Tag Archives: nature

Hand to Earth

The daffodils are deafening in the spring

The blackbirds sing their chorus on the wing

The trees strum their roots in time

Whilst the bumblebee hums their rhyme

Though you hear it not, mortal men and foe

For you are away from nature and cause it woe

You drown the fishes in your decay

You choke the air as you ride away

You do not see what you have done

You only blame the heat of the sun

You can’t feel responsible for all this pain

You only think of what you gain

What gold lines your pockets well

What will make your stomach swell

And though you have what you feel is good

You haven’t really thought and stood

Beside nature hand to Earth

And realise all that it is worth

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I trust wildlife

One of my crows died this morning, Kerr.

I heard a hullabaloo outside and looked out the window to see their offspring mourning on the grass verge and the rest of the murder in the sky trying to dive bomb away the local buzzard which was trying to swoop down to eat the remains.

I liked Kerr, he was quite old.

It’s odd it should happen the day after I was talking to Paul about how I haven’t seen Scruffy for weeks, another crow I like.  A female, her mate is called the Sentinel by me, as he seems to watch the house and me more than the others.

Barbar was really distressed.

I’ve lost two of my crows in a short space of time as well as a magpie, which I believed was killed by his own family.

He was a runt by comparison, I called him Rocky.  He would sit on the window ledge and was so tame I could nearly stroke him when the window was opened.  He had an obsession with a pebble that he carried everywhere with him, he was unusually thin and although he was about a year old – he was still being fed by his family, sometimes forcibly.  I think they killed him as he was a burden, he never grew up and he was quite strange for a magpie.

I miss him too.

I am silly like this, I get attached to the local wildlife and name them and I will try to tame them when they come into my garden and care for them. 

A few years ago Paul wanted to take me to live with him in Canada, but our plans fell through due to my ill-health.  He always said, he could imagine me on the porch surrounded by bears and raccoons and hand feeding them berries, treating them all like pets!

I actually think that would have happened too, if we had gone!

I am rather shamanic and very brave around all animals.

I have nearly touched a real live bear once too – they were passive, I got within two inches of their snout before their keeper stopped me in my tracks.  You see I had found a way through the bars of a zoo cage to touch them.  It was a friendly bear and it sniffed my hand and tilted its head like it was going to let me stroke it.  That zoo made renovations very quickly after this happened.

I had a deep sense of trust it wasn’t going to hurt me, because I could read its energy. 

But that’s just me, a feral creature in her own right with a deep understanding for nature; humans are far more dangerous than any bear!

All I think about is love, I send love to the animal, peace, I don’t have a fleeting feeling of fear at all – I feel happy, content, loving, peaceful and trusting and say over in my head like I am talking to the animal itself – I just want to share my love, I won’t hurt you, let me touch you. 

Thanks for reading!

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I was once

I was once full of snow

I was once aglow

I was once a rocky land

I was once the warm sand

I was once the air you breathe

I was once every tree

I was once the day and night

I was once a beautiful sight

I was once pure and free

I was once all you can see

I was once happy and blithe

I was once every tribe

I was once green and fresh

I was once alive and flesh

I was once every single thing

I was once round but not a ring

I was once hardy and strong

I was once immortal but I was wrong

I was once the Earth so sweet

I was once a live heart beat

I was once

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My authenticity as an author

What is my authentic self as an author?

What are my passions and experiences which seem to flow into my work effortlessly?

Basically, what makes this author, this author?

It’s not unknown if you have been following me for some time now that vampires are a huge passion of mine and that once they were all absorbing and my main if not ultimate focus?

They are still in my mind but is now swept away into a corner and regarded with a sense of guilty pleasure nowadays, which is a shame. 

But other than my vampires who am I as an author?

I like anthropomorphic animals (human like animals) and animation movies which have animals as main characters or heroes; to me I can’t get enough of movies like that!  I love reading books on the perspectives of animals, such as The Animals of Farthing Wood, Fluke, Charlotte’s Web, that sort of thing.

Being shamanic off and on throughout my life, I regard myself as having an unusually deep understanding for both nature and animals and anything primal really and yes, that does make me a Walt Disney fan.

I am a deeply spiritual person too with very philosophical ideas – this can be seen in some of my work but not all of it.

I do believe in miracles and magic, I believe in soul connections and spirits, so this belief of mine goes into my work a lot.

My work can be very profound and intense; it’s what I’ve seen in past reviews on my blog, in emails and from other people who were fortunate enough to get snippets from me in private.  Because I tend to throw in my philosophical thoughts, my spiritual education and I forget that sometimes for some people, they’re not ready for that kind of depth yet.  It’s a part of me, it’s a part of who I am and mostly I don’t realise I do it.

That’s my magic, that’s unique to me and when you follow your authentic path in your own writing, you will discover things about yourself you never knew too, it’s a kind of therapy a kind of gas-lighting oneself.

