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Do Nothing Days

Having run aground on the lurking sands of exhaustion, I decided that this week was time to take a break. Medical appointments aside (I had three in a row – they come like buses), I was going to spend my days doing, well, nothing.

Modern life frowns on such idleness. Our shops are open seven days a week and often far into the evening; commutes stretch from year to year; the forty hour week, so long fought for, has become the stuff of dreams.

**Working from home has no office hours** Image: Corinne Kutz on Unsplash

Worse, with so many working excessive hours during the week, their weekends are spent on housework, DIY and shopping – hardly a way to rest and restore oneself. So the week rolls on with barely time to draw breath.

Remember the Sabbath day

Our ancestors knew better. Though they worked hard and almost certainly six days a week, they took the seventh to rest. Sabbath comes from the word Shabbath, which translates either as ‘a day of rest’ or ‘to stop or cease’. Either way, the meaning is clear. It’s time to lay down your work and relax.

Throughout history, in the major religions of Judaism, Christianity and Islam, the Sabbath has also been a day of religious observance. In our more secular world, church attendance may not be for you, but it doesn’t mean we should disregard the essence of this time of reflection. Gratitude for the beauty of the natural world; thanks for blessings; prayers for the well-being of others and quiet reflection is not restricted to the observant: it is vital for all.

**A time to laugh** Image: Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

We need time to refuel both our bodies and minds. Interestingly, the seven day cycle of work and rest is the ideal one.

A Russian experiment

For eleven years, under Stalin’s rule, Russia instated a continuous working week, or nepreryvka. Each employee would work for five days and have the sixth off. The problem was that each employee was working under his own cycle, so that though a husband may have that day off, his wife may not. Despite having more free days, people were unhappy. Their family time was in chaos and religious observance impossible (both probably secondary aims to increased production.) Eventually, the scheme was scrapped. https://www.history.com/news/soviet-union-stalin-weekend-labor-policy

During the French Revolution, they brought in a ten day week (equally unsuccessful) and historically, the length of a week has been varied. However, with the world so interconnected, the Western standard of a seven day week has become the norm.

Numerous European countries are experimenting with a four-day work week (assuming that productivity is maintained at 100%), so perhaps our rest days will increase in the future. Sounds like an excellent plan to me.

**More days to enjoy a book in bed** Image: Photo by Jovan Vasiljevic on Unsplash

More days than most

Sadly, one day of rest per week is not enough for me. This last week I needed five. Two were spent fairly comatose, the other three in a state of determination to do nothing. Of course, I didn’t actually do nothing, but giving myself permission to do only what I felt capable of seemed like the same thing. I read, I crafted, I went to bed early. As a result, I now feel completely human again and ready for the busy finale to the week.

**The perfect reading list: one cosy crime and two literary delights**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

This morning, I spoke to my adorable MS nurse about the frustrations of fatigue and she understood. Joy! It isn’t tiredness – it’s your brain worn out by continuously rerouting signals around the road blocks of lesions. But give it time and rest, and it will recover. I only need to remember not to take advantage of it.

This is so hard. Who wants to be the one always saying ‘no’ to things? I don’t want to miss anything either.

But then I console myself. My emergency trip to the doctor on Monday showed my fears of Lyme disease were unfounded (though whatever giant beastie bit me in Maine remains a mystery!) My dentist and MS were happy with me, and I feel utterly privileged to live in a country where such excellent healthcare is available.

Somehow I’ll need to work on scheduling life so that so many Do Nothing Days will become unnecessary. This is definitely a work in progress.

For those of you in good health and busy always, don’t forget to keep space for a Do Nothing Day. After all, you’ve earned it.

Us and Them

Patience is a virtue. Of that there is no doubt. However, we seem to demand more patience from one group than another. The disadvantaged are forced to cultivate this virtue on a daily basis, whilst the rest of us fume at the inconvenience of a few minutes (seconds?) delay.

Whilst I applaud their stoicism, I do think that it is only fair that we share the burden more equally. We can all learn to be a little more gracious, tolerant and calm. We can all, I hope, work towards a society that makes the requirement for these qualities more evenly distributed.

On the buses

What prompted this post was a trip to town on Tuesday to get my hair cut. I took a taxi to the station, did my errands and thought, since it was an unusually fine day, that I would get a bus back. I love buses. They are always filled with interesting people and you get to watch the world go by in a very peaceful way.

It was a bit of risk. I’d been on my feet for quite a while, but I stubbornly didn’t want to waste a minute of sunshine.

So off I went to the nearest bus stop only to discover that it was not in use due to Lightning Fibre works digging up the road and pavements. No provision had been made for a temporary stop. When I asked one of the workmen, he just directed me to the next stop further along. It was no distance really – except when your legs are ceasing to work. I made it, smiled at the others waiting there and slumped against the wall.

Since I live on a main bus route, surely something would be along soon. There was no way I could make it back to the station and a taxi, so I waited. And waited. And waited.

After twenty minutes, the bus arrived. The couple standing by me, sweetly offered for me to get on first. I demurred; they had, after all, been waiting even longer. How lovely they were.

The bus demographic

The journey home was brief and uneventful. One lady was there with her grandson in a push chair and chattered away to him. She included the lady sitting next to me, who clearly was mobility impaired. Across the aisle was a student. And the couple I had been waiting with were clearly neither British nor wealthy.

