Do Something!

A cancer diagnosis left me feeling helpless and dismayed.  I always looked after my body - exercised, ate healthy food, etc. I felt many things were out of my control, after all if I had been doing everything "right", what was the point?  About 18 months post-surgery, I was physically improving but needed help with scattered and angry emotions. I have found a good way to create positive feelings is to use my experience to help others, by raising awareness and helping charities. I quite like the challenge of finding something useful I feel able to do.  I have selected a few charities that helped me personally and a couple of other related ones: Paul's Cancer Support Centre, a small local centre, Maggie's London and Ovacome, which jointly hold a monthly meeting for younger ladies with ovarian cancer, Ovarian Cancer Action, which focuses on raising money for ovarian cancer research, and Target Ovarian Cancer, who tend to focus on campaigns to lobby MPs and policy makers to improve diagnosis times and treatments.  

I took part in a bucket collection yesterday for Ovarian Cancer Action.  It involved standing in a cold Victoria station, shaking some sleigh bells and looking faintly ridiculous in a glittery teal (charity colour) Santa hat. It was quite a tough gig - people are understandably busy and concerned with looking for their trains.  I focused on getting people to look at us!  Earlier in the day, there had been a choir to help out in the morning, which had encouraged people to linger and donate some coins.  The chief fundraiser told me that one year a supporter had bought along a St. Bernard dog and her puppy, which had substantially increased donations with people wanting photos. Yesterday I took over from a lovely family with two young children who looked very cute jumping around with their jingle bells.  The little girl was very serious, telling her mum off for talking to me and encouraging us to "focus".  

The year before last I helped out at a bucket collection for the same charity - on Sunday 15th March, Mothers day.  It was very moving to receive small donations from the public - one man said he donated because he had lost his mum to the disease.  It was also lovely to have mums encouraging their children (or the other way round) to put some cash in my bucket.  But my main impression from the day was meeting Abbie, a lovely trainee nurse who had sadly lost her mum to ovarian cancer.  She was bravely taking part in fund-raising on Mother's day in her memory and was a real credit to her family.  It is  not easy standing there and talking to the public, especially if you have a personal connection to the disease, but it does make you more determined to do something.  Even if you only end up with a few pounds, you see people looking at your banners and badges and it helps to raise awareness.

I find the collection days satisfying but not easy; however, there are obviously other ways to help charities.  An enjoyable thing I have found is to review books for Macmillan.  If you join their Cancer Voices network, you can select from a range of advertised opportunities that are listed for patients/survivors/carers/relatives to help other charities.  There are new relevant books published regularly which Macmillan ask to be reviewed in order to recommend them or otherwise to hospitals, support groups, doctors or nurses, etc.  You are sent a copy of the book and are asked to provide a review based on set questions, such as who do you thing the book is suitable for, what did you like about it, etc.

Other things I have done for charities include: bucket collections at Sainsbury's and the Royal Albert Hall; taking part in a focus group for Eve appeal (they were discussing the implementation of a helpline with a nurse to discuss people's concerns, this has now been put in place); signed an e-petition on Change.org 31st March as part of Ovarian Cancer Action's BRCA Right to Know campaign for Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month 2015. It called for all women with a diagnosis of ovarian cancer to have access to BRCA gene genetic testing - a mutation in one of these genes increases the likelihood of developing ovarian cancer by around 50%; I have taken part as a catwalk model at Tea with Ovacome at the Mayfair for several years now; I have given talks to raise awareness with GPs and nurses, and also to a group of patients at St Goerge's Hospital.  

These things are not done totally altruistically, they ALWAYS help me to feel better about myself, to use my hideous experience and turn it into positive action.

Always a good idea to increase the cuteness factor when collecting!

L'Art de Vivre

The French have it.  The Italians have it.  I'm trying to cultivate it.  L'Art de Vivre - the art of living.  My Belgian friend Monsieur Koen Caremaans, who lives in France, tells me "No Frenchman ever died of stress"; he is also fond of telling me a French proverb which translates as "take it easy in the morning, not too quickly in the afternoon".  
There are certain things that concern the French, of course, such as "is this peach unripe, will the fishmonger be open tomorrow morning, is that croissant fresh?".  Somehow these things gain an importance when you focus on living well.  When you take time to appreciate these small but lovely things.   A beautifully fresh, crumbly croissant with your morning coffee can put you in a good mood for a long time (just until lunch, in fact).

