I was in a slump today. Super excited about flying to the UK to see my sister, Storm Emma stopped play and I had to rearrange to fly tomorrow instead, losing a day of my time with her. I was supposed to be on my way to the airport but I was still here. Feeling grumpy. So I went for a walk. And soon felt better.

Why? Because I suddenly realised that I had some time, and nothing pressing to do. Just like on Wednesday when heavy snow meant I had to cancel a class, something I try never to do. But once I had told everyone and accepted the situation, I felt a freedom that was purely the result of having some spare time. And from all the wonderful photos on Facebook, I think a lot of people felt the same.

I used to say “I don’t have time for that” a lot. We all do. I remember vividly the day I realised that this was a choice.

I was in my 20s and visiting my dad for a few days, which was always a busy time, filled with seeing and doing. Dad had suggested that I call in on Bill Green, an elderly widower who used to work for him as a gamekeeper. Throughout my childhood I would do the early pheasant feeding rounds with Dad, and often, when we had finished, we would call in on Bill and his wife, Greenie, for a breakfast of sausages with brown sauce. “I don’t have time”, I said. “You do”, said Dad. “You just choose to do something else with it”. I remember finding that hugely irritating at the time. Because it was true.

Ever since, every time I find myself saying “I don’t have time for that”, I remind myself that I do, in fact, have enough time to do anything I want. And if it is really important, I will make time for it. For example, my children. I think it is one of the saddest things when a child wants to spend time with a parent and they say “I don’t have time”. We are busier now than ever, that is true. But it is still our choice.

One of the greatest things about moving to France is how it has simplified our life. Here, we have much less choice. So there is more time. Yet still I often find myself thinking I’m “too busy” to do the things that really make me happy, like taking the dog for a long walk or making music, singing and drumming.

So if you haven’t got time for the things you love, perhaps it’s time for a reshuffle. If you haven’t got time, make some. It’s the best medicine.

(Our last workaway, Mat, who has just returned to the Greek island of Amorgos where he’s been living for while, posted this video. It is beautiful and has a wonderful narrative about time. Treat yourself.)

Coming home from holiday is usually really depressing. When we were ‘dinkies’ (dual income, no kids), we always booked two holidays ahead so we had something else to look forward to when the end-of-holiday blues set in. On our way home from skiing last week, we were all looking forward to getting back – to our gorgeous home, jobs that we genuinely really enjoy, a real fire, our animals, continuing work on the barn, the quad bikes and space to ride them. It is true that the life we have built here is one that we find easy to adore, but maybe we are also just getting better at appreciating the things we have.

As always, we had a wonderful winter holiday in the Pyrénées. And as always, the changeable weather often changed our plans. But my favourite day was actually when we drove up to the highest ski station only to find it closed due to too much snow and risk of avalanche. So off we went, exploring the Cirque de Gavarnie in fresh, squeaky snow.

If you are lucky enough to have the use of your legs, walking is one of the simplest things you can do to boost your sense of well-being. I love walking anywhere, even in cities – there is always something to see. It won’t be long before we walk that pilgrim path that passes our door…


Love Knits Us Up Where We Belong

Now the cat is out of the bag, I can share in full the story of The Blanket of Dreams. During a Skype chat in November, Vicky mentioned that her knees were getting cold when out in her wheelchair and she really needed a blanket. I immediately knew that this blanket must be hand-knitted with love, as there is no doubt in my mind that love is the greatest healer of all. Alas, I don’t knit (yet), but I thought I might know some people who do… So I put out a call, in my yoga classes here in France, and on Facebook, to ask if anyone would like to knit/crochet/patchwork a 20x20cm square that I would try to turn into a blanket for Vicky.

120 squares from France and the UK later, this is the story of The Blanket and Cushion of Dreams…

The collection grows...

The collection grows…

Learning the stitch from knitting expert, Karen.

Learning the stitch from knitting expert, Karen.

