With the Solstice passed, we’ve just tipped over the top of summer in terms of length of days but in meteorological terms, the warmest months of summer are yet to come.
Long, warm days – made even better when the weather decides to water the plants overnight.
And so I love it when morning rain breaks for afternoon sun and droplets bask on wide, green summer squash leaves.
And weigh heavy on petunia petals.
And I hang my washing, ever watching the clouds to make sure the showers aren’t returning.
After an arduous evening of Zumba last night, I had a revelation on waking this morning. Jauntily taking the stairs down to make coffee, I realised that my supple and not-at-all-stiff muscles felt good.
A now well known slogan from the Sports England This Girl Can Campaign
And we worked hard: punching, screaming, facing off, swinging our hips and working our thang. Yeah, it was fun – and the sweat ran down behind my ears and soaked into my already sodden t-shirt.
If you haven’t tried Zumba, it’s an invigorating mix of energetic dance styles set to everything from Country and Western inspired beats to Eastern vibes but always with a Latino swing. It’s more fun than a workout, more work than a night on the dancefloor.
I drank water, I laughed at my missed steps but my thigh muscles remained robust as we were encouraged to drop further towards the ground, legs wide, arms high.
Not caring if I was pig or fox at this stage, I felt the music and enjoyed the look on the instructor’s face as she radiated the dance and the room filled with power and light.
Pretty awesome for an exercise class.
And so I woke this morning with the notion that I don’t do this for the skinny person within. Oh no, I’m not going to wait for the slim Amanda to emerge after months, maybe years of purging, denial and self-loathing.
Oh no, I’m going to celebrate the strong, vital and agile body that’s already there. Right now. Right here. Yes, I’m carrying a little extra flab on my legs but don’t miss the huge, powerful thigh muscles that propel my bike, that keep me running, that fuel my Zumba sass.
So, whether you’re walking, running, cycling or taking the kids to the park today, work the inner goddess you are now. Not for the body you want tomorrow but the one you have now.
And have fun doing it.
For more information on Zumba check out their website. Local classes in the UK are listed.
It’s Friday, you’ve guests arriving in a couple of hours and you get a text saying one of your number is a vegetarian. With the rose/cider/lager sorted and chilling in the fridge and the dips, chips and nibbles all ready to go, a small niggle of doubt rises from somewhere deep. What on earth can you make at this short notice?
Vegetarian summer food at it’s best – we love eating out at this time of year and it’s so easy to go meat free
Puff pastry is your friend even if it’s not exactly the most classy of ingredients. It’s not sophisticated and if, like me, you attended one Tupperware party too many growing up in the 70s and 80s, you’ll shudder at the idea of chicken vol au vents. Let’s call it an ingredient reborn shall we?
Firstly, some make their own puff pastry. Life is too short and wine is too plentiful – so I buy mine, very often frozen because it’s cheaper that way. You can also buy it fresh in blocks or ready rolled. Do make sure that it’s vegetarian – check the ingredients (most are but a few more deli-style pastries might have animal fat in them, just for fun).
If you’ve bought frozen, defrost in a fridge for at least 12 hours. If you choose to take it out of the fridge, to help it along, please remember to put it back in again and chill thoroughly before use (trying to roll out warm pastry is like trying to roll out mud).
Get it to about 3mm thick for a good, crispy texture when cooked. You’ll get four decent 4-slice tarts out of a block and two 4-slices from a ready rolled sheet (and two slices is ample per person).
Then score the pastry 5mm from the edge all the way around – that way, the pastry will rise around the filling.
One I made earlier – you can trim the edges if you like but a bit of wonkiness won’t affect the finished article.
This is the fun bit – getting creative with a few nourishing, flavoursome ingredients. These are my ideas for toppings to make a tart with a little wow factor (and very little effort):
Tomato, feta and basil – this one is dead simple. Place thinly sliced tomato over the base (leaving the edges so that they can rise) and then scatter feta over the top. When the tart has finished cooking, rip a handful of basil leaves over the top and leave for a few minutes for them to wilt gently over the hot topping. Delicious.
Gently caramelised tomatoes meet creamy, salty feta – finished with a little fragrant basil. A vegetarian classic.