It is noticeable in France that at 12 noon, lunch becomes the main occupation.  I enjoy sitting on trains travelling through France, and the rustling of lunch bags and the opening of napkins (yes, even on a train with your packed lunch) signals the time of day.  There is also NO SNACKING between meals.  This definitely increases the enjoyment of your meals - you are ready for them and have been looking forward to them.   Especially if you have taken the time to purchase some ripe fruit ("this one is for today..this one for tomorrow" said a grocer who sold me some nectarines) and fresh vegetables and cooked your dinner from scratch. 

An ideal morning!

My Favourite Day of the Year

My favourite day of the year doesn't have a date.  It has a smell and a taste.  The day of basil harvest and pesto-making.  My pesto recipe is from Sarah Raven's Garden Cookbook. The book was published in 2007 and I've made the pesto every year since then  - the page has slight green smears as remembrance of pesto times past.
The basil has to be home-grown for extra smugness and satisfaction.  The good news is you only need a large handful of leaves to make a satisfying jam-jar full of greeny goodness. Don't be tempted to use lesser-quality ingredients, this is all about celebrating the best of Summer in every dish you add it to.  I use my best olive oil, fresh Parmesan (for extra points on the smug-o-meter it was sent from my kind brother-in-law living in Italy), large, thin pine nuts from a local Mediterranean deli. (expensive but worth it), beautiful juicy garlic, a pinch of Camargue sea salt.

Pesto then, or Genoese mixture, is the classic, unsurpassable dressing, a kind of panacea: “Just pronouncing it would calm a riot on board ship”, so I was told by an old sailor who was at the command of a steamship of immigrants at the time of Edmondo de Amicis’s “Oceano”.
“Oil wins over the sea and Pesto wins over long faces!” he said.

Add the basil, a pinch of salt, 120 mL virgin olive oil, 25 g pine nuts, 2 garlic cloves, 50 g Parmesan (Parmigiano-Reggiano) cheese and also 2 tablespoons Pecorino or Grana Padano cheese (for an extra tang of luxury) to a blender (apologies to traditionalists who say it MUST be done with a pestle and mortar to reduce shredding and oxidation of the leaves and ruining the flavour - to make up for it I have included a link to the Pesto world championship recipe...).  Mix to a nice grainy texture.  For extra nutrition, you could substitute or add some lightly toasted walnuts, cashews or almonds to the pine nuts.
Add to a clean jar (Bonne Maman jam jars are the perfect size and the red and white lids look pretty against the green - add extra Waitrose complacent points) and press down with the back of a teaspoon before adding another trickle of oil to just cover it; this prevents air getting to it and encouraging mould).  Keeps nicely in the fridge for weeks but rarely needs to!

I eat it any time of day with anything - spread on toast, fish, chicken (eeek, not in Liguria! again apologies to my Italian ancestors...), stirred into rice or pasta, add to baked potatoes, soups, salads, sandwiches. The fruitiness of the Parmesan and the stinging kick of raw garlic really wake up your tastebuds while the clovey scent of fresh basil and the crunch of the salt entice your other senses.  I promise you will never go back to shop-bought once you have made your own. Let me know how you get on!

Nutritional composition of pine nuts (from Wikipedia)

