I’m writing this post about my beautiful grand daughter.
To raise awareness of hate crime
Bullying that follows kids home it’s there right in front of you in your home.
Behind a screen a phone a laptop a tablet.
Be aware it happened to us it can happen to you.
We always here about bullying and I suppose everyone has experienced it in one way or another growing up.
Just lately I’ve been unfortunate to discover a completely new level.
I can hear my old mams words echoing “there’s nothing as cruel as kids”
I want to tell her she was dead right.
I have three grown up children .
My eldest granddaughter is mixed race I may be bias but I’m so proud of the way my daughter has raised her.
She’s a good kid, kind and compassionate.
She’s my eyes, I adore her.
She’s at high school 14 tall beautiful, funny and bright .
But over this last year I’ve noticed a change.
It’s been a strange year lock down , living through a pandemic.
My daughter and granddaughter both advised to shield as my daughter has auto immune conditions and my granddaughter Tamika has asthma.
But my gut told me it was more than lockdown our girl had changed.
She and I have always been close .
I asked was everything okay she said it was but I wasn’t convinced.
She was withdrawn.
Eventually we discover she is being bullied by a girl from the other side of town.
Hate crimes a more appropriate expression than bullying .
Because the way she was being hounded was just unforgivable.
The police visited the house spoke to Tamika explained what they could do.
But she didn’t want it to be taken any further.
She later tells us she’s afraid of the repercussions.
It will bring to my daughters door.
The 15 year old girls boyfriend is known for assault
Tamika won’t tell me the girls name all i know is it is Molly.
Please Nan she says leave it.
I’m so upset
We are supposed to protect our kids .
I then discover the girl is posting on tik toc videos of people she hates one of Tamika with photos of her .
Vile insults like
“Your a failed abortion’
Threats to hit her.
Pictures of her commenting on her size.
3 years ago my beautiful girl attended and performed performance poetry with me and poets on the hill.
She had the confidence to perform to crowds now she holds the neck of her sweat shirt up to cover her face.
She wrote and performed poem called bullying .
How did we get to this?
Today she sent me the screen shots of the messages made .
Put out there on tik toc and messages about Tamika sent to tamikas friend.
Bullying is a hate crime!
But now in this new age of internet it follows you home.
It threatens you on tik toc
On what’s app groups
You can’t escape it.
My daughter managed to speak to Molly’s father .
He was shocked .
Said he would make it stop
But didn’t want to look at the proof the screen shots of the constant abuse that one child and poured onto another.
Making her life unbearable.
I pray he keeps his word.
That this is an end to it.
I disagree with him not facing the evidence of Molly’s actions.
I really don’t think without doing so he can fully understand.
So I’m posting it here .
It has to stop.
Keep an eye on your children in these strange times talk to them .
Love them protect them.
Keep an eye on their phones , social media.
Know what is there on the screen.
It’s February..march is in sight.
Almost time to relax .
March the beginning of summer no more floods for awhile ..
Canalside I love you.
Even more when it’s dry.
So I had to go into town today for an appointment.
It feels like the first day of spring.
Here in Wales the sun is shining.
It’s no coat needed kind of day.
I miss seeing people smile.
Faces behind masks.
Trying to read someone’s eyes .
Everyone two metres away.
It’s necessary I know.
I wonder about children born at the begining of lockdown.
Their perspective on the big world around them.As they begin to sit up in their prams.
No one bending over to smile and say hi.
To push a silver coin into chubby baby fists for good luck.
For the children and the sick more than anyone I pray this pandemic to end.
I’ve done what I had to in town.
Before leaving I wondered down to o the beach
First time in a year.
How I’ve missed it.
More than I knew.
The soft lapping of the sea on the sand.
The sun shining mine and my little dog Mavis foot prints in the sand.
The sky is so blue fresh crisp air.A feeling a have not felt for quite some time
Hope….I smile to myself it’s going to be okay.
This will end.
I hope we learn from this.
Learn never to take simple everyday things for granted .
Like seeing a stranger’s face smile.
Passing the time of day with others when we are out for a walk
Freedom of movement .
A simple walk on the beach.❤️
Follow the link to my podcast
So where to begin.
Have you heard of an app called couch to 5k?
Until this morning.
A friend of mine popped up on F.B she had been.feeling down had put on weight through lockdown and needed something to motivate herself.
So I read about couch to 5k
Does what it says on the tin.
I down load the app.
Sit with my cup of tea reading what’s involved.
Intermittent brisk walking 90 seconds
Then 60 second run.
Well not a run to start with a jog.
Hmmm I wonder
I live on a canal path.
It’s straight, quiet, I can do that or at least have a go , says that voice in my head that has all the good ideas that usually end in trouble.
I think of shutting it up with a slice of cake.
Too late as I scroll through the app.a little further there is Sarah Milligan smiling at me.
You see you can choose a celebrity who will cheer you on, telling you when to run, slow down and walk and encourage you to keep going.
Anyone that knows me knows I love Sarah she’s my go too comedian to cheer me up.
Plus we have mutual interest in cakes and kittens.
So I press choose Sarah and she tells me we are first going to go for a brisk five min warm up walk.
Off the sofa and proceed to throw all my shoes out of the shoe box looking for a buried pair of £8.00 trainers from Primark .
Pull on my sweatshirt and I’m standing on the tow path ready to go.
I’m might also tell you I’ve never jogged anywhere apart from to my car when it’s raining.
I’m 55 over weight
Recovering from covid and 3 months ago I had minor heart attack.