This one is a leek (softened in a pan with a little butter first), goats cheese and walnut version – really earthy and satisfying. Great with a few grinds of black pepper and a lovely fresh white wine.
Goats cheese, leek and walnut tart. I love goats cheese and walnuts
And this one is a simple favourite – tomato puree spread sparingly but evenly on the base with mixed chopped vegetables (in this case, courgette and red onion) and then lashings of cheddar. Add a few Italian herbs too if you like, it makes it more like a pizza – my kids can’t get enough of it.
Pizza tart, always a winner and so simple to make (add pepperoni or chorizo for the meat eaters)
To cook: place on baking parchment on an oven tray and bake for around 20 minutes at 200c, gas mark 6. Check after about 15 minutes to make sure nothing is burning.
To serve: green salad is great. I also love this fragrant potato salad – boiled and cooled new potatoes (about 200g per person) tossed with a handful of finely sliced radishes, a finely chopped red onion, a handful of chopped fresh coriander, a glug of olive oil and the juice of a lime. Season with a little salt and black pepper and let everyone dig in!
So simple to make but always a crowd pleaser (and fantastic from the fridge at night Nigella-style – if there’s any left!)
So many toppings, so little time. What’s your favourite? I’d like to add more ideas to my recipe book, so drop me a line and let me know.
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All from Tu at Sainsbury’s. There is less wobble in my go-faster stripe trousers since I bought them back in January but that’s not as important as the muscle I’ve put into them.
I love running. Now, I’m not a born runner and I’m a big girl so when I made the decision to start running back in January this year, I knew that I’d be up against a very special set of circumstances in order to succeed. Six months on, I regularly run 4k and I’m well on my way to being ready for the 5k race I’m training for in October.
How have I got this far? Well, before I started running, I did some rummaging around on the internet for information about what I would encounter as a plus size runner and I found some excellent sources of information (check out The Fat Girl’s Guide to Running and The Running Bug). But there’s nothing like personal experience to help climb the steep learning curve, so if you’re thinking about taking up the sport or you’ve just started, these are my top ten tips for the fat bird running:
DownloadCouch to 5K from the NHS website. Realistically, it should be called ‘Couch to running for 30 minutes’ because I don’t know anyone who has gone from zero to 5K in nine weeks (but plenty who have gone from zero to hero). Listen to a few of the podcasts, familiarise yourself with how it works and know that it’s all about starting out your way, at your own pace, in your own time. I’m a big girl and I did it from beginning to end without missing a week and it’s started a running habit for life. It’s a flexible programme that gets you walking and running in intervals, slowly building your stamina until you can run for thirty minutes. It is doable and if you struggle at any stage, the option is always there to re-try a week until you feel comfortable enough to move on.
Defeat any niggles about your heart or joints by having a chat with your doctor if you’re really concerned. I don’t know a GP in the country who would consider this kind of discussion a waste of time, especially with current concerns with obesity and the NHS. A personal fitness trainer friend of mine suggested running on grass or mud in order to reduce stress on my joints – which is what I often do (and it means I get to run in the countryside, always a happy thing).
I have a pair of Karrimor d30 trainers. They’re lightweight and durable enough for me but do shop around
Buy a really good pair of running shoes – shop around on the net, try a few on and if you can stretch to it, go to a local running shop and get fitted. Supporting your feet, ankles and other joints is imperative if you’re carrying a few extra pounds with you along the track.
Get some comfortable running gear. Sainsbury’s Tu do a range of great running clothes off the peg up to a size 22. If you’re over a size 18 don’t even bother with Sports Direct – it’s just disheartening. J.D. Williams also do running gear up to a size 32 if you’re happy to order off the internet.
Worry about the jiggly bits. Get a really good running bra and be prepared to spend a little on this because it is really worth it. Mine came from Marks and Spencer and I really feel as though I’m well strapped in when I’m running. It does give a bit of an uni-boob effect but believe me, when you’re half way through a 30 minute run, it really doesn’t matter.
Don’t worry about the jiggly bits. If I wobble here or there, or if I feel I’m showing a bit more bum or belly than I would normally be happy with I think of how hard my healthy heart is pumping to keep me moving. Besides, I’m lapping everyone sitting on a sofa or in a car seat.
