Tag Archives: achievements

K is for Keep a Diary or Journal

Day 11 of the A-Z alphabet blog challenge.

It is easy to lose motivation once the initial impetus has worn off so i find it helps to have a visual record to remind me of my goals and achievements so far. The best way i have found of doing this is to keep a diary.

Writing on knee

Diaries or journals can be anything you want them to be. Personally, i stick with plain A5 size lined notebooks where i am not constricted in the amount i write. I guess you have noticed that i have a tendency to waffle a bit and my diary is no exception. They do have to look pretty though.

Notebook and pen

 

Although, i’m not always quite so fussy on my choice of pen…

 

 

 

In the past i have written:

  • Daily journals: detailing what has happened during the day.
  • Craft journals: detailing the items i have made and working out the costings for them.
  • A Happiness journal: during a particularly sad part of my life when i needed to acknowledge that there were good things that happened within the day as well as the sad things.
  • And a Spending journal: to show exactly what i spend in a day/week/month and then identify where the wastage is and what can be cut back on.

If you want to be able to see where those stray pennies go when you aren’t looking then start to write them down, pin them to the page so that, even if they do try and go walkabout, you can drag them back and make them account for their wandering ways.

If just writing in a diary or a journal is too plain and, quite frankly, boring for you, then make it fun. Doodle some pictures, learn some funky writing, download some pictures from google images and stick them in to highlight your point or look in the pound shops for one cheap and cheerful stickers. There are lots of really funky ideas over on Pinterest to spark your imagination.

Also, don’t just write an accounts book for it – that really would be boring. You can see that on your bank statement.

Write how you felt about the spending, before you spent, what made you decide to buy that item?

How did you feel when you handed over your card or the cash? A heady feeling of exhilaration as you heard the familiar ching of the cash register?

How did you feel after you got the purchase home? Pleased? Or guilty?

Acknowledging why and how we spend is half the battle to becoming in control of our own spending, learning what part of us we are trying to appease through the handing over of our cold, hard earned cash to a stranger in return for another piece of stuff, another cream cake, another mug of steaming vanilla latte from the coffee shop on the corner where they just taste too good to go without – my diary worked out that i was spending over £800 per year on regular take out coffees during my working day. That was just two coffees per day on average, 5 days per week. It is amazing how much it adds up.

So, if you want to see where your money goes, track it, write it down, make it fun, identify your motives and stop what no longer needs to be spent.

So far this year i have spent less than a fiver on take out coffees. That is about £245 saved already.

Oh, and i’d recommend the happiness diary as well. It helped me out of a really deep hole.

Have a happy day.

Anita x

A no spend birthday treat

Blog number two for my no spend, make do and mend year

 

31st December 2017.

I’m not going out tonight. My New Year’s Eve party invitations must have got lost in the post and I’m too excited about my London trip to care about the start of another New Year. It’s just the ticking of a time bomb after all. Although if I get one more flashing, round robin ‘happy new year, you are so special to me’ message in my messenger inbox from someone who hasn’t bothered to personally contact me in the last twelve months (or longer) I’m going to bloody scream!

My evening has been spent packing, I have been instructed that the clothes I wore to David’s 20th birthday back in November will be suitable, luckily they fold well. I have also tried to forego the necessity of spending money in the buffet car on the train by making ham and spiced apple chutney (my recipe) sandwiches and cooking up some frozen sausage rolls and cocktail sausages. The challenge may not have started properly, but I don’t need to waste money do I!

1st January 2018.

I’m on the train. London bound!

Sandwiches going down a treat, eldest son, Ben, is delicately snoring beside me catching up on the sleep he missed due to his rather excessively late night last night. He is obviously not as well organised as I am. So far, I haven’t spent a single penny, unless you count the diesel I used to drive us to the station. It being New Year’s day and the fact that my middle son, Michael, wouldn’t have slept off enough of his alcohol intake from last night to be able to get behind a steering wheel, I opted to drive into my place of work which is about a mile from the train station. Ben and I would walk from there. He was up for it as well, probably another reason why he is now snoring gently away – as I write, I have a lovely view of his lack of tonsils. I live in a tiny hamlet where there are no buses on bank holidays or Sundays (and the rest of the week can be a bit intermittent), the price of a taxi for the ten miles was just ridiculous. Still, look on the bright side, the exercise was good – if knackering, it is a really steep hill up to the station – and I got my 5,000 daily step target on my fitbit sorted before eleven am.

