Reflections on a midlife career junction

 "You should do this course," a new friend told me as I explained why I was currently signing on and dropping out. I had left my job in a haze of burnout and a deepening sense that I was no longer on the correct life path. But what was the right path? I no longer felt like I knew where I even wanted to go, and if I didn't know that - how could I move forward? I was stuck at a crossroads with no signposts. 

"Yeah, maybe..." I replied uncommitted, and filed it away somewhere in my subconscious. 

The Past

I took the summer off to write, breathe, and reset. I would start worrying about next steps when the kids went back to school. And what a joy that was. As soon as I logged out of my work accounts, I felt immediate relief and a surge of happiness. But what came next was almost more important. Over the summer I lost the cynicism that had recently taken hold of me. I reconnected with friends and family, spent quality time with my mother whose door I had been racing in and out of for months, travelled to London to visit my sister, went on a family holiday, swam, read, walked and reconnected with contentment and a love of life. 

In short - I was given the gift of time to come back to myself. 

And then September crept in and I realised I needed to find work. But where to start? I trawled employment websites and LinkedIn. I paid for a career consultant workshop. I asked anyone and everyone for advice. And I made an appointment with an Adult Career Guidance specialist through the unemployment office. 

I thought I was doing a box-ticking exercise, but the session was more like therapy. She asked difficult questions and made suggestions I hadn't contemplated. I still didn't know what I wanted, but she gave me things to think about. 

"I'm thinking of doing this course.." I said at the end. Innovation, Creativity and Entrepreneurship at the Innovation Academy in UCD. It was the same course my friend had mentioned months ago. 

"Good choice," she said. "I was looking at that one myself".

And so I sent through my application. If I got accepted I would do it. And if I didn't then so what? No big loss. 

Little did I know how untrue that was!

The Present

I started the course the next month. A Level 9 packed into three months of intensive hands-on projects. 

Within the first week, I was lying on the cold grass in my garden in a floral dress with flowers scattered over me, directing an unamused teen to take photos of me as I recreated a famous painting to send in to the class. 

I had not been expecting this. 

My class was made up of just over thirty unique and interesting people - each with one thing in common - we were at a junction in our lives and we were looking for direction. There were young professionals who had fled the war in the Ukraine, there were techy start up founders, there were film directors and medical professionals. Every industry, age and personality represented in a wonderful mix of diversity and humanity. 

Over the next three months we threw ourselves into the challenge, opened ourselves up, and bonded into a formidable tribe. We learned by doing. Design Thinking, Leadership, Teamwork, Business - so much packed into sometimes wonderful, sometimes frustrating, but always inspirational days. 

I grew in confidence, learning that I had valuable skills to offer. I wasn't trapped anymore. If I couldn't find a job I wanted, then I could create one. The power of entrepreneurship. 

From that moment, I applied only for roles that I knew were aligned with my core values and loves. 

When I got an interview for a Writer in Residence position at a prestigious university I thought this was it. This was the one I had been waiting for. I spent all weekend prepping for it. I reached out to other people who worked there to get information about the interview process. I talked to other people with the same role in different universities to get a feel for the position. I wrote out and recited answers to every conceivable question I could think of. I did practice interviews with myself on zoom and then with one of my classmates. I was ready for this. 

The interview went well and I crossed my fingers and toes, checking email updates multiple times daily. And then it came. We're sorry, you were not successful. 

The feelings of not being good enough crept in. It hurt. I licked my wounds for the rest of the day, came to terms with it, and by the next morning had put it behind me. There were lots of positives to take from the experience. Not least how willing people had been to help me. 

The Future

Hot on the heels of this news came two more job applications. The first for an NGO with a fantastic remit and a job description that fit like a glove. The second - a contract with the biggest publisher on the planet. I threw my hat in the ring for both and got two interviews. 

The preparation this time round was easier. I knew the ropes. Again, I gathered help where I needed it - a valuable lesson that I had learned was that I didn't have to do everything alone. And again - everyone I reached out to couldn't have been more supportive. 

A second interview for one and a job offer for the other quickly followed. Suddenly I had options. Not only were two jobs potentially on the table - I had my own business idea formed from my course and ready to progress. 