Be prepared for it to be more than a little bit addictive. I twitch if I haven’t run for a while, I’ve heard my trainers singing to me from the hallway on more than one occasion and sometimes, I choose to swap my Saturday lie in for a blast in the early morning sun. It has to be said that while the slog is sometimes hard work, the buzz afterwards is more than worth it.
Be prepared to be hungry – and respectfully answer the need. I’m carb sensitive, so I find that loading up with bread, pasta or sugar after a run quickly sweeps away the happy feeling but those kinds of foods work for some people – we’re all different. What’s important is that you feed your body good things because it is a good, healthy, strong body. Reward it, don’t deny it and whilst honouring your body with good quality nourishment is the kind thing to do, remember that the occasional doughnut won’t do any damage (but hating yourself afterwards will).
Zingy and bright, oranges are one of my favourite post run snacks – and not because I’m virtuous, I just find them fun to eat
Be prepared to be slow and steady. I can’t run fast, I’m carrying too much weight – I often see lean runners bounding past and I’m not bothered, I just wonder how much bounding they’d do if they had several stone in weight strapped to their body. I eat healthy and build strength in order to run – losing weight is not my focus, it’s just a happy by-product.
Running really is an inclusive sport. Slogging along the riverpath where I usually run, I often meet fellow runners – often girls with ponytails in pairs lithely bouncing along in pretty sports gear or solo, muscly chaps complete with water bottle and strong legs. Far from feeling intimidated, I always get an acknowledging smile for my effort and very often a fist pump too. Watching the runners finishing the recent Polesden 10k race in Surrey was an eye opener – coming over the line were the faces of exalted pensioners, ladies with more than ample bosoms and in fact every kind of person you could imagine – old, young, slim, heavy, tall, short – they’d all taken on the challenge of the Surrey hills and won. All individuals with the same goal – putting one foot in front of the other until the finishing line.
And so, when I went for a medical appointment yesterday and the nurse had recorded my weight, she was genuinely pleased to hear about my running habit. This makes a happy change from being hassled about my weight which I have never enjoyed or found very helpful.
There is so much negativity around weight when in reality, heavy bodies can be strong bodies. They can be beautiful, healthy and worthy bodies. In a culture obsessed with the fat someone is carrying, it is easy to forget the possibility that a healthy heart and lungs can lie within. So while the debate about whether or not it is possible to be fat but fit rattles on, I know I’d rather be breathing in and out in the sunshine rather than crying into a pot of processed, low-fat goo.
In my mind, the movement of the needle on the scales is not as important as the movement of my feet along gravel paths; over hot, summer grass at the park or to some cheesy tunes alongside the river.
But that’s just my opinion.
Finishing the Polesden run with my husband. Pretty chuffed with my 2K achievement, I was bowled over by him completing his arduous 10K trek – we started running at the same time
Is there anything I haven’t thought of – what are your tips? And have you just started running or are about to? How do you feel? I’d love to know.
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…cycling is that not only am I strengthening my body but I’m also saving fuel money and giving myself time to think. The riverpath changes all the time and there’s always something new to hear or see.
The smell of the woodland flowers under the beeches, the sun sparkling off the trickling water, the hope that I’ll catch a glimpse of a Grebe or the Heron.
And the great thing about my big, purple clematis is that it…
…dapples the petunias
The great thing about summer is that it happens around this time every year.
I’ve got a bee in my bonnet again. The model Tess Holliday has come under fire again for daring to promote fashion. She’s a model. That’s what she does.
(Check out her instructions for getting a bikini body in one easy step for Simply Be here.)
Some responses on her Twitter account were unrepeatable.
Tess shows her followers how to wear a bikini in one easy step
In the light of this, consider that last week an Yves Saint Laurent advertisement in Elle magazine was banned by the UK’s advertising watchdog for featuring a very underweight model. The comments in response to this on social media ranged from motherly ‘all she needs is a good meal’ to positively inhumane rants about how the girl looked like a corpse.
Apparently both campaigns were promoting the wrong kind of lifestyle.
But stop and think. What do we mean by promotion? Why does this matter? What exactly is being promoted?
I have a friend who is a professional copywriter and she often says that the objective behind an effective campaign is to sell not the sausage but the sizzle.