This fact crosses my mind I decide to focus on the minor..
I’m taking aspirin it’s fine.
My usual footware is walking boots or wellies it’s a tow path in Wales ..
I press start ..
Are you ready asks Sarah
We are going to walk briskly for 5 mins .
So that we speed up your heart rate but you can still hold a conversation.
I wish I’d brought my dog..
Off I go it’s pretty mild for Jan but the mud is something else .
I briskly walking consentrating on my breath and not falling.
Hoping when Sarah tells me to run no one can see me.
Your doing great she tells me your half way through brisk walk.
What… I puff I’m knackered.
Keep going she says and I do.
Through the tunnel and towards the incline up to the canal bridge.
It’s your first run says Sarah it’s on sixty seconds are you ready?
How is sixty seconds so bloody long when your trying to run wondering where all the flabby slappy bits have come from , not slip in the mud, glance around to ensure no other human can see you AND ALSO REMEMBERING TO BREATHE!
I really am only jogging I’m going to die..
That’s it says Sarah as I slide towards the canal slow down continue to brisk walk for 90 seconds ..
FFS the 90 seconds fly by.
I’m just getting my breath back ..
Your next run says Sarah..
Off i go what the actual f##k am I doing I think the log burners on and there’s a walnut cake in the kitchen ..
Go home ..
Well done say Sarah .
F@@k off I tell her.
I’m listening to a woman with a bigger cake fetish than me who squeezes kittens ..
I’m almost in bloody neath..
Should have definitely brought the dog .
She could have carried a flask of brandy..
Maybe not shes a Chihuahua.
She could have ran for help like lassie..
The only other time a minute lasts this long is when your waiting for washing machine door to open.
Ding ding …
A bell rings in my head phones
Your half way there Sarah tells me well done ..
Get ready for your next run 60 secs you can do it.
F@@k off Sarah if you could see me you’d be bringing me cake a brew and dialing an ambulance .
Emergency which service please?
Ambulance please with tea and cake overweight 55 year old woman with possible tourettes and shit trainers covered in mud swearing at imaginary friend called Sarah muttering about washing machine doors and kittens.
Come Sarah cheers me on.
Can you be in a coma when your still.up right I wonder as one of my boobs escape from my non sporty bra.
There is the tunnel I’m almost back in the street.
I can see the light at the end
Or is it a near death experience either way I’m going home and there will be cake!
An old couple stand to the side of the path as I’m puffing my way through my final brisk walk.
Lovely day he says at least it’s stayed dry…
I’m gripping my phone in my hand as I slip in the mud skidding towards them and the two metre rule goes into the canal .
As I grab the kidding gate looking lovingly at the little terrace of cottages ..
Well done says Sarah
Always have a days rest in-between runs
I’ll see you next time..
Not unless there is cake involved Sarah and your waiting personally at finish line with a kitten.
No more bright ideas .
Why I try to record podcasts in a house with two hyperactive cats is anyones guess
Toda they only knocked over my i pad once!
Listen to the most recent episode of my podcast: Late night Ramblings courtesy of the insomnia fairy. Inspired this extra episode. https://anchor.fm/joolz/episodes/Late-night-Ramblings-courtesy-of-the-insomnia-fairy–Inspired-this-extra-episode-eph65q
In this month’s magazine my hypnotherapy column tackles insomnia .
Click the link to listen .
It was a cold Monday Morning in 1998
I’m standing outside the village post office, there is a middle-aged woman in front of me glancing at her watch , in front of her, an old man smoking a roll up cig .
The post office door opens and the queue slowly move’s inside.
The old man leans on the window ledge as he waits his turn.
He is wearing old faded blue jeans, and jacket, and matching hat.
Not your typical pensioner outfit.
His weathered skin, lines and the scares on his face tell a million stories.
Stories of a alcoholic a hard man a fighter in his time
He looks smaller than I remember..
I try to concentrate on the posters on the wall.
Anxiety stirs in the pit of my stomach, dry mouth
Posters and leaflets around the wall Television licence.
First class stamps. Car tax. Premium bonds.
I focus on very brightly coloured poster.
St Hayden school Jumble Sale this Saturday 1.PM.
I read every one to distract myself, to control my panic.
But still my eyes are drawn back to him.
Like a moth to a flame
Half of me would like him to see me.
Half of me is terrified he will.
I catch a wafting smell of stale home brew and old Holborn Tobacco
He’s holding what’s left of the roll up fag he was smoking outside.
He is staring blankly ahead of him, brown eyes the same as mine milky now with age.
Wisps of silver grey white hair peep from under his denim cap. Tattooed dots on his knuckle’s scars on his face.
He’s standing at the counter now, next to me I can smell that smell of old Holborn and beer strongly now my heart beats loudly in my chest I’m convinced he will hear it and turn around.
Do alcoholics ever change?
Stop it I tell myself ..
He doesn’t want to never wanted to, set in his ways.
I can’t fix this.
I hand the woman my family allowance book, she’s smiling and saying something about the weather. I wish she would shut up as I’m straining to hear his voice.
Every emotion waiting just below the surface
Fear, panic, need.
I hate myself for allowing myself to feel anything at all ,
He speaks again
Deep and rasping, so familiar, yet he’s become a stranger to me.
His own doing, he doesn’t know me.
He never really did not the real me.
Just the me he created, moulded
My chest tightens, I feel my eyes prick with tears, but I will not let them come.
Something inside of me still desperately wants him to know me.
