Launderettes: photographic charms

I write this blog entry sitting in a laundrette as my washing machine has gone kaput. I find myself trying to rustle together 8 lots of £1 coins so I can put on a couple of washes, except I don’t have 8 lots of £1 coins on me as I rarely carry cash on me – so I turn to the shop owner.

I imagine he is used to customers like me, ‘modern people’ who are quick to get out the plastic card to pay for anything and everything. However I am lucky, after a while scrambling around in my bag I have found a ten pound note- I am thrilled! It is like the shop owner expects this by anticipating my next question- he delves deep into his pocket and has a number of pound coins on the palm of his hand ready to exchange for my note, before I have even said anything.

My eyes notice the old machine on the wall behind him, it is out of order – its functionality being to swap notes for coins. I briefly wonder how long it has been broken for, as the sign declaring it is not working, has faded and the paper has gone slightly yellow.

I put my two loads on and the waiting game starts. A free hour – there is no obligation to do anything except enjoy the surroundings and wait for the washing to be done as the reality is you have no option but to wait. I enjoy listening to the whirring noises and the drum beats of the washing machine – it has a steady methodical rhythm to it. I like the almost sickly sweet chemical smell in the room from the soap powder and solvent and I don’t mind that the room has a thick, warm temperature to it. There is something terribly old school about sitting on a bench waiting for your laundry to be done – chic almost? Whilst Hollywood has probably glamorised launderettes in my head, half of me does think that the man of my dreams may just wonder in at any point. However, given I arrived 20 minutes ago and there have been only 3 customers I think it is a case of dreaming on.

An old man is one of the 3 customers and has since sat next to me, also waiting for his laundry to be done. He smells of cats and I guess is about 75 years old and we just sit next to each other: silence is our form of speech. The shop is a space where you are not pressurised to engage or socialise, which is somewhat comforting. The old man breathes heavily and taps his foot once in a while; it is so quiet, with only the background noise of the washing machines whirring. After about 10 minutes, the shop keeper wonders over and gives the old man a piece of paper with 3 large letters on, IOU with 50p written underneath it- I guess I took all his change whilst trying to pay with a note. It is so old school and I love the trusting relationship between the two men. How often do you see that happen?

I sit and reflect; I find it sad that the days of self-service, coin-operated launderettes are numbered, given that most people have washing appliances in their homes with even student accommodation having them on site. It is such a classic environment; to me they are portals to the 60s where it was the norm to do your washing in a public space. I imagine communities sitting together, gossiping about the new neighbour on the block: we were once such a collective society as opposed to the individualistic one we live in now.

I watch my washing go round and round, the machine is slowing. I think we should all disturb individualism and unleash our true urges, instincts and thoughts.

With this in mind, I get up to speak to the old man with a sudden interest to know everything about his life and the length of time he has been visiting the laundrette, which suddenly, I feel very sentimental towards. Silence is broken.

Let’s raise a glass

Picture: Kensington Palace Gardens

I love celebrating birthdays: it’s a joyous occasion filled with cards and pressies and an excuse to open a bottle of bubbly with friends and family.

But isn’t it curious how when it comes to your own birthday, sometimes the attention can be a little overwhelming? The advent of social media allows for even school friends from 1998 to send their best wishes, but what exactly are we really celebrating? Being alive, reflecting on the previous year, being grateful for our existence- when actually we are one step closer to death? Birth and death are both part of the parcel of life but no one really thinks of it like that, or least I certainly don’t.

The Queen is very lucky, after all not only does she get two birthdays but the celebrations continue for a couple of months! Imagine that- making your birthday last a week is one fine feat but a few months, wow incredible.

But then, the Queen really is. She is an exceptional woman who turned 90 this year and is the longest reigning monarch. Her life has been extraordinary; when Prince Edward VIII abdicated leaving the throne to her father, the Queen became the heir. Now we have no idea if this was something she initially resisted, but it was in life’s plan so the Queen accepted her fate.

We don’t have a predetermined path so we should appreciate the choice and flexibility that living in the 21st century has provided : we have no excuses but to live life to the fullest. Take an active role in your development, push your boundaries both mentally and physically, take advantage of your powerful potential as a person, collect experiences and make your story – your legacy!

