As far as addictions go, I guess mine is pretty low on the scale. I mean, I don’t smoke (never have and don’t intend to, either), I don’t drink excessively, I don’t take drugs unless they’re legal and prescribed by a medical professional. But, I do have an addiction.

Chocolate.

(ok, and coffee, but one thing at a time).

I know I’m not alone… in fact I’m sure I’m in pretty good company seeing as chocolate is a such a big thing in the UK. However, I can’t stand the thought of being at the mercy of a need to consume the damned stuff or else be a grumpy pain in the neck. If I want to eat chocolate, I want to savour a high quality chocolate bar, enjoy the flavours and the smell and the texture. I don’t want to look down at an empty wrapper having barely sat down from a trip to the vending machine and wonder just how I managed to devour an entire bar in about 30 seconds. I certainly don’t want to see lasting ONE DAY without chocolate as some amazing achievement; I want it to be the norm.

Admittedly, I have been worse. While writing my Masters dissertation, by lunchtime I’d be about ready to bludgeon someone with a keyboard if I hadn’t had at least 5 chocolate bars, plus a pastry/doughnut or two. That really wasn’t a good place to be, but then neither is where I am now with the whole chocolate-fiend-thing.

I do distinctly remember a point maybe a year and a half ago when I bought a chocolate bar and realised I hadn’t eaten one in months. Knowing that, I know I can kick the chocolate cravings this time too. I’m not quite sure what spurred me into motion, but this morning I wrote myself a little note – which, admittedly, I added to later – and stuck it underneath my computer screen:

I really hope it works (well, that and having a tonne of fruit to eat instead of chocolate). At the very least it amused several people on Facebook. At the end of day one sans chocolate, I really don’t feel to bad which I’m taking to be a good sign. Of course, I’ll have to wait and see how I feel towards the end of the week before I know how I’m really reacting to the lack of the cocoa bean in my life.

If that doesn’t stop me, then I guess the only option will be to quit my job and work in the Cadburys factory so that I can’t stand the smell of chocolate, let alone the thought of eating the stuff. After all, when I went to the Cadburys factory a few years ago, I couldn’t eat chocolate for WEEKS – problem solved. So there are always options.

One of the awful things about finishing university is that eventually the close-knit group of friends who had seen you go through some of your most formative years, start to disperse. You can’t help it if the ‘real world’ starts pulling you all in different directions but it doesn’t make the change any easier. I always miss my Geeks and I wish I could spend more time with them. Time (and money for fuel, to be honest) is, unfortunately, in short supply.

This blog isn’t going to be me being all maudlin about the loss of days gone by. It’s about giving a gift of time when I have little time to give. A gift to my friend, Ali.

As I said before, free time is a premium commodity in my life and I don’t get to spend anywhere near enough of it on Ali (or, indeed, any of my other university friends). Feeling as I do about this, when Ali’s birthday started to bleep on my mental radar I gave some serious thought about what I could do for her birthday to let her know that I wished I could give her more of my time. The answer didn’t take long to hit me square between the eyes: I was going to knit her a lace shawl.

“A shawl? Why a lace shawl?” I hear you ask (you are asking that, right? Just nod and smile). I decided on a lace shawl because you can see the stitches more clearly in lace than in any other type of knitting. I wanted those stitches to be visible because every one of those stitches is a moment of my time, a gift of seconds, minutes and hours to my beautiful friend.

There was a minor issue that meant it wasn’t finished in time for her birthday. Well, maybe not so minor – I had to rip back a sixth of the final shawl size because I screwed up and you can’t hide mistakes in lace. I finished it about three months later and taking the extra time was definitely worth it:

Not the best picture of it, but the best one I have of the whole thing

So, three and a bit months late, I finally sent Ali’s birthday present to her. I have to say, I was very impressed with Royal Mail’s efficiency because the following morning, this appeared on my phone:

I don’t know why, but I think she liked her gift…

I may not be able to spend as much time with Ali as I did when we were at university, and that will always make me sad, but now I know that Ali has some of my time, precious moments, captured in a my gift to her. Moments that belong to her and her alone.

And that makes me smile. I hope it makes her smile too.

Music has always been one of my foremost loves. Somehow, without knowing it, my parents named me well (my name comes from the french chant meaning song) and it’s only in my darkest moments that I feel as though my head and my heart are devoid of music.

It seems something of a no-brainer, then, that I’ve been singing for most of my life (I believe I sang my first solo when I was 7 years old so that’d be 19 years ago) and have learned several instruments to varying levels during those years too. You see, I can’t help but give voice to the music that I feel and love.

Unfortunately, I never really liked the way my voice sounded. I don’t have the clear soprano that many of the girls at school had (and probably still have); instead I’m pretty much stuck in the alto range with woolly edges to my voice. I longed for the gentler, higher pitch but there wasn’t really a lot I could do about it.

Eventually, I stopped singing in public altogether.

To be honest, I thought that was it and that I’d only ever sing along to my car radio (and never with anyone else in the car). After all, why would I subject other people to a voice I disliked? The funny thing about music, though, is that it can’t be dammed up forever.

So now I sing warp to Talis Kimberley’s weft which brings me an indescribable amount of joy (it’s always glorious when singing songs that reach deep inside you). The thing that has surprised me most is how many people have come up and said I have a beautiful voice. I’ve never considered my voice to be of note, let along beautiful and quite often their comments bring me close to tears. I doubt they’ll ever realise how much it means to me to hear them say that.

I know that I won’t ever have the voice I craved as a child and teenager but slowly, ever so slowly, I’m starting to love the way I sound, the way my voice weaves a fine fabric with Talis’ own voice, and cherish the small part I play in bringing joy to people’s lives with the music.

My voice may not change, but my views about it certainly are.