What I’ve achieved and who I am.
He is my Dad he doesn’t know what I like if I take milk in my tea, what makes me happy or sad.
What issues I feel passionately about.
That despite everything I’m trying my best to be a good a good Mam.
How can I ..
I’m winging it and
He used to tell me I’d amount to nothing.
Nothing more than a whore.
Those words are etched into my soul.
That is how I always felt insignificant, ugly, worthless, nothing.
This old man in front of me is my Dad.
The same old man who still walks in my dreams.
The man who struck terror into the heart of a small child.
Oh Dad I so desperately wanted to please you.
I wanted you to like me.
Sadly I still do.
I find myself fighting to suppress the pity I find myself feeling for him.
My heart beating in my head reminding myself of the holocaust he made my life.
There is a tiny piece of him I loved and adored the sober piece I always will.
That big man that carried me on his shoulders. Held my hand and walked me to school. Held my bike seat and smiled from ear to ear cheering his little girl as I peddled off on my own.
He taught me to play cards, draughts, let me help him when he’d wallpaper.
Gave me my love for books and the outdoors, taught me to write my name then later shared with me his talent for writing poetry.
He taught me to love nature and the countryside.
As I watched in awe as he’d whispered to horses.
Rescued a blackbird from a hawthorn bush.
Talked of make-believe, fairies and magic castles.
Oh how I loved that tiny piece of him, I still do,
But that piece was a grain of sand in a endless desert.
But I always searched for it
I always will.
I desperately wanted then and now for that piece of him to become his whole.
For god the universe or some miracle to take away the bad piece. I want him to turn my way look at me and tell me he’s sorry.
I want him to hold me tell me everything’s going to be okay.
I want a family.
I want my children to have him as their granddad.
I want them to be safe.
He’s walking out of the door now.
I walk out behind him all of these thoughts buzzing in my head.
I get in my car sit in silence and watch him walk out of the post office and away and then the tears start to fall.
For the life I can’t have, and the wishes I can’t make come true.
I know I can’t change him from who he is.
To whom I would desperately like him to be.
But I’ll never stop wanting and wishing.
That day in the post office was the very last time I saw him.
He died a few years later. I didn’t get a sorry.
I was always afraid of receiving the news that he was dead.
Afraid I’d feel something anything.
Afraid of betraying myself.
I felt nothing.
I didn’t go to his funeral.
Now I’m allowed to break the silence he demanded of us all.
Finally I can breathe
Junction 38 of M4
Town of steel .
Its 4pm.on a winter’s day
Sun streaming through the blast furnace smoke .
As I glance to my left as I drive towards home.
To my right green mountains a rainbow arcs across to margam.
I love this place .
Beautiful partnership of industrial landscape sliding into beautiful Swansea bay.
Mumbles light house comes into view
Shimmering in the cold sunlight
Sing song lilt of wenglish
Sleeping toddler stirs I her car seat beside me .
My little Welsh grand daughter.
How blessed I am.
To be a part of this landscape.
I smile to myself.
Remembering my childhood wish
Every candle blown
Every wish bone
Every dandelion clock.
Close my eyes tight shut
And never tell a soul
What did you wish?
I’d smile keep my secret
Don’t tell or it won’t come true.
As I turn onto the canalpath where I live
Row of colourful cottages
Geese honk a friendly welcome home
As I carry my sleeping grand daughter in my arms and lie her carefully on a warm blanket by a roaring cottage fire .
Wishes do come true
I’m here this is my wish
All that I wished for and more
Here is the link to my random podcast and lock down ramblings
thought I’d take you with me on a walk toPenwyllt – ‘the wild end’ in Welsh.￼
It’s my go too place .
Mountains, fields Hawthorne trees and the occasional sheep.
Very rarely people.
Over head red kite glide
Beneath my feet is one of the biggest cave systems in Europe .
Night sky here is spectacular.
No light pollution
Don’t know about writers block..
More like writers WTF…
Ive had loads to write about but haven’t.
I’ve given my head a wobble and I’m back.
Wishing you all a fabulous and positive 2021.
What a rollercoaster 2020 was.
Covid 19 has shaken us all to the core.
No matter what we believe about the origin of this virus it has affected us all
Our own health, loosing loved ones, financially freedom of movement, working from home , loss of businesses and jobs.
Limited numbers at weddings and funerals.
The list is endless.
Two years ago if it had been a news story there would have been mass panic.
We all have different opinions on how this global pandemic has been handled.
The truth of it is simple
Not one of us is wrong.
We have all viewed this world wide stage individually .
I’ve seen so much kindness
But also so much nastiness.
Maybe from fear who knows.
The only thing we now have control over is how we react .
We really do have to be the best us that we can.
That involves being kind to ourselves.
Go outside walk on the cold frozen earth.
Look up at the vastness of the universe
It is all part of you.
We are all part of each other.
Know that you , we , us.
Are living in strange times that are a major part of history.
I really hope that we all take away something positive from this experience.
If you can’t think of something then make it your goal.
Something in years to come when you are telling a child the story of the worldwide pandemic
There will be a glow of hope you speak of a difference you made.
Now go outside and look up at the universe X
Please click the link to read about our amazing journey to provide counselling and free breaks for cancer patients
I’m sitting here relaxed watching David Tennant in Des.
Absolutely best thing I’ve watched in ages.
Window is open
We here a loud splash.
Brian the cat has fallen in the canal chasing mice again.
Within a minute he’s out.
