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Corinne Sweet

Corinne Sweet – Growing Old(er) Disgracefully – Jan 2025

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It happens every year – regular as solstice clockwork. We gorge and party our way through the winter months and then bang on the midnight hour (Ist Jan) cry: “That’s it. I’m done. No more drinking/eating/indulging/spending….”

I see so many of my clients doubled-up like veritable pretzels chastising themselves for that extra slice or that ATM splurge. Not to mention the binge-watching and zero-exercise routine. “I’m going to be ‘good’ in the new year”, they plead, “Honest…no more take-aways”.

I see grumpy friends, colleagues and clients in ‘Dry January’, racing out the door on 1st February to turn on the beer taps with a collective ‘Phew’. Then the binge-indulge-remorse cycle starts all over again and by March people are back on the couch, bemoaning their waistlines (and their waste).

Resolution, Schmezolution. It can be a punitive start to the year.

Here’s the thing: I’ve come to believe that the annual roundabout of splurge and restraint has many threads to it: cultural, religious, environmental, elemental, familial. However, the way we approach being either ‘Good’ (= restraint) or ‘Bad’ (= indulging) is not really helpful. It’s too polar a perspective: black and white.

In my book Overcoming Addiction (Amazon) I look at how we can meet our real needs for ourselves without ‘filling up’ on the phoney, ersatz habits that we are told we must have in order to like ourselves. Or to feel better. (Or not to feel to all). Or to have fun, relax and relate.

I genuinely believe ditching the ‘good’ and ‘bad’ labels attached to food, drink, chocolate, spending, sex, exercise, money, TV and other daily necessities, is actually the healthy place to start. 

Instead, we need to get in touch with our real needs and ask ourselves: “What do I really want, really need, right now?” Or “What am I feeling?” A bit of emotional literacy goes a long way. All too often we simply numb out before we can answer any of these questions. 

We need to look after ourselves and our needs first and foremost – all the time. Not just in January. Instead of wrestling with new year’s resolutions, try and identify just one habit you’d like to curb or another one you’d like to adopt, as a new, more fulfilling, healthier, happier way of life. You may even enjoy it.

Instead of thinking about things as ‘naughty’ or ‘nice’, ask yourself what you really want. It could be contact with a friend, a dance round the living room or simply a good night’s sleep. 

Make sure there’s a good dollop of leisure and pleasure in your daily life, too. Living in West Hill, and in Brighton, that’s not too hard to find. A stroll to the sea, a coffee in a funky café or simply a night sky over the West Pier can work wonders.

A healthy habit isn’t just for Christmas. It can be for life.

l Growing Old(er) Disgracefully by 

Corinne Sweet

Psychotherapist, writer, broadcaster 

www.corinnesweet.com

Beauty, Brighton, Brighton Life, Corinne Sweet, Jagwa Beauty

Corinne Sweet at Jagwa Beauty Salon

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I’d love a pet hyena if I lived in Africa”, says Tracy Ejuetami, as I sit down for a gel nail treatment in Jagwa Beauty Salon. “Do you know they have 52 teeth? We only have 32.” This is a trip to a nail bar like no other. Tracy’s Jagwa has been a feature in the centre of Seven Dials for 27 years and Welsh-Lebanese Tracy and her British-Nigerian DJ daughter, Alero, make a fabulous make-over duo.

Entering Jagwa is a bit like a trip to Acorn Antiques meets Glow Up. It’s not just a hub of beauty secrets and treatments, it’s a trip to a West Hill cultural centre. Put simply, Tracy and Alero know everything and everyone. As my nails get denuded and dipped, I hear about local news and gossip. 

The door constantly opens and heads appear as people drop in and out, warmly greeted by the pair. Jagwa attracts people of all genders as they seem utterly non-judgemental about who wears what or wants what. 

Another permanent feature is Rupert, her snoozing Staffy/Jack Russell cross, who curls up under a chair in a cosy coat. Rupert greets all newcomers with a wagging tail and a friendly sniff. Suddenly, someone arrives and whisks Rupert off for a healthy trot round the block. “Oh, Wiz is a music video director”, says Tracy. “We’ve known him for years – he always takes Rupert for his constitutitonal”.

