More Cambodian food fun

Back in Phnom Penh for the weekend I met up last night with the lovely Kheang from VSO.  She’d contacted me earlier in the week and asked where I wanted to eat and I’d suggested soup, something we’d eaten together before and a reminder for me of many fun meals when living in China.


Basically, soup (or hot pot as they call it in China) is a communal affair.  A gas cooker is placed on the table and a bowl of steaming broth sits atop.  What else goes in is entirely at the behest of those around the table, this led to some hairy moments when dining with friends in China but last night meant a soupy mix of mushrooms, green veg, shrimp, crab and corn.  With an accompaniment of sweet chilli dip and a bottle or two of pretty shit tasting but icy cold Cambodian beer it made for what should have been a delicious meal.

Unfortunately though, in the restaurant Kheang had taken me to the soup was only half the story, the other half consisting of barbeque.  Again involving a gas camping cooker, this time with a griddle pan atop onto which two lumps of white greasy pork fat were placed along with a dish of bright yellow gloop which Kheang described as butter.  One sniff and my worst fears were confirmed, the dish did not contain butter but instead was filled with vile smelling margarine – the type found in those 1kg Kraft tubs any Brit of my generation or older will remember well.


Slowly, the lurid yellow plastic fat melted in the dish, the smell drifting towards my nostrils causing me to feign an I’m hot moment requiring major hand wafting as I tried to fan the stench away.

Eng, our companion for the evening excitedly poured the gloop onto the griddle and slapped meat, fish and seafood on to fry away having firstly blocked the griddle drain hole with a plug formed from an okra finger ensuring the food was swimming in the processed oil slick.  Thankfully, the cooking food smell masked that of the marge but that only served to lead me to a foolish decision to try a piece of the lightly charred barbecued beef.  The minute I put it into my mouth my gag reflex kicked in as the taste of bad margarine flooded my mouth.  A quick gulp of beer washed away the worst of it and I lavishly dipped some mushrooms into chilli sauce before chomping away on them to remove the remainder of the gruesome flavoured oil slick in my mouth.


Needless to say, for the rest of the meal my chopsticks were pointed firmly towards the soup cooker and my eyes studiously averted from the yellow cesspool that Eng was delightedly dipping his animal products into before lobbing them onto the griddle.


Having had my fill of soup I headed to the icecream stand (yep it appears that icecream is the standard all you can eat buffet dessert offering in countries other than England) and grabbed a ridiculously small metal saucer which I piled high with garish pink strawberry ice cream.  Back at the table I tucked in using a tiny teaspoon which buckled under the weight and density of the frozen dessert. Undeterred, I shovelled the tasty sweet treat down and thankfully had finished my last mouthful before I turned just in time to see a certain someone dip a digit in the toxic fat pot before transferring said finger to his mouth.

Even now my tummy does a little turn at the thought!

A lovely Cambodian afternoon

One of my favourite Cambodian things to do is to go and eat banh chao.  It’s one of those eating experiences best shared with a friend and on Tuesday I had the opportunity to indulge.


A huge storm on Tuesday afternoon meant that:

  • Class was a very noisy affair as I competed against the noise of the torrential downpour and accompanying electrical activity (complete with shrieks from both kids and TA at each thunder roll and lightning flash)
  • I got the opportunity to teach the kids the ‘I hear thunder’ song and then sing it every single time a clap of thunder rolled overhead. I was entertained by it – everyone else not so much so!
  • All of the dirt roads in Kampot turned to red mushy sludge


The latter point in that list is significant as it meant that when Channy picked me up from school at 4.45 to go eat banh chao, within 5 minutes we were immersed in this mud fuelled hell.  In fairness to Channy, she’s an excellent motorbike driver meaning I felt confident enough to video part of the yukky journey (I obviously kept my feet very firmly planted on the foot pegs of the bike) only erring at the point where Channy contemplated turning back to visit a different banh chao seller (listen carefully to the video and you can hear my concern at the potential that this would occur).

On arrival, having chosen our hut and with only minimal mud splashes on our feet and calves we headed to the counter to order.  Both ridiculously hungry we ordered not only one banh chao each but also a bowl of noodles each – curry flavour for me and traditional Kampot noodles (fish soup noodles basically) for Channy.  Oh and I almost forgot, Channy also bought us 6 lotus flower seed pods to snack on while we waited.