He comes bounding over the garden wall like a bloody racehorse.
Through window ginger cat dripping dirty canal water comes flying at me over back of the sofa..
Dripping wet…. He looks at me and drops a still live mouse on my boobs I’m wearing a sun dress.
Wet mouse crawls in-between my boobs .
Mavis the dog runs away.
I jump up mouse drops out of my dress onto sofa. It lies there stunned.
I’m swearing at knob head wet ginger cat.
I scoop the stunned mouse up.
With old towel.
He’s stopped moving.
Everywhere is soaking .
Brians so pleased with himself!
I’m reiking the mouse who it’s soon apparent is dead.
My hubby is laughing so much he’s crying..
Surreal moment of.
Is this really my bloody life!
What a year.
We are indeed living in very strange times.
Back in March when the U.K went into lockdown it was particularly difficult for us as we had just suffered a horrendous flood.
everywhere closed including builders supplies and we were left in a wet cottage with rats for guests and no way of getting any help to improve our living conditions.
My husband joked we were safe from the virus as no way would it survive in our street .
So as always we just got on with it.
My Mam used to say no good moaning about something you’ve no control over.
This was one of those times.
The weather was kind so we got on with things outside fixing fences painting the cancer retreat.
Most of residents in canalside had moved out. Until their houses were dried out and renovated.
Around six families stAyed mainly because we had no where else to go.
It was quite surreal, Eerie at times. The usual people passing everything had stopped.
But the sky’s grew bluer no chemetrails or clouds. I haven’t seen clear blue sky’s like that since I was a kid in the 70s.
No planes no pollution, then there were reports of sheep walking in Main Street in towns little things made me smile.
Dolphins in the canals in Venice.
Pubs were shut, kids play centres , cinemas.
People were allowed out for hour each day to walk exercise .
We began to see families walking together.
On social media photos were being posted of flowers , plants food.
I believe in every bad situation there is something positive.
Here were all these tiny things making a difference.
The market traders from Neath started delivering fresh fruit and veg.
Neighbours shopped for each other.
We reassured each other.
Spiritually I believed there was a mass awakening happening.
People realising that there is so much more to life than materialistic stuff.
People matter not things.
I missed my grandchildren terribly
Slowly things started to change I prayed that the world was changing into a better pace.
It seemed that way.
Now we are in September restrictions are tightening again.
I’m not surprised saddened but not surprised the u.k government predicted this back in March. It seems a little to planned .
Masks are now mandatory .
It’s all a mess
If as they originally said virus isn’t air born it’s a surface contaminant what is the point of a mask.
If they do work why didn’t they recommend back in March.
The sad part is all the good that came in the first wave seems to have been swallowed up now by hatefulness
The mask police ordinary people attacking others regarding masks.
Demanding to know if someone isn’t wearing one WHY.
Makes me ashamed to be human
Some people are exempt for many reasons.
None of which should be questioned or held accountable by Joe Blogs outside the Spar shop.
Rape victims , child abuse victims, people with extreme anxiety COPD asthma are exempt.
Should they have to wear a label a badge ….NO THEY SHOULDN’T please don’t be one of there jumped up mask police.
Mind your own buisness look after yourself and your own.
Who are any of us to judge anyone else..
Remember before all this started a lovely young woman Caroline Flack committed suicide because of the way she was treated in the media.
She was vulnerable but no one could see quite how much.
She took her own life because of the way she was treated by other who didn’t even know her,
After it happened the #BeKind campaign started, there were t shirts
#BeKind trended on Twitter , articles were wrote and people cried NEVER AGAIN.
Yet here we are…
these are indeed strange time.
But don’t let that have a negative effect on the way you treat people.
Think before you speak.
Sometimes it’s best if you can’t say something positive.
Don’t get caught up with the bitching of the masses .
Because one day when all this is over.
Future generations ask about what you did during the pandemic
Let your stories be kind ones.
So in this month online Hypnotherapy column of the fabulous Emma Heaven magazine come with me to your inner temple and meet your spirit guide.
So pull up a chair or lie somewhere comfortable and relax.
Follow the link below
If there is a subject you’d like to see covered e mail me Joolz at
Brians home fine.. sigh .
Came in loudly shouting for food.
And is now cwtched on the sofa with his girl Mavis.
I’m so very relieved.
I’ve told him he’s grounded! 🙈🐈
I make wire wrapped crystals .
To raise money to help us run our cancer retreat.
I’ve just got new stock.
I’m in heaven.
Only problem is I make things then want to keep them!
So if you’d like to buy yourself or a loved one something special.
Drop me a line.
I can custom make you a pendant
Or supply you with a favourite crystal.
You can e mail me at.
F.b Ravens Retreat
Behind our cottage is a old disused collery train track.
The track is level with apex of the houses .
So pretty steep to climb up.
I’ve just climbed up there for the seventh time today.
Pitch dark up a steep bramble and ivy covered bank .
Cursing as I go .
I’m fifty bloody five I’m huffing and puffing talking to myself.
Falling over my long hippy dress as I heave myself up to the top.
I stand for a minute and let my eyes grow accustomed to the dark.
The crunchy stones either side of the track seem steeper than this afternoon as I climb over into the middle of the tracks .
The row of cottages now look tiny.
I’ve forgotten my phone.
Great I say to myself don’t bloody fall no bugger knows your up here.
It’s quite a warm night the sky is clear and I start to walk carefully along the track.
Walking beside me is my cat Lucifer balencing on the track like a feline gymnast .
