How to feel a little calmer while life has some challenges.

Did birdsong actually become louder during lockdown of spring 2020 or did we just imagine this?  73% of participants in a recent study reported hearing louder birdsong during the first lockdown.  I was tending my neighbour's garden for these months, feeding a host of wild birds who frequented and nested in their "nature-friendly" garden.  After putting out the seed and fat balls, I would sit for an hour or so with my writing book and be kept company by a delightful cacophony of lilting bird tunes. I watched the delicate interaction between bird species, all seemingly able to live harmoniously in a small garden.  The elegant pigeons that always arrived first at the bird-feeder were visibly protective of their feeding.  But they always left enough for the smaller birds with sparrows, blackbirds, robins and sometimes lively starlings all having their share.  I wondered if the birds were singing more cheerfully and exuberantly as they were being uninterrupted by humans.  Per

"Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans" is a phrase that often appears on colourful inspirational cards and magnets.  I even had this boldly displayed on my fridge for a few years, in the extremely slim chance that I might realise the truth within these words.  More often than not, I rolled my eyes while opening the fridge as I rushed from completing one plan to the next during my very focused and busy life as a teacher. During our long pandemic year, I have been forced to re-consider this phrase.  It could even be tweaked to read:   "Life is what happens to us while we can't actually make plans". I still find it rather surreal to be waiting on data, variants, vaccines and travel ministers before we can start to even think about making a plan to travel out of the UK.  But this is how the pandemic has gone.  My penchant for the security of making and completing plans has been tested so many times in the pandemic that I cope by making as few p

Since I started cold-water sea swimming this winter, weather forecasts have taken on a whole new significance.  I study them with great interest, looking for good days for swimming i.e. sunny!  Having swum in all conditions and temperatures this winter, surprising myself each time, I have become almost relaxed about the cold or gusty winds.  In fact, my swimming has more recently become slightly ordinary without the extreme feeling of chill afterwards.  I wasn't sure if this was due to the incredible adaptation that my body has undergone while being plunged into the cold sea regularly?  Or whether the sea might actually have warmed up a little by now?  This week's dramatic weather variation might have just solved this puzzle... While everyone was enjoying the heat-wave last week and finally meeting friends outdoors in small groups, I had to share my sea-swim with others.  Paddle-boarders were confidently out wearing shorts and T-shirts on their precarious boards as if it were s

Freedom has come.  On Monday, we were finally released from our lockdown after months of being mostly at home in England.  Our release date was perfectly timed to coincide with three days of surprisingly warm weather.  In our corner of the country, we have been in lockdown since November 5th which makes a total of nearly five months.  While some regions of the UK had a few weeks break before Christmas, we stayed in the same restrictions to deal with our new more spreadable Kent variant.  But not any more!  It feels as if the stable door has been opened, and we are now allowed to venture out into our paddock of lush green grass while feeling the sunshine on our skin for the first time. Yesterday I was very excited to be able to meet more than one other person outdoors.  I met a small group of friends on the beach, and we sat actually together around a table.  Cups of herbal tea were made in the beach hut and a delicious home-made cake appeared to help celebrate the moment.  As I tucked

My recent conversations out on my long daily walks have changed.  Rarely do I hear people talk about how peaceful and nourishing it is to be in a lockdown by the sea (even though I appreciate this every day).  Thankfully, the difficult conversations have now ceased about who we know with Covid at the moment and how they are recovering.  The latest, sensitive topic of conversation has become the vaccine... have you had it yet, which one did you have and did you have any side-effects?  I have avoided writing about the vaccine as it such an emotive, personal issue with seemingly polarised views.  Either we are supposed to be evangelical about the wonder of science and how the vaccine is going to save us all from being stuck in this pandemic.  Or we are alternatively at the other end of the spectrum as an "anti-vaxer".  But as I step back from these extremes and start to ask some sensible, balanced questions, nothing seems quite so black and white after all. My main questions inc

When the WHO declared a global pandemic on March 11th 2020, I thought maybe they were being over-cautious?  Perhaps my optimistic view was partly from living in Asia for three years, narrowly missing two potential global pandemics.  Having accepted a job in Kuala Lumpur in early February 2003, I quickly watched with concern about the outbreak of SARS in late February 2003.  Although SARS had significant impact on five countries, including neighbouring Singapore, it was incredibly contained.  By the time I started my job in August 2003, it was no longer a real problem.  The second potential pandemic was "bird flu" which was hugely serious for millions of birds in South East Asia, but did not transmit to rapid spread in humans as feared. Today marks the one-year anniversary of the start of this coronavirus global pandemic.  Most anniversaries of difficult events such as the loss of a job or loved one mark a stretch of time passing of remembrance, grief and adjustment.  This yea

