Running Spots

Running in Geneva is something else! I've been keeping up my runs while away for these four weeks in Geneva and I'm very proud of myself for doing so! I am starting to understand why people become hooked on running. For me it is becoming a little parenthesis in the day where I can take myself off, for a bit of reflection, for solitude. I'm not sure where, but a few months back, I read somebody say that 'you never regret a run' and it's stuck as my motto. It has got me out of the house on many a day when my mind and my body are trying to tell me that I would much rather lie in front of the telly or in the garden with a good book.

In Geneva I've taken to wearing my bikini under my kit and I've been running 5-7km around Lake Geneva (which takes you a decent distance away from the crowds of the city centre) and rewarding myself with diving into the crystal clear azure water of the lake, finding quiet and tranquil spots far from the crowds of tourists and noisy teenagers. I've spotted a glittering mosaic of interesting things on these runs. Besides the general environment of breath-taking vistas of the glistening lake surrounded by snow-capped mountains there are the many people and sights that I have seen. Watching the silhouettes of people dancing, running and jumping as the sun sets behind the famous jet d'eau spurting fine fronds of water skywards. The colourful flower displays inexplicably imprisoned behind metal and wooden barriers, perhaps to discourage the public getting too close. The white sails of the yachts and boats moored at different points around the lake flapping and flying in the gentle breeze. Watching clouds roll and build over the mountains, getting progressively heavier and the clatter of thunder and flash of lightening in the distance as I run as fast as my legs can carry me.

These are just some of the sights already seen. Once I've covered enough distance, I will settle down on a rock and dry in the sun. This is the perfect time to take 10 minutes mindful reflection and to bring some stillness and rest into the day. Following this, I will settle down to the novel that I'm currently demolishing until the sun goes down. My 5km + walk home means that I am pushing myself towards a total of 10km so that even if I'm not running the whole thing, my mind and body are getting accustomed to these sorts of distances.

I've decided that running when visiting a new place gives a new perspective and a different way of interacting with your environment, it is something that I plan to continue for years to come.

I'm just off on this afternoon's run..... wonder what I'll see?

A Swiss Summer

I have spent the last three weeks in Geneva, Switzerland. I am taking a 'petit pause' from real-life and I've decided to grasped various opportunities that have conspired to allow me to dedicate a whole month to breathing life back into my deflated French. I've always been a Francophile, somehow feeling at ease and at home in a French speaking mileu and what's more, I love the puzzle and challenge of practising and learning a new language. It's like a never ending crossword!

I studied French at university, along with Spanish and Politics. I had neglected my French since my graduation in 2004 and I realised that if I didn't do something soon, I would lose a skill and a very solid basis in a language in which I had invested over 15 years of study to achieve a degree level standard. So, for the last three weeks I've been in class at 8.30 every morning, plunging myself deep into the curiosities of French grammar and re-immersing myself in the wonderful world that is the subjonctif! I'm all too aware that this is just the beginning - if I truly want to master the language it will take a commitment to self-directed study. That said, I have been both pleased and frustrated in equal measure at how in just three weeks I have felt the memory of this dormant language begin to unfurl, to spread its wings and to stretch out its limbs in my mind. But it feels like a patient who has been bedridden for weeks and is just feeling well enough to take its first tentative steps into the light. Yes everything is there, the legs, arms, skeleton and muscles are all intact, but they are stiff and sore and weak. They need to take things slowly but to be used more and more each day to return to their former strength. That's how I feel about my French after these three weeks. I know that I have a particular aptitude and interest in languages but I am equally, painfully, aware that unless I build up my strength, practise and use my French by actually living life in French, I may never reach my goal of being a fully functioning fit and healthy specimen, I may be stuck faltering, taking tentative and wobbly steps rather than progressing confidently and with strength and self-assurance. What this short period of immersion has taught me is that I love learning, speaking and reading French and while fluency may be the ultimate goal, there is much enjoyment on the journey towards that goal. If it takes a life-time, so what - we're allowed to dream! Having this opportunity has reignited my determination to continue to practice and strengthen my ability in the language - who knows where it will take me!

Queridas Quesadillas!

For a while now I've been meaning to share my love of the little miracle that is the Quesadilla. If you haven't tried them, firstly WHY NOT? And secondly, GET ON WITH IT. The fun with these little cheese-filled parcels of wonderfulness is that the combinations are endless and they are cheap, so cheap. Basically you take a normal tortilla wrap, put it in the frying pan without and oil, grate in cheese plus whatever other ingredients you can find or tickles your fancy. The cheese acts as a glue to bind the parcel together. Yes, ok, so they may be the single handed reason why I can't seem to get any of my shorts over my thighs but hey, life's for living, right? A few of the concoctions I have come up with so far:

• Sunday's left over chicken with cheddar and spring onion
• Spinach, Feta and Cheddar
• Olive Pesto and Cheddar
• Goats cheese and red onion jam
• Chorizo, Pepper and Feta

The options are infinite and they are definitely my new favourite guilty pleasure, comfort weekend lunch - yum!!