**A cross section of society: the community of bus users** Image: Mitchell Johnson

Because buses are a wonderful cross-section of society. There are people like myself who choose public transport but many of the other occupants do not have that luxury. The majority of bus users fall into the category of the less privileged: the elderly, the disabled, the young and the less affluent. Whilst we may not fall into any of those categories now, it is worth remembering that we may in the future.

The bus I was on went to Uckfield. There is no longer a rail link and the town is nineteen miles away. My one mile trip to town cost £7 by taxi, so a return to Uckfield would be prohibitive to even the wealthiest commuter. The buses are not especially regular, so users learn to wait. Which they do and amazingly graciously.

Value for money

Currently, under a Government scheme, bus journeys only cost £2. It is wonderfully cheap and designed to encourage us to use public transport and is a practical response to the cost of living crisis. (It is also a great solution to excessive car emissions.)

Yet, very few of us take advantage of this. Our cars with their air conditioning and heated seats are far preferable to standing in the rain and waiting. We even curse the lights and road works which prolong our journey by mere minutes, though we are cosy and warm in our car bubble.

**In car entertainment or open to the elements? Which would you choose?**
Image: Arteum-ro on Unsplash

Because we do not use these services, we are unaware of their shortcomings. People imagine that bus stops all have seats – they don’t – and equally few have any shelter whatsoever.

The snazzy apps that tell you time-tables and when buses are due to arrive are fabulous in principle but less than perfect in practice.

Perhaps you are wondering why I am even telling you this. The reason is that I firmly believe that when the more politically active amongst us actually experience what is like for those less fortunate, we are likely to act upon it.

The same applies to all public services: health, education, transport and housing – everything vital in our lives. When we can buy ourselves a better deal and a reduced waiting time, what others have to deal with may seem to have little consequence. But in a healthy society, everyone matters. There is no them, only us.

There is an election on the horizon where we can select the candidate we feel will most work to their constituents’ benefit. We can also practise patience as a daily discipline. Dealing graciously with life’s lemons can turn even the most miserable of occasions into something else entirely. I quickly forgot the time I had waited for the bus when a stranger showed me kindness. That gift is in all our hands.

Picture Postcards from the Highlands

I left for the Highlands tired and came back exhausted. Such is the price you pay for going on holiday with Tigger (my husband) and a young, curious Ukrainian.

We’d booked the holiday some time in advance imagining that the end of October would be quiet, a bit drizzly and the perfect opportunity to relax. Ironically, despite the best efforts of storm Babet, the region we were going to was generally dry with only a few rain showers. And with such crisp autumn days beckoning, how could we stay inside?

Scottish hospitality

A trip to Scotland is always an opportunity to catch up with relatives and we were delighted to have a chance to catch my darling uncle and aunt who live outside Glasgow.

**Edwin and Morag; Jeff and me.** Image: Mariia Matrunich

Despite insisting that we were only coming for a cup of tea, Morag made a delicious lunch. Our visit was all too short, as the chaos caused by the storms meant we had to take a longer, scenic route along the west coast.

Home for a while

Going off season meant we had a chance to stay at our favourite hotel: The Grant Arms. Though rather grand in appearance and impeccable in service, it is warm and welcoming. Most of the guests are wildlife enthusiasts, so the vibe is very informal. Dressing for dinner means taking off your hiking boots.

**The Grant Arms, Grantown** Image: Mariia Matrunich

Hermione spent her entire stay receiving biscuits from staff and guests alike. She was effectively the hotel dog and received her own ‘doggy’ sausages for breakfast. I doubt she will ever recover.

Into the woods

Grantown is located at the heart of the Cairngorms National Park with magnificent woodland fringing the town. My favourite is the ancient Anagach Wood (where if you are very lucky, you might spot a Capercaillie).

The following day, we made our ‘pilgrimage’ there. The walk down to the river is a short one, and I was relishing the sunshine on the turning leaves whilst Mariia was falling in love with moss. Hermione was delighting in roaming free.

Emboldened by the fact my legs were cooperating, I suggested we took an alternative route back – as they all ended at the carpark. Alas, the return journey was considerably longer and Jeff thought he might have to carry me home. With my legs completely useless, Mariia and Jeff supported me as I dragged my reluctant limbs. We made it and collapsed into the hotel – reassuring staff that I was not injured, only worn out. The lounge has never seemed so beckoning.

Time to rest

With another sunny day ahead, it seemed a terrible waste not to enjoy it. Feeling a little under the weather, I joined the others for a brief trip to Carrbridge before heading back to the hotel for a chance to recover. The others headed to Inverness and enjoyed exploring the architecturally stunning city, the Victorian market and the famous bookshop. The latter made me rather jealous, but sometimes, you just have to accept that having MS means you can’t do everything!

**Leakey’s Bookshop, Inverness**
Image: Mariia Matrunich

This magnificent bookshop is situated in an old church and packed with second-hand treasures. Next time, I shall certainly be visiting.

Town and country

My respite proved restorative, so the next day we headed to Aviemore and beyond. The town is quite small, but well provided for in terms of amenities. From there we headed to Loch Morlich – a stunning loch that offers sandy beaches as well as woodland walks. The views across the water were breath-taking, with the mountains in the distance still frosted with snow from last winter.

**Views from Loch Morlich** Image: Mariia Matrunich

When people enquire why I keep going up to the Highlands, I think this is my answer.

After reviving ourselves at the wee cafe in the woods, we set off home via Nethy Bridge. This charming, tiny village has not a great deal to offer in terms of shops, but the river and walks more than make up for it. The opportunity to walk its banks and listen to the rush of water was too good to resist.