2nd January 2018.

I’m now 50 years old.

cake

I don’t feel it. I don’t know where all those years have gone. I am however, so thankful that I have made it to this lofty age with only minimal scrapes and bruises to show for it. Many of my school friends haven’t made it this far, and a lot of those who did are suffering and in pain. In my mind, it doesn’t matter who knows my age, it really is just a number and every one that I am lucky enough to be given is a bonus.

Philosophy over, I got presents!!! Best of all being tickets to go to The London Palladium to watch Dick Whittington tonight. It’s starring a whole gamut of stars, Julian Clary, Nigel Havers, Diversity, Elaine Paige, Gary Wilmot and Paul Zerdin are headlining and I am so excited. The last time I saw a London show was my first ever musical. It was ‘Annie’ in, I cannot remember which theatre, in the West End and it was a school trip when I was about fourteen. It was a reward for the school choir for learning the Faure Requiem in Latin. No, I can’t sing very well, but it was fun pretending, especially when with a load of others so my own voice couldn’t be heard. There’s probably some more philosophy hiding in there somewhere.

I also received a bottle of Moet Chandon, a silver bracelet, a few CD’s and some chocolates among a few other items but, what the hell…I’m going to the Panto at the London Palladium!!!

presents flat lay

Don’t think the no spend thing is going to work today, definitely a good idea to wait until I’m home.

5th January 2018.

I’m home. Dick Whittington was amazing, Julian Clary was hilarious, Nigel Havers was ridiculously funny, Gary Wilmot did the weirdest song about the London Underground ever and I will never know how he managed to learn it, Diversity were astounding and Elaine Paige has certainly not suffered any loss of voice as she has got older. She can still blow the roof off with those awesome pipes of hers. The costume budget must have been more than I get paid in at least a couple of years and the special effects? Mind-blowing.

London Palladium stage

I didn’t go overboard with the spending though. Mainly because it was my birthday and nobody would let me buy anything, which was unexpected but welcome. I had a cooked breakfast from a really nice café opposite Paddington station before boarding the train which meant I wasn’t hungry all the way back and I refrained from buying myself a coffee from the buffet car on the way home. I stuck to the bottle of water I bought on the way to the station so wasn’t I ultra good?

breakfast

 

Gold star to Anita please, I do like sparkly things.

 

Today is a happy day.

Anita. x

Musing on getting older

It’s another new year and the beginning of my 50th one on this planet. I don’t feel like 50. Some would say that i don’t look like 50 either, sometimes i think they are just being nice, other times i take their compliments, run with them like the wind and scream ‘Wahey!!’….Well, in my mind i do. I’m far too introverted to actually run and scream out loud…more’s the pity.

Me in London

I’d be lying if i said that hitting this milestone is a breeze, but it’s certainly not as bad as i thought it would be 30 years ago when i hit my 20’s and just couldn’t imagine ever being as old as 50. But i do believe that i am so lucky to be able to stand up and say, ‘Hey, i’m 50. And i don’t actually care who knows it.’

So many of my old school comrades either haven’t made it this far or are in poor health and therefore struggling to make it through every day in this disablist world we now live in. I can call it that. Although i am fit and healthy, i work in the care sector and see every day how people with disabilities are discriminated against behind the guise of political correctness. Just don’t get me started on the idiots who think it is ok to park in front of a dropped kerb…i guess they have never tried getting a wheelchair onto a pavement without one, but ignorance is never a reason, it is just an excuse for bad behaviour.

But i digress. What have i achieved in the last 50 years?