 

Vintage Heaven in Hay

What fun was had two weekends ago when I was drafted in as a last minute 'model' for Hay's Got Vintage. I loved dressing up in a beautiful vintage frock, something I would never have considered putting together myself but that I loved every moment of wearing. It was a lovely feeling to be wandering around idyllic Hay, in the sunshine with a pack of impeccably dressed ladies, being stopped at every turn and told how fabulous we looked - doesn't happen every day that's for sure.  I was inspired to buy a frou frou underskirt which I have since enjoyed putting with my existing wardrobe to give it some oomph! The less said about my other purchases the better, just that there were a few and that one of them is a fantastic Burberry Porsum 'flasher' mac

à la Audrey in Breakfast at Tiffany's! Thank you to the sublime fashionfarmerblogs@blogspot.co.uk for letting me join in!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eurovision memories - Copenhagen 2014

The Eurovision torch will never go out…

 

On 16^th May 2014, Concita Wurst captured our hearts and was rightfully crowned ‘Queen of Eurovision’. It is a richly deserved accolade that sums up the essence of Eurovision as a beacon of equality, tolerance and flamboyance. But we’ll come back to all of that…

For our circle of family and friends however, Eurovision has another Queen, a Queen whom those of us from Birmingham, know has reigned supreme for decades and whose crown was in place long before Concita grew her first wisps of facial hair. Her name is Judith Mullineux. She happens to be my mother, but that is of little import to all things Eurovision. At Eurovision she is not wife, not mother, not sister or daughter, it is a place where she sparkles, centre of the buzz and brouhaha, adding light and sparkle to the party. In fact family attendance has traditionally been positively discouraged. In cahoots with partner in crime Malcolm, she has attended every Eurovision since it graced the National Indoor Arena in Birmingham in 1998. Since then she has faithfully followed the contest to whichever city it rolls into in its annual celebration of all things glorious, glamourous and glitter-fuelled. She is a font of all-Eurovision knowledge able to name every winner, runner up and loser the contest has produced. She also has an uncanny knack for celeb spotting, once famously trying to adopt Jessica Garlick to replace me as her much more worthy daughter.

This year however, brought a significant birthday and Judith made the nervous and slightly uncomfortable decision to allow myself, my father, my husband and our very dear friend Rhys to crash her Eurovision weekend in Copenhagen. See, she was aware that we had been in apprenticeship for the last few years, slowly earning our Eurovision stripes and this year, finally, fretfully she decided we were ready. My husband and Rhys are lifelong friends and each May we congregate at Rhys’ house for a Eurovision party replete with quizzes, Euro-cuisine and, often, Cher. It seemed the natural next step that our shared Eurovision fervour should at some point earn permission to attend the main event. So the perfect storm of a big birthday, a Scandi venue and an appropriate level of Eurovision training meant that 2014 was the year that we would graduate from Euro-apprentices and fly as fully fledged Eurovision fans.

Before we left we were given strict instruction about how the weekend would ‘work’ and how we were to behave to keep up the gold standard. On arrival in Copenhagen, we had travelled from Cardiff, while Judith and her entourage had travelled from Birmingham so we had agreed to rendez-vous at the central station. As we settled in the café for a drink I revealed the Concita ‘beards’ I had painstakingly fashioned out of felt and elastic. As we donned them, Judith visibly relaxed and a look of pride flickered in her face, she had done it, she’d passed the magic of Eurovision on to the next generation – she could see that we really ‘got it’ and that we would add to and not detract from the fun she had planned for the weekend.

Steffan, Rhys and I shared a beautifully boho and impossibly stylish flat rented to us by Andreas a mysterious musician and coffee shop owner in the XXX area of Copenhagen. Due to the prohibitive prices of eating out we dined on the glamourous fare of humungous sweet and sticky Danish Pastries, Pizzas and Prosecco from the strategically placed Netto across the road and Steffan’s Place hotdogs (we loved the name for obvious reasons!)- modest pickings but honestly some of the best tasting food we’d ever eaten. The weekend was everything we had hoped, fuelled by cheap Prosecco it was a blur of excitement, fabulous outfits, fantastic entertainment, stylish surroundings, bicycles and fizz. In terms of Eurovision itself we had bagged a bargain by winning tickets to the ‘Jury Final’ which was every bit as good as the final. Judith, naturally had tickets to the Semi-final, the Jury Final AND the real bonafide Final, like I said, she’s a pro. So while she disappeared of to the main event in a cloud of Union Jacks, the rest of us spent Final night in a bar in central Copenhagen due to the drizzle which put us off watching it on the official Eurovision screens. We couldn’t have hoped for a better venue – the atmosphere steadily built from a gentle buzz to a glorious crescendo as the final went on and a fabulous live band played, while the votes were counted.

