Aslan is on the move! Post-winter plans, and the execution thereof

Narnia happened exactly like this

Narnia happened exactly like this

WINTER IS ALMOST OVER! SAINTS BE BLOODY WELL PRAISED!

I can’t be the only one who constantly talks myself out of everything.

I might be lying in bed going “Oh God, take your love of refined sugars for a run you fool,” but will then just stay in bed feeling guilty. Or find something that looks really exciting, suck air through my teeth at the price, and then fritter exactly the same amount of money on complete and utter crap.

Well, I’m going through one of my periodic phases of ravenish “NO MORE!”

(I know it’s never more, but ravenish is just such a lovely sounding word.)

Unsurprisingly, my ravenish period usually coincides with the end of winter, or, at least, the merest sighting of spring. There were nascent daffs in the window pots of the houses I passed on my staggered hop run yesterday, and snowdrops punching their way through the ground in Brockwell Park. Somewhere, a bewitched talking beaver is saying, “Aslan is on the move.”

There will now be a short pause to contemplate the myriad brillance of the BBC’s Narnia

Whereas my winters are by and large spent in a state of Victorian swoon, catalogued in a fat pile of decisions I felt too exhausted to make and places I couldn’t summon the energy to go to, the onset of spring sees me making plans and feeling excited, not just knackered and used up.

New things! YES!

  • I’ve joined a running club! Or rather, knowing my limits, a learn-to-run beginners course. I’ve been running on and off since 2011 and have yet to progress to anything more than a jog.
  • Rather than wistfully pining over clothes, I bought all the ones I liked the look of from Tall Girls and Brand Alley, tried them on, and then returned the ones that didn’t look right. Sadly for me, but brilliantly for my credit card and the entire ethos of window shopping, that was pretty much everything.
  • On Sunday, where I would usually have cried off at the eleventh hour to just go to bed, I spent the entire night watching the Oscars with friends at Soho House. (Jesus that place is cold. You’d think with their membership fees they could afford some secondary glazing. Corrie spent the night with her feet wrapped in napkins.)
  • I also went to the Manet exhibition at the Royal Academy – my parents sporadically attempt to Eliza Doolittle their daughter – and then we went to try out Brasserie Zedel which, unlike the rather meh Manet, was just absolutely wonderful. Great food, grave five-star staff, and our pre-lunch fizz came in coupes at a long golden bar with plush velvet barstools. Wonderful. I love going out with my parents in London, and lunch plays a big part in why.
  • On Monday, rather than just staying in bed and feeling awful, I crowbarred myself into running clothes and reunited joyfully with the best running app in the world: Zombies, Run!. It reminded me how much I love running, even though I’m back to the jog, walk, jog, walk, and I got endlessly lapped by handsome men in shorts.
  • And today, I finally used the voucher I got for my birthday to book an Arvon course I liked, and then booked a ticket to a bloody amazing-sounding festival in August. If I can’t find anyone to go with me, then I will go alone and have a wonderful time trotting around eating, horse riding, and lying flat on my back staring at the inside of my eyelids.

Update: Miss Cellany of Write Club has gifted us with this amazing behind the scenes video of Voyage of the Dawntreader back in the 80s. Delicious Sam West alert!

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