Some Grateful Thoughts on Friendship

I've never been one for big groups of friends. I am a definite introvert (well, webtrovert really but that's a different story) and crave my own company, so without really being aware of it, I've always been quite selective about who I choose to open up to and spend time with.

I've been thinking in the last few weeks about the types of friend I have in my life. One of the lovely, and absolutely unintentional things that happens when you're honest about struggling with something is how many people rally round to prop you up. I've been feeling so lucky to know so many people who may not have any idea what this feels like, but who somehow seem to know just what to say...

There are the friends who were once colleagues and who I miss everyday. The ones I cleaned up bodily fluids with, looked out for and kept safe, argued with over the best approach to a situation, and compared bruised shins with after one of 'those' days. To quote J.K Rowling 'there are somethings in life you can't share without ending up liking each other' and it turns out working in SEN is definitely one of them. When you've wiped someone else's spit off each others faces, laughed till you've cried about how ridiculous your job is, asked 'is my forehead bleeding?' and inadvertently shown them your boobs while trying to prevent a child pulling you over by your clothes, there really is no going back.

There are the friends who were once 'best' but who, as often happens when you go on separate adult journeys, I don't see very often anymore. Every few months, or maybe even longer, we meet up for a catch up and put the world to rights over eggs benedict and tea, and at the end of the conversation she simply says 'let me know if you need anything.'

There are the friends I call family, the ones I've known since we were both babies. The ones who I forget to reply to and catch up with via our parents letting me know what they've been up to but who still know exactly what I'm thinking. The ones who pop in to see me at work, and forgo all the 'stay positive, it'll happen, at least you have an answer' conversation and just go right in with 'this is shitty isn't it, and it's bloody unfair that it's happening to you'.

There are completely unexpected friendships. One of the people I most enjoy spending time with is 13, a big fan of sausages and Mr Tumble and technically my employer. I love hearing about his day, teaching him how to buy his shopping, watching him carefully make choices and most of all hearing his jokes. He is the epitome of doing what makes you happy without giving two ticks about what anyone else thinks; whether that's echolalia re-runs of countdown, jumping, flapping and clapping as fast as you can or telling me, with half a grin and twinkle in his eye 'giraffe, hippopotamus and elephant are too big for a pet.' He has no concept of the worries of adult life, as long as there is gravy, he's happy and that's so refreshing to be around.  

There's the friend affectionately known as 'work-mum', who would be the first person I'd call on if my  actual Mum was away. The one who I have the same shared experiences with as my other colleagues but with whom I also share a love of sewing, house plants, swapping books, drinking coffee and 'putting the world to rights in a safe space' (read: bitching) Always on hand to help me out with the above friend, and he loves her just as much as I do.  

There are the friends I talk to everyday and who I tell absolutely everything to. The ones I send pictures of my dinner to, who know when all my appointments are. The ones who's conversations start with 'what's a Prince Albert?' and who I messaged within 30 seconds of flushing my moon cup down the toilet. The friends who talk so often I wake up with 85 unread messages if I have an early night, and who I can message at midnight with 'who's awake' when I'm feeling like a horrible jealous person and someone will be there to say 'I get it.' These three girls get me through my days.

There are friends I haven't known for very long in comparison to some, but who I knew immediately would be in my life forever. Who I can be completely honest with, cry in front of and tell off for not eating any lunch! The type of friend who knows the minute they look at you that you're not ok, and who will rush over to give you a hug.

There's the friend I hadn't seen for five years, but who can still effortlessly teach me things just like when we were at uni together over a decade ago. Who I can talk with all day as if we've never been apart, and who I'm still convinced lived a parallel childhood to me.

There are the friends I've met online who I've never met in real life. The ones who message after I've shared a vulnerability to say, "me too, I know just how you feel.' The internet has many flaws, and I've fallen victim to lots of them, but one of the things I have always found, particularly on instagram is how supportive the community is, and I'm still always surprised by the number of people who pop up to say, "I'm with you. I've got your back."

There's my best and oldest friend who I sometimes don't see for months or speak to for days but it just doesn't matter. Long distance friendship is a tough thing to deal with sometimes. It's rubbish when all you want is a Chinese and a chat with the person who knows you the best of all, but when you both understand that life just gets in the way sometimes, when you've both got jobs and mortgages and no money left to buy fizzy sweets, never mind train tickets or petrol, you get by with making plans and reminding the other that you love them lots.

I'm pretty lucky, don't you think, and I'm grateful for that every day.

The Future of The Salted Tail

Well hello there, it's been a while. I like to give myself a few weeks away from the internet and (any particularly considered) social media generally over Christmas and it always feels really good to miss writing and to be excited to get back into it again.

Something has changed this time though. When I left my job at a special needs school nearly 18 months ago, I set about trying to monetise The Salted Tail. I had visions of waking up early and being at my computer by nine, writing four posts a week, photographing tutorials and recipes and working with brands. Somehow though, it's just not gone that way. I never expected it to be easy, and I certainly didn't expect it to happen overnight, but what I did expect was to love doing it. The truth is that, for a lot of the time, I haven't loved it at all.