Nutritional value per 100 g (3.5 oz)
Energy	2,815 kJ (673 kcal)
Carbohydrates	13.1 g
Starch	1.4 g
Sugars	3.6 g
Dietary fiber	3.7 g
Fat	68.4 g
Saturated	4.9 g
Monounsaturated	18.7 g
Polyunsaturated	34.1 g
Protein	13.7 g
Vitamins
Vitamin A equiv. beta-carotene	(0%) 1 μg (0%) 17 μg
Thiamine (B1)	(35%) 0.4 mg
Riboflavin (B2)	(17%) 0.2 mg
Niacin (B3)	(29%) 4.4 mg
Pantothenic acid (B5)	(6%) 0.3 mg
Vitamin B6	(8%) 0.1 mg
Folate (B9)	(9%) 34 μg
Choline	(11%) 55.8 mg
Vitamin C	(1%) 0.8 mg
Vitamin E	(62%) 9.3 mg
Vitamin K	(51%) 53.9 μg
Minerals
Calcium	(2%) 16 mg
Iron	(42%) 5.5 mg
Magnesium	(71%) 251 mg
Manganese	(419%) 8.8 mg
Phosphorus	(82%) 575 mg
Potassium	(13%) 597 mg
Zinc	(67%) 6.4 mg
Other constituents
Water	2.3 g
Units μg = micrograms • mg = milligrams IU = International units
Percentages are roughly approximated usingUS recommendations for adults.

Got to get the bitter into my life, into my life

This week I had a beautiful, simple lunch of roasted chicken wings with a pile of interesting salad leaves and a mango and chilli dressing. I'd bought the leaves on a whim from a farmer's market.  They easily lasted all week in the fridge and were a collection of (in the producer's own words) "horse-radishy, mustardy, citrussy" flavours.  They were quite a revelation. That evening, coincidentally, I listened to a podcast by the Radio 4 Food Programme called "Bitter" and it discussed something that I hadn't really thought about - the lack of bitterness in modern food. People were remembering things like the bitter grapefruit they used to have for their breakfast (with a spoonful of sugar that was never enough!) - they don't seem to be available any more; you can buy grapefruit, sure, but they are the pink or red varieties that just don't have the same mouth-puckering properties.

Bitter melon

Italians still have a taste for bitter foods, with the common use of radicchio, chicory and aperitifs such as Aperol (contains bitter orange and rhubarb).  The bitter melon/bitter gourd is still popular in traditional Indian cooking which is based on Ayerverdic principles (all six tastes should be present in every meal to feel satisfied and for health) and in Okinawa, known to have one of the healthiest diets on Earth. But here in the UK, even our vegetables have been bred with a reduction of the bitter-tasting plant compounds that are actually very healthy antioxidants.  Are we breeding the health out of our food?  And the complexity?  There is even a process known as "debittering" used in the food and drink manufacturing industries.

The bitter compounds in plants are known as phytonutrients and act as natural protectants for the plants, reducing their attractiveness to animals.  They include phenols, flavenoids, isoflavones, terpenes and glucosinolates.  It is thought that some people are genetically more sensitive to the latter, which occur in Brussels sprouts, possibly explaining the distaste some people have for them.  However, some of the health benefits of bitter foods include anticarcinogenic and antioxidant properties, they are able to help moderate appetite and blood sugar and also help to stimulate the liver to produce bile which aids digestion.  

When we try something new, our brains reward us with a hit of dopamine, a pleasure chemical.  I certainly have been enjoying my leaves lately, especially with an added Cajun chilli hot sauce, which has been scientifically proven to be addictive - the nerve-jangling capsaicin is the hot tasting component that encourages our brain to produce endorphins as a way to numb the pain.  Bitter foods add complexity and a hint of novelty to our diet and balance out the sweetness that we are often eating and drinking without realising.  As one person says in the Food Programme, it's funny how something which immediately repels us (bitterness) is better for us than something which initially appeals like sugar.

Darwin's Reveries, Vapour Trails and Winter Jasmine

Darwin's Sandwalk Thinking Path (TedGrant/Wikipedia Commons)

