Tag: Holidays

A Well-Earned Rest

To say the last few months have been busy would be an understatement. They have been exciting, gregarious, exhilarating and exhausting. So much has happened in such a short time that my head is struggling to process it all. Unfortunately, my body is fully aware and like an overworked mule, refusing to cooperate further.

It all caught up with me at the weekend. Hermione had been badly bitten in the puppy park (she should be fine), Mariia had a wobbly over distressing news from Ukraine and well, I was running on empty. It was time to rest.

And so to bed! Image: Isabella and Zsa Fischer on Unsplash

Time to rest

We all need to schedule rest into our lives and I, like most folks, tend to forget that. And so we struggle on until no amount of caffeine or cat naps will do. We simply need to stop. With MS, this can be a little abrupt. One minute you are fine, the next your legs lose power, you feel dizzy and need to sit down before you fall. Chronic fatigue is extremely inconvenient when you have other more exciting plans. Perhaps you can stretch it a bit (as I did over the summer) but eventually it will come back to claim you.

Though I confess to failing on most points of moderating my downtime, I have maintained a very strict sleep schedule. I am always in bed by ten and up around 8.30am. Yup! Ten hours is what I need. Well, ten hours of rest at least. Sleep is not always guaranteed, but lying quietly will do me fine.

Like a koala, I am happy to sleep on any horizontal surface Image: David Clode on Unsplash

No regrets

Am I sorry that, in engineering parlance, I have tested myself to destruction? Absolutely not. I would not have missed a single day of this wonderful summer. However, I am aware that all good things must come to an end – or at least a pause.

Strangely, this hectic season has brought its own satisfactions. Bed lover though I am, I have never been quite so delighted to head upstairs in the evening as I have these last months. The gentle weight of the the duvet pressing down on me, a pillow cradling my head and relaxing dim light all feel like great luxury when you are really tired. Because when the day is filled with adventures, rest is a welcome respite. Days not so fully filled make bedtime a bore.

Unearned rest

Because the great irony is that too much free time and too much rest is bad for us. Our society is obsessed with leisure. We are encouraged to have endless days where nothing is expected of us and our every need is filled. It is the message behind all those adverts for exotic holidays, convenience foods and time-saving appliances. Have more time to yourself and you’ll be happy they say.

Heaven? Perhaps. But there’s not much to do. Image: Maarten van den Heuval on Unsplash

Except you won’t. Only poorer. Those wealthy enough to live a life of luxurious liberty are seldom content. The briefest look at the history of the leisure class would tell us this. These lives are filled with alcohol, drugs, affairs, gluttony and general bad behaviour – anything to keep the threat of boredom away. We are not designed to be idle.

Worse, those imprisoned in idleness have almost invariably bought their leisure with the price of another’s miserable labour. This is the greatest irony of all and has caused immeasurable suffering across the world. The Roman reclining on his coach being fed grapes in his centrally heated room does not have to witness the sweltering slaves below him.

The good life? Scene de banquet, fresco Herculaneum

Fortunately, our own lives do not come at such a direct human cost – though we are wise to remember that there is always a cost to someone or something; if nothing else to the earth itself.

Yet we still aim for the life of leisure, whether is it briefly – in the form of a holiday, or completely – in early retirement. We work hard, we save, we dream, but when we attain our goal, it is often different from what we expected. Perhaps we arrive at our exotic location too tired to move from the sun lounger to explore our location or perhaps our retirement brings its own question of what to do with an endless stretch of days. Or worse, when we reach it our health is too poor to enjoy it.

Rather than seeking the extremes of total work or total leisure, perhaps we should look for a balance of the two so that when we go to bed at night we are healthily tired.

Striking a balance

I do too much. I know that. Today I am in my track suit bottoms and cosy hoody because I need to rest. I’m not 100% well and hope this respite will fight off the cold that wants to overwhelm me. I need to push back and find space for repose and for myself. (A brief trip to Birling Gap yesterday to write felt as joyful as a vacation.)

I need to reinstate my yoga and breathing exercises that were side-lined with my son’s arrival and then Mariia’s. We need to insist on rest as ardently as we insist on leisure. Because we need both. Adhering to the 24/7 work culture will only result in ill-health and burn-out. Aiming for a life of leisure results in a fatuous existence.

When we have purpose in our lives and fill our days with whatever ignites our passion, whether that be helping others, work, creativity or play, we fall into bed at night satisfied at a day well lived. And if we don’t find our balance today? There is always tomorrow. But for now, I’m off for a nap.

Away Days

Sometimes, you just need to get away: from the demands of keeping a home and garden; from work commitments and away, I would argue, from our mundane selves. When we change our context, everything seems possible.

The thing I love most about a holiday is that it gives us time and permission to dream. We needn’t go far or for long, but we do need to enter into an unfamiliar landscape where our senses are challenged and stimulated.