The Big Knit Begins.

The Big Knit Begins on 8 December.





The last squares are added.

The last squares are added.

And now the fleecy backing.

And now the fleecy backing. A total of 15 people helped put this together.

19 December and it is finished!

19 December and it is finished!

The big reveal on 28 December.

The big reveal on 28 December.

Everyone loves the Blanket of Dreams.

Everyone loves the Blanket of Dreams.

Especially Vicky.

Especially Vicky.




































Vicky says: “Family and friends of Kate (and me!), thank you. I was speechless when I unfolded the blanket, and still can’t quite get my mind around the fact that so many people, a vast number of whom have never even met me, would take the time to create a woollen square for me when they could have been doing something else. I am humbled by the kindness in your hearts, I really am, and I will remember it all my life, whenever I come across someone in trouble.

“You did this for me, and I don’t know why, but I am warmed to my bones. This blanket will become a family heirloom, and I hope to have many hours ahead in which to study each square, committing them all to memory.

“Even now, after several days, I am surprised by a square I have never noticed before when I look down. There are hearts, tassels, cloud-like softness, big sturdy stitches and tiny fairy stitches, stripes, dots, fluffiness and smoothness. It is beyond anything I could have dreamed of, and yet it is my Blanket of Dreams.”

And it didn’t stop there. Eighteen non-knitted squares were turned into a huge cushion of loveliness, centred around a square with a special pocket for some of Vicky’s horse’s hair.

Our workaways arranging the squares.

Our workaways arranging the squares.

Irene and Francette put it together.

Irene and Francette put it together.

Vicky loved the little pocket.

Vicky loved the little pocket.












The Cushion of Delight.

Someone likes her Cushion of Delight.













And still it wasn’t over. A friend of mine here in France, Jeanette Armstrong, paints the most amazing animal portraits. So, with my mum and brother, I commissioned a picture of Vicky’s beloved horse, Nick.

Opening the portrait...

Opening the portrait…

Happy sisters and mum.

Happy sisters and mum.










Thank you, everyone, for your love and support, knitted and otherwise.

At the Lahitte fête 2017

At the Lahitte fête 2017

A week before Christmas, we had some of that news that turns your world upside down. Chris’ mum had had a totally unexpected heart attack, aged just 68, and passed away. So unfair. Heather loved Christmas and adored her family and she died just a week before we were taking the children to spend their first ever Christmas with Grannie and Grandad. We went anyway, and we all struggled through as best we could. It was always going to be horrible, but it was good to spend time with Chris’ family and help them organise a fitting send-off for a wonderful lady.

The funeral was on Wednesday 10 January and it was truly beautiful, from the hearse being slow-walked out of Heather Close by the funeral director in top hat and tails, to the light, bright chapel crowded with Heather’s friends and family. From the incredible songs which were moving and uplifting in equal measure, to the readings chosen, written and read by the family.

I helped to pull the eulogy together and Chris’ sister, Beccy, paid me the biggest compliment when she said it was as if her mum had written it herself. The wake went on for five hours, filled with laughter and love, and it was lovely to spend time with Heather’s family and friends. That was Heather’s mission in life, to keep the family together, so everyone who came agreed that she would have loved it!

Heather Smith, we salute you. You leave a huge hole in all our lives, but we will try to fill it, as you did, with love, laughter and sunshine.

She Is Gone

You can shed tears that she is gone,
Or you can smile because she has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that she will come back,
Or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her,
Or you can be full of the love that you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember her and only that she is gone,
Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,
Or you can do what she would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

David Harkins 1981

It is much easier to show compassion towards other people than to yourself. But something I am re-learning is that if you don’t make yourself a priority, you will have nothing left to give. This has been the theme of my yoga classes for the last couple of weeks and I have been delighted by my students’ dedication and progress. But a couple of days ago, I realised I felt exhausted, with a pain in my shoulder that always pops up when I’m not taking care of myself. As Chris often points out, a classic case of “Do as I say, not as I do”.