I've been reading an interesting book called "How to Think About Exercise" by Damon Young and the School of Life. One idea particularly struck a chord with me as I have noticed it myself.  Young talks about Charles Darwin, who deliberately took several walks a day along a sandy lane ("thinking path") near his home - he did this in all weathers at set times of the day.  It was where he did his "hard thinking" as his son said when describing his daily routine later.  It is thought that certain movement which requires effort but not concentration can promote a meditative state of mind, allowing the mind to wander freely and join together impressions and ideas, promoting creativity.   
What is the specific link between walking and thinking?  The traditional NLP (neuro-linguistic programming) approach relates specific categories of movement (breathing patterns, eye movements, gestures) to specific mental processes (visual memory, internal dialogue, etc.).  Repetitive  physical activity is thought to relate to the more general state of mind and thus provide a more general context for our thinking processes.  When I met Patrick Browning, the hypnotherapist at Paul's Cancer Support Centre, I got very upset during one of our discussions, and he helped me by showing me how to tap my fingers on my knee - I stopped crying almost immediately which was a very strange sensation. I also remember a particularly bleak time after my surgery when I was depressed and feeling sorry for myself- I forced myself to go outside in all weathers to trudge/shuffle around Wandsworth Common - normally a 10 min walk would take me about 30 mins.  But it seemed like a small triumph every day, just to complete a circuit and get some fresh air along with a bit of movement. 
When I visited the Penny Brohn Centre a few years ago, we were encouraged to make small sustainable changes to our lives to improve our fitness.  One thing on my list was to walk to the station every day because I had got into the lazy habit of getting on a bus. Frequently the bus was full, late, and I loathe steamy buses in rainy weather but I had just got used to doing it and didn't realise how miserable it was making me.  It's only a 12 min walk so I made it a new habit to walk and don't even consider the bus an option any more.  
I know that you always read about exercise being good for you, but I really began to notice that my thoughts weren't necessarily worrying about the day ahead or anything in particular, they just swirled around gently and came to settle like a feather landing, giving a bit of space above them like having extra stretch room.  I do notice that sometimes I can come to a decision, nothing major, just the next step in some project.  I really treasure this time, just a few minutes before the madness of the day to not think about much.  As an added bonus, my experiments with mindfulness (click on the link to try the Headspace walking meditation podcast) have helped me notice small things en route.  For example, the other day I posted on FB a picture of some plane vapour trails which really looked amazing - there were about 10 of them at least, the air was so still and clear, and they fanned off into the blue horizon.  

Vapour trails, St. John's Hill, 25/01/16

Over the winter at a certain crossroads I catch a whiff of Winter-flowering jasmine in a pocket-sized corner park, a brilliant sweet scent above the exhaust fumes. There is always a bird or two tweeting in the trees or a local roof top, or crows eating their urban carrion (fried chicken or a piece of burger bun). Once even a squirrel on a tree in the main road - how did he get there? - marooned on a island of two trees.  One special day I saw a jersey tiger moth, looking very exotic by the railway track.

 Jersey Tiger Moth

These small walks allow your mind to be a bit looser and remove the focused mindset you often seem to need to get through a busy day.   In a similar way, the writer Haruki Murakami in his book "What I talk about when I talk about running" describes how running can free his mind: "Occasionally, hardly ever really, I get an idea to use in a novel. But really as I run, I don't think much of anything worth remembering."  

It is easy to forget that the mind and the body are closely connected, but good to remember that the word "heal" means "whole".  I like this quote from Young:

The point is not that we have to be Olympians, tracking personal bests with tailored dawn training schedules. We need not be the fastest, strongest or most agile. The point is that exercise can be a commitment to wholeness; to a life enriched and enhanced by physical and mental striving. Darwin was no professional athlete: but he knew about fitness and flourishing 

In Winter the Oak is revealed

I just read a blog post by Courtney Carver, (founder of the minimalist projects Be More with Less and Project 333), When Nothing Reveals Everything.  She wrote about how, to some people, Minimalism may be described as stark, scary, empty.  As I was thinking about it (and thinking about how this could describe my feelings when I was diagnosed with cancer), I looked out into my Wintry back garden and saw my 2 lovely fruit trees that in my mind are promising me so much this year.  They have no leaves on them, but their trunks look sturdy in the February sunlight.  There is a stark beauty about them (this word seemed to resonate with me today).   They are blowing in the blustery wind, but birds sit on their branches, they are peeping above the garden wall. When you have an illness like cancer, you are often literally naked (well those surgical gowns hardly count as covering) but also you feel like all your emotions are on the surface, like some barrier has been pulled down and you are there in all your real rawness. You can't hide your emotions, you can't hide the fact you are ill (you can try, but you can't escape the facts that are known to yourself).  But it is in these difficult times, with nothing covering us, that our true selves are revealed. We have to face up to things, and others do too.  But in that fact, there is also beauty.  And the strength that has been uncovered was always there, under the leaves.

