Lounge on The Farm

Well..what a beautiful weekend! And just what the doctor ordered - if, of course, the doctor had ordered me to make my ongoing back pain even worse and to roll in a lot of dusty mud. The South East of England has been blessed with some beautiful blazing weather this weekend and I can safely say I've made the most of it!

I had my feet eaten by fish...yes...yes I did. I partook in an amazing little thing where you put your feet in the tank and these blessed little creatures come along and nibble all the crappy skin off them for you. Was one of the weirdest experiences of my life! A bit like putting your feet into very fizzy lemonade...but with gobbly slimers in there too. It's apparently the latest celebrity beauty therapy and while I can't vouch that it actually achieved anything remarkable, it was certainly very lovely and I'm always happy to feed fish if it'll help the whales somewhere along the line.

I attempted a Bollywood dance lesson this morning - not something I'd recommend for people whose hips are keen on vacationing from their sockets - but it was highly amusing. There's nothing like being half way through a shimmy when your leg refuses to do any more of the, well, leg work.

I then attended a deep breathing workshop where I was asked to imagine I was sitting in a field...bearing in mind I was at a festival called Lounge on the FARM in Kent...this was not tricky and I lost faith in my well meaning but slightly odd teacher. He explained that we were to breath in and out whilst blocking one nostril at a time. This separated breathing allows us to balance the flow of oxygen going to our brains and bring the two sides of our personalities into balance...riiiiight. But hell I did it and I did well.

Now, I'm not intending to make this blog whiny in any way but it's worth pointing out at this point that my attempt to enjoy this festival comes in a week when I have just been 'released' by my significant other. I prefer released to dumped because it makes me feel more dove than pigeon.

So this was very much a break away and a chance to try and get my head sorted into the single life again. Something I'm not much looking forward to doing. I've decided a split from someone you love but cannot be with anymore is very much like getting out of bed on a cold morning. You know that if you jump straight in the shower you will be happier much quicker and the day will be much more prodcutive...but the temptation to have 'just 5 more minutes' is very strong despite it only being a stay of execution for the inevitable.

All was going well in my festival of new starts until the 24 hour shop (which came equipped with 24 hour music blaring...) seemed to get stuck on reggae. Reggae going to sleep, reggae waking up, reggae with my tea...reggae reggae reggae. Now I really quite like reggae, but this only due to the absolute love affair my ex has with it. So I have spent the entire weekend with the tantalising soundtrack to 18 months permeating my sub conscious. Was much like waking up in the past only to find out I wasn't blissfully reunited - I had a blow up doll bearing a slight resemblance that was insisting on poking me in the eye with my hairbrush.

I think the first few weeks are the hardest - like trying not to itch a scab or think about the game (apologies the world over...!). But I've lain in the sun, performed a good hour of my finest material, sat and talked with very good friends and done it all without the merest sniff of the comfort blanket man. And if I can do all that then I can do tomorrow, and that's all I need to do for now.

But I have survived - feeling very tanned, very grubby and very delicate, I'm back in the real world. And the wintry bed is still tempting, but the shower is most certainly the way forward for now...

So apologies for the more 'thinky' than 'funny' approach, but I've balanced my brain through nostril relocation and this appears to have been the resulted. Having expelled all of this tripe I've now moved on to being concerned as to the balance of folks like Daniella Westbrook who must very much struggle...