Settled in our open sided hut I had my first try of lotus seeds and whilst they have very little taste I could see how I would very quickly munch my way through a head full of them.  The rhythmic process of pooping the seed from the head, then releasing it from its shell before popping the seed in your mouth felt very therapeutic.


Our first course arrived and, with Channy expertly seated in her hammock and me choosing the far safer option of sitting on the floor, we slurped away happily.


And then it was time for the main event.  Banh chao is basically a rice flour pancake stuffed with minced pork.  You eat it with your hands by ripping off a piece of the pancake and wrapping it in a lettuce leaf that you add various herbs too.  Dipped into a pot of fish sauce, chilli and nut dip it’s ready to chow down on and far more delicious than it probably sounds from my description.


We had had a bit of an eyes bigger than our bellies moment when ordering and so had to have a brief rest with Channy swinging in her hammock and me embarrassing her with my rolling about in various bad yoga poses on the floor.


The little huts that you sit in are quite low to the ground and as you sit eating the local wildlife will often come for a wander around.  We were visited by the obligatory cats and dogs on this occasion along with a couple of chickens and a gorgeous young calf who came for a chew on a nearby plant.

The venues are very popular with groups of young people and the vague sound of chatter and music videos being played on the mandatory smart phone fills the air whenever you visit.


On an earlier visit to this spot, Channy told me of a nearby location that has huts where the roof comes all the way down – perfect for that clandestine engagement should the opportunity ever arise!


The lotus pond to our right was beautiful in the early evening light with the post storm breeze gently bending the stems of the buds and leaves.  Couples and groups of young people wandered across the rickety little plank bridge to reach the other side and embark in selfie activity on the train tracks and all the while Channy and sat and chomped and chatted.  A perfect way to spend a late afternoon/early evening, although I have to admit that the ten degree drop in temperature from a gluey, yukky body temperature equivalent of 37.6 degrees down to 27 left me chilly in general and with positively icy feet.  This does not bode well for my upcoming UK trip!!


Finally finished with our feast, we washed it down with the Cambodian non-alcoholic drink of choice – fruity, sweet sugar cane juice and Channy (having planted the remaining herbs from my banh chao in the mud next to the pond as it was apparently “perfect growing time”) continued to munch away at the lotus seeds, determined at one point to finish all six heads before we left.

With the light fading fast and the chill really setting in we decided to stash two heads of lotus in the bike seat and head home.  On concrete roads this time the ride was less slippy and muddy but the cool breeze and odd huge rain drop plopping down on us added an element of entertainment to the extremely sedate pootle home (27kmh was our top speed).


Back home, I quickly locked the door to keep the cold out and changed into my PJs before curling up under the sheet (no fan!!!) to catch up on my documentary watching (my latest TV obsession).


A lovely Cambodian afternoon indeed.

Classroom characters

I’m coming to the end of my brief spell teaching the English as a Second Language class in the lovely little home school in town and have been busy writing handover notes for my successor.


Whilst trying very hard to remain professional whilst writing this document, I couldn’t help but think how much easier it would be if I could just describe the children in terms of their animal characteristics and so, that is exactly what I’m going to do for you now.


Mischievous monkey


Often found hanging onto the back of your legs or jumping off furniture, mischievous monkey enjoys tipping boxes and buckets of things on the floor and also wiping his/her hands all over the chalk board before smacking you on the bum.  Permanent ants in pants means mischievous monkey will generally spin/crawl and twist around throughout any activity.  Has a tendency to wear trousers one size too big and therefore needs chasing around and hoisting back into said trousers whilst monkey is all the time trying to wriggle free.


Spaced out sloth


A vague ‘lights are on but nobody’s home’ look haunts the eyes of sullen sloth.  Often seen with mouth hanging open languidly, spaced out sloth finds it impossible to sit up straight and generally resembles a puppet whose strings have gone slack when sat in circle time.  Living in a world of his/her own creation, spaced out sloth will generally find something to do out of the activities on offer and do it they ill, very slowly and over and over again.


Chattering chimp


Prattling away ten to the dozen, sadly most of what chattering chimp has to say is incomprehensible to human ears.  Another character who likes to jump off things they also like to use your left arm as a swing/pull along toy.  Volunteers for everything without a clue what they’re volunteering for.


