The view from the living room window

Greetings from the Isle of Mull and, more specifically, the absurdly picturesque town of Tobermory.

Our holiday cottage is actually located up a steep hill above the main high street. This means that every morning we awake to this beautiful view:


It also means that any trip into town necessitates a ten minute huffy-puffy trek back. Considering my dislike of...well, any hill, it seems like the kind of thing that I would have checked when booking the accommodation.

At least I can tell myself that all the marching up steep inclines is helping to burn off the lovely food. We've been hitting the local seafood with a vengeance (D's fingers are riddled with tiny scratches where he did battle with a set of particularly recalcitrant langoustines yesterday). Expect more of my own very specially amateur brand of food photography to abound when we get back.

Further food for thought: More notes from a CBT session

Disclaimer as before:

I wanted to put some notes down about my ongoing CBT sessions, primarily for my own benefit. While sometimes the content may sound fairly negative, these words do not represent my mood for the majority of the time when I am my usual (sort of) cheery self. I hope that some of these observations could prove useful for others who have ever used food or any other substances in a slightly unhealthy way. I am not a medical professional and so if anything here is ringing lots and lots of bells then I would suggest you go and speak to your GP in the first instance. CBT, as well as many other counselling services, are available on the NHS albeit with a waiting list.

For those of you who follow this blog for somewhat lighter ramblings about dieting and dining then do feel free to skip.

The power of the mind is utterly, utterly breathtaking. After a really positive couple of sessions on emotional acceptance, my sneaky brain responded by reverting to past form. A good few years ago I used to suffer regularly from horrible panic attacks which D and I nicknamed “wobbles”. These wobbles had all but disappeared but they have slunk back into the picture over the last few weeks, the little tinkers, and much as I am better at dealing them now than previously (at one stage my preferred method was to take to my bed like a Victorian maiden aunt for days at a time) they are still unpleasant in the extreme. I discussed this with Earnest Ross. He looked very earnest indeed and commented that the brain will go to extreme lengths to protect its sense of identity. If you start to try and unpick that – even the unhealthy bits – it will react. Which is fairly frustrating since I don’t want my sense of identity to be that of a dipsomaniac overeater with a tendency to lose the ability to move from the sofa when things get tough (this, by the way, is a recognised form of distress tolerance called withdrawal – not sheer bloody laziness, although it looks very similar).

The key, it seems, is to work on identifying one’s core values. Once you have those then you can start to identify actions and shape your behaviours in such a way that they contribute to or move towards a life which is built around things that are important to you. It sounds screamingly obvious, but then, so does the idea of being mindful and I know for a fact that it takes a great deal of concentration and effort to live in a consistently mindful way.

My core, it turns out, is pretty people orientated. I instinctively identify my values as being first and foremost based around my family and my relationship – I want to be a good wife, a good daughter, a good sister, a good aunt. I also, somewhat surprisingly, value my professional life highly. I have never thought of myself as desperately ambitious but, on reflection, I do set a lot of store by the fact that I am a professional woman with a job that is as demanding as it is rewarding. I have an idea of where I want to be in ten years and it will require hard work and effort but, with application, is achievable.

So it seems as if I am learning about who I want to be and where I want to go…I suppose that, in itself, is the first step on the road that actually takes me there.

Recipe corner - Ottolenghi's mango and papaya salsa

I was commenting on a blog the other week and I observed that practically every Saturday I bookmark Yotam Ottolenghi's recipe column for the Guardian, although, given the rate at which I accumulate new things to cook and then singularly fail to cook them, the dishes seldom get made.  Which is a shame because Ottolenghi writes about food that I really want to eat.  I think I've mentioned his vegetarian book "Plenty" on here before and if you don't own it then I heartily recommend you go out and make it a part of your collection.  It will convince even the most ardent carnivore in your life that you don't need meat to eat exceptional food. 

