2015-10-05 17.57.34

30 Day Challenge

Friday. For most of the last 2 years Friday’s were either spent travelling to Belgium or waiting for The Belgian to make it back to Blighty. Friday marked the end of a busy working week and the start of weekend adventures – home or abroad. While I’m having some downtime between assignments, Friday is still a good day to mark the close of ‘work’ and the beginning of ‘play’.


Image: Chiromancer

30 Day Challenge

Day#9. Comics. One of the delights of Belgium is the reverence they have for graphic novels or ‘strip’ as they are called in Flemish. Having grown up on a diet of Richie Rich, Archie and Green Lantern, I just love the variety and choice available. Here’s half the aisle in our local supermarket.

Mental White Space…


Image: Gerda Pajedaite |

30 Day Challenge…

Day #8. Blank. There are times in life when my brain hurts from over-thinking. You know, those times when the last thing you want comes in first, and the demons of the wee small hours make your best laid plans seem like a gourmet recipe for disaster. I’m in serious need of some mental white space today.


30 Day Challenge

Day #7. Music. To be honest, this could be every single day of the challenge. I love all sorts of music – so eclectic is my taste that I have thoroughly confused the ITunes algorithm. I blogged about this in an earlier post which you can read here.

So, instead of a picture, today’s accompaniment is simply a song…by one of my bands of the moment. The words describe perfectly how I feel when music moves me.

Amber Run




Image: Chiromancer

30 Day Challenge

Day #6. Spade. I love gardening but thanks to a hectic schedule and bi-coastal living arrangements my poor garden is in a sorry state. Today I began the task of getting it ready for the Summer. I’m planting Verbena – a blousy perennial that loves the coastal reaches and flowers through the summer and into the autumn. Doesn’t look like much but it will.



Image: Chiromancer

30 Day Challenge

Day#5. Weskus. Today, I’m missing my roots and in unusually contemplative mood. Unlike Isak Dinesen, I don’t have a farm in Africa, but I do have a patch of land that keeps me tied to a fabulous spot on a great continent. In the ups and downs of the last 10 years, I have been close to having to sell it many times, but somehow it stayed with me because I could not let it go. It was mine, wholly and truly. This year, although I don’t need to sell it, I will – with a smidgeon of reluctance and a dash of bitter-sweet sadness. I am saying goodbye to my little piece of the West Coast so that someone else can realise their dreams by buying my plot. I promise to visit there one more time before I do.