I thought and talked and walked and wondered, and then accepted the offer that was on the table. It wasn't forever, but this 6-month contract would give me new skills, open doors and fill my soul. 

Over the past months the fear of the future had magically dissipated, and my decision felt right. 

I start as Publicity Manager with Penguin Random House in January, just after my course completes. 

The timing is perfect. The role, a dream. The company unparalleled. 

I'm moving forward again, and whatever this may bring, I am ready for my next chapter. 

Career junctions can be scary, but in midlife especially so. However, our skills and experience are hard-earned and we have so much to offer. We just need to believe in ourselves more. 

As one of our guest lecturers told us - "Always dream one size bigger". 

That's one lesson I will not forget. 

5 Unexpected Benefits Of Giving Up Alcohol

Have you ever considered giving up alcohol? Or even just taking a break?

I never expected to be a non-drinker. I fell into it, accidentally. It was only meant to be for 30 days, but here I am over four years later – happier, healthier, calmer, more productive – all thanks to not drinking.

I wasn’t a problem drinker. I wasn’t an alcoholic. I was like most people in Ireland who drink – it was just part of the lifestyle that we all partook in. A bottle of wine at home on a Friday night, dinner and drinks with friends (when we were allowed to do such things). A bottle of cold beer on a sunny day to enhance the moment, a glass of champagne to mark a celebration, something stronger to get through the tough days.

It was always there – good times, bad times, a social elixir, a stress reducer.

I thought giving up alcohol would be all about what I was losing out on – but in fact it turned out to be about what I gained. Here are just some of things giving up alcohol gifted me:

1. Energy

Within two weeks my energy levels soared. I painted the house, completed a diploma, ran my fastest 10k ever. I had so much extra energy, I didn’t know what to do with it all. In the past two years I have run a marathon and written two books – not drinking is a serious superpower!

2. Less anxiety

While many of us use alcohol to relieve stress and anxiety, it actually only works as a pause button. In fact, alcohol often increases the stress and anxiety the next day, leading to a vicious circle. Without alcohol in my system, my anxiety reduced and I was able to take on whatever life threw at me.

3. Better parenting

With more energy, added patience and no hangovers I was more able to dedicate more of myself to my kids. I became a calmer, more patient and more organised mum. Far from perfect, but definitely better!

4. Time

It’s surprising the amount of time we dedicate to drink – whether its hours in the pub (remember that?), nights in front of the TV, or mornings feeling the worse for wear – so many hours get lost to drinking that we don’t even notice. For someone who was constantly chasing their tail, this was a huge gift – time was given back to me in spades.

5. Confidence.

I thought not drinking would knock my confidence rather than increase it. But once I learned who I was in a social situation without a drink in my hand to boost me, a quiet confidence grew in me.

The same was true about life in general – I learned that I am able to take head on anything that life throws at me … and it’s a good feeling.

Other benefits included brighter eyes, better skin, deeper relationships, increased clarity of mind, more money and more excitement for the future.

Most of us spend almost all of our adult lives drinking without really questioning it. But what if giving up was the best thing you ever did? You won’t know until you try of course. Giving over just 30 days out of the 60+ years of our lives that we spend drinking seems like it’s worth a try to me. If you're sober curious or want to take a break from alcohol for awhile to see the impact it has on your life - The Accidental Soberista is a good place to start!

Pop over to Amazon see the rest of the reviews and grab yourself a copy! 

The Hippie Files

There's magic in the air.

Everywhere you look there is a new shamanic master at work - from the ubiqutous yoga instructor to the more obscure guided ayahuasca journey and everything in between.

I may be mistaken of course. It could be that I've fallen down a rabbit hole of crystal proportions, but it seems like there is a search on. We've lost our religion, we've thrown ourselves into work, consumerism and technology - and we've suddenly realised that something is very much amiss.
We've lost connection. With ourselves, with others, with nature, with the meaning of life and with

The Big Questions.

If priests and elders no longer the people we look to for guidance  - where do we find it?