**Mariia in her happy place, listening to the stream tumble over the rocks**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

And Nethy Bridge took us past Roy Castle and the ever charming Highland Coo, Murdo with his sheep companion.

**Murdo and Buster** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

**Castle Roy – fort of the infamous The Wolf of Badenoch** Image: Mariia Matrunich

We can never resist a cow or a ruined castle.

To the sea

Wednesday we had a house viewing in Nairn. Though that was not successful, our beach walk was. Despite the squalling wind and the strand littered with pebbles and seaweed, it still looked magnificent.

**Wild as the shoreline** Image: Mariia Matrunich

We trawled the excellent charity shops and had chats with the locals. They are a friendly bunch. I even met one lady who had relocated from a small village near Eastbourne. It is indeed a small world.

Respite

After such busy days, it was time to enjoy my book and the local shops. Jeff and Mariia however, were not so easily satisfied and headed off to the local museum. Once there, they got to enjoy some dressing up in period costumes. Jeff was clearly channelling his inner Adam Ant in his.

**Stand and deliver!** Image: Mariia Matrunich

A proper castle

Not content with just a ruin, Mariia wanted to visit a proper Scottish castle. There are any number in the area, but we settled on Brodie as it was a National Trust property and we could walk Hermione in the grounds. Like many ‘castles’, it is really a fortified house, but with a medieval heart, turrets and magnificent gardens, who were we to quibble?

**A dwelling fit for Disney** Image: Mariia Matrunich

Our tour guide valiantly tried to portray its many residents (who we had nicknamed the Smuglies) in the best light. But, alas, even she was unable entirely to overlook their weather vane politics that ensured they always stayed on the right side of any conflict and thus were able to keep hold of their castle and lands.

Homeward bound

The next day was our last and we had a very long journey ahead of us. Unwilling to lose an opportunity for further Highland adventures though, Jeff insisted we book tickets to see a local author we love: S G Maclean. Her talk was part of the Wee Crime Festival organised by the wonderful Bookmark bookshop. But we were still not done.

To break the journey, we stopped at The House of Bruar – the Highland equivalent of Harrods (only nicer). While Mariia pursued the sale section, Jeff and I took Hermione for a wee walk by the falls. It was a perfect place to say farewell to the region we love.

And once home, what did I do? Slept.

Highland Post

This week we’ve been up in the Highlands (yes, again!) The weather has been kind despite the recent storms and the autumn colours breath-taking.

Despite all intentions to do nothing but read, sketch and day-dream, we’ve been busy every day and have plans to do more on our next trip.

Since we only have hours left to enjoy our stay, I hope you’ll forgive me for not writing a proper post. Next week, I shall share our highlights. Till then, take care and keep warm.

**Murdo the Highland Coo and his companion Buster**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

War! What is it good for?

Absolutely nothing.

War is back in the headlines and in our heads these last weeks. The atrocities taking place in the Israel/Palestine conflict curdle the stomach, leaving us shocked and bewildered by man’s capacity for cruelty.

Yet, this is only one war out of the estimated 32 worldwide (World Population Review) and the 110 armed conflicts, which are smaller, if no less vicious. (Geneva Academy) Presented on a map, this virus of violence is most prominent in the Middle East, Africa, and Asia, but we know all too well how conflict can be infectious.

There will be no illustrations to this blog post. I think we have all seen enough. Nor shall I be dwelling on the immediate impact of war. What I should like to consider is the long-term effects, the parts that the cameras and journalists seldom capture.

Living with a displaced person has given me some real insights and reminders that war is not a news cycle but an ongoing and damaging process long after the troops have gone home and the peace treaties signed.

Living with trauma

Whilst we may be familiar with soldiers getting PTSD following their tours, it is worth remembering that civilians too suffer trauma. Though hopefully not as intense, one cannot survive bombings, interrupted sleep and fear for ones loved ones for months on end without it taking its toll. Even those lucky enough to escape conflict at the beginning will have the urgency and fear of escape seared into memory.

Diaspora

For me, one of the most heart-breaking consequences of war is having families torn apart and perhaps not able to reunite for years on end. Mariia’s own family is split between Poland, England and Ukraine. One of her friends is in Switzerland, but with a nervous US government, unable to get a visa to visit her brother in America. The list goes on.

After a while, the new home becomes home. Children raised in another country may not wish to return and disrupt friendships and education all over again. Anxious parents may not want to either. A temporary relocation becomes fixed.

Demotion

Unless you are one of the few people who are completely fluent in the language of your adopted country, it is unlikely that you will find work that is equivalent to that you held at home. My friend’s neighbour is hosting a Ukrainian engineer. She took a job washing dishes at the pub, so grateful was she to the government for providing her and her daughter with a place of safety.

And of course, when it is time to return, the years abroad are lost to promotion and upskilling.

Those left behind in the conflict are no better off. With sirens sounding throughout the night, unreliable services such as electricity, one can hardly be expected to perform at one’s best.

Scarcity

All wars bring with them scarcities – sometimes of resources vital to life. In Ukraine, whilst they have miraculously kept their infrastructure working, food is now approximately 50% more expensive, whilst salaries and fixed incomes remain stuck. Life is getting increasingly difficult and these shortages are likely to continue some time after the conflict ends – not least due to the damage the Russians have made to the land.

In the UK, rationing only ended in 1954 – nine years after the war ended. The effects of conflict spiral on into the future.

