned (!!) I told her I was having tuna, tomatoes and toast, which was true. Cucumber, coriander and… Chicken! she said helpfully. I felt like saying ch words don’t count but thought it would be churlish of me so I let her have that one. I also shared that I have days of eating foods of certain colours. Red is a favourite day. I didn’t tell her I sometimes pretend I’m going to Thailand/France/Italy (delete as appropriate) for the evening.