Wednesday, 30 September 2009

A Pain In The Neck

I have always been keen on alternative therapies, and have had regular treatments from my homeopath, reiki healer, reflexologist, cranial osteopath, yoga master and have had aromatherapy, hydrotherapy, hypnotherapy and shiatsu (not to be confused with shitsu, a small fluffy dog) and acupuncture.

Now I have a bit of a problem, well actually a large problem, a terrible pain in the neck and shoulders. I think it may have come about from carrying two pairs of fabulous new boots (same pair, in two colours), I just couldn't resist their supple suede texture, so alluring, so sensuous and so impractical for country wear, particularly the gorgeous camel coloured ones. I had found them on a trip to one of the large towns here, about 45 minutes drive away. I was seduced, quite easily, by the sales girl telling me that not everyone had heard of Pierre Hardy in her neck of the woods, well I have, and I know quality when I see it - so that was it, one pair in camel and one pair in black. The problem that arose, was that I hadn't quite realised how far away my car was from where I now found myself, and I would have got a bus back to it had I known which one to get, so I had to trudge my way back through this rather lovely ancient Roman town, and this is when I think I may have injured myself, as they were excessively heavy, and I could feel the tugging on my neck muscles as I walked.

It was when I couldn't turn my head to admire what I thought might be a mink collar on a rather stylish jacket, that I knew I was in trouble, and not yet being familiar with the local alternative therapists here, I had been knocking back my drug of choice, a cocktail of paracetamol and ibrobrufen, which the chemist assured me could be taken together, though I'm not so sure, as I had been feeling quite woozy. Fortunately, I was observed, in obvious discomfort in the butchers, as I strained to reach some fennel crackers, by a lovely lady who kindly asked me if I was in need of assistance. I explained my current predicament and she swiftly directed me to a local chiropractor who has a practice at a nearby organic farm that has very cleverly converted their barns and stables into commercial units, and not just any old units, there is a very smart art gallery run by an elegant woman who guides you expertly around her paintings, a fabulous interiors shop run by a women with a great eye for what works in any smart country home, a farm shop packed full with wonderful produce actually from the farm - you can't get fresher than that, and a little cafe serving delicious food of a very healthy variety.

I found my way to the top hayloft where the practice room is housed, and immediately began to feel the pain receding. I was asked many questions about my general health and well being, and I instantly knew I was in capable hands. Needless to say there was some pain involved with the various manipulations, massage techniques, strange prickling sensations from the ultrasound machine that sends signals to your muscles telling them to chill out, but overall compared to the pain I was already experiencing, it was minor.

I had to make two more visits and each time I could feel myself loosening up, and my lovely practitioner has told me to take it easy and rest-up. Easy to say, but no so easy to do, with handsome husband, big, middle, and little child and of course the dog all to attend to. So I have been quite cunning and have put aside some time for myself and transformed my bathroom into a haven of luxury, a place of peace and contemplation, my very own home spa, and the results are quite fabulous. Handsome husband was quite willing to assist in my recuperation and each evening I choose one oil from the seductive collection of Neal's Yard Essential Oil Blends (made very nearby in their eco-headquarters), which he then massages into my, no longer aching neck, though naturally I haven't told him yet that I'm cured, and may just have to keep up the pretence for a little longer, as I could get used to this.

Sunday, 27 September 2009

Life's a Beach

The beach beckoned on a beautiful hot and sunny day, at the end of September. Heavens, if this is global warming, I'm all for it. I felt I should make the perfect picnic, a savoury delicacy such as a quiche (easy to transport), dainty sandwiches with select fillings, and a fruit tart, oh how I love a tart, as does handsome husband, who it transpires does sometimes consider what he should wear, because as I am so annoyingly organised and as I do every year I had packed away the summer wardrobe, except for a few select pieces that can cross over into autumn/winter with the addition of other items. I, along with the rest of the gorgeous people of this crazy island we live on, assume that September is the end of what we Brits call summer, but this year we were all wrong, and those naughty weather men and women didn't even have the courtesy to inform us that autumn was to become summer - oh it is all so confusing.