It was then that the magic happened, vote after vote after vote rolled in for Concita. Country after country declared their acceptance and appreciation with two small words – ‘douze points’. In that moment when she raised the trophy above her head, Concita’s victory summed up everything that makes me proud to call myself European. In that moment, we proved ourselves to be a continent of peace, tolerance, acceptance, and togetherness. What a sharp contrast to the dark and depressing lurch to the right the following week in the Euro-elections. By passing on her passion and giving us permission to partake Judith had allowed us to experience the beauty that is a contest that manages to combine the the quirky, the original, the beautiful and the downright silly and celebrates every single moment of it. Eurovision is about being yourself and being proud of that. It is about friendship and fun and laughter. So thank you Judith, the torch has well and truly been lit for us, the next generation…. See you all in Vienna!

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Running Spots

This morning's run was a beaut! The temperature was just right, sharp but fresh which helped to blow the cobwebs away and meant I started the day fresh and energised. Spotted:

• Frothy blossom on stumpy trees like mini jets d'eaux bubbling from the earth
• Candyfloss pink blossom peeking out from amongst their still leafless neighbours
• Tulip buds like bullets waiting to explode into colour
• Bonbon colored hyacinths jostling in a flower bed
• An abandoned tiny hat and coat looking forlorn on a bench
• Two ladies marching purposively with their doppelgänger dogs
• Brand new sparkling red asphalt under the swings waiting for the squeals and scuffs of sky high swinging!

Wonder I will see next time?!

Running Spots

One of the things that I want to do with this blog is shamelessly steal an idea from a friend of mine who records all of the interesting things he sees while running. He has inspired me to really open my eyes while running and rather than battling my own motivation to get out to run, I've started to look forward to the interesting and intriguing things you spot when in your own bubble of physical exertion and high tempo music.

I started running about 2 years ago to combat stress and as a physical counterbalance to the noise in my head that comes from a job that relies on using and stretching my brain to do things it often isn't ready for! I honestly believe I have succeeded in forming a habit that will stay with me for a long time. My mantra is 'you never, ever, regret a run'. My new habit is an achievement in itself as a former excercise-phobe. That said, I still only run around twice a week and I don't run with any discipline, mostly for a quick 20 mins or 3k - basically until I get bored!

Husband and I therefore decided today that we will sign up for the Cardiff Half Marathon! V exciting. This means a lot more discipline and training, but also a lot more runs!

So let's start with today. Today was one of those perfect runs. Or so I thought; cloudless blue sky, lovely breeze and that feeling that comes from basking your sun-starved face in the warm spring rays. But the whole thing nearly went awry. My new phone has not yet synced my Spotify playlist - so 5 mins into my run it stopped playing ball! A run without music is uninmaginable, especially in such rare perfect conditions. My heart sinking, I desperately scanned my phone knowing I hadn't yet had time to sync to itunes either. But, what can I say, Kylie saved the day. I'd downloaded her new track 'Into the Blue' on a whim last night. Good old Kylie on repeat was the perfect soundtrack for a perfect blue sky run.

Spotted; couples lounging on blankets in the park, a smiling family sharing a sunday joke and a flask of something yummy and hot, a giant dog that lept up to almost knock me over when saying hello, perfect magnolia blossom against an azure sky.

 

Bonjour et Bienvenue

I have been thinking about starting a blog for a while. I've dipped my toe in the vast blogging waters a couple of times. Set up an account and username but have invariably retreated from full blog commitment due to downright laziness, a perception of a lack of time, apprehension and basically not feeling entirely 'ready'.  Over recent months I have become a bit blog obsessed. Following other people's blogs has become one of my favoured distractions and has completely replaced my previous magazine fetish. Blogs are so much better, personal and never ending!

The more blogs I read, the more I seem to have ideas for my own posts, millions of little seeds of ideas bursting for me to put them down somewhere for others to see. My blog will be a hotchpotch of things I love, think and do with no particular organising principle! I hope it will help with a general commitment and interest in being more mindful that I have developed in recent months. A desire to slow down and take note of all of the wonderful, marvellous and extraordinary things that an ordinary day can bring; if you just slow down enough to see them.

So, I will blog about crafting, cooking, reading, running, travelling, all things French and anything else that springs to mind or floats my boat. It will be an outlet for my love of writing and hopefully a magnet for my love of people and learning about their lives.

Enjoy!