Dawn, sea-salt and soft lessons

This morning I woke before dawn, toes buried in Brighton's cold sand, humming a ragged 1920s tune to keep the chaos in rhythm. A client laughed mid-session when their narration cracked — that small, surprised laugh is the sound that keeps me teaching: equal parts relief and bravery, and rather intoxicating if we're honest.

Now there's tea on the stove and a biscuit waiting on the saucer, and my thoughts keep looping back to backdoor pleasure as a teacher's art: clinical curiosity cushioned in ridiculous warmth. Bring a willingness to be a beginner, a taste for patient exploration, and the ability to laugh at a slipped joke — and I'll bring the slow, tender lesson and the after-scene tea.