I first dipped my henna painted toe into the world of hippiedom in my twenties. Not content with a yoga class down the road I went straight to the source instead: Byron Bay in Australia. Home of the Hippie and magnet of alternative wanderers. I set up camp with a raggle taggle crew gathered from various parts of Europe, and we immersed ourselves in fire twirling loveliness. We wore beads in our hair and walked barefoot everywhere for months on end. We thought we had all the answers and life was so much simpler. It was wonderful and I wouldn't change the experience for anything (which is fortunate as I traded a large part of my financial future for it....) but really I was caught up in the 'alternativeness' of it all, not the soulful deep dive of the Self that I'd be seeking now.

But lately I've been doing just that. Down the mystical rabbit hole I mentioned. I've been Yin Yoga-ed, floated off on guided meditations, explored crystal healing, and danced to mother cacao in a ceremony that was part Sharon Horgan hidden camera sitcom, part heart opening ceremonial celebration... (I'll come back to you on that one).

The thing is - once you find yourself at one of these happenings, a whole world of other ones come to light - each more strange or beautiful or intriguing than the next.

So if you're interested in coming along on a hippie trail to find out what some of these weird and wonderful events and therapies are all about then jump aboard.  First up will be Soul Society's Crystal Meditation evenings.

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TRUST THE NIGGLE. Sometimes you have to work out whether you don't want to do The Thing because it's hard, or because it just isn't sitting right with you. But either way, it's always worth exploring that niggle. . . . #lifelessons #angelcards #ipbig #epig #soulsociety #wellness

A post shared by Kate Gunn (@katetakes5) on Jan 17, 2020 at 11:46am PST

Then I might even be brave enough to share that cacoa experience. Well maybe...

Listography - Top 5 moments I never want to forget

Listography was a weekly linky I used to run back when blogging was blogging and we all lived in a cardboard box etc, etc. I used to love writing the posts and reading everyone else's entries, but it became harder and harder to think up topics and find the time, so I ditched it. But not before Top 5  decisions / places / books / mugs / albums / inventions / life lessons and many, many more lists were compiled.

Anyway, in a fit of nostalgia for the old times I thought I'd dip my toe back in familiar waters and cover off Top 5 Moments I Never Want to Forget. Feel free to join in. It's good to remember the good stuff and note them down for when you're old and senile (any day now...)

Top 5 Moments I Never Want to Forget


1. The Doll's House
My Dad spent months making it. Sawing and sanding and painting in the yard. The walls were white and the roof shined a glossy red. 'It's for the poor children' he told me. I was happy for them, but it didn't stop me being a little jealous. Jealous of the time he spent on it as much as the house itself.

On Christmas morning he stood quietly by, watching me open my own gift. As the paper was ripped off there stood the dolls house. My dolls house. I cried. 'What about the poor children?' I asked. He promised he had sent them something else, but his face showed a strange mixture of disappointment and pride. The Doll's House still sits in my mother's house. Forty years old and still reminding me of how loved I was.

2. Sea swimming in Byron Bay
I met a group of strangers and we became friends. We lazed around under giant palm trees and twirled fire under the stars. One day we were bored, looking for something to occupy the long hours of dreaming. We massaged henna into each others hair and then went running into the sea. Young and wild and free. I want to always remember that simple joy.

3. The births of my children.
Ok the first was appalling, but it's still the one that made me a mother. The other two were much easier. Birthing balls and legal highs. I drew the line at Recue Remedy mid-labour though.
'I thought you were going to hit me' confessed the midwife who had offered it to me. Each one was very different and very special.

4. My First Triathlon
The lead-in happened so quickly I didn't even realise what I was doing. Before I could even finish my 'Do you think I could do a triathlon', my brother had chucked me in at the deep end with minimal training and maximum possibility of humiliation. But I did it, and that feeling of accomplishment has helped me achieve lots of other goals over the following years.

5. The Book
My three life goals since I was very young and knew no better were (i) to become a mother, (ii) to run a marathon and (iii) to write a book.
The moment I received that letter telling me I had a publisher was a mixture of joy, pride, fear and awe. The book Untying the Knot comes out next week and I still feel of all of those things.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Untying-Knot-Consciously-Uncouple-World/dp/1786050684

(And yes - I also signed up to the Dublin Marathon 2019 - might as well make it a hat trick).

So there's five.  I'm sure I've missed out some spectacularly obvious moments - but the ones that jump into your head with their arms frantically waving are usually the ones to go for. Pick me! Pick me!

