The most radical thing I can do today is....

The most radical thing I can do today will not be painting the other half of the bedroom that Zippy and I are making, as my temptation suggests.

Nor will it be:

• Drilling seven new cupboards to the kitchen wall
• Moving all my art things out of storage
• Taking all and everything we don't need in the flat to charity shop or recycling center
• Putting a tarpaulin on the lawn and digging out all the garden waste and making a new pallet compost bin

Temptation!  Suggestion! Frustration! 
Temptation!  Suggestion! Frustration! 
Temptation!  Suggestion! Frustration!
NOW!!!NOW!!!NOW!!!

'I am more important!!" 

"no I am more important!!!!"

 "achieve me and I will be the answer!" 

" no I'm the answer!!"
Run freeze run freeze run freeze run freeze run freeze!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It will not be:

• Clearing out my daughters room and scrubbing the paint off her window
• Painting four pine wardrobes, five chest of draws and four side tables
• Hoovering the flat to within and inch of its life
• Cooking mushy peas from scratch
• Painting the floor blue
• Swapping all the mattresses around

• It will not be giving into all the voices dancing and colliding as they shout and whisper what "should be done?". 
• It will not be giving into the frustration of the looping 'One Direction - Story of My Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiife'! Stupid Unfinished song line that I woke up and that is presently is trying to knock Kate Bush (CBE) of her perch. 
• It will not be giving into the need to hide in bed and lock the door and wish the day away, whilst simultaneously thinking I actually have enough energy to run twenty marathons and cook dinner for half of London.

Actually the most radical thing I can do today seems harder than all those things.  
Today I need to have a shower and wash my hair.

Multi-tasking

G

This morning I tried to brush my teeth at the kitchen sink whilst waiting for spotify to download and pick cabbage out the plug hole from last night's dinner. One voice was shouting "do one thing at at time", another "no she won't" and another "you must be more efficient!" and yet another " leave her alone" "give up give up"everyone was arguing and trying to get their point over as the winner of the situation.

Then like a blinding moment I travel back to boarding school and it was Wednesday. On Wednesday we had to change our sheets on our beds. We all panicked on a Wednesday morning 5:30am rushing to add an extra job into our already tight schedules.

Each dormitory had about thirty iron beds in it. In the mornings we used to take a quick walk to the toilets and back again (running forbidden and toilets being outside at the end of the dormitory blocks) then we would quickly march back to make beds with perfect hospital corners (exact floor to top of counter pain height). The fold under our pillows a certain depth and our pillows evenly plum flat on the lumpy mattresses. After that we had to dress perfectly in our uniforms. Socks were folded three times down our legs to create the perfect ankle and  shoes had to be shining collars folded at the right height at our necks. Our legs and arms had to be creamed to stop dry skin and our hair brushed so as to not let any touch our collars. After that our lockers and foot chests had to be pristine and neat. We would all then stand at the foot of the bed and wait for inspections. 

Now the hard thing about inspection was two fold. One was the ability to hear he matrons working there way through the other dormitories dolling out the daily punishments and ridiculing those who had not met expectation or had wet the bed. The other was the absolute panic to have your own dormitory ready. Did you risk helping those that were slower or unable to get the sheets flat and folded and be found away from your area. Did you try and help someone who clearly had hair loose, after all we did not have individual mirrors we only had a small 12x10inch mirror situated at the furthest end of the long rectangular room.

Then there were Wednesday when not only did you have to cope with all the above but you also had

to strip the bed and change the sheet. As  I have said before the majority of us struggled with Wednesdays. This morning however as I tried to be an octopus, getting cross with the toothpaste I had swallowed and the sliminess of the cabbage making (its so hard to grip), I realised what drove so much of the panic. I realised that although our whole day at boarding school relied on time; being on time, doing things in time, waiting for time to be over or a new part of the timed day to start. Nowhere do I ever remember seeing a clock except in the prep room and school hall, everything else was communicated by bell. I realised how much power that lack of clocks gave the teachers and matrons. After all what better way to put the fear of God into several hundred 5-11 year olds than to hold them accountable to something that they have no ability to manage. It meant that we never stopped working towards the aimed piece of everyday and if you did take a breath or had a little day dream it could come back and mean horrible consequences.

So back to the present day I say to myself it's now ok to do one thing at a time. Brush your teeth then get the cabbage out the sink and then download the album you want to hear. Nothing is chasing you anymore. You are now aloud to know time, manage time and plan in time.

A simple mess.

Sometimes things build up and get overwhelming; the flat crusts up as if it were a piece of metal rusting in the rain (wet cold and unyielding).

The ability to deal with the rusty crust and to know how much effort it's going to take to sand it back to to metal stops me in my tracks (fear creeps in I gulp it down and look again). I know what it needs. 

You need to fill the dents and prime it up. Give it a first thin coat so it doesn't show a drip and then a second (possibly a final third coat) so it ends finished  in a lustrous deep colour of white.

Ah yes! when the flat creeps into a concentrated mess of layers and sub layers. The easy thing to do would be to sit paralysed  and unable to take your finger out of the dyke for fear of drowning. 

Boldly I learned one day from a friend the following: Go into the mess and pick one thing up. Ask yourself "were does this belong?" Take the item and put it away, if it had no 'home' then make it one. 

Small things

Small things can sometimes mean the world! They are sometimes the greatest of unseen achievement. They encourage you to make a smile in the private everyday.

Today after living in our flat for almost ten years, after carrying four plastic key recognition covers for months, I have finally colour coordinated mine and Zippy's front door keys.

This means on a daily basis we will no longer get confused (our keys are all the same silver colour) between our main door and front door key. Wooo hoo!! I HAVE ACHIEVED!!!!! Sooooo HAPPY!!