This recipe comes from the original Ottolenghi cookbook which I bought D for his birthday last year.  Foolishly, I didn't think to go through and photocopy the entire thing before I handed it over, so I don't know what the book as a whole is like, but this salsa was amazing.  A-ma-zing.  On Friday last we had it with tuna steaks but we were trying to conflate two dishes that didn't really want to be conflated.  However, we enjoyed the salsa element so much that we decided to give it another go and allow it to be the star which is how we came to eat it one night with grilled lamb and wild rice.  These are bold flavours that enjoy the companionship of red meat and a robust fish like tuna, but I honestly think you could serve it with chicken as well, perhaps in a wrap with a drizzle of yoghurt.  Or, you could just eat it out of the bowl.  Whatever.  Just try it.

Incidentally, Mr Ottolenghi says that it benefits from being allowed to steep in the fridge for a few days.  We concur. At the very least, prepare it for an hour before you wish to serve it. The ingredient quantities below should be taken as approximate - the only things that will impact on the points are the olive oil and sugar.

Ingredients

½ cucumber, peeled, seeded and cut into cubes
1 large, ripe papaya, peeled, seeded and cut into cubes
1 large, ripe mango, peeled, stoned and cut into cubes
1 red chilli finely chopped
Tbsp grated root ginger (NB: we grate ours straight from the freezer with a Microplane which gives excellent results every time)
1 small red onion, finely chopped
Juice of ½ lemon
2 tbsp Thai fish sauce
2 tbsp olive oil
Tbsp caster sugar

Makes approximately 6-8 servings (2 pro points per portion if 8)

Method: um, combine ingredients. Season, taste and adjust as required.

Moving on (up?)

I recently made the decision that I am going to move out of my current property come the end of September.  I don't know yet if my destination will be D's house or somewhere entirely different but it has become increasingly clear to me that staying here will mean I run the risk of wallowing.

It's such a shame as the house I live in is lovely, if a little impractical (being spread across four floors) and so handy for work and I want so much to love it but...it's a bit when you were a teenager, buying a beautiful dress and then wearing it on a really bad date.  The negative associations linger like the smell of Lynx deodorant.

So as of the 1st October it will be a fresh start, either as a housewife in Leeds suburbia or elsewhere.  I mean, I'll still be working in Leeds so by elsewhere I mean...another part of Leeds.  Or possibly Harrogate.  Just not here.  One thing is definitely for sure.  At some point early in October you, my lovely blog readers will log on to a post in which I say that this time, this fresh start will be the one where I achieve that state of Nirvana which is Goal Weight.  And you, because you are lovely, will cheer me on and agree with me despite the fact this is the eleventy billionth time you have heard it.

I feel like I should thank you in advance...

Salts Mill and barbecued chicken: a good day

Whatever my last post may imply, it's not all doom and gloom chez Seren.  Take Saturday, for instance.  Saturday was a Very Good Day.

When we lived in York, D and I used to set whole days aside to go round and visit all the tourist hotspots.  It's so easy to take stuff for granted when it is under your nose.  We haven't done so much of that in Leeds - the whole marriage separation thang may be partly responsible - but last Saturday we went to visit Salts Mill which has been on the radar for a while.

It's a funny old place.  A Grade II listed World Heritage Site which is essentially a middle class shopping Mecca.  It's an old mill building, dating back to the 1850s which has been converted into a peculiar mash up of gallery (primarily Hockney) and very, very exclusive shopping mall complete with eateries.  It sounds like I'm being sneery and I really am not.  I had a fabulous time wandering around and I would urge anyone in the Bradford area to pop along for a mooch.  I intend to do all my Christmas shopping there.

Of course, being a responsible food blogger I insisted that we stop for lunch at the Salts Mill Diner (one of, I think, three separate places to eat).

I went for one of the specials of mushroom ravioli with spinach in a garlic and chilli butter.  It was nice, although rather polite - every component could have been taken up a notch or two.  D opted for a chicken Caesar salad, a rather unusual choice for him which he appeared to enjoy well enough although I, personally, was rather perturbed by the inclusion of olives. 