I love dragons and monsters, I like seeing them as misunderstood creatures, creatures that aren’t bad at all and in fact could be rather helpful but have their boundaries and they expect respect.

I like characters that are inventive and quirky, a little strange, maybe forgetful and definitely misunderstood by societies they live in, because they reflect who I am.  I am proud to say I am an air-head with little understanding of logic, that has an interest in science though not a brain to really fully grasp it and a memory of sieve – put all of this into a pot steaming with spirituality, creativity and free love and you’ve got me… a messy soup.

I am a mixture of Caractacus Potts from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Carl from Van Helsing 2004, Miss Bat from Worst Witch, Miss Trelawney from Harry Potter, Lucille Ball, Wendy Froud, Bjork and Bob Ross!  You get the message… I’m a mess!

I love writing lengthy descriptions of natural scenes and observations including as many if not all of the five senses all at once.

I have a deep sense of decay of both mind and matter, I understand the damaging effects of humanity on the Earth and I write plenty of dystopic sceneries in some of my stories.  I love the idea of nature taking back the world, after humans sought to destroy it! 

I love characters like Poison Ivy, Pocahuntas and The Lorax for this.

I have a deep sense of survival in me, from both being raised semi-feral in a North London garden with a violent family and because I have a Girl Guides attitude of “Be prepared” and a deeply seated understand of impermanence – that you can often see survival as a theme in a lot of my stories.

This is why I love characters such as Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games, the TV series The Tribe, Rambo and so forth. 

Because I have experienced severe mental health issues over the years and lived with several people who have far worse issues than I do (I have never needed to be medicated for example, like they have) I can fully understand what it means to live in an asylum and how the public treats people who have a history of that environment.  I also understand and have witnessed several times people literally descending into madness to the point of both murder and suicide.  Yes I have seen a person killed in front of me that is something I’ve kept to myself until now.

I have also witnessed several people trying to take their own lives, dying of a stroke right before my eyes and other horrible things.

Experiences which are hard to write, but can’t be wrote properly unless you’ve truly experienced it.  I am not saying try to experience that sort of thing, goodness no!  But you can understand how an author’s authentic self can further their writing by putting in their life experiences into it!

Characters such as Jack Torrance from the shining, John Kramer from Jigsaw, Janet Frame from Angels at my table are reflective of very similar people I have known as well as several characters from the movie The Crow.  I’ve known very edgy, scary people who don’t hide the aspect of who they truly are to anybody!  A few of these people have been put into isolation by the authorities but there are others that have evaded this somehow!

In my experience it is the weak ones that get caught and dealt with, the really nasty buggers never are!

Injustice is another thing that crops up in my stories from time to time based on this.

I am afraid to say some readers may find some of my darker materials frustrating as justice are rarely served in a fair way; I tend to take people to a very primal place.

Some of my characters are kooky, childish and fun, but should really be responsible as they are adults but they struggle with that reality – therefore I like characters such as Mr and Mrs Luxury from the blue bird, God from Dogma, Brennan and Dale from Step Brothers and Sarah Sanderson from Hocus Pocus. 

I have a passion for characters with big egos and sarcastic humour so I am often drawn to personalities which are played by actors such as Alan Rickman, Tim Curry, Glen Close and Robert Downey Jr.  Those characters seem to be fighting against the odds with a pack of brainless lucky heroes who are out to ruin their plans or gas-light them in some way in my stories.

Comedy is becoming more prominent in my stories as time is going by as I am no longer hiding my sense of humour from the world; this is a transition that is not welcoming from Paul.  He prefers my more serious stuff, but that’s not being authentic to myself!

There is even comedy in my darker stories and horror these days, lightly thrown in.

I was given an article to mull over by Paul the other week about how dark humour is an early sign of dementia; I am not paying any attention to that!

Societal changes and upheaval are a theme in several of my stories, hence my love for dystopia.

I dislike romance, so that is at a minimum – but there are some saucy scenes now and again in my adult works, in fact I have been known to write full on erotica in a past blog as short stories, but I deleted them after a while and that blog – I also did it here for a short time too, in the early years of my blog as I was told I was too graphic and should really have it as a subscribers content.

That is something I am thinking about doing actually, subscribers short stories of both my erotic works and vampires, as well as a subscriber incentive of giving 50% off the purchase of poetry anthology E-books I am planning to publish by the end of summer.

I love certain sports and you can see which I am into by the books I write, I love wrestling and combat sports in general so there are plenty of fight scenes in my stories as well as ancient warfare.  I am very keen in ancient warfare history and gaming.  I know a lot of the terminologies and so there is little research needed for me when I write those scenes because it’s a passion of mine.

I am not afraid of killing off characters but I am not a maniacal character serial killer like George R.R Martin, but not far off it either! 

Death sells as good as sex in my opinion.

