Thirty….just a number….

So I turned thirty on the 12th of January, and I feel…… exactly the same. Age is simply a number. Some people ask ‘how does it feel?’ and I answer the only way I know how, with minimal wording and minimal thought, ‘exactly the same’.


I often think about what I have to show for thirty years on this earth, the answer being not a lot. But that isn’t entirely true….I’ve only been an adult for just over a third of that….and I’m still striving to be a better me, albeit in a different sense than two and a bit years ago.


The thought process behind an age, a time spent alive, is a sobering thought as well as a reminder that you’re still you, still fighting and still wanting more. Granted, there have been times where I didn’t want more, I wanted an end. I didn’t want a better me, I didn’t even want a me. With times of positivity, age is like time, it continues to roll on but it doesn’t matter how long it takes, perfection isn’t around the corner, nor is it a possibility. So life is a work in progress. Progress to always be better than the day before and if you don’t feel that sense of achievement there’s always tomorrow.


I read back over my ramblings sometimes and wonder why I can write these things yet fail to put them in to practice. Heed your own advice and take each day as it comes, ignore a ‘bad day’ and try again tomorrow. It’s a mind-set that confuses the bejesus out of me yet it makes perfect sense!


So I’m thirty. Thirty years a boy, a man I aim to become, a success story, a person I can be proud of and one day I’ll look in the mirror and be glad that I am me!!


Sweet dreams y’all!
Love Smiley 😊😊

Advertisements

Jibber-jabber at dawn #6….from parfait to pickle….

So 4 hours was all I was allowed….I’ll take it! A successful nights sleep!


I dreamt of cooking. Cooking my food for anyone and everyone, my very own restaurant once again, like the old one. It was nice to dream of cooking again, a welcome blast from the past.


Perhaps today I’ll get in the kitchen. Capitalise on this dream, create some fire……whilst doing my upmost not to burn the house down. It’s a strange one, from loving every aspect of a busy kitchen…the only place anxiety seemed to melt away…to never wanting to cook again. The very thought of picking up a knife or pan was gut wrenching and filled with fear.


Since then I have been able to cook. A breakfast of eggs & oats, the odd fish dish and stew. And now I’m even contemplating ‘just cooking’. Anything, everything. I want to make bread, pasta, pastry. Ooo sauces, dressings and flavoursome stocks. A parfait there, a lobster bisque here. Pickles and chutney. A delicate rose jelly and macerated fruits. An ice cream and a sorbet…….the list of what goes through my mind is endless!


To be back among fresh produce, tasting the fruits of another’s labour. The smells of fruit, herbs and vegetables, a welcoming entrance to the local grocer’s.


I hope this new view and mentality holds on long enough to stick. One day, a return to some form of a chef may still be achievable 😊