Given that we were both rather restrained and resisted the urge to indulge our mutual love of kitchen implements and overpriced stationery, on the way back we treated ourselves to a trip to Waitrose to stock up on Saturday Night Provisions which included the wee beastie on the left; a spatchcocked chicken which we left to bathe in a concoction of olive oil, half a head of crushed garlic, lemon juice and lemon thyme leaves before setting to cook over white hot coals.  The result was an utter delight.  I have long been wary of barbecued chicken but spatchcocking is undoubtedly the answer: twenty minutes on each side gave perfectly cooked results.  I left the butchery element to the male contingent but he reports it to be quite disarmingly easy.  We served the meat with nothing more than salad and crusty bread which is, quite frankly, all it really required.

It was a quiet, pottering sort of day but a lovely one nonetheless.  The kind of day that it is good to remember during darker moments (see last post.  Or not.)

Food for thought: Notes from a CBT session

I wanted to put some notes down about my ongoing CBT sessions, primarily for my own benefit. While sometimes the content may sound fairly negative, these words do not represent my mood for the majority of the time when I am my usual (sort of) cheery self. I hope that some of these observations could prove useful for others who have ever used food or any other substances in a slightly unhealthy way. I am not a medical professional and so if anything here is ringing lots and lots of bells then I would suggest you go and speak to your GP in the first instance. CBT, as well as many other counselling services, are available on the NHS albeit with a waiting list.

For those of you who follow this blog for somewhat lighter ramblings about dieting and dining then do feel free to skip.

Cognitive behavioural therapy involves far less talking about the death of your first pet hamster (RIP Pythagorus) and far more trying to identify patterns of thought and emotion and the attendant behaviours that these provoke. So, before you deal with the negative behaviours – in my case that potent combination of panic attacks and self medicating with cheese on toast and cheap wine – you have to pinpoint the moment when the urge to enact it arises. And then, once you have done that, you can start to identify positive behaviours with which to replace them. Otherwise you are left with gaping voids and black holes and they are never good, except as science fiction plot devices.

For me, one of the hardest things about the past year has been all the empty time. It’s the fact that I can go home from work at five, get back to work at nine the next morning and not have spoken to a soul in between. And I’m not talking about meaningful conversation, just the type of mundane chat with which anyone fills their evening – those thin, glistening threads that connect you to the rest of the world. I start to feel disjointed, faraway. I’m not someone who finds it easy to pick up the phone to a friend so I sit and eventually find myself retreating into the places in my head that are deeper in shadow.

Weekends are the worst for this. Especially those weekends when there is nothing arranged. But, having said that, even some weekends where I have had distractions lined up in the diary I have ended up cancelling them because, buried deep within my lair of duvet, the outside world seems a very distant and frightening place indeed.

And when it comes to filling the emptiness and the silence that is when my old friends and comfort blankets reappear. Some people take succour in music, others in exercise, for me it is the familiar foods and a few glasses of wine to soften the edges of the vast, quiet space.

And so firstly I must learn to sit with the emotions that being in the deep, deep quiet invokes. I must learn to be present with the sense of fear and loneliness, the nagging anxiety that I am unloved and unlovable. We talked about how these emotions could be visualised; as clouds perhaps, or leaves in a stream, or people leaving and entering a room – the point being, of course, that they are transient, that they pass and when they have passed rationality re-emerges and with it an end to the automatic groping for something, anything to help. And then, when the immediacy of the emotions has gone and the urge to act has waned, then you find something else.

One immediate concern of mine was that these behaviours are so deep entrenched as to become almost instinctive reactions – I’m alone, I’m sad, I’m angry – I eat. How can I find the impetus to use these techniques when the first time I’m really aware of what I’m doing is when I’m halfway through a family size bar of Dairy Milk? It’s not easy. We discussed visual stimuli – if using the cloud visualisation, for example, having a picture or a prompt to hand or even just going outside (although the neighbours may wonder what I’m doing standing in the middle of the yard staring up at the sky…) And breathe, breathe, breathe. The most immediate thing you can do to ground yourself is close your eyes and just focus on the process of breathing.

Finally, and I think that this is important; I need to remember that negative emotion isn’t a bad thing in itself. Sometimes, it is a fundamental evolutionary tool – fear, for example, fear can keep us safe. Sadness or anger can highlight for us areas of our life that need work and change. Or they can remind us of how much we love and are loved. They are part of the human condition, and a necessary part at that.