I like hard-core no nonsense and dominant characters that don’t like a lot of fuss, so there is at least one in every story.  My favourite character is a wild hermit woman from the Dragon project I am writing; a sort of mix of Miss Trunchball meets Nanny McPhee and Tarzan!  Again, crazily based on people I’ve known, as I have said before… I’ve known some strange people in my time and exaggeration can go a long way, especially when story writing!

So you see a lot of my ideas wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for life experience and a knack for exaggeration for entertainment value.

Though I keep my non-fiction as honest as possible, I can use that experience and exaggerate it for fiction!

This is how we writers do things; it’s how we give you the books we write.

Or those who have actually given their work to an agent to get published, that is!

I’m not far off to be honest.

I won’t give you a deadline or update until I send my work to an agent, but for now – let’s just say, I think it’s going to be sooner than you think – a lot sooner!

So there you have it – my experiences, my passions and my work and why it is uniquely mine and why you will struggle to try and copy it!  You are not me and even if you were to go off and research the character references and include the subjects I’ve mentioned in this blog – you won’t ever reflect me, but only I can be purely me and only you can be purely you!

Thanks for reading!

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Feet to source

It’s a funny thing being me, especially with the kind of past I have had and the kind of life I have lived – if you can call it a life that is…

Especially if you’ve read me for a while, you’d know my life has been a life of mostly isolation growing up and it wasn’t much better when I got away from my abusers, I had three years of true freedom before I became bedbound sick for a number of years.

You’d know too, that I am getting better, not spending so much time in bed anymore and I am able to do a little more for myself, such as exercise a little and today in particular was the first time I ever cooked anything since around 2017.  Nothing big, we have a lot of pecans going to waste as nobody but me seems to like them outside of a pecan pie – so I decided to get people eating them I’d make them into candied pecans.

To say I did it though feels wrong, as I had too much help from Paul; help I really didn’t need, but there you go – I don’t have the heart to tell people to go away I’m fine, especially when I know that its touchy for him when I say things like that.

It’s also difficult to do it effectively where you wouldn’t burn the caramel you’re making when he is standing in the kitchen like a saw thumb between you and the nuts, so you have to communicate to him to pass them – only he doesn’t – he puts them in for you, takes the spoon out of your hand and completes the rest.   Making me feel like a privileged child as I spoon it all out the pan whilst he holds it onto a baking sheet to dry – it’s lovely he wants to help me, but it’s frustrating too as I am trying to be more independent around the house so I can move out.

It wasn’t how I’d like to do the candied pecans either, we don’t have brown sugar and had to use white cane sugar instead, not the same; also there was no vanilla in the house.

A simple thing like making candied pecans in fifteen minutes is a battle for independence, I’d never thought I’d say that when I moved out of my mother’s in 2009.

Three years ago I used to love my garden, now I am getting to the subject that was the catalyst for this post; until the bad neighbour moved in next door and started sexually harassing me every five minutes, literally!  But of course there is no proof, no CCTV to show the police about it, so Paul just shrugs it off and does nothing – so the garden is no longer a haven or a means of exercise or joy for me anymore.

Paul hates gardening so he doesn’t really like just standing around like a sentinel scarecrow to make the guy keep away, because he won’t do anything when he knows Henry and Paul are around he is a coward!

I miss my garden a lot – my whole life I was raised in a garden, literally!

As a child I was sort of home-educated mostly between short bursts of mainstream schooling and when I wasn’t having the occasional lesson from my dyslexic mother, I would be bare foot out in the garden for hours on end, playing with the dogs, the neighbours cats and my rabbit.

The garden was my place, until my parents claimed it when I was around nineteen years old.  I grew things donated to me from lovely elderly neighbours who’d pass things over the fence to me for me to plant and care for, whilst telling me how to look after them.

Now you’d want to be deadheading those daffodils with a good pair of scissors, leave the foliage alone to die back naturally or the bulbs will be useless for next year!

Things like that.

My parents had a three room stone shed in the garden, they were big rooms too, and the middle room had its very own toilet, which meant I didn’t need to go indoors unless I was hungry or thirsty!

The room further into the garden was my dad’s shed for storing tools and lawnmowers etc. – but the room closest to the house was mine from late March to late October and was decked out like a Wendy House by me, I wanted a light out there but I wasn’t allowed, but I was gifted candles and matchsticks by people and sometimes used to sit in the dark windowless room by candlelight pretending it was my very own home!

I played in the garden all year around, but I lost my little house for those few months because it was a warmer place to store the rabbit – or so my parents said – out of the wind and all of that.

Paul was horrified that I had gardened so much and ran about barefoot, because I have never not even to this day ever had a tetanus shot!  My parents were anti-vaxers – I had my first ever vaccine two weeks after Henry was born, an MMR vaccine and I really should think about getting a tetanus shot someday too!

