As an opening gambit to this week’s experiment I have to get a few things off my chest. Firstly because of Armistice day – I wanted to talk about the fact that I’ve noticed with every year I live I've become more aware of the sacrifice of the men and women who fought and lost their lives so that I can live my life as I do now with the luxury of being able to walk around freely and write what I notice down in a little notebook. The symbolism of the poppy has greater meaning, and when the fire alarm rang at 11am on Friday in Uni, I totally immersed myself into thoughts of an Uncle who I didn’t get to know, who died in jungle in Burma in WWII and my Taid who was shot in shoulder in WW1 who came home recuperated and was sent back and who hid under a piece of tin sheeting for FOUR days as he was surrounded and still returned home once again, if he hadn’t made it, mam wouldn’t have been born and neither would I or Cai.. My heart breaks when I think of those mothers, wives and sisters, and girlfriends who lost brave men who never came back. A friend of mine was telling me the other day that her parents had visited a small village in France where the impact of the war had been so great that everyday they play the ‘Last Post’ at 11 o’clock and everyday people gather in the small square to remember. The thought of this gives me prickles on the back of my neck. As the years go on and generations die out, I’m afraid people will forget these sacrifices, It’s because of these people I’m allowed to live my life as I do today – so from the bottom of my heart I thank you and may we never forget about you and I will always wear my poppy with pride.

Secondly we’ve had a difficult few days in our house, my Cai and me. On Wednesday night between washing the supper dishes and shoving another load in the washing machine he came behind me and blurted out a health problem he’d had for a while but didn’t feel able to tell me, a lump, a strange one. We both understood the implication of what he was saying, I was trying to balance being reassuring, and not running out of the house screaming. I made him a doctors appointment first thing the next day and we had a fearful wait. They don’t think its sinister, I felt weak with relief and the worry I had been holding in for 12 hours came out in sobs. I don’t consider myself religious but that day I went to our little village church and I wept and thanked and made promises basically because I had to do something, anything but that, make me ill but not that. We don’t know where the next hand grenade will come from and explode into our lives, so this week’s experiment had even more meaning for me. I made coffee in my blue coffee pot, I savoured the smell and taste, we ate bakewell tarts on a plate by the fire. The grilled feta I had was salty and memorable. I cherished the feeling of B’s warm embrace and he pulled me to him before he left for work and the way my head fits perfectly into his shoulder. Cai treated us to a banquet takeaway from the new Chinese which has opened in our town and I just enjoyed our closeness and I’m just loving him that little bit more. As I walked back from the church there was a weird half rainbow just over the field near our house and I caught my breath and made my thanks to whatever greater good is out there. The only upside of this week was that I didn’t have time to dwell on the Trump business and what it would mean for us. Perspective is a valuable thing. So yes, buy that dress, wear some red lipstick, don’t keep your best perfume/knickers/ scarf for special occasions, crunch those leaves, be a bit later for work, read that chapter, have that bath, sing along to that song on the radio, cuddle your family and cherish each moment with each other. And, Chris one last thing, thanks to Wake up I don't need that little notebook to write these things down to remember them, I'm walking around, noticing things on a daily basis as a full convert to daily mindfulness and I'm wide awake. X