Good morning all from me and Himself.
@WendyWagon I'm glad your son is a bit more chipper - that was lovely of you, to do him his favourite dinner. I hope all will continue better for him. Sid raises his reedy treble to join the song of support for your coastal beauty company options.❤
@EastCoastDamsel that's grim about the water, I'm sorry. Hope the engineer is swift and efficient and NEOMal service resumes swiftly. I'm sorry the pictures made you sad. I feel the same. I'd have loved some wine when I got back to the cottage last night. But for me, it must not be. I couldn't make the most of my holiday if I was drinking. I think it's the enjoyment of the anticipation of the drinking and the sensation after the first one that we enjoy more than the actual drinking, or being drunk. That came to me again yesterday. At one point on our walk, I was looking to find something we'd gone out to see. Alas, when we were almost on top of it, three very young triplet foals became very over-invested in the dog, and their mum was equally intently focussed on the contents of my rucksack. We had to abandon the waypoint and go back when they'd moved on. At that point I very strongly believed that I enjoyed the idea of Dartmoor and the planning for it much more than the actual experience. I think it's like that when drinking - we crave what we associate with it, rather than the stuff itself, the actual lived experience of which is somewhat different.
I also find it helpful to view booze - and the drinking experience - as a friend or relative who seems fun and loving, but is actually a toxic, narcissistic nightmare. Their laughs are mocking and cruel, their hugs are too tight and hurt, they actively enjoy the failings and sufferings of us and others. But still, on some level, we have some level of affection or even love for them. I look at it like they have died. I treated it like a death and allowed myself to mourn and follow the stages of grieving for it - even looking up the stages of grief on bereavement websites and following those processes. Our "friend" alcohol is dead. It is OK - even healthy - to miss it. To mourn its loss, grieve for its departure from our lives, and then, when you're ready, to lay its spirit (often literal) to rest and move on without it. RIP Booze, you have no power over me anymore, but that doesn't mean I don't miss you - acutely at times - but you're dead and gone. 🪦
@ponzusoup , @Sortingmyselfoutdayatatime and all - Thank you all for your good wishes about my monthly recurrence; much appreciated. It is extremely tiresome. My Auntie Flo is a big girl, and I'm paranoid about marking the sheets in my holiday let. All well on that score so far (touch wood) - but I must find a chemist today, as I came unprepared. I actually have a hospital appointment when I return - I am STILL on antibiotics (oh yes) and still have the breast lumps, so have a follow-up at the breast clinic next week. I will mention the latest development to them and see what they say. Possibly the next step will be surgery, as I've been on antibiotics on and off and under the breast unit since February. OH big-billy-b%ll%cks. Never mind; I will face whatever comes.
We are just off out for our second day on the moor, despite being a bit stiff from yesterday (on reflection, a 7 hour walk was not the wisest choice to ease ourselves back in). But here's double-bubble for the Sidettes among us. Delighting in his first time back out on the open moor and - on the way back to the car - watching dozens of hares capering about (they didn't come out in the picture). A less-intense walk planned today, with the whisper of an ice-cream from the posh van in the car park afterwards.
Strength and love to you. Keep going. It will be alright soon, I promise. xx