Ripples

On a day to day basis it is rare I share very personal posts on Beautiful Clutter, I keep what I publish to pretty vintage finds or little things I've found inspiring, but the ripples from the stones I have been throwing lately have tossed bravery my way and I'm embracing it with both hands.

I have been overweight, unfit and unhealthy for the last 8 years and when I say overweight what I really mean is obese; although my confidence has been in the toilet for a long time this isn't distorted body image talking but medical fact. I have never been a vain person but it is incredible to me how much self image and the perception of myself as hideous has affected every aspect of my life from my relationships to my career (or lack thereof). I got so low I started to believe that the people who love me most were merely tolerating me in their lives and that was not a pleasant way to feel. It had felt as though the weight cancelled out every other positive aspect of my being - my loyalty, my sense of humour, my passions, my personality in general - it all seemed to mean nothing because I felt such an eyesore. Anxiety has been a part of my life since I was in my early teens although it had been manageable and something I could beat into submission as and when I needed but as I gained more weight it became a constant, ominous presence in my chest ready to ruin my day at any given moment. I cut myself off from friends, came home to my family less, retreated from my boyfriend, and systematically avoided anything that would trigger a panic attack. I was emotionally exhausted and possibilities were so far off the map I had stopped dreaming.  

I tried dieting. In fact I succeeded with dieting. I'd lose 2st and feel pretty great, then somehow or other I'd have a rough patch and turn to comfort eating and regain the 2st I had lost. It has taken a long, long time to realise that dieting is absolutely not the way for me. Fast forward a little to the new year, I made a decision that 2013 would be the year I tackled my weight and regained my sense of self but the first couple of months seemed to ebb away with little action. It wasn't until April that something clicked and I decided I couldn't put things off any longer or I'd reach my next birthday in exactly the same position and feel wretched for it. Tristan and I packed up the Ashbourne house and moved to our respective parents. The following weekend I heard the news that a classmate had died aged 26 of cervical cancer, I didn't know her well - we were Brownies together, we shared a bus to secondary school and occasionally chatted away to one another in Business Studies - but she was a nice girl with a great sense of humour. To say news of her passing was a shot in the arm is an understatement. Here was a reality check in stark, bold font. I hadn't even suited up for a battle with my weight and Sam had lost the fight for her life. It was unfair. Perspective had never been so forthcoming.

Eight weeks have passed and I am 2st 4lb down with nary a diet in sight, things have taken a very positive turn round here and I'm beginning to feel like myself again. I have caught up with so many of my friends over the past couple of months and reconnected with my family, saying yes to things instead of a default no is more freeing than I imagined it could be. I am amazed at what eating better and exercising are doing for me. Tomorrow I am headed to London, alone, for the first time in a very long time and while I am a little nervous I am so excited. 'Throw a stone and soon the ripples will cover the whole pond' is what someone said to me recently. I could not agree more. Don't wait, don't save things for later, don't waste a day more than you absolutely must. I still have quite a way to go on this particular journey but starting well has been magic!

P.S A little cake, in moderation, is good for soul!

You've Got to Pick a Poet or Two

Shamelessly borrowing from Fagin for the title of this post, but it seemed to fit the purpose perfectly! You all know how much I adore books and literature in general, vintage books even more so, but quirky little volumes like these are dream finds for me. Edgar Allan Poe sums up my thoughts on poetry 'Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words' - whenever I need to escape into language it is the ideal distraction. Getting lost in rhyme and meter comes so easily and before I know it I'm swept away on a lyrical tide, all woes long forgotten. On a good day poetry is a dappled light filter over an already pretty picture, on a bad day a transporting mechanism that takes me elsewhere entirely. So many people write poetry off after exhausting, analytical sessions in GCSE English and I can't say I blame them - the life and rhythm are reduced to bullet points and bludgeoned slowly to death. Try picking it up once again when the memory of those agonising double periods is dulled though, and I'm sure you'll find something with a brand of magic that appeals to you. Because that's what it can do - pick out beauty and wonder, love and loss, a huge range of human experience and give it breath in a way that moves you. I've always thought that music is what feelings sound like, whereas poetry is emotion on paper. 