What are yours?

Snapshot - Nov 18

How do you get your blog back up and running when there is tumbleweed rolling through the cobwebs? With a snapshot of course.

Here's what happening Chez Kate at the moment...

Listening to:

Courtney Barnett & Idles - both in the car and at their live gigs.

Idles are immense. Turn it up loud and cover the kids ears.



Courtney is my new girl crush - vying for top spot with Wolf Alice - it's hard to choose...

In other music news I've been asked to choose 7 songs that mean something to me for an upcoming podcast interview (more to come on that). Finding this immensely difficult. 17 might be more achievable. Maybe. 

Watching:

Trust. About the John Paul Getty Jr kidnapping. Started brilliantly, beginning to get a little drawn out mid-way through.

Reading:

All the memoirs.

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To be a writer I was told that I needed to do two things: 1. Read every day 2. Write every day This year I've done both, stockpiling my bookshelves with #memoirs and #selfhelpbooks to inspire my ramblings. These are some of the best, all sitting proudly on my overflowing bookshelf. My own book is now almost ready to greet the world. A deeply personal guide to amicable separation - writing my guts out as my friend @nickieohara would say. Hopefully it won't look too out of place among their greatness when the time comes. 🙈 . . . #bookstagram #books #bookshelf #bookstagrammer #vivalbertine #cherylstrayed #eatpraylove #singlemum #separation #ipbig #epig #irishbloggger #mumblogger #authorsofinstagram #amreading #amwriting

A post shared by Kate Gunn (@katetakes5) on Nov 9, 2018 at 1:24pm PST

This Is Going To Hurt was eye openingly terrifying. I'm so glad I've had my babies already. (And pray that none of them ever wants to become a doctor.)

Just started People Like Me. Lynn Ruane is a force. Her interviews and recent podcast won me over so looking forward to finding out how she forged her way from drop out to Irish hero.

Looking forward to:

Christmas. Not one present bought and no money to buy them with, but it always works out in the end (right??!)

Wearing:

Boots again - hurrah!

Eating:

Vegetables. I've accidentally turned vegetarian again. Not sure how that happened...

Working on:

Final edits of my book. Can't believe that's actually true. Prepare to be bombarded in the coming months. (Apologies in advance).

Frustrated by:

Small children. Particularly the male variety.

Enjoying:

Teaching the kids how to swim. Lessons are expensive and fairly rubbish, so I committed to taking them once a week myself. 6 weeks in and the progress is immense. We are all very proud of each other. I did a good thing.

Not enjoying:

Not a lot to add here. I'm pretty damn lucky.

How to be healthy on a budget

I went to see Russel Brand record his Podcast 'Under the Skin' in a local venue this week. He was interviewing The Happy Pear on all thing veg related. They all talked about keeping true to their beliefs, choosing time with family over fame and fortune, and making healthy choices over easy ones. There was lots of inspiring stuff discussed. But the one question that I felt didn't really get answered was how to be healthy when you didn't grow up in an affluent area, or weren't blessed with the option of choices, or are just so bogged down in life that cooking from scratch and gym classes on a Wednesday morning just aren't going to happen.

So what about all the people who want to be healthy but are too knackered and / or broke to try?

I pondered on it for a few days and came up with a plan. Lots of this worked for me - although I have to caveat that by saying I grew up in the same affluent area, was lucky enough to have had a great upbringing and have always had amazing support along the way. So maybe I should just shut up...

What I'm aiming for here is inspiration rather than trumpet blowing. I often miss the mark though so apologies in advance.


3 Step plan for how to be healthy on a budget.

1. Give up drink. 
There I said it. Might as well get it out of the way early. I know what you're thinking, but all I can honestly say is that I never, ever, ever thought I would be someone who says 'I don't drink'. You can read more about how I fell into it here and here - but don't discount it without considering it. The health (and mental health) benefits are so massively gigantic that they need their own blog post - or book. Plus you have buckets more energy - which allows you to move on to step two.
Cost: Minus - you actually MAKE money doing this one.