  Not my fruit trees

As I was thinking about trees, I came upon the following paragraph by Paul Kirtley, a wilderness bushcraft specialist, who has kindly given me permission to include it here.
It is from his blog, and describes identifying trees in Winter.

"Learning to identify trees in leaf is certainly easier than without.  But if you only learn to identify trees by their leaves in summer, you are only getting to know them in one mood and you are only getting to know one part of the tree.  Learning about trees at other times of the year forces you to focus on other defining features.  If you also take the time to observe the flowers, fruit, seeds, bark and buds of a tree, you will not only be much better at identifying trees year-round, you learn about the tree's full annual cycle.  This study will give you a much greater insight into how all the seasons are connected and how for the tree, they flow from one into another.  The better you know the trees all year-round, the better you will be able to recognise valuable resources, and the more you will feel at home in the woods all year round."

By supporting our friends and family when they are ill and in the wilderness, we get to know them in all their moods and colours, but feel more connected, and in that way, they will not feel so lonely and lost in their illness.  We can arm ourselves with knowledge about their "other defining features" which are exposed without their hair, confidence and health and help them discover their strength, humour and resilience which will help us all navigate through the difficult times.

A Cauldron, a Carynx, a Clàrsach

My previous illness has made me more determined than ever to enjoy the many treasures and surprises on my doorstep.  It's very easy to think of reasons why I don't want to get on a train or tube on my days off, but yesterday I was keen to use my time doing something different.  I got up early and enjoyed a sit in the Winter sunshine in Bloomsbury Square, then used my National Art Pass at the British Museum to see the exhibition Celts: Art and Identity. "Celts" encompasses many different people, a cultural label rather than ethnic identity. The term Keltoi was first used around 500 BC by the ancient Greeks to refer to people (uncivilized barbarians, according to them) living north of the Alps.  There are none of their own written records and were disparate groups who shared stylised art distinctly different from that of Mediterranean people.  Much later people from modern Celtic nations adopted the name to emphasise their distinct identities (e.g. Welsh, Irish, Scottish, Cornish, Brittany, Manx etc.)  I found the exhibition very interesting and absorbing; soft music plays in the background and there was quite a hush in the halls, although it was fairly crowded (it finishes on 31st Jan).  The first beautiful object you see is a rare ancient Scottish clàrsach (harp), intricately carved from hornbean in a case carved to match.

I loved all the animal and fantastical beast-inspired designs - the boar is particularly prevalent, on shields, brooches and coins, also birds, horses, dragons.

Iron-Age Boar ornament, possibly from a helmet. c.100 BC - AD 100, Norfolk 

Photo: © Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery

I like that a few of the amazing finds are from Wandsworth and Battersea - apparently, this part of the Thames was a popular place to throw your offerings in the water (plus ça change!)

The Battersea Shield, Iron Age, c.350-50 BC © The Trustees of the British Museum

Bronze Waterloo Bridge Helmet (on left; ceremonial), c. 150-50 BC

Another stunning display features a hoard of 4 gold torcs (300-100 BC) found at Blair Drummond in Sterling by a metal detectorist on his very lucky first outing.  Interestingly the skilled workmen demonstrated familiarity with foreign Mediterranean styles.  The Snettisham Hoard is even more amazing, a total of around 70 complete torcs with many other broken pieces (c. 70 BC).

The Snettisham Hoard

I really loved learning about the carynx - a serpentine trumpet with a boar's head which accompanied warriors into battle (you can listen to a replica through an earpiece next to it).

These figures, depicted on the Gundestrup cauldron, are playing the carynx

One of the most striking objects in the exhibition is the Silver Gundestrup cauldron (c.100 BC, found in Nothern Denmark).  It is thought to have been made in Bulgaria, although this is debated.  The vessel is richly decorated with numerous ritual and mythological scenes of Gods and fantastic animals.  See this link for further details.  It is described by the museum as being one of the most important and intriguing finds from ancient Europe.

Gundestrup Cauldron

For other reviews, have a look at these links:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/art/what-to-see/celts-british-museum-review/

http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2015/sep/22/celts-art-identity-review-unintentional-resurrection-jonathan-jones

Apologies for the annoying background to some of the text; still learning!