On the other side of the line is a huge triangle of waste land densely covered with trees, brambles and bushes .
The slop down there is even steeper than the one down to our house.
But it’s the place where my youngest cat Brian hides out when my female black cat Luna chases him.
I usually go over there give him a shout and I hear him instantly he answers when I call him .
He is a year old and the most loving cat, vocal and funny.
Lucifer is the eldest he’s almost five beautiful but quite aloof Luna my black.cat is three .
She is a warrior she hates everyone and everything.
Apart from me.
Brian knows this.
It’s her fault I’m up here..
Brian I call and whistle but there is no sign of him.
I haven’t seen him for 24 hours .
Luna appears walks on opposite track to Lucifer.
Great if he’s about he definitely won’t come out now!.
You’d think by now she would accept him
I’m worrying my hubby however isn’t.
He’s a cat.
He will be back .
He’s sat in the cottage warm whilst I’m up here like some crazy cat lady .
Walking the line and stopping to watch the bats..
I make my way home and by luck more than judgement I slide back down the banking into our garden
No sign I tell Jeff .
You worry more about that cat he says ..
Yes I do ..
Fingers crossed he will be home .
If not I’ll be back up the tracks in the morning.
Photo my granddaughter
Emilia with Lucifer
So what a year 2020.has been.
Strange and surreal .
All of our usual adventures were sadly canceled due to lock down in u.k.
So Beltane and other events in Glastonbury were missed for the first time in many many years.
I have always had an affinity with this beautiful town it’s many temples the Tor, it’s eclectic high street filled with every esoteric item any witch, druid, pagan could ever need or desire .
But more than that it’s the chilled out atmosphere total relaxation, and the way that every visit I make a new friend or three.
So yesterday my hubby Jeff and I with two friends travelled down for the weekend.
As soon as the car was parked and I was in sight of the Tor that familiar wave of calm washed over me.
No work, no bills no stress about floods rivers and usual worry..
Complete and utter bliss.
Do you have somewhere that’s your chill out place?
I think we all have one.
So after a wonder around the chalice well gardens and a night I’m George and pilgrim hotel I’m feeling fab refreshed.
Tonight we plan to use the spirit board in the haunted room slept in by Henry eighth
I’ll let you know how that goes 🙏
So I have to admit I’m beginning to panic.
It’s never a good thing and considering I’m a glass half full kinda girl..
Well actually I’m more of a grateful I’ve got a bloody glass at all!
As you know we are fighting the powers that be council, natural resources Wales,about lack of flood prevention.
Michael sheen has been helping us.
We have registered as a c.i.c
And we are awaiting reports and modeling from the above.
Today we had a reply from natural resources which stopped me in my tracks ..
I felt physically sick.
To cut a long and scary story short.
If the wall on the river bank fails..
And it’s only a very bad storm away from doing so
Our beautiful little street becomes a branch of the river Neath .
Very quicky the water will rise to bedroom hight .
What the actual f@@k.
We have elderly residents, young families and cancer retreat here.
The retreat I run will be closed after next week.
It’s breaking my heart
But seriously someone will be hurt drowned or killed before these bloody heads of councils .
Natural resources Wales get their heads out of their arses and stop making excuses.
I’m raising money to try to relocate our cancer retreat.
Somewhere safe I found a old chapel up on the mountain today £100k but it would be perfect.
And enough space for a caravan for us to live.
I really didn’t want to leave but this news is just too much.
We need help.
Before national resource Wales are responsible for loss of life .
I’m a celebrant weddings hand fastings and funerals..
But I’m also a great believer of rites of passage.
Sadly they seem to have been lost to most folks.
Even sadder some don’t know what they are.
I mentioned to a friend this week that we were planning a croneing ritual for one of our coven members a mutual friend invited her to come along.
A what? She said.
Your celebrating getting old?
She looked somewhat puzzled.
Getting old..sigh ..
Well yes but that’s not quite how I’d describe it.
As pagans we acknowledge and worship the old gods and goddesses.
Particularly the three stages of the goddess.
Trinity if you like.
Maiden , Mother, Crone.
Each stage has a rite of passage for each stage marks a milestone.
But the Croneing well .
What can I say..
It’s amazing we have traveled through life, as the Maiden full of wonder new beginnings,
Then mother nurturing children, or careers, beliefs
Now we are entering crone stage comfortable in our skin, and beliefs, we are now filled with a lifetime of experience, love, loss, creativity. All of it within us.
We know what we like.
Who we are.
We are healers teacher wise woman elder of our coven our tribe our families.
What’s not to honour to celebrate?
So at the end of September in a field barefoot .
We will stand a circle of women.
Welcoming our sister Sam into her croneing years.
Welcoming her as an elder
Valuing her knowledge, wisdom her life.
Holding her in love and light as we dance around the fire.
Drumming and chanting
For we are not just sisters .
Maidens mother’s crones
We are one.
Im never suprised at the magical way that strangers walk into our lives and become friends.
Friends that make a huge difference at just the right time.
Yesterday was one of those times.
So months ago i got a call from one of my best friends sharon she was away on holiday in France.
She was beside herself one of her beloved dogs cookie had become ill and sadly may not recover so she needed me to drop off some of the CBD oil I make to help with the pain over night until she could get home the day after.
Given the fact that i work as a soul midwife and im often there beside patients when they take their last breath.
Im completely different when it comes to dogs.
I asked myself why and I think its because working with people who are end of life they know whats happening and can express how they feel, what they need.
