I’m fairly certain we just turned the corner into 2014 but the scene outside my window – tall grasses, elderflowers in full bloom, skirts and ice cream cones – suggests otherwise.
Time is tricky that way. It insidiously turns from innocent seconds merrily ticking away on the clock to days to weeks to months and before you know it, the damn elderflowers are in bloom and you must concede that it’s time to push those frosty photos of snow-capped mountains further down the blog page.
You’ll be glad to know that I haven’t evaporated into a puff of crack smoke (reference: I walked past a woman the other morning, 11:00am, shouting into her mobile phone “You got into the crack di’n’t you? I knows you did“, as if she’d caught a small child with their hand in the cookie jar). I’m happy to say that I did not get into the crack but I have been hooked on a whole lot of Instagram lately. Because the thing, you see, is that when you feel like you’ve lost all creativity and you’re not to ever find it again (cue dramatic sigh and hand to brow), Instagram in the perfect bite sized creative tool for the person on the go. Take a shot, post it, carry on, repeat.
The rest of my life has consisted of worrying about, applying for and obtaining my indefinite leave to remain in the UK. Yay me! So then, I decided to celebrate by registering for Tough Mudder. The British Boy and I spent six crazy weeks training for the challenge, which touts itself as the toughest event on the planet but anyone can tell you the toughest event on the planet is renovating a home with three other parties. That, and giving birth (so I’ve been told). So this was small potatoes by comparison. It was definitely muddy though. I can attest to that. And great fun. But so is sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine, eating popcorn and watching bad TV. Given the choice again, I might choose the latter.
Other than that, I’ve taken up meditation in earnest using Headspace (brilliant!) and I also attended my very first Instameet this weekend (equally brilliant) where I met a bunch of other Instagram addicts who don’t think it’s weird to take photos of feet and jump in the air at random places (inside Tate Britain for instance) because we be whack like that, kids!
So, in summary. I’m alive. I’m not on crack. I’m now a permanent resident of the UK. I survived this. We haven’t begun renos on the house. I’m working on being all zen and shit. And, judging by the photos above, life has been pretty damn colourful the past couple months.
What have YOU been up to?
P.S. I did recently compile some film photos for the lovely Naomi, which you can view here.