You see, the blog that I have constructed and the way I feel about creating content for it aren't the same. I wanted a place that was all about sharing joy...and that's not the overriding emotion I've been experiencing this past few months...

I feel guilty when I make something and don't take photos, and I've found myself feeling cross about not sharing something when someone else then shares a similar idea.

I've felt frustrated because I generally feel most inspired to make things in the evening, when the light is non existent and taking photos for a tutorial would be pointless. So I end up not making anything at all because by the morning when the light is better I'm not in the right space for creating anymore. I've ended up making less since I left my old job than I did while I was there, and that wasn't the idea at all.

Mostly I've felt an overriding pressure to make it pay. For some reason when I read Big Magic by Liz Gilbert (which if you haven't read you must post-haste) as much I shouted "YES" over and over, for some reason there were a few bits that I just thought didn't apply to me, and not trying to make my work make money was one of them. When I left my last job and announced "I'm going to be a blogger" I immediately felt like I wasn't doing it properly if I wasn't making money from it, and that was always going to be a disaster. Liz explains it better than I ever could:

"I held on to those other sources of income for so long because I never wanted to burden my writing with the responsibility of paying for my life. I knew better than to ask this of my writing, because over the years, I have watched so many other people murder their creativity by demanding that their art pay the bills. I’ve seen artists drive themselves broke and crazy because of this insistence that they are not legitimate creators unless they can exclusively live off their creativity. And when their creativity fails them (meaning: doesn’t pay the rent), they descend into resentment, anxiety, or even bankruptcy. Worst of all, they often quit creating at all."

Guilt, frustration and pressure aren't exactly what I was hoping for. 

Also, I've been thinking a lot recently about why I started all this in the first place. It wasn't about teaching anyone anything, it wasn't about working with brands and it definitely wasn't about trying to figure out who my audience were and not sharing something I was passionate about because my imaginary audience wouldn't be interested in it. It was about documenting our life, quick posts about how much I'd enjoyed a meal we'd made, or a place we'd visited. Book reviews and boot sale finds and whatever else I fancied. It was a record of my life, and not an influence on it which it's definitely become.  

I spoke to D about this before Christmas and it was such a relief to remove the pressure from the situation. We went to a makers market shortly after and he said he could see the difference in me already. I wasn't looking at the work and wondering how I could fashion it into a post, and I wasn't forcing myself into introducing myself as blogger while reeling inside because I secretly can't bear the word


So, as for where things go from this point, I'm not going to be giving myself, or any of you any expectations.  The posts I enjoy writing the most are the ones I'll be writing, and I'll be doing it for me. I'm taking away the stress about numbers and followers and all that nonsense that's really quite unhealthy. I mentioned my state of mind over on Instagram briefly and so many people agreed with me that I'm guessing I'm not the only one feeling less than in love with the internet - and you know what, even if I am, thats fine too! 

There might be some noticeable changes, or there might not be and this whole post might have been completely unnecessary - we'll see.

But I'm doing me again. No apologies.  

Remembrance Sunday: Grandad's Evacuation Story

My Grandad is in his eighties now, and is beginning to struggle more and more with his day to day memory. A subject that still prompts his memories to flood back to him, even more than seventy years later, is remembering his childhood. He was evacuated from his home in Lowestoft in 1940, sent up to Derbyshire on the train to escape the dangers of the second world war, with a little packed lunch and a label round his neck.

I thought that today, on Remembrance Sunday, I would share a little of his story with you. Over to you, Grandad....

"Being a young boy when World War II was declared, it was quite new to see workmen lifting sacks with sand off the north beach and filling lorries with those sacks, then watching them lay bags around the town hall and other buildings, but all seemed quiet and no changes apart from an aircraft now and then, I know that school was carrying on as usual.

This was until I ran home with a form for my parents to sign, I did not read it but other lads said it was an outing by train. As in those days we never travelled, or had even been on a train, I thought it would be good. My brother Alan arrived home with his form for our parents, and he was told it was to live with other people. My parents told us we would not be going as they did not want to lose us, but a few days later I think they had been talked to about dangers, and they said we could travel but only if we were together and lived together. 

It seemed to me the day of evacuation soon arrived, I had just reached my birthday of 8 years and 1 month. I was to report to class with my small bag containing water, a stick of barley sugar, a sandwich, and a comic. Most of the class were present, mostly with parents. My mother had another child by this time, now six months, but another mother tied my label round my neck and told me to hold her daughters hand, “look after her” she said. I did not have much of an education dealing with girls, but I held her hand while we moved from the classroom down to the railway lines. Outside the station I was still holding her hand and trying to find my brother, as the teachers said we would be together. 

On the other side of the road, mothers and some fathers were waving to us and some of the ladies were crying. Then we were told to move into the station in a line, we all moved in pairs onto the platform and then onto the train. I still held hands with the girl and we sat next to each other, no teacher or anyone told us how long we will be on the train, whether it be an hour or whenever, so I did not work out when to eat the sandwich I had in my bag, or even the barley sugar.

