Hello, friends. Welcome back to the weekly post after a brief hiatus last Saturday. The last couple of weeks have not been great mood wise, but this week, I am pleased to say, I am feeling better. Sometimes a low mood will strike for no real reason—it’s one of the things I have learned to live with over the years and, these days at least, they are usually short lived. My first bout of clinically diagnosed severe anxiety and depression happened in my mid- twenties, although I suspect there was an earlier occurrence when I was in high school, maybe sixteen or so, that was put down to the vagaries of adolescence. And it has kept me company throughout my adult life. A severe attack would happen every two or three years and it wasn’t until I was in my forties that good anti-depressant drugs became available and I was pretty much released from the chronic cycle. With the help of meds and good therapy I was able to reflect on these episodes, learn to recognise the early symptoms and lean into them rather than panic and fight. I learned that they would come, that I could recognise their approach, I could deal with them, and they would go. And life became much easier to manage. So, it’s been a while since I had a really severe period of anxiety and depression, almost ten years I would say, but I still get the odd reminder that I can’t count on a stable mood for ever. Last week was one of those times as a black cloud hovered over me, but with noticing, facing it, and recognising it for what it was, it did not descend too low. Hurrah! At 69 I am more or less able to deal with these things. Me and a bit of medication. Many thanks to all of you for your good wishes, reading them was a real boost, for which I am truly grateful.
One of the things I have learned that helps me to respond quickly and positively is to find a quiet space that I am familiar with and that I know I find soothing, and spend some time there, an hour or two, just sitting and letting the quietness wash over me. Noticing what’s around me, be it nature, or architecture, or other people, and just letting myself ‘be’. I might close my eyes, or turn my face to the sun, or watch the rain, or dogs being walked. I try not to engage my brain with anything, so no reading, no music or podcasts, no list-making, or note-taking. Last week we went to one of my favourite quiet places—Buckfast Abbey on the edge of Dartmoor. Yes, it has visitors, but you can always find a quiet spot either inside the abbey or outside in the gardens. This week the gardeners were trimming back the lavender beds, so we sat on a nearby bench and let the wonderful smell drift all around us. It was a perfect way to regain a bit of equilibrium. It’s not all it takes, of course, but it helps a lot.
I also cheered myself (and hammered my credit card) by ordering a few books. After reading this post by Matthew Lyons I went straight to the local indie bookshop and ordered four from his list. Matthew’s post gives you a little synopsis of each book so I won’t repeat it here, just suffice to say I am waiting impatiently for the following to arrive:
Amy Jeffs’ new book Saints: a new legendary of heroes, humans and magic. I’ve read both of Jeffs’ previous books Storyland and Wild, and I’m hoping this one will be equally enchanting.
The Bible: A Global History by Bruce Gordon is next. An exploration of the beginnings of the Bible and how the various founding texts came to be brought together. Just the sort of historical detective story that appeals to me.
Talking of detectives, I also ordered The Mysterious Case of the Victorian Female Detective by Sara Lodge. It seems that contrary to the popular view of the Victorian detective as male (Sherlock Holmes and Inspector Bucket in fiction, Mr Whicher and Frederick Abberline in reality), women were helping out the police and working in private detective agencies very successfully. There’s nothing like a book shedding light on forgotten women to send me to the bookshop.
Last but not least—and at which point I had to stop for the sake of my bank balance—comes The Haunted Wood: A History of Childhood Reading by Sam Leith. What could be more intriguing than a book that explores what children’s books tell us about ‘the changing lives of childhood as well as the books themselves’. I’m pretty sure all my favourites won’t be here (it would be a VAST book to cover everyone’s fave) but I’m looking forward to seeing what is included.
The lovely thing about all of these is that three are published mid-September and one in October so I have a nice little weekly gift of a new book coming my way for the next four weeks. Grateful hat-tip to Matthew for starting me on this particular book spree. 🙏🏻 (Not that I need much encouragement).
‘It’s not all beer and skittles…’. When I wrote the title for this post I got to wondering where that phrase originated as a descriptor for when life is not one long period of agreeable ease. I suspect it owes quite a lot to the nineteenth century laws attempting to reduce the amount of drinking/drunkeness, and in a fascinating website called Word Histories (which I commend to anyone interested in the origin of phrases and idioms) there is this reference from the Nottingham Review, and General Advertiser for the Midland Counties of Friday 26th August 1831:
House of Commons, Wednesday.
On a petition in favor of the present Beer Act, a very long debate ensued […].
Mr. O’Connell said the charge of cant attached to those, who, under the plea of morality, wish to re-create an odious monopoly of brewing and licensing; the House might as well spare itself the constant interference with the enjoyments of the poor; if they legislated at all, they ought to extend it to the club houses, and regulate the quantity of champagne to be drank, or the amount of play at Crockford’s, as well as to the poor man’s beer and skittles.
Dickens places it in Pickwick Papers (1837) when Pickwick and Sam discuss the experience of debtor’s prison. Sam uses a variant, but it’s much the same thing:
“It strikes me, Sam,” said Mr. Pickwick, leaning over the iron-rail at the stair-head, “It strikes me, Sam, that imprisonment for debt is scarcely any punishment at all.”
“Think not, Sir?” inquired Mr. Weller.
“You see how these fellows drink, and smoke, and roar,” replied Mr. Pickwick. “It’s quite impossible that they can mind it much.”
“Ah, that’s just the wery thing, Sir,” rejoined Sam, “they don’t mind it; it’s a reg’lar holiday to them—all porter and skettles.
In 1857 it cropped up in Thomas Hughes’ Tom Brown’s Schooldays as the reminder that “Life is not all beer and skittles…” and I guess since then it has crept into everyday use courtesy of the many thousands who have read both Dickens and/or Hughes and applied such useful phrases to everyday life. Every day is a (Tom Brown’s) school day!
I’ve just finished reading Natalie Haynes’s Divine Might, a terrific exploration of the Goddesses of Greek myth. They are present in all their terrifying glory—Aphrodite, Artemis, Athene, Demeter, Hestia, and Hera. The Muses and the Furies also get some welcome attention. Haynes studied Classics at Cambridge which means she can read the original ancient Greek and Latin, and is well-versed in the social and historical contexts of the myths and their powerful messages. She is a broadcaster and writer and a comedian, which gives her learning a very light touch, as well as often being laugh-out-loud funny. She manages to put flesh on these immortals by weaving in their appearances in ancient Greek and Roman poetry and plays as well as their continual threading through more modern cultural history. It’s a joy to read. I’ve read all of her other books, fiction and non-fiction, and if you ever wanted to know what those Goddesses and Heroines were really like, then Haynes is a must-read. Do take a look at her other books—her telling of the story of Medusa, Stone Blind, is brilliant.
Well, I seem to have rattled on a bit this week! It’s good to be back and thank you for checking in and reading. I’ll write soon. x.
These look like interesting recommendations!
Good to hear you are feeling better, your reflections on seeking well being in nature remind me of recent work at our hospice creating an interactive nature trail through the woodlands and wildflower meadow.