But until the bad neighbour moved in, I was out in the garden quite a lot and half of the time I was bare foot – I say half the time, because Paul was always moaning at me to put the shoes back on again as it isn’t safe… but I like feeling grounded to the earth and I am pretty sure it’s why I got sick – the lack of connection to the Earth, I was took from my feral habitat from a North London garden to the midlands where they wear shoes all the time!

I don’t think it’s good for me!

You can’t take a semi-feral nature’s child and put her in shoes all day and expect her to wear slippers even around the house, because of whatever nonsense notions you’ve got.  I like being barefoot and why can’t I be barefoot around the house? 

And what is wrong about dipping toes in the local lake, when you’re sitting on a pier watching the fish, swans and toads whilst you are scooping handfuls of birdseed into the beaks of ducks and geese?

Yes the water has algae but it doesn’t stick to my feet and its not toxic waste, so what’s the problem?  My Henry’s life is far too sanitary thanks to Paul and thanks to Paul; Henry has a phobia of all insects, dogs and soil!

Why soil, you may ask?  Because Paul has given him the misconception that all soil is some kind of poo or dead creature!  Enough to put anyone off touching soil with that tosh!

I feel so much like a fish out of water in this place you’d have no idea!

Yes, shoes are nice, I like shoes, in fact I am like a normal woman in regards to loving shoes and handbags and bracelets, more than any other fashion item!  Before poverty stepped in I had thirty pairs of shoes, I tend to buy for every kind of weather and every colour I can so I can match my clothing.

But its quite another thing to connect to the earth via your feet!

Also it’s weird wearing one colour entirely and then having completely different shoe colours – it’s ok if it is black, but if say you are wearing black and have red shoes that’s weird to me, or mostly brown dress and you have green shoes… to me it just feels wrong!  Unless you balance it off with the same colour hat or clutch!

But I digress… I have felt desperate for nearly three years to get into my garden to a cleared area and just stand there in my bare feet and soak up the energies of the Earth… especially since our house sits on top of an underground river, where my energies are regularly being taken down stream quite literally without any boost.

Despite how isolated I was growing up, I always had a strong connection to the Earth.  A feral child who practically learned the shamanic arts all by herself by sitting, observing nature in its entirety and befriending the wildlife like a Disney princess and absorbing everything… crazy I know, but I have a strong connection and understanding for animals and I believe they speak to me because I understand them… people laugh at me when I tell them that until they witness the most astonishing things!

You have bear and horse whisperers in the world; well I am one of those kinds of people, though I tend to whisper to everything… except most wasps, most wasps are highly strung creatures!

My neighbour in London thought we had a rabid squirrel once, when he was shrieking loudly clinging for dear life on the pebbledash walls of their house, screaming at our bedroom window – I explained no he isn’t rabid, he is just angry that it’s nearly 11am and I haven’t opened the window yet to feed him the peanuts I usually give him by 10am!

They laughed and called me crazy, so I told them, look up at the window now, I’ll feed him and he will be quiet until tomorrow… if I am late again he’ll scream, I will prove to you its why he is shouting – then the next day I will feed him the normal time and you won’t hear him at all.  They didn’t believe me until the squirrel reacted exactly as I predicted on all occasions!

The neighbour was amazed!  This same squirrel caused chaos for three months when I moved in with Paul, because for three months he was sure I’d be there and I weren’t.

Same here with Paul – my strongest spirit guide is a crow, raven or magpie in fact any corvid.  All of those communicate with me a lot and if they don’t see me for more than two days, it is like the owl scene from Harry Potter, only with crows and magpies around the house!

If I am going away for any length of time, I have to tell the local magpie or crows because of the chaos they will cause in the street I live if I don’t!

A crow saved my life once; I think I mentioned it in a previous post?  Funny really, because I’ve saved two in my life!

What’s even more funny is that it was only recently I was told by a fellow witch that crows symbolise the cross between alternate realities and worlds, I knew they were the keepers of secrets and messengers from the spirit realm, but I never knew they were known for flying between realities and that people who have them as their main animal spirit guide tend to be the strongest of shamans.

It would explain a lot really, as I am able to go into trances pretty quickly, my clairvoyance skills are very strong and I do live between realities a lot.  In fact, whenever I go into a new spiritual shop who don’t know me very well, the first thing the owners tend to say to me or other witches that are there is… you need to ground yourself love, we feel you’re not doing that enough!

That’s something a lot of people who knows me always think about me… you’re just not grounded enough, come back Tina!

There is a friend my mum had once who had a dog who was cared for by someone whilst she went on a holiday to Turkey, my friend wanted to know why her dogs behaviour had changed so much when she got back!  I did my usual, looked into the dogs eyes deeply and I said, “What’s got into you”?  He kicked me, she said through her eyes… I said this out loud and my mum’s friend screamed out WHAT?  WHO?  I said who?  She named the person, because apparently there were three carers she had on hand.  She named them; I didn’t know the person but told the friend.