A main characteristic of a visit to Jagwa is how mother and daughter remember names, stories and want to know genuinely how you are doing. Tracy’s led quite a life: starting in Ghana, the North of England, via Italy and Norway, she landed in Brighton and started Jagwa. (The shop’s name is derived from an ex-boyfriend calling Tracy a ‘Wild-cat Jaguar with green eyes’.)

Beginning as a make-up artist, Tracy trained further as a therapist and foot health practitioner. She whizzes round the local area four times a week goes off to treat peoples’ feet. “I see all ages: from eight years to over a hundred. My oldest was 108. I hate seeing people suffer, and foot health is so important as we get older. It’s the difference between being mobile and being miserable and shut in. I can’t bear to see it.” She says she loves seeing people improve themselves and feel better.

At Jagwa you can also get massages from Russian Tania, or facials, hairstyles, pedicures, eyebrow shapes. “I see a lot of bad fillers and botox”, says Tracy, “If people want to look younger they need to moisturize like mad.” 

Tracy believes men need to look after themselves more and our diets really affect our skin. “Keep your skin healthy (your biggest organ) and the rest of you will be well.” All the while, people are popping in for their next treatment. They sit, with Rupert snoring under the chair, and smile and chat and I feel I am in the middle of a lovely friendly social event.

She’s even been a bit of a dating guru, matching people up. “I suggested one of my lovely male clients meet my daughter and now they are married”, she says with a cheeky grin. “I hate those dating apps, I think the personal touch is so much better.” Alero says she’s glad her mother’s suggestion led to a wonderful outcome: her Brighton wedding last August. 

As my nails are smoothed and honed into green, purple or red beauties, I get the feeling that I am an honoured guest. I’m offered tea, coffee or water, and I feel like I am in a community of artistic and creative people. 

“I brought these in for you”, says Tracy, hauling out a bag full of wonderful teacups covered in black cats, “I was decluttering and remembered you’re a cat woman – would you like them?” I’m thrilled. They’re wonderfully eccentric. I love them. But the bigger part is that Tracy remembered me and brought them in. “Oh, I gave away some lovely dresses today, too”, she says, “I’m glad they’re getting some use”. 

Whenever I spend an hour with Tracy, I come away having had a wonderful far-ranging conversation alongside an excellent beauty treatment. Not only do we talk about hyenas, Tracey’s favourite animals, we often end up laughing like them, too.

Tracy’s top beauty tips:

•Moisturise, moisturise, moisturise – keep your skin healthy to keep well;

•Avoid fizzy drinks and rubbish food;

•Don’t pump fillers and botox into your skin – if you want a lift find a very good surgeon;

•Learn to like yourself and how you look – enhance what nature gave you – learn to accept and like yourself.

l Jagwa is open 6 days a week.

119 Dyke Rd, BN1 3JE

01273 276793

Corinne Sweet

Corinne Sweet – Growing Old(er) Disgracefully – Nov 2024

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Don’t mention the ‘C’ word’, my friend, Rosie, whispers.  We are sitting comfortably having a lovely flat white at T at the Dials in a brief respite from the autumnal rain and gloom.  Suddenly alert, I learn forward and look at her anxiously.  ‘Oh, I didn’t know…what’s the prognosis?’ 

Rosie suddenly twigs – ‘Oh, good grief, not Cancer, but Christmas! It’s that time of year when all hell lets loose about the festive season’.  We fall about laughing.

Don’t get me wrong, the festive season can be fun, it can be great, especially for children, but it can also be too much pressure and stress.  But for many of us, (particularly women), Christmas denotes the season of hard slog.  On top of work, family commitments, pet care, there are those relational negotiations worthy of the G20.

Another friend of mine got so fed up with sitting in motorway jams and running between families, he decided to plonk a duvet down in the living room and spend Christmas watching Harry Potter films from start to finish.