Let’s not live in a trance, sleepwalking through life, doing the same thing day in, day out but actively celebrate it and not just on your birthday. As Andy Dufresne from Shawshank Redemption said, ”get busy living, or get busy dying.”

 

Dear Sleep

My word for the day: SOMNOLENT.
Definition; sleepy, drowsy, languid.

I used to be a pro when it came to sleeping; as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out for the count. In the last year however, sleeping hasn’t been so easy- which is also when I learnt to fully sympathise with those suffering from sleep disorders and insomnia.

It’s not rocket science: our bodies need sleep, we need to switch off and let our brain rest. We are not wired to be active 24 hours a day, hence why we are endlessly being told that a minimum of 8 hours of beauty sleep are required each night.

But sometimes it is not that simple. It’s not down to getting comfy despite the cold side of the pillow becoming warm, or checking for the hundredth time that you definitely do not need the loo before you conk out. You have not drunk that extra cup of caffeine or been on any form of technology for at least an hour before bed, but are still unable to drop off. Why?

I don’t know the answer. At the peak of my time not sleeping, I turned to herbal treatments as it seemed a good answer to the immediate issue; sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. But what I want to know, is why can I not sleep? What is going on in that brain of mine? Even if I do a spot of meditation, clearing my head to the best of my ability it still doesn’t work. And then, once I do drop off, I may not even sleep well. WHY?

I haven’t even touched upon dreaming; which according to science only last on average 10 seconds, something I find completely and utterly discombobulating. How is that possible? My dreams are so vivid and real – and last a lot longer than a couple of blinks. I often wonder what they mean. Are they portals to the subconscious? What are they trying to tell me? I sometimes think I am onto something but then a dream may involve a famous person and my theory is shot to pieces. I’ve even taken to going to bed with a notepad on my bedside table to jot down any thoughts, to see if there is any correlation to the dreams themselves but I haven’t had any luck thus far.

So Mr.Sleep, I am sorry. Apparently, I need to work on our relationship as clearly I have been doing a few things wrong – although some guidance from you would help. Please? We spend a third of our lives together so let’s iron out these issues once and for all. For the moment however, given I am unemployed, I will take to napping to get me through the day. Just one reason alone I would move to Spain – for the siestas.

So, as I sit on my yoga mat under a tree with a scarf wrapped over my bare legs, listening to the birds and noisy children playing, I can finally feel myself dropping off. Thank you sleep, I hope you have accepted my apology – all is well.

Passage in Time

Strolling. Hiking. Ambling. Trudging. Marching. Trekking.

Whatever people call it, I love walking and especially at this time of the year. I love being outside with the fresh air against your face, your mind free to roam, your nose picking up the smells of flowers in bloom and your ears pinpricked for the chimes of the ice cream van approaching. Spring has sprung and has its arms open for Summer. Gone are the woolly jumpers, birds sing welcoming the day in and we have longer daylight hours. It is perfect walking weather.

Now apparently, May is National Walking Month, something I was oblivious to as I committed myself to walking the casual 40 miles from London to Oxford with dad (which goes ahead in only a few weeks time.) Having completed the odd 20 miler here and there for practice, I realised that when you walk, time slows. Right down. Which is perhaps why I love it so very much.

I feel like I am flying through life; every year at the stroke of midnight, I exclaim just how fast the previous year went as I announce my new year’s resolution. I can barely remember where I was last weekend, let alone last summer. Life just got so busy.

OR, perhaps I am using this as an excuse when actually I am in denial as my notice period flew past, not buying me any time to work out what I will be doing with my (f)unemployment, my self proclaimed ‘next chapter’?

However on reflection, I think this feeling of a fast paced society, is shared by most. After all, our culture certainly shapes us in this way; babies are walking earlier, toddlers need to be signed up for secondary schools before they can say the word ‘college’ and students have jobs before they even graduate. And then when we are in employment, we are constantly chasing time with the need to find more minutes and hours to our day. WHY?