Rebuilding

With so much lost in war, the need to rebuild is urgent. Sadly, much of what is lost is irreplaceable: great artworks, grand buildings, heirlooms in family homes.

And at the back of everyone’s mind is the question: will it happen again? Am I rebuilding only to have it fall once more? Will these crops ever reach my family or be stolen by yet another militia?

Such fears are real and justified. The dread that it might happen again is the most pernicious and weakens the resolve to recover. We should be cognizant of this and where possible give the necessary reassurances of protection and support, because nothing feeds the urge for conflict great than fear.

What can be done?

Man’s urge to kill and destroy is unlikely to end anytime soon. However, I do hope that as we become more aware of the hidden costs of war and its impact over the years, we might be less inclined to jingoism and the lure of war’s ‘glory’.

The angry young men committing the heinous atrocities in the Middle East have been fed propaganda and a peculiarly violent interpretation of Islam over many, many years. They have been taught not to question or consider that their views contain any flaw.

When looking at most conflicts, this process of indoctrination – even if simply of the inherent rightness or superiority of their sovereign state – occurs over years if not generations.

We are currently blessed with peace, but I feel that the circumstances are such that we too may easily be led into fanaticism. People hold stronger views more forcefully. Listening skills are side-lined to shouting loudest.

I pray that we can retain our peace on the large and small scale by consciously opening ourselves to the possibility that we may, just may be wrong and to question everything.

Running on Empty

At the beginning of this week, I ground to a halt. The endless activity and excitement of the last few weeks (months? years?) culminated in my lovely goddaughter’s wedding. The day was perfect, the bride beautiful and setting exquisite. We caught up with old friends, ate, drank and laughed.

I was sorry to be dragged away at 7pm by my husband who insisted it was time to go home and that only the two cups of coffee I’d drunk after dinner were keeping me upright. He was correct. We reached home just after eight and I quietly expired on the sofa.

My Covid jab the following day proved the coup de grace.

The big sleep

From here on out, with a few forays into the land of the living, I slept. And slept.

**I don’t want to get up!** Image: Andisheh A on Unsplash

I exceeded all records on Monday when I went to bed at 9pm, got up at noon the next day and returned to bed at 7pm. This was not living. This was simply filling the gaps with nausea filled spaces of exhaustion. Something needed to be done.

Interestingly, in the brief moments when I could concentrate, we watched a wonderful Netflix documentary on How to Live to One Hundred. Though I have no desire to be a centenarian, I was intrigued to see how individuals living in fairly poor communities were able to maximise their lives even into advanced age.

Much of what I learned was not entirely new – but seeing these people enjoying full and happy lives on screen was. Sometimes I feel a hundred. It cheered me to think I might enjoy it also!

Just about managing

Since diagnosis, my life has been an ongoing experiment and I was pleased to see that much of what I was doing was right. However, it was not fool-proof or days like Tuesday would not occur. I was managing, but only just.

If you’d like to read an introduction to Dan Buettner’s research into ‘Blue Zones’ follow this link: https://www.bluezones.com/2016/11/power-9/ .

What follows incorporates some of his ideas in combination with my own.

Self-preservation

This is not one that appears on Buettner’s list and may seem suspiciously selfish. However, it is not putting oneself first in a way that is detrimental to others but rather putting oneself first in order to be helpful to others. If we run ourselves into the ground, even in service, we are no use to anyone.

**Don’t forget to save yourself** Image: Mark Konig on Unsplash

For me that means allowing Hermione to be a bit bored occasionally; to take time to do things that replenish me; to avoid the suspicion that my only purpose is to please others. Tea can wait; dust can accumulate. No one will die.

Finding a purpose together

Everyone needs purpose in life and for most of us, that means doing something for others – either in the particular or the collective. Everyone who works and pays taxes contributes to the common weal.

But it is often the optional efforts that give us the greatest sense of fulfilment. We may volunteer at an organisation we respect or help someone with their shopping. What we do doesn’t matter. Acts of kindness are always rewarding. They are also boosted from the benefit of social interaction and especially with those of like mind.

Being among friends always lifts my spirits – even when I’m not at my best. Monday morning is my craft group and I crawled out of bed to host it. Everyone arrived full of news and chatter and my fog of exhaustion lifted a little. Jane had brought a project for everyone to do, so I determined to at least attempt it. By the end of the morning I had a great sense of achievement. I’d made my ‘pumpkins’ and could have a rest with the joy of having done at least something with my day.

**Fabric pumpkins** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Because being with those you care about, sharing a passion for an activity is vital for our well-being. And we need to do it in person.

Across the world there are epidemics of loneliness. We are all ‘connected’ but not engaging with one another. This breaks my heart. And whilst there are many who bemoan the statistics, it is up to us to act. We need to discover and support our ‘tribe’. If there seems to be no-one doing what you love, go out and find them. They are probably looking for you.

Down-time

All action all the time will leave you like me, stuck in bed and feeling sorry for yourself. Balance is key.

The good news is that it doesn’t have to be for long. A short power nap after lunch can do wonders for your concentration. Taking time for prayer or meditation brings us back to all that is truly important.

I was horrified to learn that a very successful and busy friend didn’t ‘have time’ for meditation. I suggested gazing out the window for a few minutes each hour to rest his eyes from the computer screen and give himself a well-earned break. Sadly, I doubt he does, such is the pressure always to perform.

Not taking time for rest invariably impacts our health. The time we spend in R&R simply reduces the time we spend in A&E.