Whether it’s Christmas, Chanukah, other festivities, the demands on us to organise, spend, cook, gather and consume, can be overwhelming for some. As a psychotherapist dealing a great deal with addiction, I see many people daunted by the exhortation to eat, drink and be merry.

Plus, the delicacies of dealing with complex family and other relationships can also be exhausting.  Step-families, blended families, new inlaws and outlaws, break-ups and mid-splits can create a chequer-board of emotional complexity.

I’m no killjoy, I like a mince pie or latka as much as the next person, but I do feel in these austere and complex times, we need to get control of the ‘oughts’, ‘shoulds’ and ‘musts’ that can drive us nuts over the winter festive season.

Some basic ‘stay sane’ rules:

•Work out what you want to do first and foremost – if you want time alone that’s fine;  you’re allowed to break with ‘tradition’ and do what you want as a grown up;

•If you are alone and want company – there’s loads of things you can do – singing to people in care homes; working for charities/food banks, cat/dog sitting, etc

•If you are recently split or in a new relationship and/or there are delicate issues to negotiate – don’t run yourself ragged trying to make everyone happy.  Compromise;

•Expect traffic, train disruption, and keep things manageable – aiming for perfection is impossible and always disappoints;

•Be mindful of your food and drink intake  – it’s great to celebrate, but all those ‘get fit’ new year’s resolutions lie ahead.  Plus, too much inebriation can lead to trouble and strife – get some fresh air and exercise and keep things calm.

At the café Rosie and I are still contemplating over our coffee froth.  She explains she always gets into debt over the festive season as she puts stuff on credit cards.  ‘This year, I’m determined to rein it in’.  ‘Like Rudolph, on his way to Lapland’, I suggest.

‘Tis the season to look after yourself, stay sane, and hope for goodwill towards all men and, of course, women.

Growing Old(er) Disgracefully by 

Corinne Sweet

Psychotherapist, writer, broadcaster 

http://www.corinnesweet.com

Corinne Sweet, Growing Old(er) Disgracefully

Corinne Sweet – Growing Old(er) Disgracefully – Sept 2024

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“Oooh, look at those amazing blue eyes”.

My dear friend Suzi has come to see me ensconsed in my new West Hill abode and we are sitting side-by-side over tea on my sofa, swiping left and right.

“I like his coat”, she says breathlessly, “There’s definitely something about him”.

Gingerly she swipes right. We move on to the next pic.

Suzi lost her husband a couple of years ago and is desperately trying to get ‘out there’ again. However, lonely nights, no cuddles, and no welcome home, are weighing heavily on her.

So here we are on social media trying to find a mate. Not unusual, you think? Well, no. Except this is no ordinary ‘Tinder’ – it’s what I call ‘Cat Tinder’.

We are deep in Worthing’s Cat Welfare Trust’s website, desperately seeking a furry companion for my bereaved friend. We are amazed – and somewhat bemused – by the Tinder-like menu for choosing a homeless puss.

‘Oh, he’s gorgeous”, purrs my friend over a fluffy mog, “I’d definitely like him to cuddle up to me on my bed.”

As a shameless cat lover myself, I know, first-hand, the benefits of being owned by a gorgeous furry monster. When I moved south in darkest December my dear boy, Woolf, plonked himself on me, rubbed noses and reassured me all would be well.

When I return late at night after my weekly work commute to London he deftly drops off the garden wall with a loud, ‘Meow, where have you been? I want my supper, and a cuddle, you’re late!’ We slink in together, and I’m home.

Indeed, the research in the 2022 Cat Protection League survey of 10,000 cat owners (“Cats & Their Stats) found positive psychological and physical benefits from cat ownership.

67% of people interviewed said their cats gave them something to get up for in the morning and 21% said their cats helped them feel less stressed. 

WAY (Widowed and Young) for people whose partners have died aerly agree cats can help mental health, particularly when we’re grieving.

Stroking cats is well-known for lowering blood-pressure in owners. Plus, there is benefit in talking to your cat about your own woes. Play makes everyone smile.