We are always looking to the future, we are not living in the present moment. Yet walking allows just that – not only does it serve the obvious purpose of getting from A to B, but it allows time for self reflection and mindfulness, often sacrificed as we live our busy lives. So whilst no one likes waiting and queuing is a chore, let’s just try and slow down – we do not need an immediate response to everything.

I think back to my old cassette tape player, when the fast forward button was pressed, and it made the narrator speak in gibberish at 1000 miles per hour. That is how I feel. Perhaps I am a product of this new contemporary culture but going forward, I will attempt to anchor myself in the living moment, with awareness for my surroundings. If only life could be put on pause as time really does, need to slow.

The Naked Self

Today marks the first day of my unemployment. My body clock woke me at 6.30am and it was only when I found myself brushing my teeth did I realise I could go back to sleep and a catch a few more zzzz and not go to work. I am officially free – hello new chapter of my life!

After doing a brief guided meditation in bed, I decided to research yoga studios local to me, given I won’t be trekking to the city everyday to attend my usual classes. Note I am not actually some professional yogi or instructor, I just get an enormous sense of balance and clarity out of the practice as I twist and contort my body into weird and wonderful positions.  Anyway, I found an introductory offer for a bikram yoga studio nearby, which I apprehensively decided to pay for given that hot yoga isn’t usually my thing.

Honestly, it was 90 minutes of maybe the hardest challenge I have ever done; it was so slow, the positions were held for what felt like hours and everyone was sweating rivers. I couldn’t focus on clearing my mind, my thoughts were speaking to me at a hundred miles per hour – it was exhausting. But then it was suddenly over and I felt good, really good.

Afterwards, as I entered into the ladies changing rooms it suddenly came to my attention just how much nakedness I was surrounded by – all bodies of all shapes and sizes, all as a beautiful as the next. I soon realised the showers were communal, something which as prudish as this may sound, was foreign territory to me. That being said, I stripped off and joined the other 6 ladies washing their bodies and joined in on the discussions of the class. It was so liberating; I was standing naked without a care in the world – I was free in all sense of the word! How mother nature intended us to be.

Now excuse my perhaps feminist rant, but it made me realise just how much of a shame it is that the media scrutinises anyone who isn’t taught, toned and tanned – as these images we are accustomed to daily, have fast become the ‘norm.’ Its not. Each body is unique and should be celebrated in itself. So let’s not try and fix and change ourselves ( I am including myself here) but be body confident and comfortable in our own skin; accepting ourselves, our beings and our bodies. It probably won’t be easy, but reflecting on just how empowered I felt leaving the studio with positive energy quite literally seeping out of me, will hopefully act as a reminder. I felt so good and will certainly be back tomorrow and maybe the next day and the next – learning about the self, myself, is all just part of my journey.

Big City Life

I write my first ever blog without ever putting pen to paper so this could either be an escape for me as I lose myself in my thoughts, or something I end up quitting. I’m hoping for the former.

By way of introduction; my name is Alice, I’m 25 years old and feel like I am having a quarter life crisis. What is perhaps shameful about this however, is that my life to the outsider is pretty peachy. I am lucky; I have a good job, a great group of friends and an amazing family – but I find myself wondering what is waiting just around the corner – and far too frequently.

Sometimes I put it down to the hustle and bustle of London life like many before me- it is easy just to be swept along and enjoy the ride, without living in the present moment. I have forgotten what makes me tick. I don’t love my job, but I like it – is that enough? I mean I am too scared to quit – what would I do without structure, my daily routine, not having a  pay cheque at the end of the month, or being able to afford to go out on a Friday evening and raise a glass to the weekend?

Honestly- no idea. I am just not sure. If I am fed up of my current ‘safe’ life, what should I do about it? I want it to be exciting, impactful and inspiring to others (yes I have listened and enjoyed many Ted Talks and frequently explore the Escape the City website to find the secret of life) but it still doesn’t help me on what I am going to do and how to address my current situation?

I thought I would document this journey perhaps finding others in this predicament too. Perhaps not. Maybe I will be still blogging away in a year, still stuck in the same job, but perhaps the glue will have softened and I will be closer to finding out what I am going to do. I am hoping so. Life is for living and right now, I feel like my light is only flickering. I am bored of being safe.