Use It or Lose It!

Granny choosing broomstick flying over cycling!

I well remember my own mother holding her arm straight out in front of her and kicking up her foot to touch her fingers. She was in her seventies and I had seen evidence myself of her flexibility as she gamely hauled herself up into the attic space to locate something stored away.

She also peddled on an exercise bike because as she said, "once your knees have gone, that's it!" She must have been doing something right because she lived until she was 99 years and six months old, still cooking every day and looking after her bachelor son. So it's no great surprise that Hubby and I believe the same.

Flexibility is key to everything we do and it really doesn't take many minutes in the day to circle hips and shoulders, knees and ankles. Posture is everything and you can do no better than study The Alexander Technique in which you imagine you are a puppet on a string with your head held vertical and not thrust forward like a turkey. Keep your thigh muscles strong too so that they can propel yourself out of your chair without too much difficulty.

Years ago, we were always encouraged at school to stand with chest pushed forward and shoulders back which actually forces a rather unnatural curve to the base of the spine. Rather, the pelvis should be thought of as a shallow basin tipping slightly forward so as to contain all our intestines comfortably and keeping that niggly sacrum from contracting and squeezing our nerves!

If you have trouble with your knees and/or ankles, try gently rotating them on a regular basis and elevate your legs above heart level if possible to take down any swelling.

When my old Mum, near the end of her life, finally consulted a doctor, they had no records for her as she had never been. She had always taken responsibility for her own health. Yes, she may have been fortunate, or have had good genes or whatever, but she never swallowed pills unnecessarily nor (obviously) dashed off to the surgery at the slightest twinge. I too am of the same opinion that given a little time, the wonderful organism that is us, each with our own complex chemical factory within, will generally be able cope with most situations.

I am not a doctor, but I don't have to be to know that by getting myself outside for about twenty minutes a day to soak up natural vitamin D, and sticking to a regular exercise regime, I am helping myself breeze into a happy and healthy old age. For as long as I am able, I shall certainly carry on using it, as I try not to lose it!

'B' in Granny Bonnet's Alphabet of Witches.

Bertha Bracegirdle

As you can see, Bertha is a jolly and friendly woman, a witch whose presence cannot possibly go unnoticed! This is intentional on her part. She cannot hide who she is, (neither does she want to), so she positively radiates colourful self-assurance and charm.

Witchcraft, as practiced by Bertha and her daemon Ozzy, turns sorrow to joy, rejection to acceptance. Her choice of spell would most probably be wrapped in a funny anecdote or the telling of a joke.

Laughter, Bertha knows instinctively, makes it easier to cope with difficult situations. It also relieves loneliness as you connect with other people. Her advice is, 'be yourself and dance often, as happiness rebounds!'

Ozzy is Bertha's Daemon helper.

Bertha understands of course that a good sense of humour can't cure all ailments, but data is mounting about the positive things laughter can do. Negative thoughts manifest into chemical reactions that can affect your body by bringing more stress into your system and decreasing your immunity. On the other hand, positive thinking can actually release neuropeptides that help fight stress and potentially more-serious illnesses.

So go on! Enjoy a good old belly-laugh to stimulate your heart, lungs and muscles, and increase endorphins released by your brain. When you finish giggling, your heart rate and blood pressure will subside and you will be left with a good, relaxed feeling. Call it witch-craft or common-sense. It's your choice entirely...

Fresh Eggs.

Granny ran out of eggs this morning so decided to walk down to the little farmhouse in the valley behind to see if they had any for sale at the gate. We are very fortunate living where we do as I often buy a larger tray of farm eggs at another small-holding where I have been dealing with the old boy for years. Today though, being just after 7.30 a.m., it was closer and easier to walk.

When I arrived, there were none in the little outside cupboard and the honesty jar had been emptied but I spotted movement and soon found myself happily roped in on bucket-carrying and gate-opening duty as the owner's pony was put out to pasture.

That done, two fresh eggs magically materialised from my friend's pocket before she made up the rest of the half-dozen. I didn't get to see the hens today sadly. They're a mixed bunch of girls headed by a handsome Wyandotte black and white spotted cockerel who lords it over them and keeps them in order. They're spoiled rotten by their lady owner and granddaughter. Free ranging and fed only the very best diet of grains and fruit they are also lulled by the luxury of the radio kept on for them all day for company. My lady friend also sits in their enclosure whenever possible as she is enthralled by their comical cluckings and scrapings as much as the need to help keep a marauding fox at bay!

As with so many things today, when we shop we generally buy what is stipulated and stocked by supermarkets, quite forgetting there are many other varieties of produce available. So it is with eggs, which do not come in regulation brown (or white for preference in America). I get all shades from palest blue through to russet brown. Just look at my beautiful assorted six, and Granny assures you that their yolks will be deepest yellow and the taste, sublime!

Hurrah for small holdings, may they thrive forever.

Granny Bonnet