We were told to sit. I recall our carriage was very quiet, occasionally some child pointed out types of animals in the fields, then everything went quiet again. I do remember that on one occasion the train stopped at a station for ladies to come and pass us drinks between, but I cannot remember if it was water, milk, or lemonade, but the train was soon on the move again. 

We arrived in Derbyshire, I think about 2pm, I cannot name the station but we had to board a coach for a few miles to a school in Scarcliffe where we had to sit on the grass and were given sandwiches and a drink. This is where my little companion and I were separated for some reason. There were several small coaches outside the school and, with lists in their hands, teachers pointed out to us which coach to board, then after a short distance we were told to leave the bus. After this we had to line up in fours with the children from another coach. We were then told we were going to ‘parade’ and march to the school in the village, Bramley Vale, Derbyshire. It was only 300 yards away, and we must show people how smart we were. 

At the front of my column two boys from Wilde School carried our banner ‘John Wilde School, Lowestoft’. The two streets to the Bramley Vale School I noticed were covered in adults from the villages, some applauding, and some ladies crying which I admit on the day I could not understand. We were shown into classrooms and told to sit at the desks, I sat wondering why my brother was not with me.

After a short while, ladies from nearby were taking children when they were called out, after a short time I was almost alone, and I admit I was on the verge of tears being alone. I know I have read many letters similar to the above, and the writer nearly always quotes he was the last getting a home. In my case, looking around, I saw one lady waiting in the classroom. I later learned she was one of the first to arrive, to pick up two boys, preferably brothers, and that the organiser said “You had better take him, he is the last.” The lady had come over to the desk and said “You come with me my duck.”

There have been many thoughts over the organisation. One idea is that Alan should have travelled with John Wilde School, or that the lady in next door had asked for one boy to play with her son, but had got two brothers instead. I assure you that I got the best of the mix up. 

I have been told many times in my life that I am a lucky person and everything must go my way. I cannot agree with everything they quote but in my evacuation to this lady, I must have been one of the luckiest school boys who left lowestoft in June 1940. The lady who took me home was Mrs May Holmes, and she lived only 7 houses from the school. Her husband was Mr Reg Holmes and he was home having finished his day down the coal mine. I clearly remember them asking my name, to which I replied “Terry Smith Miss”. They had laid me on the sofa, and I fell asleep right away, I think I slept around two hours. They then told me their names, but straight away I called them Aunty and Uncle. ‘Aunty’ lasted all the 4 years, 3 months I was evacuated, but ‘Uncle’ soon changed to ‘Nunk’. Aunty always said ‘Terry’ but Nunk always called me ‘Bloz. 

Aunty and Nunk loved children, but I later learned they could not have their own. When I awoke on that day on the sofa Nunk said “How about a walk, I have to see someone?” Aunty suggested I was tired but I said I wanted to go with ‘Uncle’, and from that day I knew, at my small age, that I had been lucky"

***

From the stories he tells, my Grandad certainly was lucky. From new clothes and trips out, to being given his own little allotment and taught to grow vegetables, he tells stories of a really wonderful four years in Derbyshire. He stayed in touch with Aunty and Nunk for the rest of their lives, and I know he will be forever grateful for the safe home-from-home they gave him. While he was away, his family home was indeed bombed; the bedroom his shared with his brother was destroyed and his own grandparents were killed. Thank goodness that, despite their initial misgivings, my great grandparents decided to send their children away - I can't quite get my head around the idea that if they hadn't, my life wouldn't have existed at all. 

And that's the whole point of this day - to acknowledge and honour the hundreds of thousands of people who have made our country, and our families the way they are today: those who fought, who defended, who did things they never imagined possible and certainly didn't sign up for, and who had to live forever with the horror of the things they saw. Those who operated radios and broke codes and flew planes, who filled the roles of the men and boys sent to war, who welcomed children into their homes to keep them safe, who gave their lives for the sake of future generations, and of course for all those men and women who continue to do so...

"At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them." 

Seeing Out Summer with The Good Life Experience

At the beginning of September, Pedlars very kindly invited myself and D back to The Good Life Experience, a three day festival held on the Hawarden Estate in North Wales that has very quickly become my favourite weekend of the year. 

It was founded by four friends; Charlie and Caroline Gladstone, Cerys Matthews and her husband Steve Abbott. Four years ago they set about creating a festival that reflected the common desire to return to a simpler way of life, the kind of life our parents and grandparents lived where good times didn't depend on money and excess, where we made things and grew things and past times didn't revolve around high resolution screens, but around each other. The festival is a celebration of food, music, books and crafts people - all the good things in life. 

We arrived to find the same glorious blue sky that greeted us last year, but a week of rain the the lead up to the weekend also meant a great deal of mud - and it was all the more fun for it! We put up our tent to the sound of music in the distance and I could hardly contain my excitement. I felt as though I'd come home when we arrived last year, and knowing what to expect made me even more eager to get in and immerse myself in the joy of it all once more.

Yet again, the only negative I can draw from the whole weekend is that you could do with a time-turner; there's so much happening that you couldn't possibly see everything, and choosing which things to miss is such a tough decision to make.

