Fox tossing and other reasons humans are the worst

What are a few ways people passed the time in the past that seem weird/strange today?

Another Quora question. I'm not sure what I was expecting to find, but weirdly enough I did come across a 'sport' that I had seen as a potential answer on  The Chase.


Fox tossing was an actual thing. There was an arena with canvas operated, by two people, at each end. Once it was set foxes were released or driven into the arena where they ran over the cloth. The 'contestants' then yanked it, tossing them high into the air.
If the impact wasn't fatal on descent, it injured or understandably enraged the animal. This resulted in the fox attacking the fox tossers in self-defence. This seemed to add to the entertainment and usually ended with the fox being clubbed to death. In Dresden  August II the Strong, the King of Poland  and  Elector of Saxony held a famous tossing contest in Dresden at which 647 foxes, 533 hares, 34 badgers and 21 Wildcats were tossed and killed
There's mention of wolves and hens being tossed. I found this quote on Wikipedia,   "  wildcats do not give a pleasing kind of sport, for if they cannot bury their claws and teeth in the faces or legs of the tossers, they cling to the tossing-slings for dear life, and it is next to impossible to give one of these animals a skilful toss".

Or how about some Coktossing? This could involve a rooster being tied to a post or placed in an earthenware jar where coksteles (specially weighted sticks) were thrown at the bird until it died. Sometimes they even propped it up with sticks if it's leg was broken or lamed to prolong the game. Or maybe you'd prefer some cock thrashing or whipping. In this version, they placed a rooster in a pit or tied it with a chord and blindfolded contestants tried to hit it with a whip.
If you prefer a bigger game, how about some Bear Baiting?. A bear was tethered in a pit and usually attacked by Old English Bulldogs. These were replaced as they tired or were killed. Or Bull Baiting where a bull was chained by the neck or hind leg and worried by dogs. 

Continuing with the bird theme, we have some Goose Pulling. This involved attaching a live goose, with a well-greased head, to a pole or rope stretched across a road. A participant on horseback would gallup at full speed and attempt to pull the birds head off. This was considered fun in Spain, England, The Netherlands and North America.

.In America, they seem to turn in into a spectacle for thousands by setting up whiskey tents, shade, seats and gambling on the contestants. The 'Pullers' paid the goose owner to enter the competition, the winner may have got the dead goose as a prize.
It was still happening in 2008, albeit with a dead goose They even had .childrens competition in Lillo near Antwerp was won by a 14-year-old who won 390 euros and a trip to the Plopsaland theme park.

If you prefer a bigger game, how about some Bear Baiting?. A bear was tethered in a pit and usually attacked by Old English Bulldogs. These were replaced as they tired or were killed. Or Bull Baiting where a bull was chained by the neck or hind leg and worried by dogs. 

There have been events where they a bear and bull have been pitted against each other. There's a story of a bear called Samson, in Mexico, who dug a hole big enough for an elephant, threw the bull in headfirst, winding it and then tried to bury it alive.


In England, for a change they had a pony run through the arena with an ape tied to it's a back, Dogs worried it, and the spectators found it 'laughable'.

I most countries these 'sports' have been outlawed or fallen out of fashion. Fox hunting and Bull Fighting are still legal in some parts of the world.

  Illegal bloodsports are finding a new market and audience online. On Countryfile, they had a report about hares been trapped for use in hare coursing. The dogs are not muzzled so when they catch the hare it's curtains for it. In Ireland, a legal form of it with muzzled dogs is still allowed. Clubs are legally allowed net 70 to 75 hares. They are transported to the coursing venue, kept and trained for up to 8 weeks. It's given a ' fair start', two muzzled dogs are loosed with the winner being the dog who turns the hare first. The hares are then re-released back where they were trapped.

 Coursing, cockfighting and dog fighting are making the hosts money through betting and the selling of purebred Greyhounds, Lurchers etc.

MMA and boxing could be considered blood sports. The participants voluntarily entered into these competitions. It's not the same as Gladiators in the Colleseum, but we still seem to have a thirst for blood.