In other words, it’s the emotional response to the sausage’s sensory output that is likely to bring the consumer to the table rather than the sausage itself. After all, an intestine rammed with chopped offal doesn’t sound as appealing as the smell of a Cumberland ring fresh off the grill (unless, of course you’re a veggie like me but I’m comfortable running with the sausage metaphor for now).
So, back to Tess in her bikini and the YSL girl laying on the carpet. What’s the sausage being sold here? On a simple level, it’s the fashion but we all know that the printed picture is the end product of a long creative decision making process to create sizzle, so it’s clear that there is some kind of lifestyle being promoted too. Without this spark to fire up the consumer’s emotional response, there’s less likely to be a sale.
In the case of the YSL advertisement, it’s attempting to offer a kind of sophistication but the fact that the girl is lying on the floor in an empty room with seriously wasted thighs and an emaciated chest plays right into the hands of the critics waving the anti ‘heroin chic’ banner. Body dysmorphia is a well-known problem and it’s estimated that eating disorders affect 6.4% of UK adults, so I can understand why there is uneasiness to feature this kind of image in a sphere as public as a popular magazine. At least it got people talking about YSL – and the only thing worse than that, according to Oscar Wilde, is people not talking about it.
Should the advert have been banned? Probably but not necessarily just for the model, I think the shot was poorly styled in terms of the message it was sending. This leaves an unpleasant taste in the mouth if this kind of negative publicity was intentional.
Is Tess doing more of the same? What’s her sizzle?
Is Tess really promoting cake abuse as a lifestyle choice?
According to critics avidly waving the anti-cake banners, images of her should also be banned because she too is promoting an unhealthy lifestyle. I suppose if she’d been pictured laying on a kitchen floor surrounded by semi-eaten cream-filled chocolate sponge this would be a fair point.
But that’s not her sizzle. Not once has she encouraged anyone to overeat. She has referred to comfort eating as her only vice but not once has she actively promoted being overweight as a lifestyle choice, like thin people should go out tomorrow and eat the cake store. We’re talking sizzle here, not sausage. She’s not promoting cake, chips, cheese or burgers. She’s promoting fashion, looking good and feeling fabulous in the body you have.
Rather than being a target for do-gooders she should be acknowledged as a champion for the thousands of obese women in this country seeking to improve their self-esteem and lose weight for their health.
And feeling good should be the sizzle that leads to weight loss. Doctors aren’t saying that if people would just try to become a bit more beautiful it will save the NHS, so health should be the focus, not man made aesthetic standards – we’ll leave those to the shallow end of the advertising industry.
Rocking a frock Tess Holliday style – one that fits your curves the size you are now – makes a girl feel good. Who cares if it’ll be baggy in a few months’ time – cinch the waist in with a belt until it’s frock buying time again. Wear red shoes to the supermarket, pout lipstick chops at the mirror in the office and feel sexy in your own behind because it’s this kind of attitude that will get you healthy.
Why settle for the sausage when you can have the sizzle?
A treat for the senses or a plate full of dead animal?
Going home has always been a restorative thing for me. Driving over the Tamar, I take a huge breath of good Cornish air and then another as I circle above my home town of Penryn, where the new Combined Universities in Cornwall has sprung up on the grounds of what was Tremough Convent. Glimpses of the river going out to Falmouth Bay never fail to catch my breath and bring back memories of walking the fields high on the hill with my mother as a child; ripping grass from the verges to feed the horses, fingers stained from blackberry picking. There was less traffic then.
But my story is about Falmouth, where my parents now live. The car park on Fish Strand Quay is one of the best places to see the historic waterfront and it’s one of the first places I head to when I’m home. Half way along is the building that was the Royal British Legion – a building that my Dad has strong links to as did his father before him. It’s now home to the Arwenack Club where my Step Mother is a key player behind the bar. Yes I did spend much time in there with my family over the weekend. Yes, I did drink much beer. Yes I did sing karaoke on Sunday evening. And the quality of music of the Rockabilly band Chrome Deville was matched only by the jivers on the dancefloor. There’s something very special about watching the sunlight fade over the water as the lights of the docks come up – over a pint and some lively banter of course.