I know this shizzle. I am forever telling people to put on their own oxygen mask first before helping others. But it took our lovely German workaway, Ronja, to give me the nudge I needed. I came home after a busy day teaching and rubbed my shoulder, grimacing. She gently asked if I would like a neck massage. I said yes but was a little embarrassed as I’m usually the one giving the massage! I sat on the floor in front of her and she spent a long time massaging and stroking my neck and shoulder. Ronja is only 22 but she is a wise, wise soul. Not a trained masseuse, but her intention was tangible and boy, oh boy, did it work.

I woke up the next morning full of energy and, for the first time in far too long, did a yoga practice just for me. Not practicing my class plan and thinking about my students’ needs, just for me. When I got to class that morning, my students said I looked radiant. And I felt it. Everything was easier – teaching, giving, receiving. At the end of the session, I gave them a challenge – to show themselves compassion every day for a whole week. Maybe by getting a massage, or massaging their own neck, making time for a bath or to listen to their favourite music, or simply by taking three deep breaths. Like everything, this gets easier with practice. And if you do it often enough, it will become a new habit. Now that is one habit worth having. Let’s do it.

Kasbah du ToubkhalWho’d have thought it? That leading a week’s yoga retreat* in Morocco, teaching five hours of yoga per day, with barely a fifth of the preparation time that I’d have liked, would leave me, yes, tired, but full of joy and a steady and enduring mountain energy. This was my home for a week, a little hut in the High Atlas mountains of Morocco. I shared it with my friend Nicola Mills, who was the perfect roomie, preparing my morning drinks and helping out whenever I needed it.

The Kasbah du Toubkhal is amazing. A Berber hospitality centre nestled high in the Imlil valley, surrounded by mountains and in sight of the highest peak in north Africa, Jebl Toubkhal. It couldn’t be more beautiful.

Le groupe de 2017But it wasn’t just that. What made this week really special were the people. Our hosts, all Berbers, were delightful, every member of staff smiley and honestly eager to help. And our group. Wow, what a group. An unlikely mix, perhaps, of yoga teachers, novices, French and English of all ages, and (lest we forget the Cranbury) a Californian pastor.

Everyone brought something to the group and together they gave me the support I needed to lead the retreat at what could have been a cripplingly difficult time.  I feel lucky to have had this experience and, instead of being sad that it is over, I feel it has permeated into my very cells, infusing me with the same rosy glow that washed over the mountains morning and evening. Until we meet again. Inshallah.

*The retreat was organised by Roro Retreats, who organise yoga holidays in Morocco, Spain and beyond.

Whoa. Bit late writing September’s blog as life has been throwing my family a few lemons.

Ever since we set ourselves up as The Happy Coulsons, calling our businesses Happy Yoga, Happy Pools, Happy Computers, there has been a nagging thought at the back of my mind : This happiness lark is easy when everything is going well. Despite this, I found myself teaching classes and workshops and writing blogs on how to be happy. But the last time I had to dig deep was 15 years ago, when my dad died. Would I be able to practice what I preach and would it help when things got really bad?

Well, yes, I would. And yes, it does. Phew.

When my darling sister was diagnosed with double cancer in mid-August, life for our family was turned upside down. Back and forth to the UK, to be with her as much as possible, trying to be strong for her while dealing with the heartache inside. It is not easy but I can honestly say that everything I have learned and am still learning through yoga is helping me and my family every step of the way. It doesn’t take the agony away (I still cry, even at work sometimes) but it helps me get back to the place where I can once again choose how I react and keep going. My yoga-centric life also means I am surrounded by people who are not afraid to open their hearts and share love and hope with me and my family. That stuff really works.