Laundry

Laundry

For someone who is not very domesticated laundry has been the most problematic. In my brief stint in college, I used the washing machine- a few times. I didn’t have a laundry basket so inevitably dropped some dirty knickers on the stairs for my housemates to find. No clothesline either, so they festooned radiators, never smelling clean. I resorted to bringing it back to my Mothers the weekends

 Erasmus to Germany followed  Another girl, and I stayed upstairs above an Irish pub. We were both worked there without laundry or cooking facilities and far too many people having the access code to the keypad. The first night I waitressed in the bar I met my child’s father. I didn’t question at the time why a business analyst was moonlighting as a barman. After about a fortnight it was time to go to the Laundrette, no more Febreze and H & M purchases. I walked there with a massive bag of washing, warned to have plenty of change and keep track of time as people would throw your clothes out of the machine or dryer if you weren’t there. You also couldn’t leave it until the next day. Whoever was in charge took the items, never to be seen again. This opened up a new social activity, Laundry night. Every Thursday, a group of mostly English and Irish went to Die Eule. It was nice, a few drinks bookended in between washing and drying. His flat was near the laundrette, my clothes never did make it back to the Irish bar. 

And then there was something missing. He noticed before I did. Peeing on a pregnancy stick, 5 years out of date  Two blue lines appeared immediately.  I had bought it for a friend . It was a false alarm Why I didn’t just throw it away I'll never know. I'd say I had the fear after watching too many soaps episode where the pregnancy stick is always discovered in the bin.

We moved to England, living in a hotel for a bit, handwashing clothes in the bath and drying them on the towel rack. She was 9 days overdue, but I appreciated the extra time. We moved to a house with my own little clothesline. Again, when the landlord decided to move back.

He was working long hours, and I was spending longer visiting home. A bout of depression ensued (extended really, I don’t think it was post-natal though). Unknown to us the symptoms of a terminal disease for a family member were beginning. I accepted it was over and moved to a rental cottage. Laundry piled up, the simplest things can be so tricky when you are not mentally well. Bit by bit I improved. When my Grandmother died, I was able to cope. After a time, I moved to her house, where I’d spent my first two years. Then a fella who did work for my Dad started to call. He thinks my Father deliberately conked his tractor out across from the house. After he fixed it, he would have to invite himself in for tea. He had always called into my Grandmother, so he kept up the tradition. I worked in Community Employment in a Laundrette,  sometimes my laundry travelled with me. First pyjamas migrated in from the car. And 6 years on, my laundry is at his now. Plus, all the laundry from my Airbnb business. I’m Superhost now, a thing I could have even dreamed of 10 years ago. I’m still crap at keeping whites white though.

Morbid curiosity

I read a lot of Shaunta Grimes stories on Medium. To improve and reach a wider audience she suggested answering a question for 30 days on Quora. So far I've been scrolling but haven't responded.

While scrolling a question caught my attention  'Can you survive if your hands and feet were cut off?

 I watched a documentary on The History Channel about William Cromwell where ordered the hands and feet chopped off of peasants who rebelled against him. The consensus was that you might survive nowadays with medical attention but not then. There was an account of a Lord having his eyes, ears, and genitals removed and living out the rest of his days as a monk.

They thought this and other forms of torture were acceptable in warfare. To extract wealth from defeated Anglo Saxons they hung them by their hands or thumbs, hung fires on their feet, tied string about their heads, twisting until it got to their brains or squashed them in small boxes lined with sharps stones until their limbs broke. The Medival Times ( seems to be from the 5th to the 15th Century) torture was deemed to be acceptable for acts of treason. The Christian Church expanded this and tortured each other. They did this in secret and continued to do it after it was banned. Torturous executions, on the other hand, were a spectator sport, often declared a Public Holiday and free penances given out to encourage a crowd.

Flaying and forcing rats through a victims body referenced on Game of Thrones. Or Cersai's 'Walk of Shame.' For some reason I find it easier to watch that then the depictions on The Bastard Executioner nor could I follow the storyline as easily. I can watch when I get bloods taken, but this made me feel squeamish. I like Silent Witness, Vikings(more so the first series), Luther and Waking the Dead yet I find real-life violence unconscionable.

The Christian Church especially the Catholic Hierarchy was all for it. Sure they just forgave each other if they broke their rules. The Bamburg Trials, in Germany, took place between 1626 and 1631. Between 300 and 600 people executed, one of the greatest mass executions in peacetime. There had been famine, plagues and crop failures for which the Church was looking for a scapegoat. The Prince Bishop Gottfried Johann Gorge II Fuchs von Dornheim built a Witch House adorned with biblical quotes and contained a torture chamber.  A heartbreaking letter from the Burgmeister Johnanna Junious to his daughter details the horrors of the trials. His brother in law was one of the four who put him through the ordeal. He and his 'co-conspirators'  were tortured into implicating one another. Their confessions didn't save them. All were burnt to death

Hallucinagenics were used, possibly before torture, to either make them confess to being witches or somehow prove they were possed by demons. The drugs rendered people open to suggestion, delirious, blind and prone to convulsions. These symptoms were good propaganda for the Inquisitors so may have been more widely than was suspected.