Refuelling

In order to maximise our energy levels we need to eat well. The jury is definitely in that a mainly plant based diet is best for our health. I think that we all know this but are put off by the time required to prepare such foods from scratch. Many of us are not really sure how to cook, either. But there are ways to make life easier (and as someone who doesn’t have the energy to spend hours in the kitchen) these are vital.

**Light and easy** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Batch cooking is definitely the way to go whether you freeze the remainder or enjoy the next day, but fresh food can be prepared ahead too and kept quite happily for a day or two in the fridge. The colourful plate above took just minutes to assemble since the coleslaw was the last of a large bowl, the salad also, the baked courgette left-overs, which left me only to cut an avocado and peel and slice a kiwi. Such a meal fills you up without going overboard with calories. The perfect balance.

With plant-based cooking the latest fashion, it isn’t hard to find delicious and easy recipes. I’ll try to include some plant based inspiration in a future blog.

Keep moving!

Once you have your energy back, it is time to get moving. Buettner’s research made my day by suggesting natural movement is every bit as good as more obvious exercise like attending the gym. There is hope for me yet. Physical abilities and low energy levels severely restrict what I can do. That said, I think I may have found a solution. Poco a poco is what works for me.

Housework is a truly good workout, as is gardening. However, if I overdo it on either (we’re talking less than an hour here) I end up back on the sofa. So I am trying (and not always succeeding) into breaking tasks down into small units – just dusting one room, taking a break and doing another. It is painful being so slow, yet if I achieve multiple tasks in a day, I have the same result as a blast that exhausts me.

Ironically, not making life easy is the best thing for you: to walk rather than take the bus; to wash the dishes rather than use a machine. Simple and repetitive jobs give us the workout we need whilst achieving something worthwhile.

My fog of fatigue hasn’t completely lifted yet, but I’m getting there. I’m hoping that if I can follow my own advice, I will have a little in reserve for more challenging days.

Gifts from the Garden

There are few more thoughtful gifts than those you have grown. I love to receive preserves and flowers from others and love to give them too. With everyone my age having all they possibly need, a hand-made/hand grown gift allows us to show we care without burdening the receiver with more ‘stuff’. Here are some gifts from the garden that make me smile.

Preserves

This is the first year that I haven’t made any jams or preserves. Why? Because kind folks keep giving me theirs. Mariia’s mother sent us numerous jars of jam, honey and smoke dried fruits. Her strawberry jam was the best I’ve ever tasted and I’m looking forward to trying the rest. They are snuggled together in the cupboard and give that warm feeling of having the tastes of summer waiting for me when the nights and the cold draw in.

**Sunshine in a jar** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

The bottle is apple juice from my friend’s orchard: more delicious than wine and one of my five a day.

Roses grow on you

This year, as I’m sure many of you have noticed, has been a bumper one for roses. Ours are onto their third or fourth flowering and, being old-fashioned varieties, have the most delicious fragrance.

Roses are versatile blooms. They almost always form the centre of my little flower arrangements and make delightful mini bouquets to take to friends.

They are also edible. And indeed drinkable.

One day, I decided to see if I could make rose gin. It was the easiest of gin infusions, requiring just one day of sitting in the sunshine and the rest of the day in the fridge. (You don’t even need the sunshine.)

**Pretty in pink** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

The next day, I filtered out the rose petals and voila – rose gin!

Mine has been in the cupboard for a while and I’ve just tasted it. A couple of months on the rose flavour has intensified, though I suspect a little has evaporated. Time to make more.

**A pretty bottle makes it a gift**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

And if you fancy making your own, here’s a great recipe https://thepresenttree.com/blogs/recipes/how-to-make-rose-infused-gin

For the best results, use old-fashioned roses with a strong scent and which have not been sprayed with any chemicals.

And finally, not content to throw any petals away – just yet – I took the ones that fell from my arrangements and set them aside to dry. They did this with no fuss at all and I collected them up in a pretty gauze bag. On Saturday, when I attend my god-daughter’s wedding, I shall have some completely organic confetti to throw.

**Scented confetti** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Apples, plums and pears

It was not only my roses that thrived this year but all my fruit crops. We had an abundance of apples and visitors were encouraged to take a bag full when they left. Mariia and I prepared the remainder for the freezer and the promise of crumbles and pies later in the year.

I also tried to be a bit more adventurous and made vegan apple ice-cream with the few redcurrants the birds hadn’t eaten. It was easy to make using the Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall method of one large pot of vegan yogurt and cooked apple and redcurrants. Since I have an ice-cream maker, all I had to do was wait for it to firm up.

Our fairly young plum trees also outdid themselves this year. Each day, I would harvest a handful or two and serve them instead of biscuits to friends. If they really enjoyed them, I made up a small bag to take home.

And the pears? Well, I did have a bumper harvest and checked them each day to see if they were ready to pick. And each day they were a little too firm, so I waited, and waited. Alas, I waited too long. The resident squirrels were not so patient and scarfed every single one whether ripe or not. Perhaps they gave themselves indigestion (how such small creatures could eat so many still baffles me), but I hope that they enjoyed them nonetheless. Because gifts from the garden are to be shared – even with the wildlife

What Price Happiness?

This is going to be an interactive blog, so have pen and paper to hand. Ready? Let’s begin!

**The big question** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Each week, I find that ideas coalesce into a blog topic. This week is no different. Though the ideas came from such diverse sources as a Booker nominated novel and a Wonder Woman film, I suspect I have been filtering them for a few weeks now from any number of conversations and remarks.