2. Exercise.
Now that you're not feeling so sluggish you can think about starting to move more. What do you do with all those early mornings and extra energy? Go running. It's quick, easy, accessible and doesn't cost a penny. I used all the excuses in the book to get out of this one in the early days - too tired, old trainers, too dark, too cold, too embarrassing, no one to mind the kids... but (sorry) there's always a way. Find it. Do it. You never know where it will lead. I started with an out of breath, sweaty 1k jog around the block and am now doing triathlons. (Only one a year but it still counts!). Plus exercise gives you energy - so if you can just push through that knackered phase you'll really start to notice the difference.
Cost: Free

3. Go (semi) veggie
Your body is now a temple. You're half way to healthy and you are actually starting to crave better food. This is what I call the virtuous cycle - you've turned the corner. The extra time and energy from step one brought you to step two, and step two has pushed you on to step three. And step three reinforces step one and two and you're now merrily hop, skipping and jumping down the street high fiving everyone you meet. Your friends will hate you.

This step is where the budgeting bit gets trickier because processed food is generally cheaper than fresh. But by ditching meat and substituting frozen veg and pulses it's very doable. (Now it's the kids' turn to hate you).  And of course you have all that extra money jangling in your pockets from step one.
Meat-free is also much better for your body - not to mention the planet. There are tonnes to sites and sources full of budget friendly vegetarian recipes - even trying out a couple a week will make a difference.
Cost: Minimal

And that's it! New, improved, happier, healthier you.

Easy as 1, 2, 3.  Now you just have to start. Give it 30 days and see what happens - it could just change your life. And no sign up fees.

One word 2018

It's that time of the year again, time to not make resolutions but to review the year that has passed, and choose a new word to live by for the year ahead. A word that brings you back to what you are looking for when you are a little bit lost. A word that inspires you when you are tired. A word that helps guide your decisions when confusion reigns.

I'm not usually great at keeping things going past the good idea phase. I like to think of myself as the creative type - excited by new shiny things as they are dreamed up or pass by my eyeline. 'Oh look a good idea! Quick grab it before it disappears!'' I plan to hold on to the shiny new good idea and change my life with it, but then a new one comes along and, well, I can't hold on to them all can I? So I'll just let go of this old not-so-shiny-anymore one and grab the new one. Quick, before it disappears...

The One Word movement however has stayed shiny. This is my forth year doing it and all I can say is - it works for me.

In 2015, my first year, I chose Fresh. In 2016 it was Depth. Last year my word was Goals. I had some big ones that I wanted to stop putting on the long finger and just really steam roll through. My word was a way of reminding myself of the big picture throughout the year.

So how did I fair?

My big goals were to finish my book, start a pension, do a triathlon and be more patient with my children.

I made huge headway with my book. I got excited about it, getting up early to write and living vast chunks of time with the story rolling around in my head. I got the belief back - even to the point of sending it on to a few trusted pairs of eyes and a single publisher. But then I stumbled again. I know it's not right yet and I'm not sure how to fix it. With that in mind I've just signed up to a big scary 8 week course with the Irish Writers Centre. Perhaps this time next year I'll be checking off the goal that at times seems an immense impossibility and at others seems almost within touching distance.

First full manuscript print out. Ready to start making notes! #writing #goals #oneword #writersofinstagram #writerscorner #amwriting #ipbig #epig

A post shared by Kate Gunn (@katetakes5) on Mar 23, 2017 at 9:57am PDT

I completed my One Year No Beer. I also wrote an article about the early days, appeared on the radio to discuss it and now may never drink again. I know.

I started a pension with the money I saved by giving up drink. Rock n' Roll.

I completed the Dublin City Triathlon and came 4th in my (aul one) age group. (I think there were more than 4 of us...). My one word helped me through many a training session.

In full on exercise mode at the moment. Triathlon in 2 weeks. Fear is a great motivator! 11k run followed by dip in the sea this morning 💪

A post shared by Kate Gunn (@katetakes5) on Aug 12, 2017 at 1:54am PDT

I went sunrise swimming, and even dragged the kids along some mornings.

Almost didn't get out of bed for this one, but very glad I did. Glorious sunrise this morning. Don't tell mum I went swimming with a cold.. 🤒 #dtm #naturesfilter #sunrise #greystones #swimrise #epig #ipbig #seaswimming

A post shared by Kate Gunn (@katetakes5) on Aug 25, 2017 at 11:11pm PDT

I did at least one sea swim every month for the year.

