Werewolves + chickens

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A bit more of my Lockdown One sort-of-memoir!

Read chapter one 

Read chapter two

Read chapter three

Read chapter four

Read chapter five

Read chapter six

Read chapter seven

Read chapter eight

Read chapter nine

Read chapter ten

Read chapter eleven

Read chapter twelve

Read chapter thirteen

Read chapter fourteen

Read chapter fifteen

Read chapter sixteen

Read chapter seventeen

Read chapter eighteen

Read chapter nineteen


Day 44 – no walk

Going away for a few days really shook things up? Why does breaking a routine make it so hard to return to that routine? In my case, I have just over 2 weeks to finish a book and submit it, so it’s on my mind all the time. I’ve also been trying to spend as much time as I can with my kid … but now it’s time to get serious and write, write, write.

I hope I can keep the morning walks up, but if not I’m going to switch them out for afternoon walks with the dogs … and reset my routine once I’ve submitted my manuscript.

I know that’s JUST FINE, but I do feel a bit disappointed that I can’t seem to prioritise what’s been making me feel so well. Maybe as the days roll out I will worry less about delivering my book and slip them in?

This is WHAT I DO. I put aside the things that work for me, in favour of … work. I need to NOT do this! 


Day 45 – Friday

Meeting

Writing

Research

Long chat with MM


Day 46 –  …

I’m really feeling the weight of the deadline and can’t seem to find my walking mojo AT ALL. Maybe this afternoon with the dogs?

Note: Did not walk with the dogs. Spend the day researching and writing.


Day 47 – …

Deadline is looming. 15 days to go. I’m running out of money. Sigh. I slept 12 hours last night, walking at 8 this morning and feeling not like walking at all. Perhaps this is a way of coming to terms with my reliance on habits? Perhaps I can push through this weird period, finish my manuscript and let myself off the hook if I don’t adhere to my walking routine?

But I know I will feel so much better if I walk. Maybe tomorrow? Tomorrow is Monday. Monday is a good day to start again

I submitted my final poem for my poetry course today. I love learning about poetry so much, it’s like walking … untethered and surprising and challenging.


Second nature

Cool darkness 
seeps into 
that green-trimmed cloak 

shot through 
with fins and frog legs 
like a trick

they arc rippling goodbyes 
and then  
they go

Bird brothers 
tilt and bow
tuxedoed clique

then shake 
damp feathers 
into whiskery knives

that cut into 
the mirrored 
shadow sky

to linger 
too long under 
far below 

peach-pink
tumbles of blooms 
marble the light

As dew drops 
lace the death caps 
prettily

those pearly presents 
hide 
an artful trap

buds spill 
their nectar
sharing sacred truths

sweet leaves 
reach out
envelop soothe enwrap

then stitch themselves
into 
the life beneath

the velvet moths
the patchwork
butterflies

The precious ones
draw in the
forest breath

their restless 
souls
concealed revealed surprised.


Day 48 – …

Monday. The first day of winter and it had been raining since the middle of the night. I couldn’t sleep, instead lying awake for an hour at 1am before deciding to watch several episodes of Little Fires Everywhere until the wee hours of the morning.

I woke again at 8 and it was still raining. I’ve decided to give myself another rule – an alcohol-free June. Even if I don’t manage regular walks between now and deadline, I can contribute to my health in other ways, right? 

Maybe I can make myself walk in the rain today? I’ve honestly been feeling really flat and stressed. Is it because of the circumstances or the non-walking? I am not sure. Chicken, egg, etc.

I made a giant vegetable curry, hunkered down against the weather and worked on the mum book. The riots in the wake of George Floyd’s death rolled on the TV in the background.

Before bed, I read an Angela Carter story – The Werewolf – for my new short fiction unit studies and fell asleep thinking about its fearsome girl character.