Stubborn mule


The sulky child in class, stubborn mule likes to get his/her own way and tries to do so by sulking and crying.  Yet to work out that his teacher is the queen of ignoring sulkers, can be seen muttering under his/her breath whilst dramatically folding arms and harrumphing if they aren’t allowed to take part in their first choice activity or ignore an instruction to not put hands up to get a go in a game.  When not sulking, stubborn mule is determined to get their message across – by saying the same thing (only partially comprehensibly) fifty two times in an hour.


King of the jungle


The king of the jungle has self appointed as teacher, criticising other creatures for their slovenly manners, use of Khmer in class or inappropriate behaviour.  Sadly, has also adopted a stance of do as I say, not as I do this creature regularly models the behaviours so unacceptable in others.


Cheeky chipmunks


Those little tiny tots who are sooooo cute you want to squeeze them.  Often pop up from behind a table or chair when least expected or cuddle in groups in the reading corner adorably ‘reading’ together.  Require frequent naps and toilet trips but OMG they’re just soooooo cute.


Sweaty moose

The biggest creature in the class.  This curious creature of a certain age takes significantly longer than the rest of the zoo to sit down in or get up from circle town.  Constantly pushing her glasses up her nose, wiping beads of sweat from her temples and trying not to drip on the children’s artwork, sweaty moose excelled herself this week by sporting not only a salt ring from sweat around her neck but two extremely distinctive sweat circles rimmed with sweat on her boobs.  This creature ages 2 years for every 2 weeks spent in the classroom and has been known to resort to alcohol consumption as a result of such work.


So there you have it, the creatures in my class.  Oh what fun we have!


It’s a Miracle

Laid on his side, eyes rolled to the back of his head and tongue hanging limp out of the side of his mouth there was no sign of breathing in yappy dog’s lifeless corpse that was swarming with flies.


I spotted him just as I was heading out to the spa yesterday morning.  He was at the top of the driveway, just off to the side in front of Jack’s car.


Papa was further down the drive sweeping and so I called to him and indicated via dodgy Khmer and hand gestures that I thought yappy dog was dead.   He seemed non-plussed, only briefly pausing before going back to leaf sweeping duties.


I wander dejectedly down the road, the image of the lifeless animal embedded in my mind, the evidence that life is cheap inherent in papa’s reaction jarring, the internal struggle of feeling sad but at the same time having to admit I was a little bit pleased that my home would in future be surrounded by slightly less yappiness.


The day passed in a haze of pampering, chatting and lounging by the river and after a brief but refreshing storm mid afternoon I headed home fearful that the ‘corpse’ would still be there and wondering how mama would be following the death of here beloved Bean aka yappy dog.


No sign of dead dogness as I wandered in, all was quiet, not a soul to be seen.  I headed in, hopped in the shower and then lay on my bed reading when suddenly I heard an all too familiar sound.


Yep, you guessed it, yappy dog was alive and well, charging up the drive way and yapping at full volume at an imagined imposter.


No wonder papa was non-plussed.  I can only imagine the thoughts going through his head as the stupid foreigner pointed out the sleeping dog to him!


All in a day’s bonkersness in the Kingdom of Wonder.





Apparently there’s some kind of breaking news about Megan Markle and Prince Charles.  I have no idea what it is or if it is significant but in other news:


10 minutes before the end of class today a child, who shall remain nameless, decided to mix 3, 40 piece jigsaw puzzles into one


The frenzied ‘lets sort these puzzles out’ actions that followed resulted in class ending  late


My Friday (super strong made by Jules) G&T after class was interrupted by a parent who rocked up 1/2 hour late to pick up their child and was slightly bemused that said child was no longer at school as had been picked up by ANOther


That interruption paled into insignificance when I headed out to meet my cocktail buddies, with the first step being to  try to find my fitflops.


The help of children and school owners was requested for the search


Eventually, the missing flip flop turned up at the back og the school with the toe post and a significant chunk of the foot cover gnawed away.


It appears that resident puppy had decided my fitflop was an afternoon snack.


Thus followed a one footed bike ride to Jos’ house to borrow her only spare pair of shoes (thank god for felllow live in Cambodia big foots)


I managed to arrive just in time for the end of aperotime at Riki by the skin of my teeth and downed two Tom Collins cocktails like my life depended on it


Quiz night (my second attendance with a seriously committed to winning core team) resulted in super smug Saraness when an answer I gave proved to be correct but was ignored.  Needless to say I didn’t let them forget this fact for the remainder of the evening.