We perused the line-up with some lunch from Claw who we discovered last year and were hoping would be back again. They serve a whole host of crab and seafood goodness, and we went for the crab on fries which is a rather inspired combination.    

We decided first to see Micheal Rosen. I'd been wondering which bit of the weekend would make me cry this year, and it turns out this was it. 

Micheal Rosen is of course famous for 'We're Going on A Bear Hunt' and he saved this performance till the very end. Before that though, he took us on an animated and completely hilarious journey through his childhood, all the time looking just like the Quentin Blake illustration of himself. We heard about his inability to hear the word 'bedtime,' how heading to the bathroom meant it was time to muck about and felt his Dad's fury after finding the top of the toothpaste buried inside his shaving soap. His explanation? Pirates, of course.  

It was really quite overwhelming to watch the command he had over his audience - children and adults alike were repeating his lines back to him, and gasping with horror when his mum discovered his midnight chocolate cake feast. Such a wonderful poet and performer, and we both feel quite honoured to have watched, with tears rolling down our cheeks, him doing his thing. 

Next it was over to the Campfire cooking stage for something else that I found rather overwhelming. As you might remember from my recent post about podcasts, I've recently fallen in love with Harry Eastwood and her ethos on meat. 

Listening to her talking about honouring and savouring each piece of meat you eat was completely inspiring and cemented our feelings about lessening the quantity and upping the quality of the meat we choose to eat. I had one of those joyous moments where I want to jump up and down and bestow thanks on a person for articulating the jumble of feelings that reside in my head. Also, by following the simple tips gleaned from her talk we've since cooked the best steak we've ever had! 

Just look at my happy little face! It's mostly because of Harry and her demo, a little bit because of the table of foraged mushrooms next to me, and quite a lot because of the lavender soda and spiced rum I'm clutching. I spotted the Lurvill's Delight stand at about 300 paces - lavender and rum are two of my most favourite flavours, and they combined to make the most beautiful (and refined sugar free) riff on a 'dark and stormy' - I may have had more than one. 

Both Makers Row and The Marketplace were bigger and better than last year, with some of the most talented craftspeople sharing their skills and the most incredible wares for sale. D had an excellent time selecting a new beard oil from Old Faithful and I spent a considerable time stroking some beautiful knitted baby clothes from Mabli. Most of the purveyors are local and it's a real celebration of Welsh makers! 

We didn't manage to get booked into any workshops this year, but watching people creating things with their hands, sometimes for the first time, was marvellous. Parents and children made screen prints together, arrows were sharpened and leather punched. This isn't craft in the toilet roll and sticky back plastic sense, this is crafting in the true sense of the word, making something real and tangible using your hands. I love to think that for some of the children, and maybe some of their parents, that this weekend might unearth a passion that will stay with them for the rest of their lives.  

The festival site takes on a whole new magic as the sun goes down. The camp fires are lit, and the music turned up. Children get wrapped up a little bit more, eyes wide with the delight of a late night and a hot chocolate and 'yes you can have one more marshmallow' or they're tucked in to wagons adorned with fairy lights to sleep while the rest of the family carry on the party.

We headed back to the campfire cooking stage for Tom Herbert's book launch which was absolutely inspired! After chatting to Tom, and getting a copy of his new book Do Wild Baking - Food Fire and Good Times signed with the dedication 'Bake Together Forever' we hung it up over the camp fire to 'cold smoke,' to infuse it with the wonderful smell of the smouldering fire.

It's well known that the sense of smell evokes a stronger emotional response than any of the other four, and flicking through the smokey pages immediately transports me back to that night, full of inspiration and memory and the reminder to get outdoors and cook.

As we sat huddled around the smouldering fire, drinking beer, inhaling the scent of smoke now tucked within the pages, watching muddy dogs fighting over beef bones and scraps from the days cooking, I had felt the exact same sense of belonging as last year. There's something tribal about it, a sense of camaraderie and shared joy that makes everyone feel like instant friends. 

On Sunday morning, after a breakfast of bacon and fried duck egg sandwiches, I challenged D to a coffee-off. Allpress coffee were teaching people how to make espresso based coffees, and ever the competitors we decided to show off a bit!  

We decided diplomatically that mine looked better, but D's tasted better - so as ever we make a pretty good team. 

We then headed to a talk with Harry Eastwood and Felicity Cloake, guardian columnist and author of four recipe books. They both have such a passion for food, and a fascinating way with words which made their talk utterly compelling. From cycling round France and inhaling the bread basket to a comparison between the compulsive nature of both Mills and Boon novels and a bag of Wotzits, the two of them together sparked an idea in me that perhaps food might play a bigger part in my life than I ever imagined.  

Next up - just to add to the layers of delicious overwhelm now piling up on top of me we headed back to the campfire to watch Gill Meller (long standing fantasy love interest of mine) cook Mussels Eclade - or, mussels cooked with fire. The plan was to arrange the mussels, opening down, on a large piece of wood, cover them with pine needles, set the needles on fire and have the heat and smoke cook the seafood to perfection. However - the lovingly collected pine needles had somehow gone astray, so hay was employed instead and the result was wonderful, sweet, juicy and perfectly smokey mussels.