Tell me how bad the pain is.
If they need more medication ect.
So I rush over to my friends house where Cookie is being cared for by my friends daughter and Bethan who is a friend of hers I’ve heard of but havnt met.
Cookie is lying on her bed still manages to wag her tail as i sit down beside her.
Im convinced she knew exactly what was going on as those huge soul full eyes looked at me as if to say dont worry.
I sat with her has we chatted I whispered to her that her mam was on way home and Bethan put a little of the CBD oil onto a baby bell cookies favorite treat and it disapeared quickly.
It wasnt long before Cookie settled and I left leaving my number telling Bethan and Emily to add my on Facebook to ring if they needed me.
I stand at the door saying goodbye to the two girls sat on the floor beside cookie and feel the same room full of love as i do when im sat with a person.
Cookie was up on her legs that afternoon and was with us for a few more weeks before sadly she left us.
She had been my friends first dog rescued just before she has retiered fron the NHS
I think in reality they rescued each other.
Cookie had an amazing life, beach walks, lots of fuss and equally I know gave so much in return.
Now fast forward.
Over a year later.
Im friends with Bethan on social media but we havnt seen each other since that afternoon when we met.
We have commented on-line on each others statuses on social media
Photos, events ect.
Last week comments turned to chat as Bethan was having trouble sleeping.
Maybe the CBD oil may help I suggested.
So we arraned that she would call over at bank holiday to pick it up.
There has been alot happening since we saw each other last.
Storn callum ruined our street, ive nursed quite few end of life patients and officiated at their funerals.
Nursed my father in law.
Rebuilding our homes.
Life goes on.
I try not to worry about big things that are out of my control.
I trust in the universe, not just trust I completely believe that if we focus on a positive outcome for ourselves and our dreams then thats what we will get.
Like attracts like..
If we focus on negative then guess what..
You get the picture.
Despite this its still hard to cope with the current situation.
Possibility of a compulsory purchase order.
Loosing our homes
And our cancer retreat.
Our friends our community or tribe and life on the canal.
Still im careful with my words.
Whatever the universe holds for me im never given anything im not strong enough to handle.
So yesterday we finished painting the garden wall.
The crow cottage is now purple.
It looks amazing
The sun is shining its bank holiday Monday
Bethans first time on our canal.
Isnt it lovely when someone sees something for the first time.
‘Its not what i expected’ she says
Its that canalside magic.
She comes in we sit and chat over a cup of tea.
I give her the oil and she passes me a small gift bag.
Its a book she says,
I loved it so ive bought a few for friends.
Have you heard of it?
The boy the mole, the fox and the horse.
By clarlie mackesy.
Inside there is a lotto ticket
You may win she smiles.
Im so humbled by her kindness.
We walk from my house to the healing cabin i love peoples reaction the first time they enter.
She loves it and i have a feeling she will be back.
We hat and she tells me that from our first merting with cookie shes bern trying to work out where she knows me from.
Work? Where she lives with her mother, where i used to live, friends, family perhaps.
No none of the above.
Ill think where from i joke as she leaves probably at three in the morning.
And off she goes.
So here is the thing.
Today i get up feeling dreadful
Aching generally out of sorts.
I dont know what ails me i tell my daughter on tbe phone.
I run a hot bath fill it with Epsom salt and a hsnd full of herbs
Pick up the book gifted to me yesterday
The boy the mole, the fox and tbe horse.
Lie in tbe warm soothing water and read.
Its a beautiful book beautiful drawings and printed as if written by fountain pen.
Im reminded as i read of that cosmic divine connections.
We are all connected.
Like rain drops running down a window pane.
Merging into one.
I think of my friend sharon
I met her in work NHS mental health team
She sat on desk oposite.
Through her and Cookie i met Bethan.
All rain drops
Im sitting in a warm bath holding a book.
I remember Bethans words hope it helps..
Warm tears run down my face into the bath water.
Thank you Bethan
It helped more than you can know.
I absolutely love abandoned buildings.
they have fascinated me since I was a child.
There is something quite magical, the energy the story I just love it.
The stepping back in time.
Today was quite unexpected visit to this beautiful old manor house in neath valley not far from where I live.
I’ve been past there before looked around the small chapel on the outside looked longingly through the huge cast iron gates up the over grown driveway to the ruins of the old house.
Old pig shelters in once pristine gardens signs that someone has used its grounds as a small holding in recent years.
Ancient deciduous trees and an enormous monkey puzzle tree to the left of where the manor house doors would have been.
Birds sing and a small brook runs along the fence .
It reminds me of the book ..the secret garden .
Young foxes play in the long grass.
But today as I stand at the gate they swing open and we drive slowly up the over grown driveway.
I mentioned this place to my husband Jeff.
Oh yes he says that’s my friend’s place. He owns the lease.
Kindly he has given us the keys and now as we drive up it’s as beautiful close up as it was from behind the gates.
I stand for a moment at the front of the house.
The long driveway before me.
The energy here is palpable.
The noise of the road has disappeared.
I hear children playing.
There’s a sadness here it’s 15th maybe 16th century?
The stories these walls have held are many.
Once pristine gardens overgrown but still the flowers push through and rows of apple trees guide us into what would have been a grand hall.
Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of a young boy maybe 8 or 9.
Dressed not unlike little lord fontlroy. I catch my breath .
As two young foxes seem to follow him inside the house.
I’m wishing I’d brought a spirit board .
It really is all I’d imagined it to be.
All in all a pretty perfect Sunday afternoon.
