Day 3 of the zenpenblog

Just back from a week in Northern Cyrpus…Weird, it’s not a recognised country so…felt like I’d gone into space or something. What a place though! Highly recommend it. Waking at 8am in the morning to bright sunshine , sitting in my pjs with a green tea, drinking it on my lounger with nothing but a couple of lizards and a million ants (they get into everything, but mostly the nutella)….then the kids wandered down, jumped into our private pool (the house belongs to my husbands colleague, Carson – never met him, but he let us stay FOC for as long as we wanted..nice guy Carson).

After a couple of days just hanging out and recovering from a busy half term of school, work, committments, we started to explore the area. The Five Finger Mountain range reminded me of California Route 1. It’s absoltuely stunning. Everything about this area, I liked, particularly the people.  I didn’t see a single brand ANYWHERE. No GAP t shirts – only the husbands ! – no Marks and Spencer (It’s not a recognised country so no franchises) but best of all NO MCDONALDS!!!! This separated it from California, which has a McDonalds every 500 metres or so..

Being into History, I borrowed a book- The Genocide Files, which goes indepth into how the island got divided. At Kyrenia there is a castle- amazing castle – with information about what went on there. If you’re an empath like me, you’ll feel the vibes the minute you go inside it. It’s intense. Go there. Beautiful. The Harbour is FILLED to brimming with sales men trying to get you to buy their boat trips..hilarious.

Refreshed from the week away and focusing on ‘Daring Greatly’, a self help guide by Brene Brown, about how vulnerability is the key to a happy life. I’ll have to leave my hulk costume and my overcritical shouting in my desk and throw away the key to unleash my vulnerability but..hey ho, you gotta try.


Namaste everyone.





Day 3 of myzenpen

Wednesday 24th March, so…interesting day today. Met the landlord of our new offices..turns out he’s a multi squillionaire land owner, 200 years of family ownership…nice. He likes to talk about it too. Likes the women too..myself and my boss’ wife had to watch him. Googled the guy and wow, scandalous !!! So that was fairly unexpected. Not sure we should rent from him though, might be icky. He holds massive swingers parties on his land… my psychic said I should expect many invitations..she also said I move house and change job so….maybe he has something to do with this. WATCH THIS SPACE. Ha!

So todays Zen thoughts were as follows….

I rock up to school today in a skirt and white vest. My normal attire is skinny jeans – and I’m not even skinny! – and a top. Wowsers, did those mothers stare and stare some more… It’s amazing how horribly comparative women can be. I don’t get it at all. Then I get to work to have my female colleague also comment on my skirt, in a not so nice way, more of a ‘ huh, so that’s how its gonna be’..kinda way. and I reasoned that, because I don’t plaster my life on social media sites and the nosey mothers can’t see what I’m doing in my life and then beat themselves up trying to keep up, they hate it. Absoltuely hate it. My little son shouted out at school that we were going to Cyprus..also not received well.. is it me or is it this town? Is it the county as a whole? Is it WARWICKSHIRE? Land of the competitively comparative? Or is it me? I wonder..

I’m an empath, it’s horrific. I feel everything about a million times worse than anyone else I know. This has 1 of 2 consequences…the first is that I get so tied up in my emotions that I do something stupid- happens ALOT. The second is that I let the emotion consume my every waking day and just collapse into myself and don’t want to communicate with anyone AT ALL. It’s terrible for my friendships. I find most of them DRAINING. I get tired just listening to peoples gripes and groans. I reason to stay away and keep myself to myself..then people think I’M the weird one…why do we have to all fit in and be sociable. I don’t mind a bit of chitter chatter but on my terms. If I don’t feel like talking to anyone, I should be allowed to be left alone right?




Funny old days

I like to tell stories, and I have many..I look back and wonder how it is I came to have such events occur in my life…they’re bizarre, random and some would say utterly ridiculous, but they’re mine and people laugh at them most of the time. So here’s one to get us started on this journey.

I was a successful contract negotiator on a massive oil project in Russia ..I say successful, I was pretty and funny and I looked good next to the wrinkly old senior negotiators so I got the job. Wrong I know, but I didn’t care at the time. I’d just escaped an awful possible future, if I needed to be pretty to get the job, so be it. I could live with it. I travelled, made big money, bought a house, found a man….and then. BOOM. TWENTY SEVEN years old, and without the slightest inkling it was coming, there was a strange daily occurence in my life that I’d not suffered before….the loud, irritating, unstoppable ticking of my biological clock. The mortality of my ovaries was staring me in the face with every newborn baby I saw. It was like a different me had emerged, one that I didn’t recognise and my boyfriend – now husband- got quite a shock. As far as he was concerned we were a DINKY – double income no kids yet, kinda couple….what now????

Well…with the horrific research indicating that the quality of eggs and sperm goes into rapid decline from the age of 30, super achieving me took the executive decision to push out the boat and go for 2 kids before I hit 35…which was tricky as my husband is a purist and although we were living in Holland, the land of the non conformist, he refused to have kids before we were married….

Finally after a 1 year engagement and a wedding I could quite easily have lived without, we were onto the real stuff…only it didn’t happen. I took every test, was told by a very nice Gynaecologist that I had the ” best looking follicles she’d seen in a while’, eliminating my worry about the mortality of my ovaries..atleast.

One quiet Sunday morning the new husband was banished to the downstairs loo with an online  sperm testing kit, only to reappear looking like the Scorpion King- on a bad day – with a purple specimen which indicated he had the best sperm for miles around. Not his fault either then…so what was going on….

Ahhhh…worrying. That was it. Bloody worrying. Worrying about worrying about worrying. This was to be a trend in my life. One that would be my downfall 2 years ago. But everything that goes down, can rise up again…this will be my story..of how to rise up when it all looks like it’s gone down the crapper.


Namaste readers

Day one of the zenblog

So, Monday the 22nd May in sunny Stratford Upon Avon, Warwickshire..that’s England if you didn’t know. Home of the historical writer Shakespeares corpse, locked up tight in the Holy Trinity, sealed with a need to read it to believe it.

I’ve decidede to blog to get me into writing again after a long pause following a burglary at my home 3 years ago. Since it happened I’ve sort of been in limbo and in

Today I went to my office job, for a very funny, tactile, switched on guy whose only aim in life seems to be to have fun. I think he might have hit the nail on the head with his goal in life…anyway, I’m sat there in the office wondering about life. Wondering what is the point. Aftert countless self help books following a bumpy start to life for the first TWENTY ONE years of my life, I decided to find out the meaning of life and jot down my thoughts.Come along for the ride. When  I look back on my life, I wonder how on earth it happened. How can it have been so varied? What on earth is around the corner? And what are the universes clues to working out why I’m here…..