We would like to think of torture as an outdated practice from when we were more primitive. Incidents have occurred during living memory. Tarring and feathering were meted out to suspected Drug Dealers in Northern Ireland in the 20th Century and a form of Water Torture was practised in Guantanamo Bay in the 21st Century. Socially sanctioned violence has become less acceptable . Maybe we are growing more empathetic? We don't condone hanging prisoners corpses publically in gibbits anymore.

Money: Small change I make online

Look what Nikki from GPT Genies on Facebook made for me. I think I should have let her show me as a Bitmoji. She's only charging a pound sterling month for it and it adds to your points. I've only started InstacGC, been on Swagbucks sine last year and Shop and scan for a few years. I find out most of my info and tips from  GPT Genies UK (they have Irish members too) Swagbucks Prolific, InstacGC apps and surveys Facebook page. Admin is fantastic on it and you notifications for Swag Codes etc which you may otherwise have missed.

I've cashed out to Mastercard from Swagbucks but my Paypal is frozen at the moment so I can't transfer it. There are several posts on how to do this on the GPT page as it is a bit fiddly. You can but Amazon vouchers or shop through the Swagbucks Shop to get cash back. Shop and Scan I leave to build. The payout from them is One4All vouchers in €15 increments.

Other survey sites I use are in in the link below

http://gptgenies.com/ann-o-connells-gpt-earning-sites-and-apps/?

Writing: Is done better than perfect?

Here is a poorly written story. I've put it through Grammarly, tidied up formatting(somewhat), and it's still flawed, amateurish. I like that I finished it. In school, I used to be able to adapt and write whatever was needed for the assignment. Now I have a block when it comes to fiction.I'm not saying what I wrote was any good, but I was able to do. Everything I write now seems to be about my family. The odds of them reading any of my pieces are slim, yet it makes me anxious. Writers on Medium block family members or stop writing about family members due to siblings having different experiences of that person. In my case, the same family members, who have been ignoring you all evening, suddenly have a burning need to find out what you're writing or typing. Or must have your undivided attention now that you're engaged. This throws me off, on Medium, they keep writing, telling their truth
I wonder if I need to practice more, read more or just stop writing. It's not something I expect to make a living from. Or is it just enough to do it because you kind of like it? Anyway, this is bad, but it's finished. I have to post before I get interrupted one more time.

The Visitors

Emily could hear them scratching and scraping, scritch scratch, scratch, scuttling about in the attic. She hadn’t heard them for weeks. Still, she had lain awake, listening. It had been comforting to have another presence in the house. She couldn’t sleep anyway. She occupied herself by wondering what they were up to. Feeding or fornicating, masticating and multiplying, dying and desiccating?.’’ Their lives are so much simpler than humans’’ she thought enviously.

Angela from next-door said ‘’Dirty beggars ‘’. ‘’My Niall,’’   she preened ‘’ put up traps.  But they keep disappearing ‘’She never tired of reminding Emily about ’’My Niall’’, whose closest relatives were vegetables. ‘’It’s from people not getting rid of their rubbish properly’’ she sniffed at Emily. She didn’t approve of Emily’s composting.

She would approve even less if she knew Emily had been feeding them. She had been worried when she didn’t hear anything. Curiosity overwhelmed her more cautious nature. She got a ladder her father had used for DIY and a flash lamp. She was also equipped with a pair of swimming goggles and a thick scarf. Well, she knew she didn’t pose any threat but did they?.  She carefully ascended the ladder and inched open the attic door. Eight  pairs of eyes glowed in the dark, she could make

out the outline of their bodies. ‘’Rather large for rats’’ Emily thought  But then again she had only ever seen them on The Discovery Channel. She gently closed the door so as not to frighten them. Even though she got the feeling, she was warier of them than they of her.

