The hutch is rather empty at the moment. The two industrious and estimable rats who co-habit the hutch with me are both on cross continental meanderings, so I have been wallowing in my own smells and rodent free solitude.
The hutch though had to randomly come alive of its own accord on the first night which necessitated a stand off with the invisible, goodnatured yet impish spirits of the house – strings being strummed on the tamburi catching my little pink ears with alarm for a good ten minutes in seeming perfect rhythm and pitch (actually it was the spectaculary sounding d.r.i.p of a leaking pipe onto a new metal wastebin) pictures coming mysteriously loose of their drawing pins in the middle of the night, the one above my nesting station particularly of note, and various other timbral offerings. All in all a fitting start for the intention to use these next 18 days of domestic silence as a guineapig restoration project.
Pre-empting any distractions and obstacles to an early monday morning dawn rise that I could throw at myself I had cannily booked an appointment with a colonic lady. For monday. Morning. Hah.
Though not a stranger to colonic irrigation, I haven’t chosen this way of interior space cleansing for quite a few years – since visiting a very efficient and educational ex nurse at the Natural Health centre in Clapham common (where I also got a free dunk in their flotation tank to compensate for an appointment error). The first stop for me this time was a colonic lady in Holloway that I randomly found on google. The colonic was painless “a good session” apparently – maybe something to do with the fact that guineapigs are by default herbivorous and dont generally graze on other creatures, stock up on processed food, or guzzle cheap beer whilst watching the footie. Okay I admit I do watch the footie. And maybe also something to do with the fact that my anthromorphic status means I do things like regular coffee enemas that would be an anathema to my furry sistren and brethren. Anyways the place I went to was spotless, friendly, professional and customised, rather like the excellent practitioner and I wouldnt hesitate to recommend her. (see resources)
After the flush my guts felt great though I was pretty tired. I walked to a nearby Waitrose with good intentions (Waitrose is a relatively a new discovery for me, a luddite anti fluoro light irradiated environment avoider) and stocked up on veggies necessary for stage two of my plan -a double triple mega juice uptake – putting my daily 8 year habit of a morning beet broccoli carrot and ginger juice into the shade somewhat – yes I have a champion juicer with a lifetime guarantee. Phew. Unfortunately I forgot to factor in heavy shopping plus tube and bus journeys and made it home so exhausted that all I could do was sit in the middle of my run in the beautiful sunny garden and imagine using the juicer.
I am though slowly using the tranquility and the space, both cerebrally and geographically, to re-orientate, reset my personal compass if you like, and invest my time and energy into creating optimum health, giving my body the chance to do its thing and the bicarbonate of soda I am still using the chance to do its thing. Colonics has its advocates, detractors and secret users (Simon Cowell). I am generally ambivalent but I simply had a really strong feeling at this juncture that it was a good precursor to what I will be doing for the next couple of weeks.
One has to stay on it, stay alert, stay switched on, embrace the truth of beauty and the beauty of truth and embody the healing vibrations that lifes small pleasures give. And sometimes using the imagination is almost as good as the real thing. Maybe for the next few days of detoxing I should imagine the colonic and make the juices.