February 14th arrives with its familiar gestures of ribbon-wrapped chocolates and things to do, just for two. Everywhere you look, love is presented as something to be given, something to be received, something that must come from somewhere outside of self. But what if this year, you made the decision, that love was going to dress a little differently? Oscar Wilde wrote "To love yourself is the beginning of a life-long romance". He had a point, you know. What if the most mea

This week, most calls to most restaurants on planet earth, will involve a simple request. "Could you do a table for 2 please".. From posh hotels to the corner curry house the world over, staff have already begun a giant redesign. A choreography of furniture configuration to suit that once-a-year waltz of Valentine’s Day, when the world re-arranges itself, into dining halls made for two. Firstly, I am not setting out to undermine the feast and fest of St Valentine. I am simply

"To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long romance". Oscar Wilde When asked why I did not write about relationships, I thought, but I do. Everything I write is about ‘relationships.’ Not in the traditional sense of couples or coupleship, but every interaction is related to something or someone. So I pondered, and here’s what emerged. We are connected to all things: friends, family, coworkers, animals, nature, the world, and ourselves. Being a part of a

There is a particular kind of lonely discomfort that comes with one-sided friendship maintenance. I mean it's certainly better on paper than having "no one at all" - hopefully none of us know the depths of that sorry pit. It comes more from actually having people - important friendships with

Being single on Valentine's Day, is not everyone's dream scenario. We are bombarded with noisy, brass band-volume messaging around the normal of being smack in the middle of chocolate box relationship land, where heart-shaped balloons are such fun , and a piece of heart-shaped toast pops out of the hearty toaster and you both giggle at the sweetness of it all. Valentine's Day sucks so badly for some of us, that it has an actual negative, psychological effect. Of course Sain

Red roses. Valentine’s Day. Floral messaging that has no room for manoeuvre or misconstrue. Important, perhaps becasue our February 14th intentions need to be absolutely legible. Our designs and desires must have clarity and meaning. The red rose then, is a comfortably predictable symbol, bought and sold by the dozen. In fact, 250 million red roses are produced globally, for this day alone. Beautiful, classic, fully unmistakable. Even if we feel that a red rose is actually st

OK, so firstly, we Brits did not know that Groundhog Day was actually a thing. It is a real event. In Pennsylvania, every February. To us, it still looks like a punchline that somehow escaped the joke. A fluffy, tired animal is lifted from its burrow, consulted about the future, and returned to its warm den, while a crowd applauds politely and then heads off to CostCo.

“Take a deep breath". ..It ’s rarely said before something pleasant. We say it before the needle goes in. Before "the conversation". Before the bill arrives. Before we brace ourselves for "the good news or the bad news" and anything else we supsect we won't enjoy at all. It’s a phrase that assumes impact. A small hand-on-the-shoulder, before something uncomfortable happens. Which is curious, when you think about it. Because breathing deeply is one of the most beneficial thing

There is a moment most of us recognize, even if we don’t yet have words for it. It comes before the decision. Before the plan. Before the next chapter announces itself clearly enough to be named. It’s a life-affirming moment, where nothing is technically wrong, and yet something quietly asks for attention. It's a space that needs to be filled. Not with added responsibilities or new hobbies, but with gentle, wholehearted purpose. Soulstice Immersion, September 26 - October 10

Many of us tend to have a dim view of February. It really does seem to be the black sheep of our calendar. Short-changed on day numbers, an awkward ending to the cadence of that rhyme to remember - "30 days hath November" - it feels like the month that also ran - the racing term for runners and riders that were not really worth a real mention.But let's forgive the slightly gawky floundering of February. It was never a month designed to feel like such a fly in the hearty, w

I'm tired... Not from having stayed up late or not had enough sleep. Not that kind of surface-tired. A sort of "inner fatigue" that I am feeling on a deeper level. We recently said goodbye to some "interesting" house guests. We sort of knew they would be, and we both felt fore-warned. We seemed to start "managing oursleves" before they had even got out of the car...

The impact of Technology, Social Media and Screen Time on Mental Health - Dr. Stephanie Burchell

We say “thank you” a lot. Often with great sincerity, sometimes as a polite acknowledgement of a door held open or receiving a handful of change. Silence would just feel rude. It's a nice thing to hear and a good thing to say. We also, on occasions, use a clippy catch-all in the form of a neat little phrase: "Thanks for everything." It's a generous sentence, at face value. Broad, inclusive, hard to argue with. And yet it can leave behind the fantest whiff of disssatisfaction

February 1st is associated, in France, as well as various other parts of Europe, with Sainte Brigitte - a saint who rarely grabs the headlines like "the popular kids" - Francis, Jude and Christopher. There are no medallions - none of her miracles come to mind...

Turns out this photo is a fake, by the way... Even though if it did fool the folks at Forbes magazine, but... that's OK. It says what I want to say, AI or not. It's a picture that "shows" French farmers protesting in Paris. They are there, by the way - as I type - with tractors and trailers, and even sheep , lining the grand Avenues and Boulevards of the Nations capital, hosing down Government buildings with the occasional muck-spreader. When French farmers are unhappy, they

Way before "stories = letters forming words", they would be carried from the mouths of our elders to the eager ears of a younger generation of listeners. Tales of fire and creation - of seas, lakes and mountains. The wonderful animations around the family tree of all things starry and celestial. These ancient tales were not fixed things, back then. There were no documented points of reference, or scrolls unfurled in proclamation. The stories moved from firelight to shadow, a

"Did you have a good Christmas and New Year?".. I mean, that is about as soft, low risk enquiry as we could possibly be asked at this time of year. It's almost so seasonal, that we could wear it as a sign around our necks so we can avoid even saying the actual words.. It's a verbal handshake. No sharp edges. Not a trick question. At all. "Yes, thanks..we didn't do much; long, lovely dog walks, too much to eat and some catch-ups with a few dear friends... You?".. The answer is

Somewhere around the two-week mark, January starts to itch. The pristine list of resolutions is still magnet-fast on the door of our fridge, exactly as we wrote it. The intentions are still there, yet you perhaps suspect that enthusisam might be trying to call a cab. New Year confidence - " this time will be different" - has been replaced by something more familiar: realism.

I used to love that day in school, when we were given a brand new writing book. It was a thing of mint, undefiled beauty - filling us with a quiet, focused determination to write really nicely. To do really well. I mean, OK, we were easily pleased back then, but there was still an undeniable thrill which - to this day - draws me helplessly to the pen and ink of the stationery shop. New books, new beginnings, New Years. They are all versions of a familiar and robust re-set. T

Truffles have been around since the Pharaos were in short pants. Quite why the first sandal kicked the first truffle, prompting its wearer to bend down and take a mouthful, is another story altogether. But we have been loving them ever since... King Francis I of France (let's hope he didn’t endure the challenges of rhotacism) was the first noble notable to put truffles on the royal platter. His truffly gusto was duly noted by the brilliant lawyer-turned-chef, Jean Brillat-Sav