I started writing yesterday a post about how because of work and the winter season, I was on the road to catching a bad cold, but because I did my usual pre-emptive scorched-earth barrage of medication, I was able to arrest it- when I realised that I had written about this before. So here we are, millions of grams of drugs and pitchers of hot lemon-honey water later, feeling up to it I think. I'm off to a work thing down the much colder south island for three-days so taking the precautions and saying my prayers that my body holds.

Will my body hold? Such a fragile thing we think, but the sense of fragility is most often in our heads. A thought that crosses my mind every morning when I look in the mirror is, God I'm old- but of course it's a fact that no one is exempt from this. 

So when I tuck into my kale and tuna salad at lunch even if my whole being is screaming for fried chicken and rice, I try to hang on to the belief that there is indeed something more to well-being than just a smooth face and taut limbs.