image credit: Wikipedia. Time clock at Wookey Hole Cave Musuem.

image credit: Wikipedia. Time clock at Wookey Hole Cave Musuem.

in the last 10 days I have cancelled an upcoming girls’ weekend away, a haircut and a dentist’s appointment. I have missed at least 4 daily meditation sessions, and I think I have only missed one other daily meditation since the beginning of January. my average weekly running mileage has dropped from 25-30 miles to 10-15 miles. my cooking mojo has entirely left the building and family suppers have become duty-bound re-fuelling occasions. this is all striking simultaneously with the hormonal cloud that settles over me every month for a week to ten days like a stubborn Atlantic low-pressure system.


I am realising how much I rely on a day to day basis on my husband’s support, as while he is not in a position to give it I am very much feeling the lack of it. (which is FINE as it is currently my role to support him.) a tough work day yesterday left me feeling battered and drained.

Belle says that as we progress in sobriety we start to be able to assess how much we are struggling, and take actions to correct that. I would say I am currently at a 3 or a 4 out of 10, when I haven’t been at more than a 1 for quite a while. yesterday evening Wolfie suggested to me that I used to get more done when I was goading myself on with the prospect of wine at 9pm, so maybe I should start drinking again? well, you can fuck right off, Wolfie!!!!!

I am getting lots of wonderful support from sober buddies (seriously, thank GOD for you guys) and indeed have a couple of unanswered emails which I really appreciated and will reply to very very soon, so sorry. Belle has to dig through my emails to find those of her other penpals 😉 I have not skipped my weekly yoga class and will go again tomorrow. we just had a smashing weekend with friends which was a huge help. I am seeing a real life friend tonight who is a huge support to me. I have meditated this morning and have put a slot in my diary to do a proper run today. after late night supermarket run yesterday there is food in the house this morning and there will be a basic chicken curry for supper. I am cutting myself huge amounts of slack but at the same time paying attention when the rumble strip tells me I am going off the road.

and I am remembering – in the wonderful words of Roald Dahl – to keep a pistol in my knickers!  Prim xx

Little Red Riding Hood And The Wolf – by Roald Dahl

As soon as Wolf began to feel
That he would like a decent meal,
He went and knocked on Grandma’s door.
When Grandma opened it, she saw
The sharp white teeth, the horrid grin,
And Wolfie said, ‘May I come in?’
Poor Grandmamma was terrified,
‘He’s going to eat me up!’ she cried.
And she was absolutely right.
He ate her up in one big bite.
But Grandmamma was small and tough,
And Wolfie wailed, ‘That’s not enough!
I haven’t yet begun to feel
That I have had a decent meal!’
He ran around the kitchen yelping,
‘I’ve got to have a second helping!’

Then added with a frightful leer,
‘I’m therefore going to wait right here
Till Little Miss Red Riding Hood
Comes home from walking in the wood.’

He quickly put on Grandma’s clothes,
(Of course he hadn’t eaten those).
He dressed himself in coat and hat.
He put on shoes, and after that,
He even brushed and curled his hair,
Then sat himself in Grandma’s chair.

In came the little girl in red.
She stopped. She stared. And then she said,
‘What great big ears you have, Grandma.’
‘All the better to hear you with,’
the Wolf replied.
‘What great big eyes you have, Grandma.’
said Little Red Riding Hood.
‘All the better to see you with,’
the Wolf replied.
He sat there watching her and smiled.
He thought, I’m going to eat this child.
Compared with her old Grandmamma,
She’s going to taste like caviar.

Then Little Red Riding Hood said, 
‘But Grandma, what a lovely great big
furry coat you have on.’

‘That’s wrong!’ cried Wolf.
‘Have you forgot
To tell me what BIG TEETH I’ve got?
Ah well, no matter what you say,
I’m going to eat you anyway.’

The small girl smiles. One eyelid flickers.
She whips a pistol from her knickers.
She aims it at the creature’s head,
And bang bang bang, she shoots him dead.

A few weeks later, in the wood,
I came across Miss Riding Hood.
But what a change! No cloak of red,
No silly hood upon her head.
She said, ‘Hello, and do please note
My lovely furry wolfskin coat.’