  1. I have survived (yes, that is the correct word, it has been touch and go at times).
  2. I have brought up my three sons just about single handed and i am as proud of the men they have become as any Mother could be – let’s just gloss over the fact that my coping mechanism when they were all tired and teasy and bickering at each other was to just tune out and let them get on with it…
  3. I have educated myself through two undergraduate degrees whilst working and bringing up my boys on my own.
  4. I am currently half way through a Master of Arts degree in Creative Writing whilst working full time …can no longer lay claim to the bringing up the boys though, the little blighters are just about self sufficient now.
  5. I work in the care sector, and have done for 18 years. It’s a hard job at times, but, for me, the pros far outweigh the cons.
  6. I have been published as both a poet and a theatre reviewer. I’m still working on the fiction thing. See point number 4.
  7. In the last year i have finally been brave enough to go on holiday on my own. It was a frightening and enlightening experience for someone as initially timid as me.
  8. I have loved and lost. Far too many people.
  9. But ultimately, i have survived, for that i am grateful.

 

So what about the next 50 years? Would be handy if i could have a peek inside a crystal ball, but on the other hand, where would be the fun in that?

Image result for crystal ball

I have no idea what the future holds but i do know that i am not intending to let ‘old age’ and ‘diminishing years’ hold me back from my plans for the future. I intend to write more, make my voice heard. I may be quiet in person but my mind and my fingers are itching to tell you so many stories…once i get the words in the right order that is…

I intend to live more and not rely on just surviving as i have in the past. I am bored with letting the fact that i am single dictate my social life and stop me from doing the things i want to do.

Finally, i intend to be happy. For all those who haven’t made it this far. For all those who have and are struggling to get out of bed unassisted or just make it through until bedtime.

We all deserve to be happy.

Take care,

Anita x

Make today a happy day too!

 

 

Memory should never be forgotten.

I have worked in the care sector for the last seventeen years. In this time i have worked with just about every conceivable disability you could think of ranging from child to centurion; physical to mental to learning disability. For the last nine years i have concentrated on adults with learning disabilities although, sadly, this can also include Alzheimers and Dementia as these diseases tend to affect the learning disability cohort at a much earlier age than in the rest of the population.

What i have found most is that it is nigh on impossible to find resources to help with memory recognition and retention within this particular client group. Believe me, i tried! In my failure to find anything suitable i therefore starting writing memory poems and devising quizzes that were achievable for those with cognitive impairments and also fun for them to do.

The guys that i work with love them. They continually ask for them and they never tire of them. I have now decided to put them together into themed session plans for use in care homes, day care centres and memory cafes as well as for general home use. They can be dipped in and out of, they are suitable for both group and individual work and they even have photocopiable dot to dot pictures to enhance the learning environment.

An example of the memory poems are as follows:

I’m big to see and my boyfriend is scary,
He uses his horns when he sees red.
I eat hay and grass and go to the Dairy,
To give you the butter to spread on your bread.
A. Cow

  As you can see, achievable and simple. Worded simply to encourage the client to get the answer. Failure isn’t an option here. We want them to feel positive and happy. We want them to win.

On the farm cover

 

The book (and its successors as they become available) can be purchased direct from either my ETSY shop – Baby Dreams Stitchery

https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/525938594/on-the-farm-memory-sessions-book-for?ref=shop_home_active_1

Or my Facebook page – Anita Hunt Writer

https://www.facebook.com/anitadhunt1/

Take a look, you won’t be disappointed.

And make today a happy day.

Anita x

 

 

The Importance of ‘Stuff’

We are all surrounded by ‘Stuff.’ Stuff we think is important and that we cannot possibly live without. We spend our lives pushing ourselves forward in our acquisition of stuff. Stuff that we discard shortly after as we lust after bigger and better stuff. A bigger house in a better area, a posher car…or two, expensive holidays in the sun.

What do we do to get our stuff? We work…around the clock. We go to our offices/shops/factories. Make polite conversation with people whom, sometimes, we would rather not and stress over issues that are quite often taking far more brain power than they deserve.

With the recent London, Sweden and Syria atrocities I feel this has been brought even more to the fore. In London, a dedicated policeman was doing his job, laughing with tourists and having a selfie taken with them. Minutes later, in the call of duty and astonishing bravery, he was callously stabbed to death. A woman on her way to collect her children was mown down by a speeding car while another was thrown over the side of the bridge into the cold, unforgiving water below. I think that in their last moments, their possessions were the last things on their mind.