The friend was amazed that I got this information from her dog and how the blazes do I know his name?

I just pointed at the dog and my mum shook her head and told her friend, she never lives in this world I’ve told you! 

Her friend always referred to me for spiritual readings but she was amazed I could communicate like that with her dog!

Crazy… maybe… but I have stunned a lot of atheists with accuracies and Paul is one of them – he is a hard-core atheist, but even he admits that he can’t deny the things that happen around the house since I moved in!

The problem comes with how busy I am, the more busy I am the more disconnected I am to the source where I am able to be like this!  I remember before I got sick, it was the least spiritual time of my life – I was walking around with shoes on most of the time because of Pauls concerns for my feet – and I was too busy with everything that I was doing to even meditate and then CRASH – I got sick and I don’t think it was a coincidence!

I need a good long holiday somewhere where there is a lot of wildlife and nature, somewhere I can walk barefoot whenever I like, sit on the ground and dip my toes in a natural spring or running water, breathe fresh air, meditate and away from human noise – talk to some animals and the ancestors of the earth, have lots of sex and reconnect to my source in a big way!

Yes sex is important… more important than you think!  LOL I run on tantric energy!

Despite this… it sounds like I love being a solitary creature doesn’t it?  But no, I hate it in fact!

For me living in solitude is like a toxin… I don’t get that buzzing feeling I usually get when I socialise… I recharge alone to some extent, but I don’t buzz and become fully charged in solitude… I am not like that!

As I once joked on here before, I have the life of some kind of yogi.

But that should really be taken quite seriously.

As I am getting older I am sticking more to my instincts and intuition more than what I read in books and I am getting stronger spiritually in myself.  This is being seen by quite a few people.

For example, most books told me to use white light healing around me – this actually makes me ill and it isn’t good for me, so I told the people who suggested this to me and they said it’s because I am blocking the spiritual power, let myself go and continue.  But I got sicker.

For me, when I was spell crafting it was always electrical blue light for magick and dense gold light for anything else… when I ignored the white light and went with dense gold, I got results!

So much so, that now when I think of the dense gold light, I am actually visibly turning gold by sensitive onlookers, which gets a lot of conversations starting up in spiritual shops I can tell you!

My Henry for example was very startled by this a few weeks back!

He never believed his mother is a former witch, until he saw that golden glow in my face and palms of my hands whilst I was trying to heal a wound of his with reiki.  Weirdly enough, that mark he had would have been on him for two weeks, if I hadn’t of used the reiki on him that I did – the mark vanished within hours!

This post is getting a bit long now so I think I will stop here…

Thanks for reading! 

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Naturally Glamorous

My weird contrasts are even astounding to me.

On the one hand, I am a hippy nature’s child running bare foot in the garden catching frogs, collecting snail shells and taking home pretty pebbles and rocks from the woodlands on my walks and making leaf nests and mud pies with children; then on the other hand I am spellbound by shinies, fluffies, heady scents and glamour!

Since I was very small I have struggled with who I want to be – which one do I want to be…  sugar and spice and all things nice Elizabeth Taylor… or up to my knees in mud with autumn leaves in my hair in dungarees Elle Mae Clampett?

All my life I have had people say to me unless I can make that decision, people will always think I have a split personality and mental problems and nobody is going to take me seriously either way!  I have to make a decision… I never could.

As I am getting older I am trying to define myself and narrow myself down, but these two basic personalities in me just can’t be cut away…

They are both too prominent, but I have to say Sugar and Spice is more neglected than the Natures child in me, because I never had anyone teach me how to wear makeup and style the hair appropriately.  I know how to spruce myself up nice when I need to, but I tend not to wear makeup unless I get offered one of those free make overs at a cosmetics store, which I used to go to often when I was on the dating scene.

So there are a few people in the world who doesn’t know that side of me.

I have to admit, that side of me is filled with guilt and shame, because nobody likes a vain person – nobody likes a show off!  Well not in the circles I’ve ran in.

I used to tell people, I don’t do it to show off, I do it to feel nice and happy in myself – but the kind of people I knew didn’t think I was telling the truth, they thought that I thought I was better than them!  I never did and never do – because quite personally, I think I am hideous!

The only thing that is ever going to change my mind about how pretty I am or not, is being on the front page of a big fashion magazine without any criticism headlined and that’s probably never going to happen!

Out of all the major Hollywood stars I saw on TV and in magazines growing up, the one that impressed me the most with her regality and beauty was Elizabeth Taylor and every Christmas on my present wish list is always at least one perfume from her brand, which I tend to get!

I look at stars today on TV and I wonder what has happened?  What has happened to the traditional glamourous woman?  There are less than ten major celebrity women that impress me these days and the one that impresses me the most is Lady Gaga, as she knows what real traditional glamour is!