Start as you mean to go on they say. Novel writing, short run and sea swim all completed by 9am. That'll do for today. #goals #seaswimming #winterswimming #roadrunning #greatoutdoors #ipbig #epig

A post shared by Kate Gunn (@katetakes5) on Jan 4, 2017 at 1:48am PST

Rounded off a year of monthly sea swims this morning. 'Enjoy the solstice!' a man called as I braved the waters. What a day to choose to finish off 2017 - couldn't have planned it better if I tried. (And yes it was cold. Like thousands of tiny daggers piercing my icy red skin). ❄️ . . . . #wintersolstice #ireland #seaswimming #pblogger #nature #greatoutdoors #instagood #ipbig #epig #magicmomentsadvent #irishblogger #winter2017 #goals

A post shared by Kate Gunn (@katetakes5) on Dec 21, 2017 at 1:54am PST

And then there's the patience thing. I'd like to think I improved. I certainly learned a lot this year about dealing with children's ever changing emotional needs. How listening, supporting, working through issues together helps empower them. And how labelling a child never, ever helps. I also got a big fat healthy reminder that it is how we react to our children's emotions that is the key to really helping them. We've all been there. They shout at you. You shout back. They scream louder. You explode. When all along if you'd taken the time to find out where the anger was coming from and talk it out with them you both could have learned something. I'm not saying it's easy - especially in the heat of the moment. But recent weeks have taught me that lots of extra love and positive reinforcement works wonders on behaviour and household happiness. More of that this year please.

So on to 2018 and my word, which this year is Mind. 

I've spent a lot of this year exploring the power of the mind, and the more I read and discover the more I know it's the answer to everything. And there is so much to learn. From teaching your kids the life skills of resilience and grit, to opening yourself up to the power of the universe - everything stems from your brain.

I've been reading up on neuroplasticity - which basically is the science of rewiring your brain. The good news is that no, you are not born that way. You can train your brain to grow new neurons, build new pathways, become compassionate or grateful or happier - or even more patient. Wow.

Meditation also looms large in my plans. Taking time out each day to allow the subconscious space to breathe and speak to you. I'm going to upgrade my current free app to a paid version which hopefully will make me do it every day. Bring on the calm.

Universal intelligence - far less scientific but still worthy of exploration will also feature in my 2018 plans. I keep coming back to this as if it's simply positive thinking, but I'm pretty sure it's much more than that. It's believing in your potential and having faith that what you want is available to you. (If this time next year I'm an author you can take it from me it works. If I'm not you never have to read another crackpot hippie mantra post from me ever again.)

Kindness, gratitude, abundance, confidence, positivity. Live how you want to live. Be the person you want to be. If I master all that and pass it on to my kids I'm pretty sure that's a parenting Olympic gold in the bag.

This little story from Ruby Wax's 'Sane New World' sums it up in all it's simplicity.

Have an amazing 2018.

1 year. 12 months. 365 days. I did it.

It's now one whole year since I gave up alcohol for what was supposed to be one month.

No one is more surprised than me to find myself here. I had absolutely no intention whatsoever in going off it for so long. 30 days was my agreed limit. A supportive gesture that surprised me with it's benefits. So much so that I decided to keep going to 365. And now here I am, pretty sure I'll never go back.

The funny thing about giving up alcohol is that everybody thinks you've got a back story. You're an alcoholic. You're sick. You're dying. Something terrible has happened. I still enjoy the fact that when you ask for a non-alcoholic beer in a bar or restaurant there's a pause ('Is she joking?'), and then a hurried, averted-eyes response - 'Of course, yes, no problem...' ('Oh my GOD she must be an alcho. Quick, act normal'). The truth of course is a lot more boring.

I stopped drinking for 30 days with my boyfriend. A challenge. A test to see what health benefits might occur. With the support of One Year No Beer this was more about the good things might come from it, rather than depriving ourselves. This mental shift was one of the most powerful things in making the experience so positive.

I became highly productive, brimming with energy. Skin, sleep and mood improved. Weekends were spent in the great outdoors instead of dragging myself around town with a faint headache and a desire for bedtime.