Quiz concluded ( we did actually win (in no small part due to my picture and music round prowess)) I stopped drinking gin and watched as a tuktuk driver secured my bike to the tailgate before transporting me home.


This post comes to you via a pickled liver combined with a real desire to actually make sense.


Who knows if I achieved it – maybe I never will!


My Twenty Firsts

Noodling about on Twitter earlier today, I came across a blog entitled ‘My First Time’ and dove in for a snoop to learn more.  Turns out it was a list of 30 of the author’s `firsts’ and it inspired me to write a similar post today.


So, here you have it, my 20 firsts:


  1. First app you check when you wake up in the morning?

The 1st app I check in the morning is always Instagram, followed by Gmail.  I’m slightly ashamed to admit that, despite having deleted the Facebook app to stop me obsessively checking it,  I check it 3rd every morning, using the web browser version which is second rate and really pisses me off – go figure!

  1. First foreign country you ever visited?

I first went abroad on a school trip to northern France.  I have very few memories of that trip other than the clocks changing mid way through the week confusing the hell out of everyone, eating saucisson et frites from a seaside burger van and throwing up over my coat sleeve on the ferry home and spending the remainder of the journey freezing cold and stinking of puke.

  1. First plane ride you ever went on?

My first plane ride was taken a week before my 21st birthday when I headed off to Egypt to go on a cruise down the Nile followed by a week in Luxor & Cairo.  We sat in the smoking section (yep that was a thing back then) and apart from sitting in a stinky haze for the whole flight that made me not want a cigarette myself (I was a 20 a day girl at the time)  I remember drinking really bad, lukewarm coffee out of plastic cups with an odd handle that wasn’t quite the right size to hook your finger in.

  1. First time I ever got into trouble at home and school?

I’ve no idea of the first time I got in trouble at home (ask Victoria or my mum, they’ll probably tell you).  As for school, I remember it well.  The first time I got into trouble at school was for talking in class (Yr1 primary).  I had to stand on my chair for the rest of the lesson as punishment.  There’s only one other time I remember getting in trouble in Primary School and that’s when I co-led a strike against the dinner ladies, which involved hoisting our cardigans on sticks and marching around the playground waving them and chanting “we hate the dinner ladies”.  I have no idea what brought on this protest but I do remember the humiliation that followed as we were torn off a strip by the deputy head.  As for getting in trouble in Secondary School, my free hosted WordPress site does not have the capacity to hold an article big enough to detail all of those!

  1. My first BF/GF?

My first ‘proper’ boyfriend was a guy called Neil who I met on a joint boys’ brigade/girls’ brigade camp somewhere down south.  We shared a love of The Human League and had an illicit snog on the last night of camp.

  1. My First car?

My first car was a red R registration mini called Ruby.  She was extremely tempremental and so I used to tuck her in under a big thick blanket and say night night to her every night in the vain hope that this would mean she’d start first time in the morning.

  1. My first ever cell phone?

The first mobile I had was some form of flip phone with a pull out ariel.  I bought it when I was on my placement year from uni as I was travelling huge distances everyday in yet another tempremental car, this time a VW Passat called Vernon.

  1. My first heartbreak

That was Neil too.  We dated for a while after camp (he lived in Loughborough & I lived in Shepshed) but then after a while he unceremoniously dumped me, in the process breaking my heart.

  1. My first internet activity?

This was using Yahoo mail when I lived in China.  The dial up (remember the shrieking sound of the line  trying to connect) was soooooo slow that I would often get up in the middle of the night to try to access my mail and regularly managed to make a cup of tea and return to my desk before the inbox had loaded.

  1. My first job?

I had two jobs when I was at school.  One was a morning paper round and the other was cleaning in the local butchers shop after school.  I’m not sure which came first, but I do know the tips were better for the paper round, but the pork crackling at the butchers was better than any financial compensation.

  1. My first piercing and when did I get it?

I had my ears pierced as a teenager at the same time as I was allowed to have my long hair cut for the first time.  A few years later I got my nose pierced and loved it, but had to take it out as trying to get a corkscrew stud into the hole made me wretch.

