Pandemonium

A sheepish hello

Oh, hello, *sips tea sheepishly*.

Welcome back to the Kitchen Bench. One sec I’ll pop the kettle on, help yourself to a cup in the top left cupboard.

What was that? Oh, yes, that’s Ben’s new Stockport County Football Club mug.

Mmmm, you’re right, it is indeed an interesting colour.

Anyway, a lot has happened since we last spoke! Kamala Harris is having a brat summer, Austria’s Era’s Tour cancelled due to terrorism, the riots in the U.K have been out of control, and the Paris Olympics have been and gone.

On a slightly more local note, my middle management operational plan is progressing well, my screen time is down, my tax return is lodged, and the sun is shining in Manchester (which may seem inconsequential but trust me, is a huge win).

I know what you’re thinking, a tax-return takes like 20 minutes, not three weeks. And you’re right, none of this explains away my absence.

I’ll be honest, I’ve been on holiday… twice.

First to the sparkling French Riviera and then to England’s Lake District.

Apparently even my iPhone XR with a cracked screen and missing glass captures the beauty of England’s countryside.

The holidaying came to a blissful end last Sunday when our short, comfortably flat walk in the Lake District lasted four hours and ended on top of a mountain (1000 meter elevation). I’m sure you’re wondering how something like that happens and it’s really simple.

Sometimes you just take a wrong turn.

Despite the pandemonium passing through the news cycle at the moment, there’s something about looking out over bright green pastures and rolling hills that makes me feel safe.

We need to bottle that feeling and pass it out. Because if a Taylor Swift dance class or concert, some of the happiest places on earth, can be a target of death and destruction then what hope do we have?

These past few weeks have been joyous for me. But I’m also sad, and mad, and scared. Sad about the young lives lost in Southport, mad about the online misinformation spreading like wild fire and leading to violence, and scared about all of the above. I don’t want this space to be filled with negativity but in my experience a kitchen bench is the centre of all things, much like a beating heart. It’s a hub of debate, and expression, of stories and tears. The kitchen bench I grew up sitting at taught me that to ignore the sadness is futile, to let it consume you is heavy.

There’s a brilliant quote from Netflix’s The Good Place that always seems to ground me when the world gets loud.

“I guess all I can do is embrace the pandemonium, find happiness in the unique insanity of being here, now.”

I hope it grounds you too when everything seems dark.

I’ll leave you with an excellent piece of advice…

Always wear socks with runners.

xx