We take the keys back and his wife asks ..
Did you see the little boy.
She describes him exactly as I saw him
She tells me they lived there for years in.a caravan .
Often heard ballroom.music .
I tell her I’d like to go back with a spirit board .
Your welcome she says..
Watch this space
Click the you tube link 🙏
https://youtu.be/uF-D-bKeJ2MSunshine in canalside.
A wonder along the disused railway tracks looking for the ginger one ..#BrianRabbitFaceFollowed by Mavis and Lucifer.Everywhere I go I’m followed by animals!Canalside edition of homeward bound.
If you shop online and you shop as usual but click on this link then continue to shop normally .
Each site you buy from will donate to our cancer retreat .
Not costing you any extra .
Please give it a go next time your shopping ☺️
I really don’t know what ails me this week.
I really can’t shake of this feeling of overwhelming sadness.
I can’t share it either.
So here I am writing.
Writing soothes my soul.
I’m never down, well not like this anyway.
I’ve lost my inner warrior.
I’ve got friends who know of our fight with council and other agencies to get flood defences put in place .
But it’s almost September nothings been done .
If I’m honest I’m scared that’s a big word for me to use.
I’ve now managed to get insurance.
But I really don’t think I can go through a third flood.
We are only now recovering from.storm Dennis in Feb immediately after it happened we were placed into lockdown.
We have fought organised ourselves we have a resident committee.
Michael sheen has been beyond amazing helping our story to be told.
But sadly still nothing has changed.
At the next winter storm, high tide, there will be no one there for us just like the previous two floods.
It was terrifying watching the water and sewage poor in.
Rising pouring over the garden wall through letter box.
Until the whole of our home and our cancer retreat at 28 and the healing cabin were 3ft deep in sewage.
I can’t explain the feeling or the fear.
The electricity goes off.
It’s pitch dark.
The smell is horrendous.
Out bathroom is down stairs
We are trapped upstairs.
My tiny chihuahua Mavis shaking in my arms cats trapped out the back I can see them on railway banking
My car my husband’s work van are floating .
There is an earie silence the odd shout from.neigbours check each other are okay.
We have a box with candles in and battery packs for phones.
We ring fire brigade to come with dinghys
I ring Vicky next door but one to ask if she’s okay she doesn’t answer
She has two little boys .
Mick is 83.
He’s seen a world war he shouldn’t have to keep doing this.
My hubby is leaning out of the front bedroom window.
As soon as it starts to go down I’ll start bailing he says ..
He says it..
It’s a normal thing to say.
He’s almost 60.
I hear the fire men shout up to him.
I still wake up at night now hearing them telling us we have to evacuate.
I’m not going I never go.
It’s a danger to life they say.
Don’t you think we know.
Our lives .
The harsh and sad reality is someone next time or the time after will be badly hurt or killed.
Will they change their tune then?
How many more times can I watch my man rebuild our home and the Retreat.?
Bailing sewage for hours ..
The smell of muck and jaeys fluid and bleach.
When will this heavy feeling of dread in my chest stop
When will I stop waking at 3.30am terrified
That little cottage Ravens Retreat
That has provided free breaks and Holistic therapies for cancer patients and mental health.
Is so much more than anyone could imagine.
It was my promise to my best friend.
To Donna .
She believed in me always.
She loved it .
I promised her everything I do there was for her.
In her memory.
So she would always be remembered.
That others suffering with cancer would have the Retreat
Now it’s just not possible to safely have anyone stay there from sept until march.
I can’t fix it.
I feel like I’m letting people I’m supposed to be helping down.
I’m still putting it out there ..
Still trying to raise funds .
But I feel lost.
Praying it doesn’t happen again .
Please share our story ..
Keep us in your thoughts
Here is link to our fundraising page
This is the link to our go fund me page.
We provide completely free breaks and Holistic therapies and counseling.
Help us to continue our work.
Here is the link to my latest podcast from the healing cabin.
We’ve certainly been living in surreal times.
Anxiety has become a real problem for many.
So relax and come and join me on a journey from the mountain top.to the lush green valleyAs we move on with our life manifesting positivity as we go
Listen to the most recent episode of my podcast: Mountain top visualisation. Anxiety release https://anchor.fm/joolz-raven-stewart6/episodes/Mountain-top-visualisation–Anxiety-release-ehmgia
Nothing makes me happier than the lush green valleys of Wales.
Breathing in the cool fresh air.
Feeling that magical energy as I stand behind my favourite water fall.
Closing my eyes slightly staring through the rushing curtain of white irredecent sparkling water..
Whilst huge cold drips fall from the ceiling of the ancient cave rolling down my face like enormous earthy tasting tears.
This is holy water.
Swaying mountain fearns and spongey thick moss push up around slabs of fallen stone compeating for the brightest shade of green.
Swallows and swifts sing of its beauty.
Blue and red dragonflies hover majestically
Heaven couldnt not be more perfect than this place..
The roar of the river calls my name.
I stand alone and close my eyes pulling the energy of this place down above me.
Visualising it swirling and wrapping itself around me.
Irredecent sparkling beautiful refreashing energy.
I capture it from head to toe like a cloak of protection.
Feeling the pulsing of this place surging through my limbs.
My core my mind & body as it replenishs my spirit.
Im drawn to this magic
Listening to my body it pulls me here whenever i am low.
To recharge me fully
Restoring my strength
Ground me to this magical land
Reminding me of why I am here.