I remember being sad myself and when I cried prone on the sofa, Woolf would jump on my chest and purr nose-to-nose to me with cat empathy.

Cat vocalisations (mews, purrs, chirps, in differing tones) are how cats bond with their owners. They only ‘meow’ to those they care about (although it’s more likely they’re demanding food, attention, play, in that order).

Suzi is teetering on the brink. ‘I don’t know if I could bear to lose him’, she says wistfully. ‘What if something happened to me?’

‘Well,’ I say, looking around for an alert lurking Woolf, hoping he’s out of ear shot, ‘I could always have him.’ Woolf had had a little sister, Frida, who’d died too soon and broke my heart. “There’s always room for two…”

“Hmm”, Suzi ponders, glancing at her phone. ‘Oooh, he’s nice’. I watch her peruse fabulously tiger markings and emerald eyes. I sense another solo soul is becoming a lost cause. “I might just give them a ring..I’ve got all the cat stuff in the loft”. 

I know when best to keep quiet. I stroke a prone Woolfy stretched on my lap, purring like a well-oiled motor, and just smile.

Growing Old(er) Disgracefully by 

Corinne Sweet

Psychotherapist, writer, broadcaster 

http://www.corinnesweet.com

Brighton, Brighton Life, Corinne Sweet

Corinne Sweet – Growing old(er) disgracefully – July 2024

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I’ve had my sights set on returning to West Hill since I flew up to London post Sussex Uni. I’d been living in Alexandra Villas back then, doing an MA in Victorian Literature. I loved the area with its white houses, regency porches and artistic vibe.

Thus, I landed in dank December last, like some half-crazed homing pigeon on auto pilot. Six months later, the tsunami of my life’s mess finally subsiding, I’ve shoe-horned myself into a fabulously quirky place – and I’m home. And happy. Now, despite still having to battle up to the London bog once or twice a week for work, I can scuttle happily back to West Hill and enjoy living a more colourful life.

“Oh, you’ve downsized”, London friends coo sympathetically, “Are you retiring?” “Nope”, is the snappy answer. Nowhere near ready to down tools. If anything, I’m ready to start regaining a sense of my wilder, freer, more creative, self and fill my end-of-life bucket full of lots of new experiences, thrills, and people.

My daughter decamped to Bristol from the family home last year saying she was going to ‘Please herself’, so I think I’ve followed her lead, coming to Brighton, to ‘Please myself.’ This entails giving up some redundant over-worthy life patterns:

First off the list: all the shoulds, oughts and musts. In the bin with them. My new guiding light is: “What do I feel like doing?” “What do I fancy?” Tuning into me has included painting my Tardis-like home in hues of deep purple and red, terracotta and gold. It matches my hair, which I have to say, I’ve been sporting in all its trademark purplish glory for about 15 years.

Second: duty before pleasure. This doesn’t mean I don’t care, but it does mean I only go to things if I really want to. Invited to something and I’m not I the mood – I don’t do it. Maybe knitting, reading a good book or watching Bridgerton in bed eating chocolate, is just what I need.

Third: caring what people think. One of the tenets of screenwriting is ‘Nobody knows anything’ (why a film bombs or not), and indeed in social relations it’s impossible to know what really people think, so why bother? We spend so much time caring about this, but frankly – who knows? Also, who cares?

Fourth: equating alone with lonely. I’ve learned to love my own company and seldom feel lonely. However, the genuinely friendly welcome I’ve received from neighbours (thanks Lisa for feeding my cat), (thanks Tracey at Jaglia for my cat cups), trades people, shopkeepers, even bus drivers, has meant West Hill has offered the warmest of welcomes so far. 

Fifth: no time for me. I plunged straight into weekly Pilates with Helen Douglas and Shape Note singing, both at the West Hill Hall. 

There will be more singing, dancing, swimming, sailing, and creating to come.

Growing Old(er) Disgracefully by 

Corinne Sweet

Psychotherapist, writer, broadcaster 

http://www.corinnesweet.com