This is the month which announces the arrival of Spring, the time of rebirth, regrowth, new buds and the annual hope of better times ahead.
There’s a saying that if March comes in like a lion, it goes out like a lamb. The moral of the story is that it’s a changeable month. It’s hard to know what to expect.
March certainly came in like a lamb – sunny, balmy and altogether spirit lifting. Politically, it’s not looking good so, as I’m not able to do anything about that, I’m concentrating on what I can do to help my own spirits lift.
Along with several other spring-searching people, I grabbed the first Saturday of the month to abandon all domestic duties and find myself somewhere in the sunshine and went out to look for a sunny spot to reflect on the glory of the season.
That sounds remarkably thoughtful and adult and, if reading that about someone else, I’d be impressed. The reality is, like everyone else in the UK who spots a glimmer of light amid the gloom of the grey skies, I found a friend and together we made a dash towards the Surrey hills. And what a day we had!
It was only afterwards, when I realised how much I’d enjoyed it that I started on my period of reflection.
The day began with a drive on reasonably traffic-light roads down the A3 to a small village called Crompton and an arts and crafts and the location was just off the A3 (bear immediately left and it’s down that lane). That helped with positivity. I find it easy to be wound up by heavy traffic and roadworks – there were some of those, as you’d expect – but you notice it when there’s a reasonable lack of it. Besides, I’d already told myself that there were no time restrictions which meant no need or time for anxious thoughts.
Our destination was Watts Gallery, an artists’ village set up by “England’s Michelangelo” George Frederic Watts and his highly talented artist and potter wife, Mary, to showcase George’s talents. It’s extraordinary. Why is it not more well known? (The downside to that, of course, is that it wouldn’t be nearly so wonderful if it was too crowded.) Go when you get the chance.
My whole day was glorious. It included a visit to the house – yes, I could live there – a saunter around the gallery, good for the snobbish part of me that is convinced I enjoy art just as long as any trip’s not too long or too detailed, and a walk that took in a country lane, a horse stud with a beautiful horse chewing disdainfully in a paddock. Then there was the one-off arts and craft chapel like no other, perched casually on the top of a hill.
A detail of the chapel designed by Mary Watts
After being left speechless by the interior of the tiny but magnificent chapel, we did a short circuit of the graveyard to pay our respects to the spiritualist and humanist designers of the project. Turning away, we found ourselves coming face to tomb with the grave of writer and philosopher Aldous Huxley. A private and quiet resting place for such a respected name. I was in awe at the breath-taking minute-by-minute experiences I hadn’t imagined when I began my impulse trip.
Oh, and to top it all, there was the Flower Fairies Exhibition of the charming paintings by Cicely Mary Barker, whose paintings I remembered instantly from my childhood, but had since long forgotten. I looked back with delight at those fairy drawings for childhood.
This was effectively my first “official” outing of the year. Like so many of us now, I’ve recently succumbed to a couple of illnesses. First, I had shingles as my pre-Christmas treat and then, soon after the new year, I was sent off to A&E with a suspected blood clot. To my relief, I didn’t have the thing I had no suspicion that I might have had but I was found to have a bronchial infection which needed treatment.
Since then, again probably like everyone else, I’ve been cold, miserable and couldn’t face the idea of going outside, even when dressed for the occasion, which I’m often not.
Before this big adventure I was resistant and thought I could maybe leave it until the first official day of Spring. However, the break in the clouds that did it. If not now, when? And off I went. As you may have gathered, I’m so glad I did although, it turns out, as often is the case, that I’m late a bit late to the party.
My esteemed colleague, Sue Sutcliffe, has written about forest schooling and walking and I’m reasonably aware of the benefits of living with nature but I hadn’t heard of the phrase Social Prescribing until recently. It is a programme taken seriously by mental health professionals.
According to the Social Prescribing Academy, there are four “pillars” of social prescribing, including physical activities, arts and cultural activities and nature-based activities. The last one involves professional help with debt and practical advice, because it’s hard trying to improve your mental health when you have overriding financial problems overcrowding your head space.
Investigating further, it seems my outing ticked all the social prescribing boxes. It fully satisfied my five senses – taste, smell, sound, sights and touch – allowed me to remove myself from my daily life and surroundings while giving me the time and space to look beyond my inner world and connect with what else there is and what we may often miss.
I came feeling refreshed and invigorated and on something of a natural high. Several days later I smile at the memory.
While I remain a strong believer of talking therapies and medical intervention when necessary, I’m certainly going to take my own advice and explore further. It was fun. Give it a try. If I could, I’d prescribe it.