Paul used to say I scare him, because when I become an author he is sure I’d be a best-seller and he is sure I am going to need to be like Roseanne Barr, where I have to buy a house just to store my clothes!

Does he actually know how little authors get?

I don’t think I will be that excessive, but I can see myself having good quality evening wear where they may need to be stored in a preserving way, like museum pieces.

But despite how much I love glitz and glamour, I find it morally difficult to justify the expense and this is where I have a lot of inner conflict!

I have a tremendous guilt conscience about money and being thought of as better than someone else – because it’s not me… I am nice, I don’t brag, I hate hurting people’s feelings, I genuinely care for people who I think are less fortunate and it hurts me to think that they often think so little of me in return. 

Because I have never always been this poor, I have said it in the past and it is true!

My grandmother comes from traditional aristocratic stock, she never liked how much I love costume jewellery, because to her, it is cheap tack – but to me, I liked how they shine and look – to me it’s not the cost it’s the look!

She never under understood that for me it is aesthetic not saleability when family falls on hard times!

She always said when you get the money, buy lots of high value gold and keep it in store as you never know when you will need it for a hard time! 

I collected a lot of junk in her opinion over the years and many of which I gave away to charity about four or five years ago as I felt I will never be well enough to ever spruce myself up again.  In fact, up until late last year, I really thought I’d be dead by 45 as I was getting sicker.

But I am getting a little better, though I am going through a health blip right now with a chest infection – it’s not as bad as it used to be!

I started talking about this subject because I found something I thought I had thrown away a long time ago, it was hiding in the back of a rarely opened drawer – a massive fake diamond ring, made of plastic but it’s on a cheap silver base and I mean it is massive!  It’s larger than a postage stamp. 

I wore it today and I felt very nostalgic and kind of sad.

I looked in the mirror whilst wearing it and that was a big mistake… instant fallen from grace feeling – I don’t often eat my feelings unless I am angry, as I am an angry eater… but today I ate my feelings of sadness with a mince pie and felt instant regret and shame.

Tried to cheer myself up with “Well it is Christmas”!

Didn’t work, sat my buns down on the bed, typing this up and hoping this time next year, I’d had reached my weight goal and I had reached my self-employment goal and I would feel a little like the old me again!

But who knows, maybe I’d have pulled my finger out and got a best-seller and got this weird 100k deal Paul imagines I’ll get!

Lol, yeah right…

So why do I hate talking about this sort of thing?  Because I have lived a very good life in the past and when people know you have money, the vultures come out or the people who hate you and guilt trip you into their sad stories or force you to believe that it is your duty as a wealthy person to donate 75% of your money! 

Not a lot of people will actually listen to well off people, about discrimination – because they sarcastically say “aw yeah, poor little rich girl”, so I have been made to feel ashamed of having better and it is hard not to feel guilt when talking about these things!  Especially since a lot of my former social circles have abandoned me and I am quite literally alone in the world, without people who understands me and my side of the coin! 

But in my experience, aristocrats and the wealthy are more discriminated than other types of people, but we can’t voice it, because nobody can believe we have a hard life too and most think, we deserve the shit we get!  But it’s all just spiteful jealousy.

Well I am like you now… good laugh isn’t it, bet you feel great about it, one less rich bitch to worry about?

It’s hard not to be bitter about this sort of thing!

Thanks for reading!

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What is winter?

What does winter mean to me?

Cool crispy frosty mornings, where cobwebs are frozen solid, glistening in the morning sunlight forming prisms on the snow.

I’m like a dragon breathing smoke because my breath is hot in comparison to the air around me and I am snug and warm in fleece from head to toe.

I get to throw snowballs at my favourite people in jest and run after each other in tension that we might slip and fall down; if we’re lucky it will be powdery snow this year, not the sludgy wet kind.

Winter means lots of lovely filling hot meals, beef stew, chili, roast dinners, soups – all my favourite comfort foods and it’s plum season to boot!

Morning walks are more of a pleasure because of the icy beauty around us from the night before; everywhere has newly made crystals which shine like rainbows if you look at them the right way.  Skinny dogs are uncomfortable and need a coat, fatter ones are eager to stay indoors – but get the right dog and it is a heavenly time of year to go for a walk!

Just at the end of winter is the time where I start to think about the garden for the coming year, sometimes prepping seeds before spring in the greenhouse already, to give me a few weeks head start in comparison to other people, therefore a longer harvest time.

It’s a spicy season, it’s a sweet treat and high fat season – it’s not the season for diets!

It’s the season for hot water bottles and fleece blankets and cosy snuggles by the fireplace.

It’s not the season for cold desserts; it’s the season for cherry pie, French toast and peach crumble all washed down in hot chocolate, ginger or hot apple spiced tea.

Poinsettias around the house welcoming in Christmas with holly and ivy and red roses!