This is where WordPress could do with a Smellovision plugin. The lane heading down from where my Dad lives towards Swanpool beach is always vibrant with bluebells at this time of year but it’s the scent of the wild garlic that is overpowering. An evening walk down to the beach with the kids and Buster often involves signet spotting on the pool and a hedgehog ice cream on the Swanpool café decking overlooking the sea. (A hedgehog ice cream involves Cornish ice cream, clotted cream and toasted chopped hazelnuts by the way – it’s heaven’s heart attack in a cone!)
Swanpool beach – St Anthony lighthouse on the other side of the harbour is a pin prick in the distance
Swanpool Beach. This place means much to me. The small specks on the rocks are my son leading his little sister over the rocks – much like my brother used to do with me – and the path leading up on the cliffs towards Gyllingvase was where I used to walk with my Granddad when I was a child and where I sometimes run now. This is also where I used to bring my son after school, many years ago – we’d have tea on the beach and he’d play in the shallows when the heat of the summer day had passed.
Clean, cool air came off the water as I sat and watched the guys fishing off the rocks and the smell of the barbeque their friends had just lit for them just up the beach from me wafted out to sea.
Swanpool beach looking out towards Stack Point
So I did what any girl would do when left alone on a beach in the evening sun – I slipped off my flip flops and buried my toes in the sand.
The next day we drove back. ‘Til August it is then.
I’ve been getting a little hot-headed recently, which can only mean one thing – it’s time to go home to Cornwall for a while.
Time to sit in a pretty tea shop with my pretty Mum and watch the water washing around in the harbour.
Time to take my Dad’s hooligan of a dog out on to the clifftops.
Time to sit in the social club where I used to sit with my Dad when I was a kid and where he used to sit with his father when he was kid and watch the lights of the ships in the harbour come up as the sun goes down.
Where the Queen of Small Things goes to rest (those gulls had better stay away from my pasty)
Time to breathe some good air, catch up with some good friends and enjoy some peace away from the constant noise of the traffic.
Time to run the promenade, eat giant ice creams and have a Rowe’s pasty.
I’m feeling excited. Not just because summer is coming but because change is afoot and I like it.
After having seen the fun pictures of fashion blogger Callie Thorpe and friends at Evans’ #stylehasnosize launch last night, I felt something stir from within. It was a feeling of excitement: that a culture of not just body acceptance but body celebration is growing from within the fashion industry and it’s been a long time coming.
Tess causing a storm on the cover of People magazine this week
Add to this, plus size model Tess Holliday’s feature on the cover of People magazine published today. According to her Instagram post this morning, her remit to the magazine was “I wanted show my body off & they listened”. The result? A beautiful woman creatively captured by photographer James White at home in her own body. She was not an unwanted guest there – she was there by choice and it shows.
Like just about every woman I’ve spoken to, my body has never really felt like my own. Granted, I had some special circumstances to deal with – I grew up as part of a controlling religious organisation that dictated just about every aspect of our lives right down to what we thought and how we acted when we were alone. As young women, our bodies were already owned by our future husbands and children and by the congregation for acquiring new recruits and serving the elders. Man-made rules were handed down as the pronouncements of their god. It never quite rang true with me.
So, when I left at 24 and finally got the education I deserved, naturally I had a teensy bit of a leaning towards feminism.
There, I’ve said it. The dirty word that’s been spat out too many times with regard to body issues and obesity. It’s as though the title of Susie Orbach’s totem of a book ‘Fat is a Feminist Issue’ has become an ignorantly misused sound bite for the fat shamers. The loving and taking control of our bodies has become a feminist issue and therefore all about man-hating – like we’re spiders seeking to eat the men that come anywhere near us.
Balls.
They’re our bodies and we want them back because we like them. Incidentally we like men too. The two are not mutually exclusive.
Now, I realise that not every woman has had the same prescribed and damaging upbringing as I had. But I do talk to a lot of women and the same issues keep coming up.
The need to prescribe to a diet – low fat, low carb, no biscuits/cake/chocolate for a month diet. Are you in the Weight Watchers or Slimming World camp?