  1. My first swear word?

Oh gosh, who knows what this was.  I do know that it probably resulted in a mouthful of Imperial Leather soap which, for those who know me now know, didn’t deter me enough to stop me developing a huge potty mouth now with a particular passion for the F word.

  1. My first tattoo?

At the tender age of 37 I got a ghecko tattoed on my right thigh.  I now also have a Manchester bee on my left ankle and some writing on my right wrist and am contemplating a further addition on my foot.

  1. My first thought today?

Oh damn, I didn’t blog!

  1. The first book I remember reading?

This would probably be either Charlie & The Chocolate Factory or one of the Famous Five books

  1. The first concert I ever attended?

I was a late bloomer on the gig front, only attending my first concert in 2004 when I saw The Red Hot Chilli Peppers in Hyde Park.

  1. The first person I talked to today?

Mama.  We traded niceties and I then told here “have problem, water not good” and made wooshing noises whilst pointing furiously at the filter that was gushing out water

  1. The first thing I do when I get home?

Throw down my keys and purse, click the fan on full, strip off and lie until dry (keeping it classy!)

  1. First time I got in a fist fight?
    This was at secondary school where I had a habit of picking fights with boys which I think was my antedote to being bullied by the girls.
  2. The first film I remember seeing?

Whatever this was it would have been a musical.  I do have very clear memories of the first film we ever video recorded – Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory – which we watched so often that I know every song off by heart.






It’s 730pm, Wednesday evening.  I’m watching yet another prison based documentary on Netflix but my eyes are stinging.  The extreme heat of May means my fan is on almost constantly when I’m home, this combination resulting in my already dry eyes going into meltdown: stinging like hell; hazy blurred vision; and joy of joy occasional stabbing pains.


Shutting my eyes for a few minutes will usually ease the pain (yes I can regularly be seen sitting in cafes and bars with my eyes shut looking like some sweaty, dishevelled spiritual enlightenment seeker) and so I employed this tactic last night.


And the next thing I knew it was 1.30am and I was reaching up to switch off the fan before turning over and not stirring again until 7.30 this morning.


That’s one way to cure stinging eyes I guess!


It’s OK to not be OK

As it’s currently Mental Health Awareness week I thought I’d do something a little bit different on the blog today by sharing some of my struggles and strategies.


There’s two distinct but intertwining elements to my mental health issues.


The first element came into my life as a teenager.  my periods started, hormones kicked in and with them came raging PMT.  Not that I ever acknowledged that was the case.  Too embarrassed to even talk about my menstrual cycle I chose to blame my regular mood swings and vile outbursts on the “idiots” I was surrounded by.    My family and others close to me suffered terribly as every month I became verbally and even, on occasion, physically abusive, along with being moody as hell and self-loathing.  By my 30s I was finally ready to acknowledge that what was going on was actually my stuff, part of chemical switches that occur in my brain as my hormone balance shifts throughout the cycle and now in my late 40s I’m fascinated by how the shift in my hormone shifts as I move through perimenopause into menopause means that new patterns are emerging, but those same depressive feelings are the result.


So that’s my hormones doing their thing, but something else can often be at play in negatively impacting my mental health and that is the situations and circumstances I sometimes find myself in.  These mostly centre around romantic relationships and what I now recognise as my inability to retain a sense of myself when I’m in them coupled with a fear of being alone which keeps me in them for far too long, but have also included a period of bullying at work (that introduced to chronic anxiety for the first time too) and a badly timed move to Poland amongst others.


And you may have already worked out that when I’m in a shitty situation and start feeling meh my hormones start to go haywire too exacerbating the issue.  This mainly happens because when I start to get depressed I stop doing the things that minimise the impact my hormones have on my mood, namely I eat crap; I don’t exercise; I entertain and even actively encourage negative thoughts and basically do anything and everything to send me spiralling downwards.


I’ll be honest with you, whilst I’ve never thought about committing suicide there have been times when I wished my life would end and I’ve had extended periods of time where even getting out of bed every day was a major challenge and actually getting showered and dressed was beyond my capabilities.


But it’s not all doom and gloom.  Most of the time now I feel mentally well and when I feel it starting to slip I have a fabulous toolkit of stuff that I use to help me get back on top.


Before I share with you what those tools are though I want to be totally honest with you.  I currently take, and have for a long time now, a daily antidepressant – the SSRI, Fluoxetine to be precise.