The following night she had fed them for the first time. She had enticed them to the door with some cheese. They relished it so much they nearly took her fingers with it.’’ It’s my own fault ‘’, she thought ’’ I’ll wear gloves next time‘’. As time went on, Mr.Smith, owner of the local supermarket, had teased her about not having a man. ‘’ All that food can’t be just for you’’ he chuckled. ‘’Come on, who is it then ?’’. Emily had blushed, Mr Smith took this as confirmation. ‘’Oh well’’ Emily said to herself ‘’ It’s better than having to explain’’.
At home, she didn’t bother to unpack the shopping. She donned a jacket her dad had used when he was welding. And his protective face gear. She carried the gloves in her teeth, it was cumbersome enough climbing up the ladder with the shopping.
Balancing the bags between her and the ladder, she put on her gloves. She lifted the door just enough to pitch a loaf of bread into the depths of the attic. She heard them galloping towards it. Quickly she threw the remaining five loaves, one joint of ham and a Swiss chocolate roll into the attack. She listened to them gnawing on the bone. Removing he gloves, and sat down to her tea.  Smiling to herself  she thought ‘’It’s so nice not to have to eat alone.’’

Angela from next door was leaning on her fence when Emily came back from the supermarket. She eyed Emily suspiciously, ’’Throwing a dinner party ?’’. ’’Yes, yes I am‘’  gasped  Emily. It was hard work pushing a full trolley. Adding when she caught her breath ‘’ Some distant cousins you wouldn’t know them’’. Angela had lost interest, ‘’My Niall is taking me out’’ she continued. ‘’ Can’t have me cooking where there are rats’’.Which was a bit rich, Emily thought, considering Angela was on first name terms with all the local takeaways. ‘’ Anyway, Exterminate are coming,  councils sending a plasterer to fix my ceiling. The cracks are getting  bigger.’’Emily abandoned her trolley as Angela wittered on. Maybe she could clean up the poison before they ate it. She threw on her gear it and clambered up the ladder.

Flinging open the attic door, she switched on her flash lamp.‘ ’Where had she seen Paws like that before? Mrs Harris’s Alsatian, that was it’’ Emily thought to herself. In her haste, she had forgotten their food. Like Pavlov’s dogs, they were salivating. She shut the attic door accidentally catching one of their tails, quickly opening it again at the loud protest. She would just have to apologise to Angela for playing her ’’Sounds of the Jungle ’’ CD.  She had looked at her strangely the last time, but Emily was used to this.’ ’Time to feed them ‘’ she thought with a smile.

She let them into her living room now, but only after they had eaten. And she’d cleared All other food out into the shed across the garden. They tended to chew anything they thought might be edible. Which seemed to apply to furniture, cables and cutlery, but once they discovered these things weren’t so appetising they abandoned them. ‘’ Needed to have a clear out anyway ‘’ Emily reasoned. ‘’ Too much stuff here for one person.’’

They were so cute when they stuffed their cheeks. She thought maybe they had been someone’s abandoned pets. They were looking less and less like the rats she had seen on The  Discovery Channel.
For a start, they were gold and black in colour, and their tails were rat-like but a great deal thicker. Emily was always tripping over them, but she didn’t mind. They used them to help them balance as they watched  Skippy. She had to monitor their viewing though. The amount of rodent cursing during the Whiskas ads was loud and reached a crescendo if any other feline enemies came on screen.

The following week  Angela accosted her again on her way back from the supermarket. Emily found she could bring two trolleys if she pushed one and dragged the other one after her. ‘’ You’re cousins around again? She quizzed, ‘’ Didn’t see any of them the last time’’. ‘’ They went hiking, early, every morning’’  Emily replied. ‘’ Not back, till ’late’. ‘’ Any way, the rats are still there, they’ve short-circuited my electricity ‘’. Emily liked eating and reading by candlelight, saved on her bills, more money for food. ‘’Blew up my straighteners’’. Emily knew how much Angela valued her straighteners. The straw-like texture of her hair testified to that. ‘’ If the council finds it's your compost that’s attracting them I’ll be expecting a new one’’. she complained.
‘’They’ve called in a specialist’’. ‘’ A specialist ?’’ Emily repeated. ‘’ Yeah, they reckon they’ve become immune to the poison. Must be off, have to powder my nose before my Niall gets home’’. Emily trembled .‘’ But if he is a specialist he might like them’’. Brightening, she busied herself emptying the trolleys.

The next day a knock came to the door. He had to duck as he entered Emily’s house.‘’Your neighbour directed me here, she thinks this is the source’’. He donned a hard hat with a light on it. It barely contained his head.’’ Should get this sorted quickly’’ he said pleasantly. He ascended the groaning ladder; he was not as lithe as Emily. Before she could warn him, he flung the attic door wide open.’’ They’re more frightened of us then we are of them‘’. The Visitors rushed the door, they thought it was Emily coming to feed them.

