Soup season has arrived and not a moment too soon. I made a big pot to welcome autumn, to try to soothe my nippy tonsils and to nourish the teenagers. It won’t last 5 minutes but that’s good. If only soup really was the answer to everything.  

I’m unwell today - I have a fever, frequently have to lie down, and the worst tonsillitis I’ve had since I was 18. It’s at these times when low mood can become even more of a challenge, like wrestling a slippery toddler out of a happy bath!

But what if...what if the tonsillitis is a little cape wearing hero? I have needed a boot up the backside for some months, I know fine well that self care has been flawed and cracked and papered over with the thin tissues. I’m not sure why we cheat ourselves, who pays twice for this? Have you a similar deceit lurking?

Whilst I quietly fume at feeling physically thumped I’m taking it as a win, a rock bottom reset if you will. And I may as well start with soup.  

How are you doing yourself? Are you taking care? Properly. Of you.  

Love from 

The couch downstairs from the room above the garage