Spring in Hokkaido. Hokkaido is Japan's most northerly, wildest island which is unlike the rest of cosmopolitan Japan.  It experiences Siberian winters which mean frozen seas, deep snow and unimaginable cold.  Inhabitants who stay through this season are rugged, hardy people who are not unnerved by little social contact through these long, dark months.  When spring arrives, it does so rapidly to maximise the shorter season of growth and sunshine.  Snow and ice thaws to quickly reveal a warm, welcoming and hospitable lush, green habitat.  The plethora of wild flowers that thrive in this remote island in the spring are renowned for their beauty. As I watched a recent documentary about Hokkaido, I wondered what it would be like to live two completely different types of life there?  One of survival and endurance through a bitter Siberian winter and the opposite of Mediterranean-warmth and abundance of nature.  Here in England, as our cold and snowy conditions gave way to clear blue ski

"Wintering is a season in the cold.  It is a fallow period in life when you're cut off from the world, feeling sidelined or blocked from progress... Yet it is also inevitable" (Katherine May in Wintering)   With rare heavy snow last week in our seaside town plus bitterly cold winds, I finally gave into the idea of embracing and enjoying the winter rather than wishing it was over.  The snow gave a magical, lighter quality to these days and I smiled every time I saw the fluffy white covering from my window.  I forgot about the pandemic for much of the week (except trying to socially distance while navigating ice) and took on this new challenge... keeping warm, eking out food until we can make it to a shop, and not slipping over! As I ventured out into the treacherous conditions, determined to still walk each day for an hour or so, I was finally forced to slow down.  With two walking poles and enough layers of clothing to make it to the North Pole, I managed long walks with

I think I might have got hooked on sea swimming, just a little, perhaps?  Last week I saw that snow was forecast and my first thought was "great, I can swim while the beach is covered in snow".  I have been excited for days that our little seaside town might get snow that actually settles on the ground rather than the mushy wet slush we've had.  I've not seen snow for years and while we are starting month FOUR of pretty much "lockdown" in this area, snow is beyond exciting.  It means I can have a mini-adventure right from my house and see the world looking all sparkly and white.  Snow feels like a change, a much needed break from the monotony and routine of these weeks of "staying at home".  I was so excited yesterday morning when I woke expecting swathes of pristine, not-yet-walked-on snow.  As I opened the curtains, my heart sank just a little because the snow wasn't settling.  But there were delicate snowflakes coming down alongside the free

Does anyone else feel like they are plodding slowly through mud each day while wearing heavy soil-clad boots?  It is grey and raining here for the hundredth day (or so it feels) and we are still "staying at home".  Once upon a time, "lockdown" was a new and challenging thing to adjust to.  I embraced it as much as anyone can.  I've made countless delicious meals to make days at home a little more exciting.  Every day I savour my time outdoors on my long daily walk, noticing the signs of nature that are changing around me each week.  I plan my days, set tasks for each week and keep myself pretty busy.  I've done it all.  And now something seems to have changed... I feel a little "grey" like the endless clouds, which is definitely not like me.  There is no novelty to this staying at home season anymore and I feel like yelling to anyone that can hear, that we've been in lockdown since November 5th in my seaside town.  When a portion of the UK move

Two years ago, I heard a powerful story about keeping calm, even if only a little, and surviving a storm.  It was told by a fellow participant at a yoga retreat in Spain, back in the days when we could travel, eat meals, do yoga and talk for hours without restrictions.  Jo was sitting next to me on our first evening meal of the retreat and we chatted over delicious vegetarian cuisine.  Having all just arrived that day in Spain, the conversations were typically about easy, light topics such as travel or where you are from.  When I told Jo that I had travelled to southern Spain by train as I prefer this slower journey and am just a little nervous when flying, this prompted her memorable story... A few months previously, Jo had taken off from Orlando airport in Florida, at the tail-end of the hurricane season.  The experienced pilot had told them that there was a small hurricane off to the north-east, but not to worry as he was going to fly right away from it.  Unfortunately, the force of

One thing I will not miss when this pandemic finally fades away is coronavirus news briefings on the BBC.  I wonder if I am the only one who has a very conflicted relationship with the government's announcements.  On the one hand I feel almost compelled to watch them as I want to know the practicalities.  I wonder if I am trying to gain a sense of being informed and "in control" among the chaos. But at the same time, I am usually emotionally overwhelmed by the end of these coronavirus updates and fairly grumpy with just about everything.   It is sadly clear that things are bad right now in terms of coronavirus infection levels with our hospitals at breaking point.  After listening to Chris Whitty (Chief Medical Officer for England) and other medical doctors who are dealing with this "peak", it is sobering and deeply upsetting.  I swing from being tearful, to anger to feeling overwhelmed.  "Why did we wait AGAIN for so long until we properly locked down?'