It was easy for handsome husband, as he, being so hardy, often wears shorts in the cooler weather, although when it's really chilly he will bung a cashmere sweater over his t-shirt. He was all fixed up for the days outing, shorts and t-shirt - no problem. Kids too, were fine and opted for similar outfits so they all looked like mini husbands. What about me, I wailed from the top of the stairs. I was told to pull myself together and look for something suitable in my vast wardrobe. Luck was in my favour, as I skimmed along the rails, there peeking out at me was a jewel of a dress from Allegra Hicks (who incidentally also does some beautiful homewares). I had grabbed it off the rail of a little boutique in a very nearby town, only two weeks ago, from the sale rail (ssshhh don't tell a soul), it was a complete bargain and I felt at the time rather proud to have spotted it, and knew it was not so fashionable to only be worn once or twice (at a push), and that I would get some wear out of it next summer - whenever that may be.

We arrived in what seemed like super quick time, now living so near to the sea what used to take hours is now a breeze of a journey. It was utterly idyllic, picturesque, surprisingly peaceful and very hot. The kids zoomed off for the water, while I laid out our towels, buckets and spades, beach games, balls, water wings, cutlery, glasses, liquid refreshment, picnic and, oh no in my haste to be out of the house and anticipating thousands of other families doing exactly the same thing and going in exactly the same direction, and wanting to be sure of good pitch on the beach I had forgotten the most important item we Brits really do need when the weather is unexpectedly good - suncream - oh hell, it would be ok for the kids as they could keep their t-shirts and sun hats on, and handsome husband goes ruggedly golden without burning and can survive well without suncream, I, however, being fair skinned was in a right fix, and I could already feel my delicate skin beginning to tingle.

As any girl, pushed to the limit would do, I began to cry, I think it was the torment knowing the facial I had only two days previously would now completely go to waste. I felt retched, and was getting hotter and hotter. Handsome husband sat down next to me on our White Company beach towels and began delving into the picnic hamper. My eyes now bleary with tears, I couldn't make out what he was doing until after a few moments he held up a hat made from linen napkins, it was the most beautiful sight, and I placed it on my hot head. He then fiddled around some more with the remainder of the napkins and, hey presto a gorgeous shawl to cover my shoulders. A man of so many talents!

The kids thought I looked very "funky" with my new accessories and began to tuck into the delicious picnic. Yum, yum they all declared and then the little one looked around for something to wipe his sticky chops on, and, just this once I turned a blind eye when he lowered his head and used his t-shirt to remove the messy smear from his mouth, and gave him a big sandy kiss.

Sunday, 20 September 2009

Tuesday, 1 September 2009

Forget Sex In The City - It's definitely better in the Country

Oh thank you god, for creating gorgeous men. This was my Jilly Cooper moment, horse, hounds, and huntsman (not to be confused with the master tailors in Savile Row). It must have been the heady mix of late summer scents, horse poo, wet dog, and pure testosterone fuelled man, that did it. Believe me ladies, when I tell you, there just simply isn't any equivalent in London - or any other city. Picture this; 70 hounds barking (actually they don't bark they speak), tails wagging like they were pitching for a government grant to provide a new tail fuel power. Horses gleaming and steaming, nostrils flaring from the surge of the hunt, and lean, strong outdoor tanned huntsman, piercing blue eyes, white tight jodhpurs and scarlet coat, leaning down towards me breathlessly saying "Care to join me". Oh there is a god, and he loves me. "Oh, yes" I gushed, without hesitation and without thinking. Oh dear, my riding skills are questionable and they certainly don't stretch to flying over hedges and fences at great speed with a large hunter between my legs.

Interestingly, at this point being overcome with flattery from this dashing fellow, my clothing was way down my list of concerns. Along strides handsome husband who had appeared as if by magic. Now he can ride, and ride well, and as ever he became my saviour, rescuing me from this tight spot of having to reveal my riding inadequacies. "Darling, you can't possibly ride out today" he whispered "your kit is all wrong". I looked down, he was correct, no riding boots (note to self - get some immediately), no jodhpurs (another note to self along the same lines). I quickly recovered composure and came to my senses. "Oh I would love to join you, but have no riding gear with me as we are on our way to drinks, and hadn't anticipated staying - so maybe next time". I had been saved from myself by my handsome husband from a hunting caveman. I left the scene of my close encounter of the master huntsman kind feeling a deep desire to buy myself some completly outrageously sexy leather riding boots and oh so tight strides. Do check out Brogini where I shall be making my first firm horsey purchase.


Related Posts with Thumbnails