It was with very heavy hearts that we packed up the tent and headed home. I can't fully express how being here makes me feel. I think I said last year that walking into The Good Life Experience was like looking at the inside of my head laid out infront of me and that was completely true again this year. If you could give physicality to the emotion of joy - then this weekend nails it, and I haven't even mentioned that everywhere you look there's a dog to make friends with too.

It's something really really special - every single moment of it is so felicitous that it all feels like such a celebration. Every person, whether they're a chef or a maker is so passionate about what they do that you can help but be infected by that same passion too. What I find so wonderful is that everything is aimed at adults and children alike, and the utter joy of making something with your hands can be seen everywhere, from children who have never felt so proud, to adults who had forgotten what that feeling is like.

So, as we all fully embrace Autumn and say goodbye to summer for another year, lets raise a glass and chant: Here's to campfires, here's to rum, here's to finding a double pronged marshmallow stick and singeing your pigtails. Here's to setting up a make believe sweetcorn stand, here's to muddy dogs and muddy pyjamas. Here's to steak, to smoke and to going on a bear hunt. Here's to making it with your hands, to rolling down hills and getting drunk on fresh air. Here's to hiding the top of the toothpaste, here's to infusing books with memories and toasting them with ale. Here's to wellies, here's to family, here's to yoga and fire and music and baking and passion and mussels and stories and crying because you love it... 

Here's to The Good Life.  

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Some Thoughts on Mental Health

Yesterday (October 10th) was world mental health day. I wasn't going to post anything, but this morning I woke up feeling like there were things I wanted to say.

To me, having periods during your life where you need some extra support with your mental health is absolutely normal, mostly because nearly everyone close to me, including me, has had some experience of struggling with theirs.

My first experience of this was seeing my Dad suffering with depression when my sister and I were young. Of course at the the time we didn't really know what was going on - Dad lost lots of weight, wasn't going to work and the smallest little thing would make him snappy. My Mum then went through a similar thing a few years later, and was diagnosed with SAD, or Seasonal Affective Disorder and continues to feel like doing nothing but sleeping every time winter rolls around.

When we got married two years ago, all three of my bridesmaids were taking some form of medication to support their mental health. In fact, I've just done a quick count and I can think of 11 people in my life who have sought medical help at some point. Some have had a short course of medication, some have been referred for CBT or other forms of talking therapy, some will take medication forever and others have chosen not to take medication at all.

The person who's mental health has the biggest impact on my life (apart from my own obviously) is my husband's, and its because of him that I've decided to write this. He's bipolar, and is quite clear that it's something he is, not something he has...

When I first met D, he was 15. He had always been ahead of his peers academically, but he approached his GCSE years, that thing that happens to many of us happened and people started to catch up with him so he wasn't the clear high flyer that he had been. His ability hadn't lessened of course but the pressure of achieving to the level he felt people expected started piling on top of him, and he started punishing himself for not doing well enough. He started to fear failing, to fear letting people down and adopted a self-sabotaging mentality that if he didn't try his hardest, he couldn't fail. He's pretty sure now that this was the trigger for it all, and many of the feelings and behaviours he experienced during this time still affect him 15 years later. We got together when he was 16, and when I found out he had been self harming I made him promise he would never do it again - I realise this probably wasn't the most sensible thing to say, but it scared me and I just wanted him to stop. Self punishment and self sabotage is something he still struggles with, and he's since found new, less obvious ways to self harm.

So, what's it like to live with someone who is bipolar? Sometimes it's the best fun ever. Part of D's experience with it is periods of 'mania' where he is effectively stuck in a super excited state. He'll play silly games, come up with elaborate stories about characters he's invented, he'll be really spontaneous and fun and confident and get loads of things done. He'll invent elaborate theories and problems to solve, get really stuck into things and try to make everyone laugh. But he'll also be unable to switch off and sleep, absolutely useless with money and get frustrated when I remind him that we really can't afford to go out for dinner again, or buy something elaborate that we don't really need (a fire pit being the most recent example of this.) He can't sit still, has a really short attention span, and relies on games on his phone to keep his brain moving. So it's not that much fun really.

On the other hand, there are the down periods, and they're really no fun at all. If I could sum up in a sentence what it's like during these times, I would say he feels absolutely worthless and subconsciously sabotages everything he does. He forgets to eat, he could sleep for 20 hours a day, and everything that is of any benefit to him, including self care becomes a struggle. He feels like the 16 year old who purposely didn't try his hardest so that he wouldn't fail. I've come home from work to find him laying on the floor in the kitchen because he was supposed to be having an interview the following day and didn't want the job, but had got himself in such a state about having to tell people he wasn't going because he didn't want to let them down. Food is a huge issue for him, especially when he's in one of these down periods. Since I told him not to self harm in the way he used to as a teenager, he's used binge eating instead. I didn't know the full extent of it until I found the wrappers and packets hidden in his car one day. Obviously, he knows about a lot about food and what he should and shouldn't be eating, and food is a massive passion for both of us, but this is something completely separate. Sometimes he's bought and eaten things before he's even realised what he's doing, and the worse for him it is, the more punished he feels.