I started taking them during my infamous divorce which in the end took longer to get through than the length of the marriage itself (18 month marriage versus 2 year divorce in case you were wondering).  A long conversation with my doctor convinced me that

  1. I wouldn’t have the reticence to taking drugs if it were a heart condition we were managing and…
  2. The level of depression I was experiencing was too severe to climb out of without a little push (this was deep in the not getting dressed and wishing I was dead phase).


After the divorce was settled I slowly came off the tablets whilst at the same time working really hard on improving my physical health and diet.  I was at my physical peak, eating in a way designed to boost hormonal health and yet once a month I still sloped down into a pit of despair that made going to work difficult as I often couldn’t stop crying and was exhausted all the time and managing unjustified outbursts towards my nearest and dearest and their aftermath was a daily struggle.


Another conversation with my doctor and we agreed that I’d try going back onto a low dose of the fluoxetine and low and behold, within three months the psycho Sara who jumped out of the closet every month for a week or two was firmly locked away.  And that’s why I to this day take SSRIs.  Because for me they help.  They turn my normal hormonal pattern into a socially acceptable hormonal pattern and allow me to function daily.


At times I have, with the agreement of my doctor, upped my dose temporarily to manage situations when I could feel myself sinking and I also had to switch to a different type of medicine when anxiety struck to stop me chewing my nails to the bone and avoid having a nervous breakdown over my failure to watch everything I’d recorded on the TV!?!?!


But the tablets are only a small part of what keeps me sane, so here’s some of the other stuff I do to help me be ok:


  1. I talk to people (both professionals in the form of therapy and trusted friends/family). No longer ashamed of my periods or my mental health foibles I recognise that talking about this stuff serves multiple purposes.  It helps me reduce the problem to a manageable size rather than being an insurmountable obstacle, it helps me reframe the issue and sometimes even reveals that the problem isn’t there at all.
  2. I meditate. I have a free app called Insight Timer on my phone and I use it daily (sometimes more than once).  Even when I’m sinking into a CBA phase I make sure that I at least put on some meditative music when I turn off the light to go to sleep at night and regularly turn to it during periods of insomnia.  For me it helps that this app tracks how many days in a row you meditate for and awards stars (gotta love a star chart) and there’s also a HUGE variety of stuff on there to listen to.
  3. I eat right. Part of the reason for doing the pickle workshop was because I know how important a healthy gut is to ensuring a healthy brain (something like 90% of serotonin is produced in the gut) and after having strep throat and taking antibiotics to kill the infection my gut needed all the help it could get.  The pickles have now all gone and tomorrow sees me starting off a new batch of what will now be a regular feature on my plate along with lots of fresh veggies and fruit – this is the year that, if I don’t discover my Nutribullet at the bottom of a box in my storage unit, I will buy myself a blender and become the smoothie queen of Kampot.
  4. I laugh. At other people, with other people, at stuff on the internet but more often than not at myself.  Life’s too short to take yourself too seriously.
  5. I employ the mantra of not my circus, not my monkeys and I encourage others to do the same.
  6. I’m grateful. Grateful for my health, for my beautiful family and friends, for sunshine and rain, for mangoes, coffee, good red wine and gin, for the simple things and a lot more besides.
  7. I exercise. Not a gym bunny and don’t want to be, but I do have to admit I always feel better when I’ve been for a walk or a bike ride or a swim so it needs to be part of my routine.  I also love meditative exercise such as Qi Gong and try to combine some with a bit of stretching when I’m on a mission to be well.
  8. I listen to music – creating eclectic playlists with quirky names to match my mood or needs and adding to them when I hear a song I love is a favourite of mine. As is listening to radio two while I’m pottering about at home (though obviously not outside as my intolerant neighbour is likely to shout at me if I do).
  9. I make stuff. Creative stuff makes me very happy and is one of the reasons I am actually really enjoying teaching the tinies at school.  Every day we do some kind of craft activity and I think I generally enjoy it as much if not more than the kids do.
  10. I write. My blog is a way of making sense of what happens in my life and also a way of connecting with the people who read it.


So there you have it, my mental health wrapped up in a blog. It really is ok to not be ok.


BTW, if stress is an issue for you, you might be interested in this article that I wrote a while back and now sits on my site: Address your Stress