Our few days in Battle did just that. The stunning landscape of the grounds of the hotel provided endless vistas to nourish our very souls; the delightful town offered both history and humour. Here’s a little taste of our days away.

A place to read, write and muse Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

The storm breaks

Interestingly, the high pressure building for days in the terrible heat broke the day before we left. It felt like a metaphor for our lives. All the stresses that had been building over the last few months felt washed away in the thundering rain.

We woke to a new world, bright and fresh and alive.

It was still hot, but bearably so. For once, an outdoor, unheated swimming pool in the UK was tempting and my husband and I took full advantage of it. We also lounged like normal people do on holiday (our family holidays invariable involve death defying activities or cultural investigations), so it was truly relaxing.

A welcome retreat on a very hot day
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

I read a novel, wrote my morning pages and finished The Artist’s Way (more on that next week). We ate fish and chips on the steps of Battle Abbey and I imagined all the history that had passed by this place.

With the exception of checking to see if we had a new prime minister, the news was banished. Our time was taken up instead in watching the world and languid conversations.

Life is more sociable with a dog

Hermione was, of course, a star. She introduced us to so many people that I couldn’t count them all. At one pub, where we were having dinner, I’m sure she was patted and fussed by every single person. In doing so, she opened us up to new encounters with lovely folk, who told their stories and we ours.

Perhaps we need a furry creature to break the barriers of shyness or polite behaviour. The English are normally so reserved, but bring a dog into the equation and they are positively voluble.

One lady, having given Hermione a good belly rub said enigmatically, ‘I needed that.’ Because sometimes, we just need to show affection and have the warmth of a positive response to make us feel human again. Who knows what was troubling her, but I’m glad that Hermione could give her a little respite.

Great companions! (Hermione and my husband) Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

A not too perfect life

Our hotel, the weather, everything was verging on perfection. One would expect this to be a good thing, but sadly it was not. Friendly dog patters aside, the hotel had its share of rather grumpy and miserable looking folks: couples who barely spoke to one another; people complaining of the ‘conference coffee’ served at breakfast; and even I fell into grumbling at the buzz of lawn mowers disturbing our peace. I was also feeling a bit frustrated by all my husband’s long walks with the dog and early morning swims in the pool. Why, I wailed inwardly, could I not join him? I hate this stupid disease.

Yes, I had a mini pity party. Then I looked down at my breakfast plate and saw the abundance of delicious food; looked up and saw the glorious grounds; looked across at my super husband and dog. Hmm. How quickly we fall prey to the idea that the world should serve us absolutely. How quickly, when life is almost perfect, does the slightest thing annoy.

It was time to recalibrate, because I realised that the reason the wealthy are often the most miserable is precisely because, like Tantalus, all they want is just beyond. But unlike Tantalus, it is not because they can’t reach food or drink, but rather that no sooner have they grasped it than they want something more, something better. As Westerners, we are all guilty of this to some degree.

Having acknowledged this truth and deciding to keep gratitude always at the centre of my thoughts, I went on a long walk around the lake that very evening. I managed to go much further than I thought possible and unusually did not suffer the exhaustion and burning in my legs that usually follows such exertions. Perhaps, having rested all day, I was better prepared, or perhaps, the universe was showing its approval.

History and humour

One can hardly go to Battle without thinking of history. The place is steeped in it: from the imposing Medieval Abbey to the half timbered Elizabethan dwellings to the elegant, symmetrical Georgian homes. This visit, I had vowed to explore the church opposite the Abbey and of almost equal antiquity. The Abbey had brought considerable wealth and prestige to the area and with it a burgeoning population. This church was where they could go to worship.

Founded 1115, it is classically Norman. It’s beautiful vaulted ceilings with dark beams and plain, pillared arches either side of the nave typify what we think of as an early Medieval church. But I suspect that the churchgoers of the Medieval period had a rather more lively prospect. High above on the left (facing the altar) are faded but once vivid frescoes. No doubt there were more, providing a sumptuous, visual feast for all those attending.

Ironically, the church now provides a respite from the onslaught of image and colour that we all face. The only real touches of colour are supplied by exquisitely executed kneelers with local and historic scenes.

St Mary’s, Battle
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
A far from Christian kneeler
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

And lastly, I am delighted to note that aside from its seriously impressive history, this small town has a wonderful sense of humour. Each season, the yarn bombers do their best to add a little colour and whimsey. This month, in line with the scarecrow festival, they have produced my favourite scarecrow- Ariyarna Grande.

On a lighter note
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Immersed for a few days in such exceptional surroundings made me focus on the thread of history and how it weaves through all our lives. This history was expressed through creativity: of magnificent architecture, painting, tapestry and yes, even yarn bombing. All took skill, all took mastery of an art form and all took patience. For the events of history are past, but the work of the artist as it responds and responds again to changing times, lives on.