Reading spot.

This is my little reading spot. I've discovered it on the way back from church one Sunday and now I go there pretty much every week to spend some quality me time reading. 

It's absolutely perfect, because:

1. it has a sea-view;
2. it doesn't require me to walk down the cliff to enjoy it.

I'm currently reading a bizarre book All that man is by David Szalay. I've read 100 odd pages so far and I'm not entirely sure what to make of it. It's definitely interesting, but the writing style is so different from what I am used to. Maybe it's just because I'm not used to reading novels in English. My experience of English-language literature is fairly limited: mostly to academic books and journals. It's definitely time to broaden my horizons.

The only thing that I need now is a big flask to take with me when I go there: the afternoons are getting really cold and even in my really attractive winter hat and red gloves I still feel rather cold on that bench. It's probably time for an upgrade of my outdoor reading experience.

Off sick :(

And so it finally happened. I had to phone in and say that I'd be off sick. Well, actually my housemate had to phone in, because I've lost my voice and was barely able to whisper.

I've realised that I would never actually admit to being sick enough not to go to work. I'm just that sort of a person. Mr Magic said that even if I would be throwing up I would still go in and just ask the children to hold my hair as I would still try to carry on with the lesson. I do feel like I'm letting my little ones down by not being there and not pushing through with the material. But at the same time, it won't help if I'm off sick for a week rather than just a day. 

And so I've pleased Mr Magic more than myself and had a day off.

As it stands, it's my second day of being sick, sipping lemsip (yuck!), drinking hot tea all day and trying to keep as warm as possible. I've run out of films to watch now, so I've made some progress on my colouring page, hoovered the room and organised my diary. My next low-impact project involves making a under the weather box full of supplies that help you survive a cold.

I temporarily refuse to do any work at all, partly because my brain feels like a jelly, partly because I've realised that I actually don't need to. I'm putting ridiculous number of hours into this job for five days every week, I do deserve some time off during the weekend (especially in my current state). This is probably one of the biggest eye-openers: I do enough. No need to stress out so much about lesson planning, marking etc. There is enough time during the working week. It's just a matter of prioritising.

Achoo!

A fleeting visit.

I went up to Oxford for a couple of days last weekend and I must admit it was a slightly strange experience.

The thing is, Oxford doesn't change.* And although many of my friends have left, there are still a couple who stuck around. But I'm coming to realise how much I've moved on since I've graduated: student life is long gone and Oxford bubble have finally burst, letting some air in.

It was nonetheless really nice to be back. At least because I got a chance to get some shopping done and eat an amazing pie in the Covered Market. And to tell my friends how happy I am now. Without sitting in the library all day. With young people around me all the time.

And I've realised that I don't actually miss Oxford. I do miss people a lot, but not the place itself. I'm really content with my life as it is now. I might not have a Lebanese deli round a corner or a plethora of little patisseries, but I have the sea five minutes away from the house.

That is enough to keep me content for the next couple of years.

* This is not entirely true, since St Anne's College finally has a modern library and it looks surprisingly good. At least the scaffolding is gone which is great.

Sunday Special: Loving, leaving and finding the Church.

Loving, leaving and finding the Church is the title of one of the best spiritual books I've read in my life.

I love this book, because it has reminded me that faith is a journey. I'm a bit of a perfectionist, so I would like to get everything tight from the very beginning. But it's not like that with faith. We're only people, and, although I have some friends who are truly holy and it sometimes feels like they've nailed it already at the age of 20-something, I need time to figure things out. And it frustrates me, because I would like to just nail here. Here and now. But it's not possible.

"Baptism reminds us that there's no ladder to holiness to climb, no self-improvement plan to follow. It's just death and resurrection, over and over again, day after day as God reaches down into our deepest graves and with the same power that raise Jesus from the dead wrests us from our pride, our apathy, our fear, our prejudice, our anger, our hurt, and our despair.

This is the passage from the book that touched me the most:

"There are recovery programs for people grieving the loss of a parent, sibling, ot spouse. You can buy books on how to cope with the death of a beloved pet or work through anguish of miscarriage. We speak openly with one another about the bereavement that can accompany a layoff, a move, a diagnosis or a dream deferred. But no one really teaches you hot to grieve the loss of your faith. You're on your own for that."

