2023 highlights

The second half of 2023 proved to be challenging and stressful for the most part but there were some highly enjoyable interludes and, if I don't record them here, I'll forget them.  So, here goes.

Please note:  Typepad continues to be problematic and there may be issues when viewing the photographs in this post.

There was a weekend staying in my favourite house in Hebden Bridge with the family.

There was an evening in Manchester with Jo Nesbo.

There was a birthday celebrated.  Just me, the boy and some alpacas.

 There was a winter light show in the local park.

There was a much anticipated trip to London which included the Chanel exhibition, a book tree at St Pancras, Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition, David Hockney, Antony Gormley, dinner at Marcus Wareing's restaurant in the Berkeley, the Tate Modern, panoramic views from a new viewing platform higher than the one at the Shard, champagne and nibbles at the Ritz, Borough Market, St Paul's, Fortnum and Mason, bookshops and so much more.

There was Christmas.

And that's a wrap.

 

 

Retreating, part 1

Turns out yoga retreats are a bit like proverbial buses.  Not even a sniff of one and then two come along with just sufficient time in between to empty the suitcase, do the laundry and repack.

The first retreat was a seven day stay in Croatia.  On the island of Korcula to be exact, about 20 minutes by ferry from Dubrovnik and reputedly the birthplace of Marco Polo.  This was in the company of my yoga teacher and five other women of various ages from my yoga classes.  

To say I was anxious about cavorting on a mat twice daily in sun and heat in the company of people I hardly knew is something of an understatement.  The night before we were due to leave British soil and airspace, I could think of a million reasons not to go.  But I went and I'm so glad I did.

Korcula is certainly very pretty.  We stayed in a spacious retreat house just steps from the sea and a short walk from the town.  There were regular visits from the owner's rescued street dog, a more gentle giant you couldn't wish to meet. 

The days were punctuated with two yoga sessions, a sunrise meditation and yoga on a platform at the water's edge and an evening practice on a terrace back at the house, in a local yoga studio and in the middle of an olive grove.  

Food (vegan, delicious and generally child sized portions) was provided by a passionately macrobiotic chef who looked like he could well be related to one Jack Sparrow. 

It was a caffeine/sugar/fat/snack free seven days, a bit surprising, really, how extreme this was. (There may or may not have been a sneaky G&T and a final, recklessly rebellious night of bugger it, we're overloading on carbs and wine.) I think everyone in the group found themselves quickly launched into full detox mode, some with more debilitating symptoms than others.  But we survived, albeit a tad thinner.

I have to admit that, even without my medical history, I'm much happier in arctic/antarctic climes, where the temperatures begin with a minus and the light is more muted.  But maybe occasionally it's good to step out of the comfort zone, to try something different.

I opted out of the 3 hour hike and 5 hour boat trip (in 30C heat? I think not) which gave me some welcome space to do what I'd hoped to do in my free time – write.  The project is still very much a work in progress but I've returned home re-inspired, a definite bonus.

The week I was so worried about turned out to be one of challenging stretching and bending, snotty crying (funny how yoga can set off the waterworks), laughing so much your herbal tea comes out of your nose and long, interesting conversations in just the best company.  

I love retreating, me.