The house sparkles in the joyous illuminations of the season of celebration, hope, renewal and promise.

Families and neighbours come together to sing, to dance, to pray, to forget the badness of the past year and to give thanks, gifts, charity and love.

It may be the end of the year, the harbinger of death all around us as nature is laid bare – but it is really the busiest time for creation, planning and new beginnings.

That’s what winter means to me – it means hope – it means a new start!

Thanks for reading!

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Butterfly secrets

How does the little butterfly fly on dusty wings?

Avoiding drops of rain and the birds that sing?

How did she become the butterfly we love and know so well?

When she came from a fat caterpillar and she grew and grew and swelled

How does the little butterfly flit so easily?

From buttercup to lavender right up to a tree?

How did the butterfly become this way, when she cocooned herself so tight?

Never peaking from her home, hiding from everyone’s sight?

Will we understand the butterfly and her mysterious ways?

Or will she always hold her secrets tight as we happily gaze?

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An ordinary day

Busy bee collecting nectar

Beetles hiding in the petals for its prey

It’s a an ordinary day in the garden

A gentle breeze caresses your cheek

As the swift flies you by

It’s an ordinary day in the sky

A pigeon pecking for bits of bread

As the dog lays down its nodding head

It’s an ordinary day on the ground

I look at you and you look at me

We smile now because we’re free

It’s not an ordinary day for us clowns

But our life starts now

For happiness is starting their round

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Junk, craft & gardens

Rummaging through old boxes and bags around the house, I have found things I have lost because Paul had moved them and placed them in towering piles at the corners of unregulated rooms, I have come across things I have completely forgotten about for years.

I didn’t realise at the time I made them, but I was a really nifty knitter and crochet thing (maker)? I have found two pairs of fingerless gloves I Knitted for myself as well as knitted hair dangles, two scarves, a babies blanket and a cowl.

Funny thing is I remember giving it up as I thought I was rubbish, but there you go.

I also remember giving it up because it was one of the main causes of my carpal tunnel syndrome as I am addicted to fidgeting so I took up the hobby as a kind of fidget toy that was productive idea.  However I got addicted to making things and I was knitting 100 stitches per line 100 times a night and my arm became almost unusable for three months because of it.

If I knit more than fifteen minutes it comes back.

Such a shame as I had a lot of projects I wanted to do.

I’m traditional and so I often like to knit cardigans, blankets and dungarees for babies as presents, so it’s hard for me to choose not to knit when I know there is a new baby on the way for friends and family.

Weird thing is that sewing and embroidery doesn’t affect me as much as knitting does.

I hand sew, scared of sewing machines because of things that happened to me as a kid; mum didn’t like my love for fashion and design, so when she was resizing curtains she bought one day I asked her to let me help her sew the seam with the machine and she deliberately nudged my hand where I had three inches of stitches go through my hand.  “There’s it’s your own fault, now stop bothering me about it”.

I want to get brave with using sewing machines as I have always thought about making my own clothes someday; Paul told me there is a lady in town who will make clothes to my specifications if I provide her with a comprehensive pattern for her to follow and she will do it with any material I give her for £25 an hour.

It would be nice someday to be able to do that.

The silly thing is I was the most excited about finding some playing cards I haven’t seen in a while; the donkey cards, snap cards and the old maid.  I have loved those cards since I was a kid, but Henry isn’t really into playing pairs or snap with me, unfortunately.  He is completely absorbed with robot making and learning geography.

I have loads of board games too; nobody wants to really play anymore.  We used to make a point that every night, or at least most nights we’d play a board game for one hour before bed, but Paul and Henry grew out of it and I was the only one who wanted to play.  Too much resentful arguments during gameplay ruined the fun for me, so we don’t bother anymore.  Even on special occasions like Christmas and my birthday, they just can’t help but make a scene.

This year on my birthday I got a lovely three course meal home cooked for me by Paul, a rare treat and it stretched our budget badly!  It’s a landmark birthday and I got no landmark present.  I don’t mean to sound bitchy but it was very disappointing.  Paul has always known this landmark birthday was something I wanted to be special for the last three years.

But I guess it’s not his fault the oven broke down two weeks before my birthday.

I understand in Paul’s mind, birthdays mean nothing to him; but for me, my life hasn’t been celebrated past my seventh birthday.  The last ever proper birthday party I have ever had was when I was seven years old.  All other things were always two weeks after my birthday, never parties and always something my brother wanted to do in the façade that it was really for me.

Is it really bad to want to feel special from time to time?

I am always made to feel unreasonable.

I try to look on the bright side though; at least people won’t circle around me smiling weirdly at me whilst they sing out of tune “squash tomatoes and stew”.  Ugh I really hate that version of happy birthday.  But I’m no kill joy, honestly.