I have worked in the care sector for the last seventeen years and within that time I have been tasked with clearing out the rooms of those that have departed. There is little to compare with the sadness of that clearing process. The throwing away of a person’s treasured possessions because they mean nothing to those who are left behind. Clearing out my parents house was even harder. In the top drawer of my mother’s dressing table I found a cross stitched card that I had made her for Mother’s Day many years before. Inside i had written ‘Cheer’s Ma, I don’t know what I would do without you.’ If that didn’t hit me hard enough there was then one solitary, unlit cigarette. Her emergency stash that she kept just incase she needed to have a fag one day. It is testament to her strength that in five years of cancer treatment, she never smoked that cigarette. Finding it broke me.

So what have I taken from all of this? That the acquisition of stuff shouldn’t be the driving force of our life. It is the memories that matter most, the people that we choose to share our lives with and the little things they do that make us feel secure, loved and wanted. The random hug, the handmade gift, the memories they leave that last long after they have gone.

Carlyon Bay-29

I know it is a cliche, but hold onto those people and tell them you love them because, like those brave people on Westminster Bridge, you don’t know when you get up if you are going to get back into your own bed again tonight.

Most of all, make today a Happy Day.

Love, Anita. x

Making Dreams a Reality

They say that if you want to be a writer then you need a blog to showcase your writing skills. Well, i thought about starting up a new blog, just for that and then i thought, hey! Wait a minute! I already have one, quite a nice one actually with funky flowers and calming colours. Why not resurrect that one from the dying ethers in which it currently lies?

So here we are, a third of the way through my first year of a Masters of Arts in Creative Writing course with the Open University and i have never written so much in so short a time. I have also never received so much critique about my writing ability in so short a time either, but i am happy to report that it has largely been good and, strangely, people seem to like what i write and the way in which i write it. Maybe i am onto a winner here? Ha, only time can really tell on this one, but i’m willing to keep on trying.

I’m not saying that everything i have written is good, some of them are imminently forgettable as the exercises they are planned to be. Just an exercise in writing to a specific prompt or using a specific technique, some of which gel with the writer and some of which are, frankly, just not my cup of tea.

One that has stuck in my memory though is the following exercise where the brief was to write around 500 words using colloquialisms and language of your home town or Country. Now, i am Cornish, and very proud to be so. I absolutely loved coming up with this one, i hope you enjoy it too.

Bleddy Emmets!

‘Tis no good,’ Jess said as she slammed the pastry down onto the floured board, ‘I’m gettin’ sum teasy with these bleddy emmets down ‘ere all the time with their bleddy upcountry ways.’ She pointed towards the bowlful of peeled potatoes that were sat on the table, ‘Pass us them teddy’s over will ‘e maid?’

Amy did as she was bid, ‘here you go Gran. You really shouldn’t let them get to you, you know.’

‘Aye, I naw’s that, but they really get me goat and they ain’t gotta bleddy clue wasson ‘alf the time.’

Jess had finished rolling out the pastry and was deftly turning a large potato in one hand whilst chipping small bitesize chunks off with a knife in the other and placing them in a line in the middle of the pastry.

‘I don’t know how you do that without cutting yourself. ‘Amy said, trying to deflect her Grandmothers temper.

‘Tis easy tis, jus’ like drivin’ down the bleddy lane is. I thought she were gonna start squallin’ when she had to reverse up the ‘ill. Turmits next me ‘ansome.’

‘It’s swede Gran, turnips are white and these are yellow,’ Amy smiled.

‘I’ll give e swede! They’m all turmits to me. Beef and onion from that bowl there next.’

Amy watched as her gran flipped the outside of the pastry over the filling and quickly crimped the edges together in a fingers over thumb movement before placing it onto an opened butter wrapper and putting it into the oven.

‘You know, we do have greaseproof paper these days. You don’t have to save all your butter wrappers anymore,’ Amy chided.

‘I’ll give e bleddy greaseproof paper an all! When you’ve bin makin’ pasty’s longer’un me then you ken tell us about bleddy greaseproof paper! Aye, you’m a booty you are.’ She laughed, shaking her head at her grand daughter.

‘Fancy a cuppa tea Gran?’

‘Aye, me cups over there. Jus’ top’un up. When this pasty comes out, I’ll wrap’un up an e can take un to work for yer crib later.’

‘Thanks Gran, You’re the best. My mates are well jealous of my pasties on my break.’