Thanks, I found it!

I must walk around with my eyes facing down, because I always find (and pick up!) lots of jewellery.  All the pieces above (and more) have been found on the street.  There is even a pair of matching earrings which I found weeks apart in different places (I replace the hooks). The trick is spotting potential and having the patience to wait until inspiration comes as to how to use them. Recently my magpie tendencies began to pay off as Accessorize have been selling off broken pieces in their Winter sale for 10 or 20 p each; for grand total of £4.90 I managed to get a collection of about 20 pendants, brooches and earrings (RRP £224.00) which I have been able to piece together using some of the above loose stones and a few jump-rings (very inexpensive in craft/hobby shops).

I've spent a few happy hours putting everything together and take pleasure choosing something interesting to wear every day.  I also think of my Grandparents - I use my Grandad's watchmaking pliers and hope he would be proud.  

I inherited the "finding gene" from my Nan (I am in genetics, it DOES exist!) as I have a few gold rings that she found over the years (her findings were higher class).  Who says the streets of London aren't paved with gold?  Beady eyes, that's the secret. 

Goal-Setting: My Treasured Space

The Coping With Cancer Stress Course had a couple of sessions discussing the usefulness of setting goals.  I wasn't immediately sure how helpful it would be but we were encouraged to set some short-term, medium-term and long-term goals as a way of focusing our thoughts and having some aims, no matter how large or small.  There are plenty of websites discussing goal-setting in the context  of careers or sport. 

In a wider sense, it is also a way of thinking about how we spend our time: obviously, cancer has a way of making us face up to our limited time on Earth, and for some of us maybe we can think about goals that have remained hazy or dormant.  Sometimes we may feel limited or trapped in unsatisfying lifestyles or stressed with commitments, but it can be amazing what a bit of determination can achieve even with such constraints.  I was thinking about a few of my goals today as I looked out of my back door onto my Wintry back garden.  The garden looked a bit grey in the evening light, but it made me happy to look at it because it contains the elements of a short-term goal I had set for myself a couple of years ago.  The garden is very small and the whole back wall was covered by a large ivy which had got a bit out of control over the last few years.  

Looking back at my diary at the time, as one of my goals, I decided that the garden could be utilised better - I always sit outside whenever the weather allows, but because the table and chairs were at the end of the garden, I didn't use them enough (they were also covered in pots and seedlings trying to escape the slugs - God, those things must just abseil down in the night!) and they were also in the shady area.  The ivy took up too much space and there was a spot covered by ivy in the far corner that collects the last of the evening sun before it disappears behind the roof of the block of flats.  

Firstly, I thought very specifically about what I would want from the garden in an ideal world and came up with:

A space to sit and have coffee with my husband

A meditation area with something to appeal to every sense

A view from the back living room window (rather than just ivy)

Privacy

A fruit tree

I started by moving and clearing some pots by the back door and made a space for our small garden table and chairs.  I sewed a cheerful table cloth from inexpensive remnants (see previous post Unfinished Business) and have been at great pains to keep it clear of everything except a couple of lanterns.

The next thing was the ivy.  This was a big job every year just to keep cutting it back and it had developed a very thick trunk.  My Dad very kindly borrowed an electric saw and spent an afternoon wrestling with the stump.  This then created a space behind the pond where we put a homemade frame for a raised bed and filled it with compost.  Originally I thought to plant some bamboo in it to create privacy and a lovely rustling noise in the wind, but a gardening friend warned me that bamboo can get out of hand.  I reconsidered, and serendipitously at that time won £200 in gardening vouchers writing about "My Treasured Space" for Groundwork.  The vouchers went towards 2 fruit trees: an apple and a gage, chosen for their fruit, hardiness and flowers (all of these aspects remain to be seen!).

Fruit tree in the background

The meditation area next to the pond was created easily by buying a few decking tiles from Homebase and just laying them down on top of the concrete paving, creating a space just big enough for a lovely sun chair, which is hidden from view by a curly hazel (given to me in a pot by my parents years ago and now thriving in the soil).  A delicate wind chime given to me years ago by my Nan and Grandad hangs in the hazel with a selection of birdfeeders.  Some white solar fairy lights add a bit of magic in the early evening.

