Today I made hash for lunch. I just needed to use up the potatoes and the deli meats left over from Christmas. I hadn’t thought about hash in a long time. Not so a few years back.

This restaurant seemed all about hash. Best seller at brunch and lunch. The prep was never ending. It was hash prep that resulted in me getting a bollocking for being ill. I was ill. Too ill to be in work. It was acknowledged that I was ill and still I was shouted at for cutting the chorizo too slowly. I defended myself. Of course I was working slowly I felt really ill. I was told not to answer back. Just like a child. I was a woman in my early 30s at the time. In a place of work.

“Don’t answer back”

Everyone says that kitchens are better now than they used to be and of course that is the truth. Maybe though the bad old days are not as old as I think.

The hash was delicious though. I roasted the potatoes with paprika and oregano. I fried the bacon, the salami, the chorizo until it was beautiful and crisp. The eggs were fresh, organic. Blissfully golden yolks. Just a little hot sauce. It was comforting after the cold morning. It took me no time at all to cut the chorizo.

Says Eddie to Richie, in that episode of Bottom, when he is asked about his going to bed routine.

After working an evening shift that is usually me. Get everything ready and get into bed as quickly as I possibly can. There are those who might say this is not healthy, that you need to have a proper going to bed routine.

Unfortunately a lot of advice for coping with anxiety and other mental health conditions does centre around a regular routine. As well meaning as it all is it is very muched geared towards a 9-5 lifestyle. This is not the reality of the millions of people who work shifts. I can’t be asleep by 11 if I’m still at work at 12:40 ( sure there have been nights where it would just have been easier to keep my sleeping bag in the kitchen but still.)

I am lucky enough however that I never work Monday evenings. On Monday evenings I have my regular counselling session and I have built up a regular routine around it which has become a comfort to me.

So it’s dinner at 6. Stardew Valley at 6:30. Counselling at 8. Bath at 9. Then tea, teeth and sleep.

My head is currently nodding over my Bird and Blend relaxing Blend. Valerian and orange. Looks vile, tastes lovely.

Last week was a long one. It was a little tough. I have been feeling rather fragile the last two days. Last night I felt like I only slept for an hour at a time.

Tonight I need my Monday routine more than ever. Once I’ve finished my tea I’ll have a bit of a kip.

Nos da lovelies.

“How was your night?” They ask.

“How was my night?” I counter.

“Simple question.” They remark.

“Sure” I agree.

“So….”

“Well I cut myself on the mayonnaise jar….”

….

….

“It’s made of plastic”

Yep it’s been a night!

My father is a huge fan of getting up and getting in early. He says it’s like hard work in that it is good for the soul. No he’s not a philosopher, although I reckon he would make a good one, he’s actually a software developer like T.

It is only in recent years that I have come around to his point of view.

I mean you just don’t get views like that at 4pm!

Sorry I digress. This is not all about loving on Bristol.

Rather it is in where I announce myself as a morning person.

Today I got in early. I love getting in early. You see the kitchen is a noisy place. I forget who it was who said “professional cooking is a loud racket” but they were absolutely right. The kitchen is a noisy place.

It’s not always great for my anxiety.

But.

There’s just something about the peace it provides in the early morning. The calm before the storm. It soothes me. Allows me to relax into the day.

As usual my father is right. Getting in early. It’s good for you.

Mine is a double espresso.

It’s been a pretty tiring night. The first Friday night I have worked in a long time. Needless to say I am not currently looking my very best.

She’s a cruel mistress, Friday night. 194 covers from 5pm onwards. Just as well I did up a few birthday plates in advance. It was a bit hairy in places. Bowls were hard to come by. Crackers didn’t puff. At one point the blowtorch got broken. There’s always an Olive that falls into the caramel!

But. We got it done. With many “by hook or by crooks” many “any ports in a storm” and one or two “keep your knickers on.” As a team we pulled together. The sense of camaraderie is what carries us through.

At one point B expressed concern that I looked worried. I replied. “I think that’s just my face at this point.” He said “Don’t worry you’re better than you think”

We all are! Amazing job everyone!

The South Bristol Post is a great newspaper. Its handy for all sorts of household jobs. This morning it was pressed into service to protect the kitchen floor while we repotted the money tree.

The money tree was a present from Mama A when I first moved into my flat in Bradford on Avon four years ago. It came with me to Bristol and it seems to really like its spot on our kitchen windowsill.

Lately however it has started to look a little sickly. It’s once nurturing home seemed now to be stifling it. Time for an upgrade.

A new pot and a good watering and I’m confident it will thrive again.

There’s nothing like a bit of room to grow…

We’ve started house hunting!

A complete change of theme from last week but in my defence it has been very cold today.

To The Snow

Walk with me my darling

In the dreamlike snow

It fell in a lullaby.

And made the world softer

Quieter.

It rounded its corners.

Made the night less dark.

It softened its glare.

But didn’t dull its shine.

During the first lockdown, before I met T, I stayed with my parents in Pontypridd. My parents have two big allotments. They grow all kinds of fruit, vegetables and flowers. My mother is a wonderful gardener. My father. Well my father likes digging.

One evening he was practically rubbing his hands with glee as he informed me “We’ve got lots of hard work to do tomorrow Beck”

The apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree in this case. I like digging too. There is a simple satisfaction to be gained from a little bit of honest toil. A joy to be found in the health and strength of your own body. A pride in what you can achieve through manual labour.

As I write this I am still in bed. Pretty exhausted. Its been a long few days of work. But when I think of everything I have done that sense of satisfaction comes flooding back. It warms me.

On Friday I was flattening the cardboard at the food bank. The day was mild. It was like springtime. I turned my face to the sun. Hard work. Its good for the soul.

This was sort of a sequel to Signs of Spring. All about finding some optimism where it wasn’t easy to see.

Rain in Bristol, 3pm

The clouds came at two,

They stole the park’s beauty.

Turned it in an instant to desolation.

The whispered promise of the trees,

Became an angry bellow.

It drowned out my joy.

Left only the tedium

That made the path home slick with treacle.

So typical,

I thought,

That only the rain comes early now.

But then I saw the crocus.

And as thick.

And as heavy.

As the treacle was.

Still, my tongue found its sweetness.

I smiled

As I headed for home.

It’s probably optimistically early but hey we all need a little optimism on a rainy day.

Signs of Spring

The silver sunshine reflects on the roads,

That are slick with the spoils of the nighttime storm.

The houses on the hill sing out their colours.

The grass grows greener,

As the wind blows,

No longer cruel.

Now fresh and new.

The snow drops peek out,

Under the trees that whisper,

The promise of their leaves.

Not yet.

But soon.

I wrote this last year during the lockdown. It is one of many inspired by Bristol.