It's a pretty exhausting thing to live with. Sometimes I'm able to be completely supportive and after 15 years I've learned when he needs me to lay on the floor with him, and when he needs me to be firmer with him, and be the person that pulls him out of it. Sometimes though, and especially when my own mental health is a bit wonky (thanks to my friend Dave for that analogy) I'll admit I can't deal with it. Sometimes, when I'm met out of work by a person who hasn't had a shower and hasn't eaten all day or considered what we're having for dinner that evening I just can't do it and I want it to go away. I've been known to get really cross with him, and to tell him I don't get why making a sandwich or booking a haircut is such an impossible task, but that's neither helpful or true.

Would I really change it though? Obviously I'd rather he didn't struggle so much with day to day things sometimes, but for the most part, no, I really wouldn't. Something D is adamant about, and which I totally agree with is that being bipolar is something he is, not something he has. He doesn't know who he would be without it, and as much as he struggles sometimes it's definitely made him more determined to beat the things he finds hard. So much of what he's achieved wouldn't have happened if he hadn't been in one of his super motivated manic phases, and I would never ever want him to stop telling me stories and playing daft games in the middle of the night. As for the days when he doesn't want to get out of bed, it's best explained by an analogy borrowed from Stephen Fry: without the demons in life, he wouldn't know the angels.

He hasn't always been open about his struggle, but for the first time in his working life his current employers are fully aware of it (and are amazing which is something to hope for for everyone!) Yesterday he shared a little on Instagram so I wanted to elaborate a bit further. D's particular flavour of mental health has a name, but I really don't think that you have to have a diagnosis to need some support with it. I've never been diagnosed with depression, or anxiety or anything with a word that defines it, but I have definitely had times during my life where I've struggled. Before we went to uni for instance I lost an awful lot of weight because I was so anxious about it all, I've had some time off work in recent years when everything going on became too much and I just needed to remove something from my life for a few weeks in order to get things back to a more balanced state and I've written at length about my suspected orthorexia. I also had some time off school when I was around 11, and at the time the doctor suggested medication to my Mum. I vividly remember her saying 'No, it's ok, she can do it on her own'. Now Mum, if you're reading this, I am not in any way blaming you, and I know you don't even remember saying it...but what a daft thing to say!! For years I felt like I wasn't allowed to feel down for no reason because D was the one with the diagnosis, like I couldn't talk about things because people were struggling more than me, and I could do it on my own.  

I suppose what I'm saying is that actually, while the much bandied about phrase of "it's ok to not be ok" is perfectly true - there must come a point when it's really not ok, to not be ok.  If you're struggling, talk about it. If you feel like you can't deal with something, or your mental health is negatively affecting your life, talk about it. Nobody is happy all the time and being sad and upset is totally ok, but once it starts affecting your sleep, your eating, your energy levels or your job - talk to someone about it! If you choose to go to the doctors, you're not wasting their time. Your friends and family won't think you've 'gone mental' or that you're making it up or looking for attention.

Unfortunately not everyone finds it as completely normal as me and my family, but the more we talk about it, and the more people who are honest with their employers about why they need time off, the more accepted it will become and the more supportive we will end up being as a society. People will still have complete meltdowns because they can't bring themselves to take down the Christmas tree and they've got to go to a family party later on (I'm looking at you, husbundo) but hopefully with the right information we'll all be more able to support each other when these meltdowns do happen.

Here are some links to places I think you'll find interesting if you've made it to the end of this post:

Kat at Blue Jay of Happiness writes extensively about mental heath. The first post of hers I read is about the language we use when discussing mental health, and it's definitely worth a read.

My beautiful friend Ria was featured in a short BBC documentary recently  'A Tattoo to Change your Life about getting a tattoo to cover up her self harm scars - I can't watch it and not cry.

This CEO who's response to a colleague being honest about the reason for taking a day off is perfect!

And a couple books we've both loved, not specifically about mental health, but definitely useful:

Ice Cream for Breakfast by Laura Jane Williams
Instrumental by James Rhodes

And of course, if you're struggling and don't feel you have anyone you can reach out to, The Samaritans are fantastic, and you can call them free 24/7 if you need someone to talk to.

Mind can also help you get urgent help, and have a plethora of information about mental health issues and how to help other people who may need your support.

30 Before 30: My Year Long Bucket List

I always was pretty driven by food. 

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On Sunday morning, I woke to the sound of the kettle boiling and tin foil rustling in the kitchen downstairs. Most people might have been expecting a cup of tea and breakfast in bed, but I knew differently - my husband traditionally wraps every present he buys me in tin foil, ever since Smithy's proclamation of 'you just scrunch and go' in the Gavin and Stacy Christmas Special made us laugh years ago.