My iPhone is fantastic, having Shakespeare's entire body of work in an app is great, but it really can't touch the charm of these two little books. If you've ever read Sense and Sensibility you'll know that Willoughby has plenty to answer for, but I do have to appreciate a man who carries sonnets in his jacket pocket! 

Rose Lemonade

Delicate floral flavours set my taste buds alight, I once ate a rose creme masquerading as a strawberry truffle and since then I've been hooked (I was less keen on the liqueur that looked like a praline - but that's another story!). Violet, rose, geranium, lavender, jasmine, orange blossom - I'm always excited to sample something with a hint of floral magic and luckily these work so well in summery tipples. I tried Fentimans Rose Lemonade the summer before last and while it was lovely (I always keep an eye out for it in the supermarket) it wasn't quite rosy enough for me, I'm also a huge fan of still lemonade as well as sparkling so I set about coming up with a suitably blousy brew to quaff while watching the Royal Wedding. My first jug was definitely on the fragrant side, even for me! Since then I've been through dozens of batches each slightly different and have finally found the one that tantalises my tongue to perfection, the closest I'll ever get to alchemy.

I've shared my recipe card above so that if you fancy it you can try your hand at homemade rose lemonade yourself, a word of warning though; gently does it with the rosewater - you can always add more if you're a rose-loving freak like me but you can't take it out, drinking what feels like rosewater cologne from your Gran's dressing table is never a tasty experience! Go for unwaxed lemons if you can and give them a good wash before peeling them, I do love using a zester when I'm baking a lemon drizzle cake - but for this I found a vegetable peeler was speedier and easier. 

Last but not least my recipe appears in the current issue of the wonderful Pretty Nostalgic magazine, the photos above are outtakes really - it looks much nicer set out with their artistic page layout wizadry. Besides which the magazine itself is a firm favourite with me, definitely worth a peek if you're a fellow vintage fan as it is packed with inspiring pieces and has a brilliant ethos: spend wisely, waste less, appreciate more. I totally agree! 

Round My Hometown

At present I'm getting reacquainted with the place I grew up, I moved away for University at 18 then only came home for fleeting visits between then and now. In almost ten years not much has changed but it feels different to me in the way childhood homes can when you have lived away for so long. Shopfronts have moved, closed, or been updated and I'm no longer one of the herd of ravenous teenagers who descend upon the town centre each lunchtime. When I lived in Nottingham I frequently felt homesick for Lincolnshire, less so in Ashbourne which was similar in many ways - only hillier! There are plenty of places in my hometown to go treasure seeking - a gang of charity shops, frequent markets, antique shops dotted around but just as importantly many places to stop off for a cup of tea and a chat with old friends. I love Lincolnshire for itself, but the people make the place - the family and friends I have here - it is great to have chance to recharge my 'home' batteries for a little while, though I'm already thinking of adventures down the line . . . . . . 

Hope you all had a brilliant bank holiday weekend!

In Bud

T and I moved out of our little Ashbourne house on the 14th of April, it was sad to say goodbye to such a sweet old place but it was time to head forward. We're each living with our parents while we search for a place to live in Nottingham - we're going back to the city we met in, and hopefully returning to plenty of new and exciting opportunities too.

So I'm back home in Lincolnshire at present, which is no bad thing! I am making the most of some time with my family, enjoying the peace and quiet of Keepers Cottage, and taking Ted the Border Terrier for walks in the woods around the house. Spring is most definitely in full swing here; Primroses and Forget-Me-Nots have popped up all over the place, the Bluebells are readying their purple loveliness for display and even the Daffodils are resolutely clinging on. When the wind blows in the right direction you can pick up a definite trace of the wild garlic surrounding the garden, although it hasn't yet reached it's most pungent! I've been seeking out a few recipes to put some of it to good use. Everything is coming into bud and even the white-flowered weeds in the wood make a gorgeous carpet. I love Spring.