So, has the experience I am living at the moment changed how I see happiness? Not a bit. I taught a workshop a while ago on the formula for Happiness = Compassion + Gratitude. We are being overwhelmed by compassion and Vicky literally feels lifted up by it. And gratitude. Well, one of the first things Vicky said to me was not to be too sad as she has had a wonderful life and is so grateful. Our amazing mum taught us how to be grateful for small things – a dewy cobweb on the grass, shiny conkers, a peek of autumn sun. I know now that this formula is the most powerful medicine in the universe. And it is free. For everyone.

Trying to choose a photo to represent our August was tricky. We have done so many fun things together as a family this summer, despite both of us continuing to work hard. Chris has been out cleaning pools every morning and we have had lots of campers and pilgrims. I have been teaching a few yoga classes and hosting and teaching French students for English immersion. But there is nothing we do that our kids can’t do too, and that’s the best bit of our life in France.

Having French students to stay means we get paid to do cool stuff during the holidays, and we have recently discovered canoeing in our local river. We have a 17ft Canadian canoe that we used on the Norfolk Broads when the kids were small but the rivers here are very different. This year, though, we ventured out with the local river association and we can now all hold our own in both canoe and individual kayaks. The river is so beautiful – wild and unspoiled – that Chris and I are seriously considering a two-week canoe trip from where we live to the sea when the kids are at Scout Camp next year.

Summer is festival time in this part of France – there are amazing events going on every single weekend. Even after five years we are still discovering new festivals, and this year we have had the pleasure of sharing them with friends from France and overseas. It is always wonderful to spend quality time with friends, old and new, for us and the children.

I love seeing the kids doing things that don’t require a plug and, apart from TV, the kids’ summer has been entirely screen-free. Not a decision taken lightly and we had our doubts, but it has been brilliant. Just removing it from the list of possible activities has saved a whole load of stress. India is not yet interested but it affects Tana’s behaviour in a way that suggests he is not quite ready. Parental decisions are often plagued by uncertainty but this one contributed to a very happy summer at Happy Coulson 🙂

Yesterday was India’s tenth birthday and the fifth anniversary of our life in France. Lots has changed since this photo of our first meal outside. But one important thing has not. Our capacity to adapt and adjust to whatever life throws at us.

Flexible living has always been key at Happy Coulson. When we only had the rooms we were living in, we would sleep in India’s room and rent our bedroom out to paying guests. When French students stayed, Tana moved in with India so they could have his room. With year-round guests in various guises – workaways, students, pilgrims, holidaymakers, family – we have all had to learn how to be flexible.

Yesterday, India’s birthday plans were foiled twice when it was too cold to go to the water park and her favourite restaurant was closed. No bother. We went for a Morroccan instead and India was pleased there were more vegetarian options for her Aunt Spider.

Tana has already moved out of his room for one student this year and both kids were happy to share India’s room this summer. But they need their own space now so in just two weeks, with lots of help from Chris’ mum and dad, we converted the landing into a room for our French students.

Sliding wardrobe doors from Ikea make the wall and door. Add a secondhand iron bed, desk, chair and bedside table. Finish with lights, a few shelves, a mirror and a genius solution to the lack of hanging space (door handles attached to the underside of a shelf – nice one, Chris). Et voilà – one new bedroom. Already test driven and fully approved by a French student. Flexible living at Happy Coulson 🙂

We were joined one night by three young pilgrims – Italian Jean-Luca, Spaniard Ishmael and Brazilian Loris – who were on their way to Jerusalem. A dear friend from the UK, Anna, was staying with us for the weekend, and our new German workaway, Rabea, had just arrived. When we noticed that it was a full moon, Jean-Luca was keen for us to have a small ceremony. We joined hands and took turns to say something we were grateful for.  “Friends” and “Meeting good people” came up a lot. We have had a flurry of visitors lately – old friends and new friends – reminding us that human connection is a wonderful thing. Seeing our home through other people’s eyes also helps us to pause, look around and really appreciate what we are creating here.

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