I painted the house, finished a diploma, completed the first draft of a book, did a triathlon, ran a sub-50-minute 10k race, hiked 120k of the camino, took to sunrise swimming, still went out, and learned a huge amount about myself while doing it.

Turns out you can accomplish lots of things when you're not drinking / hungover.

When you tell people you've stopped drinking, (and assure them that there's no tragic backstory), they always wonder whether you were a real drinker in the first place. I can assure you that I was. My typical week would be maybe half a bottle of wine midweek, a couple of beers one night of the weekend, and then a couple of beers and another half bottle of wine the next night. Of course some weekends were much heavier, though nothing 'worrying' in terms of what we all seem to consider normal these days. That will be a lot more than some of you, and a lot less than others.

I reckon I save at least €200 a month not drinking, that's about €2500 a year. Which would translate into a pretty amazing holiday if you were so inclined. Me? I started a pension plan instead. So yeah, who says not drinking makes you boring?

Do I still get stressed about things? Certainly. But I'm now more likely to reach for the running shoes rather than the bottle to relax. Do I still get cravings? Occasionally I'll eye up a glass of red wine and consider 'just one'. But really there's no such thing. A year after giving up, I no longer agonise over the decision of whether or not I will drink again. I've gained more from giving it up than anything I might have lost. This quote seems more and more apt the further down the road I go. It's just easier to not drink 100% of the time.

The weirdest thing about the whole experience is that the spell of alcohol is suddenly broken, and you see it for what it is. I'm not here to lecture anyone about the merits or dangers of drink, but a conversation with your kids about it is highly recommended. With little prompting mine came out with nuggets such as 'Grown ups are scary when they're drunk'; 'They become like different people'; 'Everyone is loud and stupid'. Hmm.

Society has normalised our drinking habits to such a degree that to not drink is considered to be weird, boring, suspicious. But it's worth breaking the spell just once in your adult life, so that you can look from the other side of the fence with a clear mind and then decide which field you want to set up camp in. You might be as surprised as I am with your choice.

Summer 2017. Where did that go?

Summer loving, loving Summer.

It's my favourite season. The time when ankle boots are kicked to the curb and flip flops and bare feet take centre stage. For the past few months my toes have had a love affair with a battered pair of Haviana's, barely flirting with anything else on offer.

But now the school books have been purchased and the jumpers are starting to come out more frequently. The hardly noticed shorter evenings and slightly later sunrises are creeping up, and it has to be admitted - summertime is almost over.

June was a blur of primary school leaving parties, celebrations and uniformed swims. The eldest moves on to secondary this year and we all took a gulp as she waved goodbye at the school gates she first entered so many years ago.

July was kids clubs, travel and birthdays. I hiked 120k of the Camino in Spain, while the kids and their Dad had old fashioned fun in West Cork, with fishing nets, stray dogs and Graham Norton..

August has been the month I sampled and fell for sunrise swimming. Who knew that there was something I'd be willing to get out of bed at 5.30 for..? Amazing. The kids have even got in on the action.

I've also been training for a triathlon, just one week to go now. 

We've spent weeks strolling up and down to the beach for sea swims in every weather. We've done sleepovers, glamping, backyard camping, rabbit adopting, beach movies, horse riding, stone skimming, trampolining, cooking, festivals, and of course - plenty of boredom.

I had intended to write about all of our trips and adventures, but blogging seems to have taken a back seat for the summer months. Too much 'Life' to squeeze in, but too many memories not to record some of it. So this little recap will have to do.

Plenty of time for more during the darker days and colder weather.

See you then.

The Dancer

‘Sean. Wake up. She’s out there again.’

Lucy’s husband rolled over under the duvet and moaned.

‘Do you think we should go out to her?’ she whispered, peaking through the flimsy curtains into the garden next door.

‘What’s she doing this time?’ he asked sleepily, more interested in his return to dreams than the latest antics of their aged neighbour.

‘She’s in her nighty and she’s twirling around on the grass. I think… I think she’s dancing.’

‘Just leave her to it. She’s as mad as a box of frogs Lucy’.

‘I feel bad for her though. She looks so frail and graceful out there in the darkness all alone’.

Lucy continued to watch her neighbour’s movements. She opened the window a little and heard the old woman with the long grey hair and white flowing nightdress calling to the non-existent birds around her.

