Last December found be standing on the massive bank at Avebury Henge, looking eastwards with a sense of anticipation and, strangely enough, need. It wasn’t pitch black; the sky had been lightening for a good while by the time I found myself stood on the ancient, man-made bank with T and P, but there was still the hint of cold, deep night lingering in the sky.

It was the winter solstice and the sun was yet to rise.

Now, I’ve watched many solstice sunrises (both summer and winter); each time I get the same buzzy feeling in me just before the sun appears but this was the first time I had so keenly needed to see the sky turn orange, yellow and pink. I knew that this time round something much deeper was happening.

The sun rose.

Behind me, a drum was beaten and a cheer went up from near some of the stones even as I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, my stomach practising acrobatics and a tingling surge running up and down my spine.

I found that I couldn’t see the sky or the landscape properly because I was crying. I couldn’t stop the tears from diving over my lower eyelids and gushing down my cheeks. But I was also smiling and laughing and hugging T and P.

Winter wasn’t yet over and the long nights always weigh heavily on me. They always do; this winter has been tougher than most. Yes, for a little while things actually got a bit darker in my life, but the lengthening of the days somehow started to give me the strength, the energy and the hope to pull through, dust myself off and stride forwards.

The past month has had lots of the bright winter days I love so much, where the air is crisp and cold but the sun warm and bright to the point of blinding. I can’t help but smile when I feel the sunlight on my cheeks, when I can see the way it paints the world around me and coaxes it to a more vibrant state. Along with other things I have been doing to get myself back on track, the returning of the longer days has helped me find a calm and positive sense of peace within myself.

This spring, I think I understand a little better why the ancestors of my adopted county built such a beautiful and magnificent circle at Avebury, and other places in the UK.

The return of sunlight is so very, very important; important enough to be marked in stone that has lasted for millenia. And it’s important to me, on a very human (and therefore very fleeting) level, as well.

I hope…. I hope for sunlight, for the promise of long days ahead, for smiles on my lips and the promise the growing year brings.

So, Sunday evening I was trying to figure out what I should wear for Monday.

(I have to do that because Monday generally involves getting up early for a pre-work exercise class and there’s no way I’ll be thinking straight enough to choose a cohesive set of clothes at 6am; trust me on that one.  Anyway, back to the point…)

While searching through my clothes the sudden realisation hit me that none of them seem to reflect where I am, in terms of my personality and self-image, at the moment. It was a little disheartening to say the least. You see, my clothes are so very sensible and lack the quirkiness that I see as being an intrinsic part of my personality. Sometimes I even worry that I dress older than I actually am. Ultimately, they make me feel like a ghost of who I am because they don’t reflect a part of me that I am increasingly allowing to shine forth.

*Laughs*. I even miss those massive purple cords (corduroy flares) I used to wear in the Sixth Form at school (they were pretty much the ‘in’ thing for the alternative types in my area at the time). They didn’t do much for me – they made my thighs look HUGE – but they were quirky and colourful and fun! Yup, I definitely miss them.

I think the only really flamboyant clothes I have are those I wear on stage and even then they are very much a part of my stage personality and don’t really go with the relaxed aspects of me. I mean, I can’t imagine wearing the long black skirt and red ‘gypsy’ top which snuggled up on the sofa and reading a book.

My clothes have generally been a way I express myself so when I look, and I mean really look at what I now wear, I do wonder what that is saying about me.

Then again, I guess it could also be saying something about the fashion world at large. It is really that which constrains my clothing choices seeing as I really can’t afford the more alternative options out there (not to mention that fact I know I will never, EVER be able to get into skinny jeans because of the size of my calves and thighs). I’m completely uninspired by the general things most clothes shops offer; I don’t really like shapeless clothes that just hang off you – they do s*d all for me.

*Sigh*.

I really want to be able to show off my personality a bit more in clothes that make be feel comfortable while still being quirky. I’ve been toying with the idea of buying some jeans from a charity shop and then customising them; I’ve just got to find the time to do that. It’d be a start but I’d still have miles to go before I was satisfied that my wardrobe reflected ‘me’. In the end, I don’t know if I have the skills or the time to really achieve the ‘Me’ wardrobe.

I just want to look more like me, really, because at the moment I’m not so sure I do and that’s not a good thing. There’s much to be said about buying clothes that are functional and hard wearing but I really want to shine and express myself too. I AM quirky and creative – I want my clothes to be quirky and creative too. Is that such a bad/shallow/childish/selfish thing?

There’s a well known idiom: “there are not enough hours in the day.”

I often feel this is the case with regard to my own life. There is so much I love doing; so much I want to fit into my days. I want to exercise, to write, to play music, to listen to music, to read, to knit, to spend time with my friends and family… the list goes on and on.

In trying to cram as much into the day as possible, though, I very rarely get the chance to relax and I can really feel that starting to weigh heavily on me. It’s almost as though sleep is an inconvenient interruption in the time I could spend DOING things. Now, before anyone tells me off, I know my body is repairing itself and my brain is processing things in my subconscious while I sleep.  However, though I know that logically, sometimes I find it difficult to allow myself to relax and fall asleep.

Even spending fifteen minutes lying on my bed and listening to music feels like a decadent luxury because I’m not actively doing something productive.

I really wish I could do more of the things I enjoy but I’m coming around to the idea that I also have to learn to give myself a break and really relax. After all, if I do myself a mischief by not relaxing I’m sure I’ll stop myself from doing even more of the things I love. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Anyways, time to go an practice what I’ve been waffling on about – the Land of Nod calls…

(NB: I was going to write something more deep and meaningful but that’ll have to wait; I’m too exhausted to give the subject the focus it is due. Thank you, in the meantime, for listening to my ramblings).