The specialist slammed the door, and half fell down the ladder. ‘’ They’re not rrrats he stammered, ‘’ They’re Great Black Hamsters. I thought they were an urban myth’’. When he regained his composure, he informed Emily that they were a cross between an escaped hamster and a black rat. The GBH’s were ready to mate at two months and would have to six litters a year. When threatened they fight in a pack to defend themselves. They tolerated humans especially their flesh. Apparently, the hamster had developed a taste for it by regularly biting its owner before it escaped. ‘’’ Their carnivorous tendencies come the fore when they have their young. If food is scarce, they will hunt prey much bigger them’’. They had  been with Emily for about seven weeks now.’’ We’ll have to demolish the terrace, in case there are any others. They are too dangerous to take any chances’’.
Emily was miserable. ‘’ What are you so fed up about?’’ Angela from next door asked scornfully. ‘’ The council is going to rehouse us. The rats or whatever they are doing us a favour ‘’. Emily didn’t care about the house. Since her father had died, it didn’t feel like home. She had felt so alone, losing her job at the video shop hadn’t helped either. The Visitors were her only friends. What was she going to do?. She climbed the ladder for the last time. She opened the door and threw them in their last supper 10 Swiss rolls, pavlova and a box of biscuits. No point in worrying about tooth decay now.

As a girl, when she was sick of being picked on, she used to go to a cave in the mountains behind the town. She would start when it got dark. Filling her rucksack with food, beginning her trek to the hill, strewing a trail after her. Hurrying back to the house. Checking she had no food on her, opened the attic and coaxed them towards the back door. They sniffed the air cautiously. They had never been outside. They did as she hoped and followed her trail to the cave. ‘’ You’ll be safe here she whispered softly to them.

The next morning she watched through binoculars as they prepared to demolish the houses. She found she wasn’t sad to see the house go, not caring if she ever lived in a house again. She felt like she really was home, at last.

A week had passed, and all the food was gone. They would begin to breed soon. The Visitors eyed her expectantly.

.

Kojak

I used to have a doll called Kojak. He had a stuffed body like a pillow with hard plastic limbs, and you guessed it a bald head. My Father brought him from the fair Debating what to call him, an older man, Willie Murphy visited. When he saw him, he said 'Who’s that? Kojack?'. I can't ever remember thinking that it was weird. Kojak  is still around  30 odd years later, but my daughter decided to change ‘him’ to ‘her.’

                                                    

.

If you left a bowl of sugar or a tub of butter out on the table, Willie used to take a spoon of either, eat it fast, carrying on talking as if nothing had happened. His Mother was my Fathers Godmother. She was supposed to have believed in a lot of piseogs( superstitions). His Godfather was a nephew of The Tec, a farmer, not a detective so I don’t know where he got that name from. He had big herds of cattle when there was a bounty on the number of animals. Nothing like the numbers that would be in cattle ranches in the US but for rural Ireland he was considered a prominent farmer.

 They lived out, wandering tracts of land. Breeds were hardier, sheltering in hollows and beside stonewalls. Their milk teeth were gone, so they used their second teeth to tear through ferns and bushes. The rule for slaughtering under 30 months had yet to be introduced. This came later, keeping older cattle out of the food chain due to the threat of bovine spongiform encephalopathy (BSE). This spread to humans as Creutzfelt Jakob Disease(CJD), which we commonly know it as Mad Cow Disease. These cattle were not given any bagged feed, so the odds of them ingesting bone meal were non-existent.

If there was no price for cattle, they left them run on. There could be five-year-old bullocks in the Mart. The Organic Farmer remembers his Father bringing animals from there hill. They had been checking that none were lame, or losing weight but not seen them, or their huge horns, up close. Horns are not allowed now unless the cattle are rare breeds or you are selling directly to a meat factory. Even though he was used to animals, he was a bit wary as he had never seen any as big.

Cattle were essential to the ancient people of Ireland. The Irish word for a road is ‘Bothar’ directly translated as ‘Cattle Way’. Semi-nomadic, many had a base in a Ringfort, leaving it for periods of time to mind their cattle in the open grassland or woods. The landscape was very different.  It seems to have operated as a collective Commonage without fencing or stonewalls.