‘Rodolfo! Rodolfo! It’s time now! Are you there Bernard?’

Lydia tied up her ballet shoes and stretched out on the barre. The feeling was magical. Every day could be a good day after pulling your body to life. She studied herself in the mirror. Long limbs, and golden hair stretched back in a tight bun. The other girls in the room bent and leapt beside her. Each one as graceful as the next. Beautiful creatures.

Bernard would be coming to see the show tonight. After every performance he brought her flowers with a note nestled in them - ‘To my darling Lydia. I couldn’t be prouder. All my love forever, Bernard.’ She smiled as she thought of him. It wouldn’t be long now until he officially asked her.

When the dancers took their afternoon break, Lydia walked quickly down to the café on the corner to meet him. She still got a thrill walking through the streets of London. She had thought she was a big city girl before she moved here, but within a day she had realised how parochial Dublin was. She looked up at the sky and felt the warmth of the sun on her face.

A collision sent her back-stepping into the path of busy shoppers.

‘Oh! Are you alright miss?’ His deep brown eyes looked into hers, and for a moment she was lost. 

‘My fault, my fault, I am so sorry. You are ok?’

She thought the accent was Italian, but couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she wanted to hear more.

‘I’m fine. I think it may have been my fault actually’. She looked up to the sky in explanation and was surprised to see him smiling warmly at her when her gaze returned.

Within minutes they were settled into a booth in an American style diner, and he was telling her how he had ended up in England after the war. She told him about how her parents had used all their savings to send her to London to become a ballet star, and how she was already making it after less than a year here. Of course she was still only in the chorus, but she was getting closer every day.  He was enthralled and begged her to let him come to watch. It was only then that she thought of Bernard. Poor, sweet, loyal Bernard, who must be wondering what had happened to her.

‘I’ll leave a ticket for you at the door. I suppose you better tell me your name, hadn’t you?’

‘It’s Rodolfo. After my great, great grandfather. Family is numero uno for true Italians.’ He held up one index finger to make the point, then gently leaned forward and stroked her cheek with it.

As she skipped back to the theatre she wondered why she had never felt that same thrill when Bernard touched her. The pull was undeniable, all she wanted was to reach out and touch him back. Rodolfo. She said it to herself again, rolling it off her tongue in delight.

After the show, amid the flurried footsteps and laughter of other dancers, she received the flowers.

‘You were amazing. I must see you again. Meet me tomorrow night. I will wait for you. Rodolfo.’

Bernard didn’t understand why she was spending less and less time with him. When he asked in desperation if she would marry him, she could do no more than shake her head and give him a soft kiss on the cheek. Poor Bernard.

Their romance was the thing of movies. Long kisses and passionate embraces that sometimes went too far. But it didn’t matter because they were so in love. Rodolfo was ecstatic. He couldn’t wait for her to meet his Mama and sisters. Did she know it was all girls in his family? His father had left when they were young, and his five sisters had helped raise him. And Italy! Wait until she saw Italy! They would go to Florence on their honeymoon. It was like nowhere else on earth. Too beautiful to describe. As beautiful as her even! They would have - what? Four? Five children? They would all have his brown skin and her cheekbones. Bellisima!

Her family had all come over from Ireland for the wedding. Excited and impressed by the suddenness of it all. Her mother wore the biggest hat Clery’s had available, and her father the proudest smile in the church.

Lydia stood at the bottom of the aisle in the prettiest three-quarter length white dress, flared at the waist to show off her still-perfect figure. ‘Bellisima!’ he would whisper when he leaned in to kiss her neck.

It was only when she saw the worried glances fly between the guests that she thought something might be wrong. Had the rings been forgotten? Was somebody ill? Her father looked at his watch again.

Lydia sat without moving, staring at the crucifix ahead as chaos echoed around her. They said her father and brother had to pull her from the pew. White flowers scattered in the aisle as they dragged her out.

She never did hear from him again.

Lucy closed the curtains and got back into bed. ‘Poor old thing’, she sighed, as she nestled into her husband’s warm back, 'I wonder what happened to her to make her so crazy'.



This story is fictional. Inspired by an old neighbour and the need to take a break from the novel writing.