He came upstairs a few minutes later, with a cup of tea and a handful of cards and presents (two of which came wrapped in foil!) I opened a new backpack, some notebooks, a voucher for the best ever plant centre, the cutest little pin badge from Oh No Rachio and Harry Eastwood's new book which I've been coveting for a while. D also bought me a monthly subscription to the Cocoa Runners chocolate tasting club which is super exciting as we've been buying more high quality chocolate in the last few months and this looks like a great way to try some of the best bars!

The rest of the day was spent with my family at Snape Maltings in Suffolk at the annual Aldeburgh Food Festival which we've been to for the past seven years. It always falls around my birthday and for the last two years we've gone on my birthday itself which always makes it a little more special (and means a few extra treats!)

This birthday is an odd one for me. Usually the passing of time and my increasing age doesn't bother me in the slightest, but I feel a bit different this year. Not 'bothered' exactly, but aware. Aware that this is the last year of my twenties, and that to be thirty will in some way mark the end of my youth. I remember my parents being thirty, and I suppose I expected to have children myself by the time I got to the end of my third decade. My Mum is 28 in this photo, and I was 4.

(I think we can all agree that the duffle coat is quite excellent, and I'm pretty sure Mum still has those pink gloves somewhere!)

Of course, we still have a year in which to make that happen, and me rational brain knows it really doesn't matter when or how we become parents, but it's funny how I feel like its some sort of deadline. With that feeling in mind, I thought it might me helpful to set myself some goals that are separate from those things in my life I can't control, to ensure I make the most of this final year of being twenty-something! I've written a list of thirty things to do before I'm thirty. Some of them are big things that will take some planning and commitment, and some of them are simple things that I've been meaning to do forever and am determined to finally tick off!

So here goes, thirty things to do before I turn thirty. (Just a warning - it's rather long so you might want to grab some snacks at this point)

1: Run 10k

I used to love running, and would easily run 5k in the evening as a way to switch off after work. When I hurt my back though I couldn't do anything that caused any sort of impact and my general fitness pretty quickly tailed off! Now I've changed jobs and started strengthening my back with lots of yoga and pilates I can finally run and actually enjoy it again! I'm slowly working my way back up to 5k, but I'd love to be able to run a full ten kilometres.

2. Eat a cinnamon bun in Sweden

Unless Sweden has a sudden cinnamon shortage, this one should be super easy as we're off to Stockholm for a few days next month and I can't blooming wait - we've never been on a plane together so we're super excited for our first little adventure abroad.

3. Finish decorating the house

We're slowly working our way through the mammoth task that is decorating our house, and the aim of the game is to be totally finished, including the kitchen and bathroom, by this time next year! We'll hopefully have the rest of the house done well before then, but obviously the kitchen and bathroom are going to be rather more pricey so we're allowing ourselves a little longer for those.

4. Write a paid blog post.

I've been blogging for a long time now, and I've been lucky enough to be sent some lovely things and be invited to some wonderful events because of it, but I'm yet to actually earn any money. I feel a bit, icky, talking about money but I would love to start doing some paid content so that I can eventually spend more time working on The Salted Tail and start to turn it into a real life magazine!

5. Drive a fast car

This is fairly self explanatory - I want to get safely strapped in to a crazy fast car and drive as fast as I can around a track!

6. Be self sufficient in bread

We've recently stopped buying meat from the supermarket, and next on the list is bread. We really don't buy that much supermarket bread anyway, but the aim is to make it all at home, save for the odd artisan loaf if something catches our eye! The first step will be to revive my sourdough starter 'Herbert' who has been hibernating in the fridge for quite some time now!

7. Wear a completely DIY outfit

Sewing clothes is something that's always fascinated me - turning a two dimensional piece of fabric into a real life item of clothing is just so magical. I've made a few bits in the past, some baby bloomers and fancy dress costumes but never anything I've regularly worn. I bought a couple of Tilly and The Buttons patterns at The Great British Sewing Bee Live last week though so I think they'll be my starting point.

8. Write a recipe book in November

This is a challenge D set me inspired by NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) where participants are challenged to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. D has challenged me to write not a novel, but a recipe book. So, I'll hopefully be testing and writing a recipe a day throughout November, and (with any luck) I might share it all with you too!

9: See a West End Show

In my nearly three decades, I have only seen three West End shows: Starlight Express, Matilda and The Cursed Child. I think it's high time I added another to the list - I've got my eye on The Lion King

10: Go on a yoga retreat or do some yoga teaching training

I wouldn't even say I love yoga, it goes deeper than that. I need it in my life in order to function, and when I let it slip out of my routine I definitely know about it. Unfortunately it's not always that easy to fit a class into my week and I feel like I need to delve a bit further than my current home practice...watch this space for that!

11: Drink homemade kombucha everyday

I love kombucha, and it's one of the could-be-faddy health crazes that I've actually got on board with. However, at around £3 a bottle its really not cheap and I'm told it's really easy to make at home. My sister bought me a book all about it for my birthday so expect a bubbling jar of fermenting tea to appear in my kitchen any day now!

12: Learn to properly blow dry my hair

This one sounds simple. It's not! If anyone has any must have tools to get a salon-esq blow dry without getting a round brush caught in your hair, completely numb arms or such a sweaty face that you need another shower, do please let me know!

