So that wasn’t supposed to happen

That horse becoming Pope, for one (Blackadder)

The result of the US election for one thing; spending the morning of my husband’s birthday sitting in Minor Injuries being another.

And yet was ever thus. One moment we’re congratulating ourselves for being able to leap effortlessly up a flight of stairs and not have to slow down, the next we’re kicking the corner of the bed frame with our toes, spending the rest of the evening with our leg in the air and a flannel-wrapped ice block balanced on our foot. It might be broken, which is boring, not least because waiting to see if I need an X-ray wasn’t how I planned to spend Sunday morning.

Things have a habit of happening like this, things we were really not expecting and couldn’t foresee.

The news from the USA has cast a shadow into all our lives, even here across the pond, but sadly we can’t even say ‘most people expected (and wanted) a different result’ because the outcome proves a greater proportion didn’t. And it’s that’s what’s shocking - the moment when our hopeful expectation meets a very different reality. That’s what makes it feel like our world has crumbled overnight. Our understanding of ‘how things should be’ is casually tossed aside, forcing us to confront a different way forward. It’s unpleasant. It makes us see things about other people we’d rather not, and perhaps learn some uncomfortable things about ourselves.

Again, on a smaller, personal level, the reality of getting to the end of the week having achieved less than I expected always knocks the wind out of me.

This got done…with no destination in mind, but that’s OK

On the one hand, I should never ever be surprised by this. In fact, it’s probably completely normal anyway, not unique to me. I am fully aware I have zero ability to accurately judge the time something will take, the outcomes prove this over and over again, yet my expectations are consistently out of whack. Because, on the other hand, I am an optimist with a history of pulling rabbits out of hats, giving me false confidence in my ability to defy the laws of time and physics and achieve all of my To-Do list. Because it does sometimes happen.

I read about a brilliant organisational hack (can’t remember where, sorry) whereby you actively plan for two hours of ‘chaos time’ every day. Then every unforeseen thing that crops up in an average day gets dumped into that slot, leaving you free to carry on with the planned stuff. The unforeseen still gets dealt with, just later. In truth, I am mildly sceptical, because the unforeseen stuff is usually the stuff that annoyingly can’t wait. Things like needing to stick your foot under an X-ray machine pronto.

and some very small things were also finished this week

Another shock this week was realising that by letting people know how they could reduce inbox overwhelm, a number of people unsubscribed to Threadnoodle (how dare they 😀). First comes the panic, that everybody will leave. Then the sanguine acceptance that perhaps they weren’t the people I’m writing for anyway, so it’s for the best.

So if you’ve been here a while and you’re still here, thank you from the bottom of my heart! Perhaps every now and then you’d maybe consider leaving a little ‘heart’ at the end of a post, or a little comment, just so I know someone’s out there: it really makes a difference and I’d so love to get to know you a bit better. Perhaps you could tell me a little bit about yourself here?

Joyously the week has ended with some new subscribers, namely…

Laurie, Fran, Stephanie, Astrid, Jane, Terrie, Janny, Pat, Alice, Flo, Valerie, Debbie, Brady, Jet, Sanj, Annick and Gaynor! Welcome!

It’s truly wonderful that you’ve joined - thank you for choosing to read and deciding to subscribe. In future weeks, I promise there will be more colourful stuff plus news about my Advent thingie (the thing I didn’t progress on last week as much as I’d hoped). Indeed, if my toe really is broken* that means less yoga, very little walking (or hobbling) so a lot more time in the studio!

Meanwhile, I leave you for now with these wise words from Marcus Aurelius courtesy of the Daily Stoic. I hope they’re helpful.

“Whatever anyone does or says, for my part I’m bound to the good,”

Marcus Aurelius

In other words,

“Our job today and tomorrow is the same as it’s always been—to be good, to be wise, to stand up for what’s right, to resist what is wrong and evil. Nothing changes that. Nothing exempts us from that. Nothing prevents us from doing that”.

Ryan Holiday, the Daily Stoic

And as artists, we need to keep doing what we’re doing. Heaven knows, we all need something to lift our hearts and brighten our days - and art can do exactly that (and more besides). Art can change lives, and changing lives can change the world.

Thank you, as ever, for reading,

*Yes, it is broken and unfortunately not the ‘strap your toes together for a few weeks and it’ll be fine’ variety, but a ‘referral to fracture clinic to take a better look’ variety. The worse part is at some point my husband will have to drive me to Eastbourne and wait around in a hospital, which makes him really uncomfortable. Is it a bloke thing? I don’t know why he doesn’t like them, because I’ve (mostly) only experienced kindness, humour and gentle efficiency whenever I’ve had occasion to darken their doors. Yes, inevitably there’s a wait: yesterday I was able to watch the whole of the Remembrance Day service and parades on the waiting room telly before I was seen; that’s a lot of military bands for sure.

Quite frankly, our NHS is a wondrous and good thing, stuffed full of people trying their hardest to do what’s right. There isn’t a price you could put on the ability to go half a mile down the road of a small town on a Sunday morning, see an emergency nurse practitioner, get an X-ray and a large plastic protective boot, a referral to a specialist clinic, and hobble out again in exchange for nothing more than confirmation of my date of birth, address and phone number.

So talking of kindness, one last one for you:

Wherever there is a human being there is an opportunity for kindness

Seneca