I’d love to say that I have all the answers for my questions, but I have only my current interpretations. What I’d love to do is throw them out to you and see what conclusions, if any, you come to. Out of fairness, I’ll share mine!

What is happiness anyway?

Happiness for each of us is an idiosyncratic thing. What makes me happy would probably bore the average human being to tears. I am a simple soul.

But what makes you happy? Write down as much as you like in a list or free-writing. You might be surprised by what turns up.

Apart from the obvious ones of being with those I love, mine include: stroking the silky fur on Hermione’s ears, getting an uninterrupted nap in the afternoon and watching butterflies dance so effortlessly on air.

Maslow’s hierarchy of needs

Anyone involved in education or social work will have come across this pyramid. The ideas, though not the pyramid, was proposed by Maslow as a way of describing motivation. It begins at the base of the pyramid with essential physical needs such as food and water. From there it moves upwards to transcendence or spiritual needs. For a thorough look at the theory, here’ a quick guide: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maslow%27s_hierarchy_of_needs

**From bottom to top with essentials near the base** Image: By EucalyptusTreeHugger – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=122601755

Though not exclusively true, it is unlikely that one will be happy without fulfilling one’s physiological needs. If you are hungry or thirsty, wet or cold, it is unlikely you will feel especially content. (As always, there are exceptions – ascetic monks may reach heightened states of ecstasy whilst fasting in a dank, dark cave.)

Assuming you are enjoying the comforts of Western living, happiness should arise from having all your basic needs met. Yet, few would say this was so. Stage one being met, we look for more.

But I get away from myself. My essential question is not what brings us happiness but at what cost?

Do I want happiness at the expense of someone else – seen or unseen?

For criminals and sociopaths, the answer to this question is easy. They simply don’t care. For the rest of us, knowing that our happiness often comes at the expense of another can make us pause.

**One man’s labour; another man’s joy** Image: Photo by JKN on Unsplash

Noble though the instruction, ‘Do no harm’ may be, it is, in practical terms, impossible to achieve. No matter how carefully we select our food, use energy or choose products, something, somewhere, will pay the price.

The natural world is predatory. The hawk cannot live without taking the life of the mouse. That said, I do believe that we can increase our own happiness and that of others by being mindful of the impact we have. Knowing that my morning coffee is organic and fairly traded increases its enjoyment a little more.

We make countless decisions every day which impact the natural and human world. Since I believe, like John Donne, that ‘No man is an island’, I also believe that my happiness is bound to others. Any tiny steps I can make to further another’s happiness only augments my own.

Do I seek happiness at the expense of my relationships?

This is a constant conundrum, as it can feel like a ‘damned if you do and damned if you don’t’ scenario. For example, I love textiles, my husband has no interest in them. Do I drag him to craft shows or give them up myself? Either way: one of us will be happy and the other not.

More significantly, do you pursue a passion – let’s say a creative one – which takes you away from your loved ones for long stretches of time? Perhaps it also has a financial impact and requires the other to work harder to support you both. Historically, this has not been much of a problem for men pursuing careers, but with wives having greater opportunities and prospects, we need to think again. We are also much more aware of the cost to those self-effacing women.

The question is ultimately: Which do you value more – your self-realisation or your relationship?

Do I seek happiness at the expense of my health?

Another thorny one into which many, with the best of intentions, fall. With the pursuit of wealth and status being the siren call of modern world, too often people work longer and harder than is wise. Some will not reach the tranquil years of retirement or will do so in poor health. At that point, the exotic holidays; the desirable home and the expensive car will seem a poor substitute.

**The Japanese work culture of long hours and total dedication may lead to a high GDP but it has also led to the phenomenon of death from overwork.**
Image: Photo by Photo by Pawal Janiac on Unsplash

It is worth remembering that the Sirens lured sailors to their destruction, just as the sirens of advertising lure ourselves.

Hard work and the benefits it brings is without question a good thing. That said, we each need to look honestly at whether more will ultimately bring us, and those who care about us, less.

What other joys will I give up to achieve this happiness?

In economic terms this is referred to as opportunity cost. This means: what will you give up when selecting an alternative? Choosing to spend years studying means a loss of earnings for those years, but it may be stimulating and ultimately beneficial to your career path. Spending a large sum on an extended holiday may bring excitement but increase the time needed to save for a deposit on a home.

Decisions, decisions.

Often these choices have a much greater impact. My choice to stay at home, look after my children and work part-time torpedoed any chance of a longed for career. I have no regrets, though I confess to occasionally wondering if I’d made the right decision (generally when a child was throwing a tantrum in Sainsbury’s).

So it is really important that we identify what it is that brings us happiness and what costs we are willing to bear.

Contentment over happiness

Since happiness is such an ephemeral emotion, I prefer to look at what brings contentment. If we are lured by the promise of happiness, we may find that we make great sacrifices for things which bring only fleeting joy. How long does our pleasure last between a shopping spree and the arrival of the credit card bills? Not long.

The cost of happiness, as it is sold to us, is often far too high for ourselves and others to justify.

If we are able to clarify what actually brings us joy, we will probably find it in Maslow’s definition of transcendence.

“Transcendence refers to the very highest and most inclusive or holistic levels of human consciousness, behaving and relating, as ends rather than means, to oneself, to significant others, to human beings in general, to other species, to nature, and to the cosmos.”
Maslow, 1971

The ultimate motivation is to seek the common good and in doing so, gaining, not losing, one’s soul.

