Tuesday, 29 October 2019


It's the end of the school day.

I'm keeping an ear out for the Amazon delivery guy, who's bringing the garden tray I have on order, for standing the de-humidifier in. That's in case the duct gets blocked and it overflows, a small but significant malfunction that can ruin a floor even worse than damp can ruin the plaster on the wall.

I've been cold and a bit dizzy today because I've been fasting — an excellent way to improve the health of just about every bit of you. I meant to do one more day and make it three, but I got woozy and cold and couldn't concentrate, so I packed it in after 48 hours.

I've had some nuts and seaweed and bone broth, and I have some fish de-frosting for my supper. I stole some of Tony's milk and made myself a cup of Earl Grey tea, and now I feel contented and more present and able to think straight again. I feel good.

I'm sitting on my comfy bed, and I put the central heating on for an hour because the days are chill now. I have this really snuggly duvet in a bright multicoloured cover that I love. It's cosy here.

Because of listening out for the Amazon delivery I paid more attention than sometimes to the sounds of the street. So I noticed my neighbour coming home in her car, bringing her kids in from school. I saw them come in, heard the door slam behind them, heard them going up the stairs to their rooms.

All that came together in my mind, and I thought — we have so much to be grateful for. Just in this moment —

  • Excellent information about health and selfcare on the internet, all for free.
  • Really nutritious food.
  • The chance to get warm and stay dry.
  • A home to go to at the end of the day.
  • Family to come and fetch us, and a car to bring us home.
  • Mail order for items the shops near us don't stock.
  • A cup of tea — if you are English this is a life essential.
  • A bed to curl up in.
  • A computer to communicate with friends all over the world.
Very soon it'll be the end of the work day, and the next door I hear open and shut will be our own, as this household begins to come home one by one.

We can watch the quiz programmes together on the telly, and catch up on the programme about the RNLI that we missed on Tuesday because we were watching the Bake Off. It'll feel friendly and cheerful, because it always does.

In a world where there are people living in war zones and tents, on doorsteps and in back alleys, people enslaved to a drug habit that's killing them, people trafficked into slavery and taken from their homes, people who are miserable and lonely and afraid — I am so very, very blessed. My heart gives thanks for the peace and contentment of my life, for the chance to live the way I want to and pass my days in peace. I have so much, and I am so grateful.

And there's the front door now. My family coming home.


Sian said...

Hello Pen, thank you so much for this, it was much needed especially today when I'm (in the UK) trying to stay calm in the midst of Brexit and a possible snap election on top of everything else and not managing very well. To focus on things closer to home that are good and gratitude in general would be a much better path for my mind, thank you for reminding me, Sian x

Bean said...

thankfully for me Home is My MOST FAVORITE place to be :)


Pen Wilcock said...

Hello, Sian — waving! The political comedy of errors is beyond me. I am determined, in this world of sorrow and destruction, not to miss the wonder. What will be will be, but for sure it would be a sadness to have missed the quiet beauty of the dawn or the nightingale high on a lamppost singing its heart out in the darkening shadows, because of worrying over the lunatics in Westminster.

Hi Bean — yep; me too.

Sandra Ann said...

Always weaving a beautiful tale from the fabric of the mundane :-) Waving at you dear friend and thank you for sharing xx

Pen Wilcock said...

Right back at ya, my friend! I always look out for your blog posts, you know, and love reading them; I just can't seem to make my comments stick, but I never miss them. x

Rebecca said...

Me, too.

greta said...

waving in sympathy to all of you across the pond. political chaos is on the menu every day here in the states. it does get wearing, doesn't it? that's why the lovely peace and quiet of home is so vital. that, and a grateful heart for tender mercies. wishing you all peace . . . .

Julie B. said...

Sandra Ann said it perfectly. xoxo

Sandra Ann said...

Aw thank you! Is there something wrong with my comments page? Hope you are not having to jump through a firewall or some other equally ridiculous shenanigans 😜😂

Pen Wilcock said...

Hi Rebecca! :0)

Hi Greta — I can't think why I feel so cheerful with the media folk jostling to tell me the word is going to hell in a handcart, but I do. I am "a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars. And whether or not it is clear to me, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."

Hi Julie B! Everything okay? Did you have a honeymoon? I keep checking your blog in hope of photos — but thanks so much for the ones you sent!

Hi San — in my Invisibility Cloak I can jump through anything, but I do have this problem with a few blogs — yours, Kat's, Beth's and Rebecca's. I post the comment and it all seems to go okay — then it just vanishes into the ether. But I am a loyal lurker at least.

Waving to you, friends! xx