…and now I are one.
Right: Look into my eyes. Do it. Just kidding.
I just finished up a hypnotherapy certification course with Michael Watson, a delightful teacher I’ll be meeting up with again this coming weekend for a couple days of sightseeing around London. I’ve been doing Hypnosis by the seat of my pants for a while now, and some formal training could hardly go amiss, though I’m not sure one could call any training with Michael formal, exactly; his idea of gravity is something one puts on potatoes.
So eight delegates, a couple of lovely assistants from the Salad Ltd family, and a trance dog (if your course does not include one of these, ask for your money back) explored the many varieties of trance at the Hinckley Island Hotel, which now has an entirely new set of anchors to add to the ones I aquired there in 2003, though the fact that the upholstery in the dining room remains unchaged managed to fire off a few of those as well.
Now I’m off for St Pancras International (It's a rail station! It's a shopping Mall!) to buy tickets for my next training adventure, as the fact that I have a U.S. billing address for my debit card is more confusion than East Midlands Trains’ ticket system can safely handle , so I can’t buy them online and pick them up the day of my journey. It’s the little things that make life interesting.
When it’s not the big things.
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