@aclicky

Last weekend I went to Brighton to see Amanda Palmer play her music in a church. I’m no stranger to Brighton, really, but it’s the first time that I’ve been completely on my own. Usually I visit friends, or it’s Record Store Day when I’m there. It was strange to be in a different city without anyone to meet and no one else’s time schedule to keep to. I stayed at Paskins Townhouse near Kemptown, a pretty little B&B nestled in a row of terraced houses which runs perpendicular to the sea. I was given my key, advised on breakfast timings and went to settle in (connect to the WiFi). I had a couple of hours to spare before the gig started. I had originally planned to get chips and sit on the beach, but suddenly the miles of stony shoreline seemed vast and vulnerable. I didn’t want to just sit in my room and eat sandwiches, that seemed to defy the whole point of having a solo travel experience. So I took myself out to dinner. After you get over the initial

We live in a very strange time where the concept of being busy is, socially speaking, highly regarded. In the age of the digitally organised if you don’t have a calendar detailing your appointments for the next 6 months available in less than 3 taps on your smartphone then do you really have your life together at all? Being mindful and taking time for yourself is important. It helps you recharge. We all know it, but it’s difficult to give it the significance it deserves in our busy schedules. Earlier this year I was forced into a six month social hiatus. I tried a bunch of commonly recommended relaxation techniques but none of them seemed to stick. Knitting seemed endless. Baths stressed me out. Adult colouring books reminded me of my geography teacher who told me I was bad at colouring in back in secondary school. So what does my particular brand of mindfulness look like? It took a lot of experimenting for me to find just a handful of things that rea