Mazel tov!

When your child gets married, it is a very special day. When your child gets married to someone from another faith, it gives the occasion another dimension. For us, this meant a fresh perspective on what marriage means and the privilege of taking part in a whole new experience.

My son Greg’s new wife, Genevieve, is Jewish. She is not especially orthodox and her parents were also mixed faiths (Christian and Jewish), but she wished to honour her mother’s heritage in the rituals. To help us better understand what to expect, she kindly suggested a book I should read. I’m glad I did. It made the experience less baffling and more beautiful.

**A beginner’s guide!** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

The Jewish wedding

The Jewish wedding, like its Christian counterpart, is about the joining of two people into a family bond. And in each faith, this bond is part of a larger community in which it offers hope for the future. Perhaps this is in the form of children or perhaps a commitment – as Greg and Genevieve made in their vows- to play their part in making the world a little gentler and kinder place.

Unlike in a Christian wedding, the legal part of the signing and witnessing of the marriage comes first. Under Judaic law, a couple is married when they freely pledge themselves to each other and are witnessed by two individuals who are not related to them.

Only immediate family, witnesses and the rabbi were present for this event. The parents gave their blessings, the rabbi gave a brief and beautiful speech, and the ketubah (Jewish wedding contract) was signed.

The ketubah

When I was married, we were escorted to the rear of the church to sign the register, which would remain in the building, as a record, in perpetuity. In contrast, the ketubah is kept, and often framed, by the married couple. It could take any form, but is usually an exquisitely illustrated piece of calligraphy.

The main event

The business element of the marriage over, it was time for the ceremony proper. I was delighted to discover that the parents of both the bride and groom had a role to play. We were to walk Greg down the ‘aisle’, which here was the path between the seats in a perfect, woodland setting.

I think Greg gripped my hand as tightly as I did his – partly to assuage our nerves and partly to avoid his mother tripping on the uneven grass.

The chuppah

Our destination was not the altar but the chuppah (pronounced hoopah). This canopied space is built by the groom. (I was very impressed with my son’s carpentry skills.) It symbolises the marriage home with God (the cloth) sheltering them above. Being fully accessible, it promises hospitality to all those who visit.

It is a fragile structure though, and the parents and family who stand beside it are seen as those who will support the home in future.

But I get ahead of myself.

Before the wedding ceremony, there came the ring bearer and the flower girl. The ring bearer was Greg and Genevieve’s very well behaved dog and the flower girl my granddaughter. Both performed their duties flawlessly and elicited a huge round of applause!

**Two little stars – Moose and Sofia** Image: Michael Meier

But they could not outdo the beauty of Greg’s bride, who arrived on her father’s arm and we were ready to begin.

**Genevieve and a very proud father** Image: Melissa Gebert

The service

When Genevieve asked my husband what was the best part of the whole wedding festivities, he said without hesitation, the service itself. I could not but agree. The rabbi, Tyler, was so perfect and attuned to the couple that it was a very moving event.

As is common in Jewish weddings, it is recognised that not everyone can attend. Loved ones who died before the ceremony are acknowledged and remembered. With Genevieve’s loss of her mother being so recent, Tyler made every effort for her to be remembered on her daughter’s very special day. I confess, it did lead to quite a lot of eye wiping. By including Laurie, rather than politely ignoring her absence, we were all able to welcome her in spirit.

**Vows and blessings** Image: Melissa Gebert

Joy in sadness/sadness in joy

More often than not, weddings focus on some unrealistic, perfect future. Life is never perfect and suggesting that it should be only results in disappointment. The Christian vows remind us of this when we promise to love and cherish each other through all of life’s vicissitudes – ‘For better, for worse; for richer for poorer; in sickness and in health’.

Tyler spoke of how life is often expressed as an oxymoron – with contradictory emotions often experienced simultaneously. Even in grief, we can feel joy.

The Jewish story is hardly a happy one, filled as it is with persecution and diasporas, yet joy is seldom far from a Jewish gathering. The breaking of the glass at the end of the ceremony symbolises this. The broken glass represents the broken world, which marriage and joyful union hope, in their own small way, to heal.

Mazel tov!

The breaking of the glass signals the end of the ceremony and everyone shouts ‘Mazel tov’ or congratulations to the newly wedded couple.

**The breaking of the glass** Image: Melissa Gebert

The serious work over, it was time for feasting and dancing. Greg and Genevieve were given a brief respite before the dinner to reflect on the ceremony and perhaps even grab some refreshment. I love that this pause is given to the bride and groom on what is otherwise a whirlwind of a day.

Friends, family, and feasting

Let’s just say, with an open bar, delicious canapes and food, the next part of the day passed very happily. We caught up with friends and family – many who had come a very long way to celebrate with us.

The speeches were well-structured and witty and I was especially proud of my younger son, who managed to combine some gentle British style humour without shocking the American guests. (Outrageous best man speeches are a purely British invention.)

**The Best Man’s speech drew some laughter** Image: Melissa Gebert

Time to dance

The meal over and the cake cut, it was time to dance. Genevieve’s father and she began and Greg and I followed. After then is was everyone. I’ve never seen a dance floor fill so quickly and remain full throughout the evening.

Of course, no Jewish wedding would be complete without the hora. The young ones danced in circles whilst the bride and groom were hoisted into the air on their chairs. It might have been more enjoyable had I not feared either of them taking a tumble. But all was well.