13: Go to an abattoir

I've been interested in the welfare of the meat I buy and eat for a long time, and since watching Jamie's Italian Escape years ago when he realised that if he was prepared to eat an animal he should really be prepared to kill it, I've felt the need to see the process of killing an animal for food right through from beginning to end. I don't think it will change my opinion on eating meat but I feel like it's something I want to witness. There are a couple of interesting articles about other peoples experiences of visiting abattoirs here and here

14: Go hunting or fishing

On a similar note to number 13, I'd like to complete the whole circle myself. I'm not suggesting that I'd like to go and kill a cow and butcher it, more go hunting for pheasants or fishing for fish to eat. Again - if I'm prepared to eat an animal, I think I should prepared to carry out the whole process myself. I've plucked and gutted various game birds before, but haven't ever taken the life of an animal in order to eat it and I just feel it's something I need to do in order to face up to what it really means to eat something that was once living.

15: Visit Kew Gardens

Ah, a nice, simple, easy to achieve one! It always looks lovely there, and I cant get enough of plants, so it's on the list!

16: Go foraging

I've picked my fair share of blackberries in the past, but that's pretty much where my foraging knowledge ends. I remember once a friend of ours finding cob nuts while we were out walking and thinking they were the most delicious thing ever, but I don't think I've ever eaten them since. I'd love to know more about which bits of hedgerow are edible, and maybe experiment with some natural dye techniques too!

17: Watch the sun rise over the sea

Pretty self explanatory, and requiring nothing but the willpower to actually get out of bed early enough!

18: Finish something knitted

I had some knitting lessons earlier this year which I loved, and I immediately bought wool and patterns and needles and had grand plans to knit all sorts of things. Alas, after knitting the world's most simple hat, I've done nothing more about it so I must get the needles out again!

19: Get dance lessons

I've been wanting to get ballet lessons for ages and I've decided this is the year!

20: Do some ceramics

I used to live in the ceramics studio while I was at uni, and I haven't really done any since. A couple of new places that run classes have opened up in Norwich recently and once I've been inducted I'll be able to go to their open studio sessions. If nothing else, at least I'll be able to make some planters for all the houseplants that keep finding their way into the house!  

21: Go to Ardingly Antiques Market

Every time I see someone posting that they're at Ardingly Antiques Market I have a serious 'fear of missing out' situation. It always look so good and we've never actually organised ourselves enough to get there - again, this is the year!

22: Cook an entire meal over an open fire

We have a fire pit but we've never really used it. Prompted by Tom Herbert's new book, and all the amazing campfire cooking we watched a couple of weekends ago at The Good Life Experience I'm feeling inspired to make the most of our outdoor space and cook something beyond the usual barbecue fare.

23: Go gleaning

Gleaning caught my attention after it was discussed on Jamie and Jimmy's Friday night feast. In essence it's collecting surplus crops from fields after the main harvest has been done, thus collecting perfectly good, edible and nutritious food for charities who then distribute it to people in need. The amount of produce rejected by supermarkets is absolutely shocking so this is something I definitely want to get involved with. You can read more here.

24: Sleep outside for charity

On a similar note, I have plans to do the Sleep-Out next year in aid of the Benjamin Foundation.

25: Set up a little free library

Ever since I wrote this post about little free libraries I've wanted to start one. I think it's such a great idea, a way of sharing the books you love, creating a community and also finding new books to read. We have a really large front garden that we could definitely set one up in, and lots of books that are destined for a car-boot sale but that could be just as easily used to start a little library. I love the idea of a mini kids-height library too.

26: Hold a conversation in Italian

I've been saying I'm going to learn Italian for years. I'd love to take a class but to begin with I'm going to use the Duolingo app to try and grasp the basics. My knowledge so far is based on Jamie Oliver's Italian exploits so I know a few herbs and how to say thank you - but thats about it! (This is also the third mention of Jamie Oliver in this list - do you think I've got a problem?)

27: Go wine tasting

Apart from knowing that I quite like Rioja, and that the white zinfandel I used to drink at uni now tastes more like melted ice pops, I don't really know anything about wine. Given that we've really got into coffee tasting, and more recently chocolate, wine seems the next logical step.

28: Do a gallery trip on my own

I've always been really happy in my own company, and I think there's something lovely about visiting somewhere completely on your own and at your own pace. I'm planning to go down to London, maybe overnight if I'm feeling extra indulgent but probably just for the day, to wander round some galleries, take some photos and probably spend a bit too long in Papersmiths.

29: Visit Borough Market

Although in London, this one won't be a solo mission because D would never forgive me if I went without him!

30: Explore a new UK city

We're a bit guilty of going back to places we know we like so I'd definitely like to explore somewhere new in the nest year. I'm thinking that either Bristol or Bath look like good choices - what do you reckon? Is your home-city a must visit?

***

Phew! There we have it, 30 things to accomplish before my 30th birthday. If you've made it this far then congratulations, it was a long one! Who knows what else what else we might get up to in the next year, time will indeed tell!