There are some slices of lime left in the fridge, from a meal we cooked over the weekend. Pity to waste them so I dropped them into a large mug, sprinkled some sea salt and poured hot water over it. A quick stir, and suddenly I have a refreshing, warming drink. Something simple to nourish the soul. Waste not, be well.
Start the morning well and we start our day well. The rest of the day may or may not go smoothly, it may or may not be within our control, but our mornings? We can control our first few minutes, our first hour of the day, and it feels like a small victory already. And what is a good life, after all, than a series of small victories to remind us how awesome everything can be?
It’s easy to slip up. To reach for another slice of cake we know we shouldn’t take, to grab another drink at the party, to answer a loved one gruffly when you promised yourself you’d be nicer this time. But we fall into our usual bad habits, yet again. We tell ourselves we’ll change and that we’ll treat others and ourselves better next time. Never again, we say. One day, never again. Between another “yet again” and that hoped-for “never again”? Let us not forget…Continue Reading “Yet again”
We all have bad hair days. This could be literal (“Why does your hair look like it ate an entire porcupine?”) to not so literal (“Everything is just shit today.”) or it could be both, which is absolutely the worst. This is probably why in a day and age where quick-cut hair kiosks are everywhere — fast and cheap being their key proposition — good old barbershops still survive. Not only do you get a shaved-to-perfection fade, a good barber is there to listen and…Continue Reading “Good hair days”
The moments of happiness are so fleeting. Those of sadness always seem to last longer. Yet they both pass in time. There is only now. There is only this moment, good or bad. And then it is gone, too.
Spend enough time at different cafés, especially those of the independent persuasion, and you’ll learn to identify them with only your ears. This one plays bebop jazz, that one Icelandic rock. Each café — and everyone, really — is just a little bit different and that’s a fine thing.
Ticking items off a checklist. Completing one task after another, until you reach the last one and you realise it’s all done. And it’s not quite the end of day yet, even. Is there a better feeling?