Rachel talks about Sunday mornings, when she went to church, as being one of the most lonely times during the week. And I can relate to that. I have more questions than I've received answers. I'm somewhat between leaving and finding now. It feels like I've never truly got lost anywhere. I know where I am.

The Island, as lovely as it is, leaves me spiritually starving. The masses are only in the morning, and I struggle to get to them. There are no groups for young adults here to share faith, meals and conversations. The parishioners are lovely, but they are all in the autumn of their lives and I can't relate to them. There are no events like Nightfever here, music during services is rubbish and I can't understand the priest because of his accent. It is not a happy places for me. Feels like 40 days in the desert. Only that there's been far more of those days than 40. We're going into a second hundred now. Not a happy place.

What I really need now is a kiss of God on my bruises. Not a grand reopening of my faith. Although I would love to be burning for Jesus again, a little nudge and and a warm touch would be enough for the time being. And then I could try building up the fruits of the Spirit:  love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

Little Kat in big London.

People laugh that some islanders never leave the island to go to the mainland, but I don't blame them.

I got so used to the Island life that I almost got through a culture shock when I went to London yesterday.

I've arrived at London Waterloo, met by so many people rushing around, it felt like I wouldn't be able to deal with it. I then got lost trying to find the North bound Northern Line platform, despite the fact that I've spent one whole summer working nearby and I could have go round Waterloo with my eyes closed.

Then, the Tube. Gosh, I've never liked travelling this way, and I will still avoid it at all cost. Did you know that the Island Line,  the only railway connection on the Isle of Wight uses 10 carriages from the Northern Line, dating back to 1938? Using the Island Line regularly didn't change it. Especially that the Tube is so much busy. Even late in the evening it was quite busy: our little line is only that busy just before and just after the school day, when all the children travel to school. All other times it's so quiet. The only upside of the Tube as compares to our train is that it's carriages travel nice and smoothly, whereas using those dated coaches is quite an experience (you need to experience it yourself, it's quite difficult to explain).

Island Line. Not the Tube.

Going through the streets of London during night hours was nothing like walking round where I live. My Little town gets empty in the late afternoon. In London, There were more people out on the streets at 8am than there are people in the centre of Newport on a Saturday.

But only in London I would be able to drink coffee and eat porridge in an old Victorian public convenience.

By the way, I really recommend the Attendant, it's a little quirky place, they have really nice coffee and yummy blueberry porridge. 

Or have a plethora of choice in terms of Japanese and healthy food outlets.

In any case, I'm so glad to be back to my little place. City life is not for me. One day away is enough. Now back to the sleepiness and slow pace of island life. And the sea.

Things I still haven't worked out.

How to peel a butternut squash injury-free? --- I love squash, but every time I'm trying to peel it, the effect is my sustaining some hand injuries. There was not a single time when I managed to cut the squash and peel it without cutting myself. It is just a hopeless case. 

Why is a 60-minutes washing machine programme in fact 90-minutes long? ---Like, honestly, it's never 60 minutes. Ever.

Why do people go to the gym to use a treadmill if they could go to a park and jog there? --- You can probably tell that I'm not a gym enthusiast. I don't even get why Mr Magic is so keen to spend an hour a day spinning. I do enjoy a swim every so often, 

Is eating organic food any better for you and the environment? --- I've always assumed that it was, but apparently there are many downsides, like inefficient use of land. It's utterly confusing.

?

Why do so many people have this burning need to be in a group whatever they do? --- I have a  chance to observe it on a daily basis, especially among young adults and I simply don't get it. I mean, I do get that we want to have a sense of belonging, but I really can't understand why it is necessary to do absolutely everything with someone else by your side. I'm comfortable eating lunch on my own, going shopping on my own, having a walk on my own, and all sorts of other stuff. I don't need someone tagging along all the time.

Why do I have such a sweet tooth? --- I cannot say no to chocolate. Or biscuits. This is why I had to put the box of amaretti on the top of my wardrobe. But some people don't really like sweet things. What's wrong with them? I just do no get it at all... Equally, I don't get why I love sweet things so much. I could almost live on chocolate.

Why people think that 'I didn't have time' is a legitimate excuse? --- We all know these people. They will not reply to messages or emails for weeks. Or will not do what they promised to do before the deadline. Because they didn't have time. Sure. But you do have time to spend an our scrolling through facebook. Or to binge watch a tv series. So no excuses. But you still make them! Why? why? why?