I’m dieting for my holiday. I’m dieting for my wedding. I’m dieting for my sister’s wedding. It doesn’t matter what the reason is, there is always some external force at work to change the way we look. Somehow this body won’t be acceptable for whatever we are working towards.
I have to lose my baby weight. As if pregnancy, childbirth and the endless sleep deprivation coupled with unbelievable pressure to breast feed isn’t enough (don’t get me started on breasts by the way), then the media is obsessed with dropping the fat ten minutes after you’ve left the labour ward.
A suspended disbelief that one size fits all. If it did, we’d all be wearing the same shoes.
The need to buy and consume what the dieting industry and media are offering, unaware of the irony that our bodies are bought and consumed by the dieting and media industries. Like Tyler Durden in Fight Club says – we are having our own fat sold back to us.
Good grief, this is all starting to sound a little political. Apologies if this isn’t your bag (but if it is, Fat is a Feminist Issue by Susan Orbach is not just a cracking good read, it’s also a practical approach to controlling your weight and The Beauty Mythby Naomi Wolf is also worth checking out).
We’ll return to the fashion bloggers and why what they are doing is so exciting.
I’ve read enough clinical papers, newspaper articles and media sound bites now to know that the medical community are worried about our health. We have a rising obesity problem in the West and the strain this will put on services is causing great concern.
In some minds, frocks to fit a full bust, bigger belts to cinch a waist over rounded hips and a bikini that celebrates rather than hides a gloriously chunky body are going to normalise fatness and make the problem worse.
But don’t they see? Rather than being part of the problem, beautiful, well cut and on-trend clothes are part of the solution.
I’m going to go out on a limb here and state that I believe we should normalise fatness and please don’t quote me out of context. I believe we should normalise people being comfortable with the aesthetics of their own body – in that they should take ownership of whether or not it is beautiful.
So whether you are fat, thin, dark skinned, pale skinned, male, female, short, stocky, tall, lean or whatever innumerable permutations of the human body apply to you, they are yours and no one should be making money out of telling you that they are ugly and you need to change them.
What about health? Improving health is part of this, it has to be.
So to this end, let’s do something radical and separate health from aesthetics and moral judgement. Lumping these things together is not just insulting it’s profoundly unhelpful.
As I’ve said before, a body that feels strong and cherished is worth taking care of. We can’t all be skinny but we can all tweak our lifestyles (or overhaul them if we chose) to make them happier and healthier. And this doesn’t necessarily have to involve giving our money and self-esteem to a multi-billion pound industry bent on getting us to spend more by hating what we already have.
I digress again.
Back to my excitement.
I am old enough to have lived through the fledgling but influential low-fat movement of the 1980s. Protein came under fire off the back of the food combining adherents of the 1990s and I’m now sitting back and watching the anti-sugar/anti-carb evangelists with some interest and maybe even a little cynical amusement now. As a seasoned 40-year old I can’t say I’ve seen it all but I’ve seen enough to know that things move in cycles, absolute truth doesn’t exist and prescriptive diets are not an effective long term solution for everyone.
My interests have lead me to read so many inspiring, insightful and sometimes utterly radical and frankly confusing books about the body. About how it is so much more than skin, bones and organs – about how society paints meaning onto it, how the image we see in the mirror is not always what’s there and how it is used as a tool to control our choices.
And I feel like we have reached a point where if we see enough images of fuller figured girls wearing bikinis, beautifully tailored clothes and red lipstick, proudly showing off shapely legs and glorious acres of creamy white bust, the aesthetics of this will no longer be wrong, evil and worthy of distaste. In a utopian future, self-body-hatred, which so often leads to a negative relationship with food will be gone, leaving us big bottomed girls to get on with riding our bikes, safe in the knowledge that each heartbeat will be a little stronger than the one before, even if we’re wearing size 20 Lycra. Perhaps next year we’ll be wearing size 18, maybe even a 16 but this will be a by-product rather than a focal point of a healthier lifestyle.
Perhaps this new aesthetic environment will bring a smile to the writers and theorists of my university days – who knows but I like to think that the girls in London this week are edging us closer to our utopia and having a massive amount of fun while they’re doing it.
Notes:
In the film The Full Monty, Gerald says “Fat, David is a feminist issue…I don’t bloody know (what it’s supposed to mean) do I? But it is”. Body dysmorphia and the male body is just as important and I’m sorry I haven’t had the space to include more about this in my blog post.