I am starting to sort the house out, finding all my stuff, moving it to my bedroom as we’ve moved apart now me and Paul.  I don’t mean I’ve moved out of our house, I mean, we’re living sort of separate lives whilst still living together and I want to organise my stuff.

Mostly because it destroys me that I worked hard to keep things being thrown away over the years by my mum, only for it to come here, get lost amongst Paul’s mess and when I find it, find that its broken irreparably.  It bothers me when it’s an ornament or an item of clothing that was thrown in a corner out of the way being ruined, instead of going in a laundry basket – but it hurts a lot when I find it’s a handwritten story or a watercolour painting I have done.

Paul is a recovering hoarder (pack rat).  When I first moved in this house was quite something… It took me nearly two years to get the house into some sort of liveable shape and it was a very tumultuous time emotionally between us as Paul had to let things go in order to give the growing baby their own space too.

When I got sick, the house got bad again.  But for years I struggled to try and clean at least one room a month to keep on top of things, but the problem with that is energy and health.

I have asthma; one of the biggest things that set my chest off is dust.  Cleaning is not his priority, so this house is never dusted by him, always me.

Once a month it took me about three to eight hours in one day to clean a room, just one room.  To always find that three days later it looked like it hadn’t been touched, because Paul will shift items from other places in the gaps I made.

Years of struggle and arguments over it – new friends I have made since living here has no idea of Paul’s past and Paul is quite sneaky in letting people believe it’s me who has the problem… look at all the books, they are all hers.  Because I have bookcases downstairs visible for everyone, they see it as a truth and it’s not.

If you were to see the house, you would see all of my areas is clean and tidy most of the time.  You can clearly see where Paul spends his time, as it’s the messiest corners of the house with very dangerous high piles of whatever.

My bedroom is heaven in comparison the whole house.  The dining room is not functional for its purpose and the kitchen is just downright dangerous.

I used to care for our front and back gardens up until two years ago when the bad neighbour moved in with his girlfriend and decided to start sexually harassing me all the time whenever he saw me in the garden.  The gardens are now dangerously overgrown, because I won’t go out there and Paul has no spine to tell the guy where to go.

I have wanted to call the police, but being deaf I can’t use a telephone; Paul has flat out refused to call them on the grounds of lack of evidence.  I suggested we use a camera to film me in the garden so they can observe his actions, but of course our poverty is the perfect excuse for Paul not to do that.

As my illness has been the perfect excuse for him not finding a job. 

I miss my garden.  It was one of my ways in staying sort of fit.  I miss walking on the ground barefoot as I pick strawberries and columbines.

I miss doing “what that mad cow” is doing as the bad neighbour called me once, when I decided to go in our front garden and sit directly behind our privet hedge amongst the tall wildflowers because there were tamed frogs, toads and magpies who liked to visit me out there.

I remember hearing his girlfriend and daughter telling him to shut up and leave me alone, because they knew what I was like and they liked what I did.  They often commented about how my garden seems to steal all of nature’s beauty from them, all the butterflies and birds visits my garden but not theirs.

Their garden has decking from door to fence with only four small pots of violas, is it any wonder?

I’m a bit of a hippy, nature’s child – actually I might have under exaggerated, just a little…

Since I watched Shirley Temple’s Heidi when I was 5yrs old I have always wanted to own a homestead with my own goats and chickens running about me free, feeding them at 6am singing like Cinderella.

Before I got sick, I was very much a morning person.  Waking up like a new-born every day, excited to start living again, throwing open the curtains and singing “Good morning” by Doris Day making everyone in the house want to kill me as they recoil under their covers like vampires hiding from the sun.

I can’t do that anymore; when I wake up around ten to fifteen minutes after I have walked about a bit getting washed and dressed the coughing fits start for about an hour on a bad day.  If I wake up and don’t move out of bed, it’s not so bad, but as soon as I get moving it comes.  The really bad days scares the crap out of me.

When I do eventually move out of Paul’s house, it’s going to be tough on anyone new I make a relationship with.  Those early morning coughing fits are scary for even Paul who has been used to them for eight years.

My consultant believes he knows the cause of this, but he will not treat me because our local hospital is almost bankrupt and has a policy of treating life threatening conditions only.

I have enlarged adenoids that won’t shrink and broken cartilage in my nose made it worse.  I broke my nose around 5yrs ago which made the coughing worse, they won’t repair the cartilage, it’s considered aesthetic.  Although they call it aesthetic, it won’t improve my looks; my nose will still look big!  But there are times the cartilage moves and makes me sneeze uncontrollably and it hurts.

The biggest thing about all this stuff I am finding is that I don’t want a lot of it anymore.  I want to give it away to a charity/thrift store.  But Paul, ever the hoarder, told me not to do that.

He then caved in and said OK, I take some stuff for you.  But it’s all talk.  The bag of things has sat on the floor hall for a week now.

Hopefully someday we’ll sort things out here.

Happy reading!

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