The odds are cows were brought from mainland Europe approx. 6,000 years ago. Before we had the Vikings to make cities, bringing us coins, we farmed and traded in the value of cattle. I’ve read of trading in ‘Séts’ which equalled half the value of a milking cow.

There is a Ringfort in my Father’s field which may have belonged to a high-status family. We don’t know exactly as it’s never been excavated. We are presuming it was a base they may have gone back to by night but otherwise were out hunting, farming and gathering in the meantime. My grandmother used to tell me the fairies lived there, mainly to get me to come back down from the field. Most superstitions and beliefs in the fairies had died away by then, but some still held a residual wariness of upsetting them.

Cattle raiding was common, and a new King might be expected to lead his followers in a raid. The ‘Tain  bo Culange’ revolves around the invasion of Ulster by Queen Medb of Connaught because she wanted the stud bull Donn Culange belonging to King Daire in order to have as much wealth as her husband.

Here is a version of ithttp://www.askaboutireland.ie/learning-zone/primary-students/looking-at-places/louth/tain-bo-cuailnge-the-catt/medb-and-ailill/

Even now that hedages are paid on the hectares of land you have, not the number of cattle many still see the amount you have as a symbol of status and wealth. This crosses species, Ray Mears was in Lapland speaking to a Reindeer farmer. He said 'I'm going to ask the question I should not ask, how many Reindeer do you have? '. The farmer replied 'That's like asking me how much money I have in the bank'. 

The Organic Farmer would hold a similar view. I bought John Connell's -no relation -'The Cow Book' for his birthday. I knew he'd appreciate the sentiment but never read it. 
Instead, I did. And it invoked far more in me than I thought it, down to the smell of singed hair from dehorning calves. It is beautiful and ugly, an unidyllic version of farming. The things I think of since my father's death.

Steps

I've become the accidental owner of a Fitbit. I never wanted one. In fact, I'm allergic to quantify exactly what I do all and night. Even after Suzy from https://theairingcupboard.me/ enthused about it, I still wasn't drawn in. My daughter asked for one as a last minute Christmas present. She's not greedy, her list was tiny, and we bugged her into it, ie say it now, or it'll be too late. I reserved the Alta Hr, but it turns out you need to be over 16 to set this up unless you were going to lie about your age. She would prefer to get the correct data for her age so we will be getting the Fitbit Ace on Thursday. In fairness, she wasn't too disappointed. I think she's accepted at this stage I'm going to make mistakes. From what I could see is that it changed due to data protection. My Mother wants one too.
I've been wearing it for the last 5 days taking it off to shower and putting it back on again after if I remember.10,000 to 12,000 steps a day is the recommended amount. I presume that's to do with my height/weight etc. I've been hitting about 5,000 on average and not running the 30  minutes of moderate activity as it kicks in after 10 minutes. And yet I'm burning calories.  My sleep is averaging 7hrs 30 minutes. It vibrates to remind to move if I'm awake but haven't got up.
Most of this due to  'pottering around' which they mock me for. I usually prep vegetables and whatever else is for lunch and dinner during the days I'm not in the Glasshouse or getting ready for Airbnb. This means I'm active but probably not taking very many steps. Same if I'm cleaning down the worktop in front of me, the oven-which still isn't fixed, the microwave or fridge. Or I'm stocktaking the presses or freezer.
I fidget a lot. If I sit down, I'm usually popping up again to check saucepans aren't boiling over, if the washing machine id nearly finished etc. This makes me sound very domesticated, I'm not. If I upped the pace, I'd probably have it done faster and add more steps. I have been going for more walks though. Short but often up slopes, so it makes my heart pump. I wouldn't care to take a beep test though.
I think I've written a list of things to try to convince myself that I'm actually doing something. I've been looking for ways to help The School promote itself, attract new pupils for next September, messaged a local beautician whose involved on committees in my local town to see if she can get more businesses to accept One4All vouchers and done a few more surveys so can redeem more One4All's. See I wasn't entirely altruistic.
And I did Morning pages for the first time in ages. My daughter is off from school today due to teacher training. We spent time together, sometimes ignoring each other on our devices. Companionable silence is something I seldom feel with people. I appreciate it even if it doesn't look like 'quality time' to the outside world.
It's the accountability I'm pushing back against. If I wasn't moving what was I doing? It comes up when it comes to writing. Have I actually done any today, good, bad or indifferent?
TV has gotten good again. New Luther's, Silent Witnesse's and Vikings. For a pacifist slash coward, I like really dark, violent shows. Living vicariously I suppose