Can you keep a secret? I’m going to break some news, admit something I’ve been ruminating over for a long time. I’m going to hold my hand up and say that I don’t like milk, that I am probably lactose intolerant. This isn’t based on scientific numbers and doctors reports, it is based on personal evidence of an aversion to milk, so all those who hate the ‘fad of wellness’ better saddle up your best trolls and get ready for a fight.
But First, Some Contradictions.
I have always been slightly begrudging of ‘intolerances’. I’ve always seen a full-blown allergy based on doctors examinations and trials as a big, undeniable fact and no-one’s going to argue that point, hopefully. Except those who believe that exposure to things can reduce allergic reactions, but that’s another story altogether. But an intolerance? That’s more of a personal opinion type-thing and we all know…
Over the last few weeks, I’ve had a bit more time to work on my blog and have discovered that I’m a reclusive blogging creature of routine and ritual. I can’t write unless I’m at my desk, and it’s the morning.
Take today as an example. Woke at 6.15am, showered, then started writing on the laptop in the bedroom. I managed to write a depressing rant about the ‘dark side of the blog’. It wasn’t enjoyable to write and doubtfully entertaining to read (and we never will, because I’ve deleted it). I had breakfast, made a coffee, moved to my desk and then, suddenly, a peace and clarity fell upon me. I had found a little space in my world where something positive can happen.
And as for afternoons, they are utterly useless, full of distraction and anxiety. After lunch, I might as well just stick my feet…