Robin and goldfinch in the hazel

The outcomes have been; 

I enjoy breakfasts in the Summer outside,

I am hidden from view when meditating,

The fruit trees can be seen from our lounge and will provide fruit, flowers and privacy as they grow,

The birds perch in the trees and can be seen from the lounge enjoying the food - in a London garden we have managed to attract woodpigeons, wrens, robins, blackbirds, great tits (produced 2 broods of babies last year in our birdbox), goldfinches and a lovely dunnock.  We have a visiting squirrel, mice and have even seen a hedgehog once.  I photograph all of them and participate in on-line wildlife photography pages (e.g. Spotter Jotter, a marvellous site with some very experience bird watchers and other wildlife enthusiasts who help with ID when required).

A great tit feeding his brood

When meditating, I can concentrate on sounds (the wind, leaves, wind-chime, birdsong; there was a solar fountain but was broken by a cat fight!), smell (lavender and rosemary planted in pots which can be moved around), touch (the feel of the hazel branches) and the view (of the pond, the fruit trees).

When  not meditating, I can read in the last of the evening Summer sun.

I think about my family and friends who have helped to create the garden: my mum and dad who have put a lot of hours into it, my husband who over the years has helped me take loads of ivy to the tip, my nan and grandad, my cousin Teresa and her partner who put in a strong trellis and moved a huge rose bush, my on-line photography community, my community garden friends who occasionally store things here.  It is full of memories now and holds promise for the future.

So from a modest short-term goal, my life has been enriched in all these ways, some foreseen, some unforeseen.  I shall continue to enjoy my tiny patch of ground:  because it is so small, I know every inch of it and the wildlife that visits.  I haven't any concrete aims for it this year, but have some emerging ideas of creating a more Zen feel and to explore the ways that the Japanese create harmony and mindfulness in small ways in their gardens, for instance I vaguely remember I read somewhere that because space is at a premium for many Japanese, even the way that a piece of twine is tied becomes important, i.e. there is a focus on tiny details.  This is a good way to take your imagination away from unpleasant thoughts and to give your mind something restful, hopeful and calming to ruminate on. 

Small details can be fascinating!

What goals do you have for the short or long-term?  How will you achieve them?  Think of the barriers that have prevented you from doing them.  What practical steps can you take to overcome them now?

Homemade Almond Milk

Following on from my healthy eating theme of the last post (Christmas Sprouts) I thought I'd include a very simple way of making your own almond milk - no special equipment (nut bags, anyone?) required.

I haven't replaced all my milk with almond milk because it does not naturally contain calcium (although the nuts do) and as my cancer has left me at risk of osteoporosis, I need to keep those levels up.  However, almond milk is lower in calories (approx. 30 calories per cup vs. 90 for skimmed milk and 150 for whole milk) than other milks and doesn't contain saturated fat, so I use it on my cereal.

It's really easy, firstly just soak a handful of unblanched almonds in water overnight.  

This step isn't even strictly necessary from a recipe point of view but nutritionally, it removes protease (enzyme) inhibitors from the nut skin which occur naturally and prevent the nuts from germinating.  It is believed that removing these inhibitors activates the enzymes and makes nutrients more available for digestion. (I don't know if "raw" almonds have been pre-processed before packaging, which may make this point irrelevant; I think most raw nuts available in the U.K. have been treated to remove toxins but theoretically still retain the ability to germinate). Then add the nuts to fresh water (I used about 700 ml, doesn't need to be exact).  

A quick blitz in a blender is all that's required before sieving the liquid and keeping it in the fridge. I keep it in a re-used milk container. 

It does separate so just give it a quick shake before each use.  I presume that stabilisers, gums and fats are added to commercial brands to prevent this separation, but the homemade version tastes the same, if not better, to me and there are no added sugar or sweeteners (also I note that the Alpro brand only contains 2% almonds, see their website, although it does have added vitamins and calcium).

The remaining nut pulp can be added to breakfast cereal and I have also found it's good added to bread and cake recipes as it keeps the mixture moist and increases the protein content (healthy cakes? Count me in!).