You’ll notice the bevy of beauties I’m referring to in my post are pretty young women with luscious, bouncing curls, milky skin and wickedly long eyelashes. I realise that some critics, with some justification, will point out that in this they are as much buying into the beauty myth as the rest of the industry but – one step at a time eh?
Weight Watchers, Slimming World and the dieting industry as a whole: prescriptive diets work wonders for some people – they take the weight off and keep it off. For these people, I can only feel joy, it must feel wonderful to feel the benefits of their hard work. It doesn’t work for me and it doesn’t work for others like me – we must find our own way of taking control of our weight. Shaming and name calling isn’t likely to work either.
I live on the outskirts of an old military town and since Joanna Lumley’s campaign to improve the lives of ex-Ghurkhas and their families, the area has seen a considerable influx of Nepalese people.
And unlike so many residents who live round here, I have to say I really like these people: they’ve brought a different dimension to the town and I think we have so much to learn from them.
It makes me sad to hear of yet another earthquake in their homeland and I cannot begin to imagine the sadness they must feel, thinking of the communities they’ve left behind. With all the devastating news reports in the media at the moment, I just wanted to say something positive about the people I’ve encountered here, in what must seem like a very foreign land.
Early in the morning, when I’m cycling my daughter to school, I meet small groups of elderly, well wrapped, brightly coloured Nepalese walking in groups along the river path and through the park. “Good morning” they say and in return I offer a “Namaste”. It’s always at this point that they light up and putting their hands together offer many back.
It took me no time at all to notice that this expression conveyed so much more than one of our own English greetings and having never been to Nepal, I thought I’d do a little research.
Just five minutes looking around on the web turned up so much. The phrase literally means “I bow to you”. The small head nod, the hands gently pressing together, the smile that accompanies it, acknowledges the divine spark that resides within us all. It’s more of a prayer than a greeting, so much richer than “good morning”. It’s more involved and wider than just one person acknowledging another. It’s about souls, much older than bodies, passing the time of day.
This made me think about so much I’ve observed recently.
One spring morning about a year ago, I was sat in the car outside my friend’s flat, waiting for him. Next door, a couple of elderly Nepalese ladies stepped out into the sunshine and it was as though the new green leaves and the bright light filled the second woman with something so enlightening, she simply had to place her hands together and say good morning to the sun. My friend is really ill, which I’m finding most distressing at the moment but that one gesture made me smile.
Then there was the time a friend sent me a picture of a small group of elderly Nepalese sat outside his flat in the car park on deckchairs. They were tightly wrapped as it was a cold November day but because the sun was out, so were they. I’ve never been good at hibernating either.
I’ll also mention the elderly Ghurka who I regularly see making his way into town. His slow shuffle speaks of determination despite infirmity or injury. His broad shoulders, muscular physique and strong hand on his walking stick speak of a dignified life at arms for a country far away from the land of his birth.
There seems to be something open and accepting that’s hardwired into the Nepalese people I’ve met. They go outside, explore, find new places – and the library is usually busy with them. On market day, the town is alive with circles of men talking, the women picking over the vegetables on the stalls and in the parks and gardens, they sit and talk in the sunshine.
I don’t pretend to know very much about their land and their diverse culture. I know there are divisions in the country and that it is recovering from a brutal civil war. The town in which I live is groaning under the weight of this sudden population increase (which I believe has more to do with policy than people) and even the local MP has voiced concern over the locals’ inability to find a park bench to use at peak times. I’ve also read about their caste system, their gender roles and their religious and ideological divisions but I can only go on the elderly Nepalese people I’ve seen (I believe the young have their own basket of problems) – and what I’ve seen is a quiet, respectful, considerate people with a great sense of humour and a thirst for human experience.
I’m not a religious person but I think the concept that we all carry a spark of the divine within us is a sensible one. If, just if, the idea that we all harbour the same life force is true, wouldn’t it clear up so many modern-day woes? Wouldn’t so many of our negative emotions like jealousy and fear which cause so much hurt become not just futile but useless?
There are so many souls hurting in Nepal today because the earth shook – again.