**Just holding on**! Image: Melissa Gebert

Finally, exhausted, we headed home, leaving the younger ones to enjoy the remains of the evening.

It had been a perfect day and I truly hope only the first of many for my son and daughter-in-law.

Marvellous Maine

The trip to our son’s wedding took us to a state that I have always wanted to visit. Located in the far north of the eastern seaboard of America, Maine is famed for its rugged coastline and glorious, forest-filled interior. It is one of the few, truly wild spaces left undeveloped in the country. The reason for this is that it is not for the faint-hearted. Maine winters can stretch from November to the end of April, with brief snow showers extending either side. The summers, in contrast, are hot, and due to the large expanses of water throughout, rather mosquito laden when dusk falls. But if you like sparkling white winters, water sports and hiking, there is really nowhere better to be.

**Coastal Maine** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Portland

We began our adventure in Portland – the largest city in the state with fewer than 70,000 inhabitants. (Did I say that Maine was sparsely populated?) It is an interesting mix of quaint 19th century warehouses gentrified into expensive indie boutiques/restaurants and a functioning modern industrial port.

**The gentrified ‘old town’ with a cannabis and coffee shop**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

The city, like the state, shows the marked divide in American society between the haves and have nots. Maine is a vacation destination for those escaping the sweltering heat of cities further south. As a consequence, it attracts the most wealthy, and many of the elegant buildings overlooking the shore are vacation homes. Tourism boosts the meagre earnings that can be made from the sea and hospitality.

With the region being the eighth most expensive in the country, few of those working for regular wages can hope to enjoy the good life here. Even the homeless must allow for this. Jeff saw one chap with a cardboard sign asking for a suggested $20 donation. It would buy you a couple of cups of coffee.

Coastal living

As holiday makers ourselves, we could enjoy this fabulous region for a little while at least. My son has settled in a very quaint town about thirty minutes’ drive from Portland and contains all the elements that make Maine so attractive: a historic town centre with pretty colonial buildings; a forested national park and, of course, the coast.

We only had a couple of days there before heading to the wedding destination, but it was the ideal place to catch up with all my family. Their lovely garden was perfect for Sofia to explore and to find natural treasures while the grown-ups enjoyed basking in the sunshine.

**Exploring the garden with Uncle Greg**

**Having a rest with Daddy**
Images: Karen Costello-McFeat

We also enjoyed a couple of trips to the endless sandy beach – even braving the North Atlantic sea.

Moving on up

From here we headed a few hours’ north to the picturesque town of Camden, located in Mid-Maine. The houses and strip malls became fewer and the trees more densely packed.

**A perfect New England style church** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Camden lies on the water in an idyllic setting of coves and tiny islands off-shore and unspoilt landscape to the rear. Like Portland, it caters to the more discerning traveller and is filled with art galleries, book shops, boutiques and gourmet restaurants. Seafood is available everywhere – especially the state’s speciality: lobster. It is served whole or flaked with mayonnaise in a lobster roll. Tasty – but pricey!

While we were there, a number of tall ships were in the harbour and offering tours to visitors. There are few better ways to see Maine’s delights than from the water, with a classic tall ship being the best and gentlest way to travel.

**Smooth sailing** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

In Camden, we had several reunions with friends and relatives and even more at Genevieve’s father’s home in Bremen. The Spears’ hospitality was incredible, hosting not one but two delightful parties in the grounds of their summer home.

There could be few locations more appealing, as the gardens of the house sloped into the water. We spread out on chairs and picnic blankets, loaded our plates with delicious food and even took a dip in the sea, which was considerably colder here than in southern Maine.

**View from the end of the garden**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Natural beauties

Of course, for me, no travel is complete without enjoying the local flora and fauna. Maine was blessed with an abundance of flowers – both wild and cultivated – that gilded this already gorgeous lily.

We spotted a little chipmunk crossing the street in Camden and a lone seal in the harbour bay, numerous baby frogs in the pond and butterflies everywhere, but the most exciting spotting was of the Monarch butterfly before it returned home to Mexico.

I had heard of this amazing species that takes three generations to make the migration north plus one to return, but never expected to encounter any. They are HUGE with delicate tracery that would rival a stained glass window. I was enchanted.

**Monarch butterfly** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Heavenly blessings

After all the catastrophes that preceded our trip, we were naturally anxious about the event to come. What else, we wondered, could go wrong? Though not liable to superstition, it seemed that the universe was telling us not to fret: all would be well. The nights were lit by an enormous full moon, the wet summer had suddenly transformed into Mediterranean gloriousness and the heavens themselves smiled down on us.

After an afternoon swim at the beach, we sat back and admired the cerulean sky, which contained just one very dark charcoal cloud. A few more joined it and a light shower ensued.

‘Oh, we might get a rainbow!’ said Genevieve delightedly.

And sure enough, a few minutes later, a giant bow appeared, arcing across the horizon in glittering colour. Then the miracle happened. It was joined by a second bow, cupping the first. The colours were so intense that we all stood there mesmerised until they slowly dissolved in the sunlight.

**Double rainbow** Image: Greg Costello-McFeat

Sadly, my son’s camera could not do it justice, but we were too busy looking to take much time away to take pictures. Genevieve, who had so recently lost her mum felt that this was her way of showing she was looking over her and why not? It was no less miraculous than what was in front of our eyes.

These good omens proved correct. The wedding day itself was perfect in every way. And I shall share that with you next week.