I leave thankful
Knowing I am blessed
Gratful every day for the magic of this land where I live.
A place of legends of the old ways
Of dragons and fae
Of dreams of love.
Thank you I whisper into the breeze.
My grown up daughter just tagged me in a Facebook post of something I consider truly vile.
It is something that I hate so much the thought of it let alone mention causes me to physically heave..
I swear I’ve just been sick in my mouth..🤢
I’m a child of the 60s and 70s my mother’s cure all remedy not only tasted vile it smelled equally horrible
She would stand spoon in hand boiled sweet in the other.
Instructing me to open wide, stop being such a soft arse as I wreched and cried until eventually giving in..
Swallowing then often throwing up immediately afterwards.
Thinking back the whole thing was bloody pointless as I’m sure medicine is supposed to make you feel better.
Not cause a mini meltdown and vomiting..
The boiled sweet was never much comfort. Barley suger twists rammed into your mouth when your sobbing I’m sure are a bloody choking hazzard
I’m sure she has a supplier from out local beachams factory.
Because we honestly never ran out of it..
What was this devils brew.
Kaolyn and morphine.
Even writting it makes me shiver Ewwwww.
So whats your childhood memory of something that you hated..
Here is the beginning of my home made documentary about canalside it’s people and why we need to save it.
With huge thanks to Michael Sheen honorary tribe member for all he continues to do to support us.
I wonder when Mr steve Phillips council big wig casually mentioned compulsory purchase order as a ‘possible option’ at our flood meeting yesterday plucking 80k a hypothetical possible offer out of his arse.
Did he think that would sway us as easily as he said it?
October 2018. Then Feb 2020 our beautiful canalside cottages were devistated by storm Callum then storm Dennis.
3ft of water and sewage filled our homes ruined everything we owned on ground floor.
Electricity cut off.
Well you get the picture.
As a community, a tribe we cleaned supported each other and started again
Our house and our cancer retreat are both on the canal.
Both ruined twice.
My husband jeff almost 60 a hard man, a grafter picks up the pieces and puts them back together. Hes my rock.
Never for a min have we considered leaving the canal.
Through everything we have been through Inhaven’t cried once.
But sat there yesterday in the meeting hearing mr bloody Phillips casually mention compulsory purchace my heart broke.
I was all i could do to stop my tears.
We have spent weeks planning this meeting. Gathering evidence video pictures of the floods.
Lesley and paul putting together a power point presentation.
E mails to all relivent agencies.
Jon and lee all of us setting up a community intrest company to raise funds for the street maybe fix the road a community garden?
Everyday we message each other with progress
The agencies that have treated our community like a hot potato.
Blaming each other.
Making empty promises for preventative measures.
We tried shaming them ITV news filmed us a few weeks ago men, women, kids in the river moving rubble that natural resorces wales had promised to move but hadnt
Colin and mick in their 70s and 80s with wheel barrows.
There on camera for the world to see this is canalside this is our tribe help us.
They promised us they would clear the river bed around the aquaduct in the next few weeks.
Michael Sheen was there to support us. He has been beyond amazing using the platform he has to get our voices heard.
We tell the media he will be there and guaranteed we get air time.
I know that because of who he is.
But please lets not forget that although he is famous and he leads a busy life. We are still socially distancing.
He is also a new dad with a small baby.
But he is much more than that he genuinely cares, and without his support and presence I know that half of those agencies wouldnt have showed up yesterday.
Hes a honorary member of our tribe.
Not just us for so many other amazing causes he really is an amazing human being.
So yesterday getting all of those agencies together in one place we hoped that all the passing the buck would stop.
How hard could it be to get water board, neath council. Natural resorces wales, cadw, local councillors to listen to talk to each other then to come up with a plan.
Make your bloody models write your bloody reports but do it..
Do something do anything
But stop doing nothing
I refuse to be negative I refuse to give up.
So i thought at the very least they will ‘see us’
I was quietly confident we all were
So to cut a long story short.
The aquaduct is a protected monument we knew this.
Fact one its original purpose is no longer possible its in ruins.
Fact two when there is a storm or heavy rain anything washed down the river gets stuck on this aquaduct so its new use is a huge river wide dam.
Causing river to rise in bad conditions like storm dennis two feet over the top of the aquaduct so that its now underwater
The River beaches the wall our street is flooded houses ruined cars ruined and as the fire brigade told us when they couldnt get the boats down the street its a danger to life.
I love ancient monuments castles standing stones ect..
But for the love of goddess if its an ruined aquaduct or someones life its a no brainer
As it is even in good weather its dangerous., kids will be kids and play in the river in summer. If a huge piece of stone falls it wont injur them it will kill.
Like wise another flood like Dennis and we could loose one of our tribe.
Why does money come before people before something as special as canalside?
Its the only place i have managed to put down roots.
To become part of the tapestry that makes or community.
It would cost less to pay us off than help us to build walls.
Remove a dangerous structure clear a river.
Mr phillips suggested we wouldnt be living in fear of another flood.
We wouldnt be living in fear now if you had set the wheels in motion in 2018 after storm Callum.
I came home yesterday sat out side feeding the geese the sun shone walkers passed by enjoying the canal.
I felt sureal going over what had been said at the meeting
My phone rings it a lady in england aware of my work at the retreat newly diagnosed with breast cancer. We chatted for a hour. I know thatvwhen I put down the phone that i had made a difference.
She reminded me of why im here why im doing what i do why the Retreat is so very important.
I thought of Mr Phillips and his family.
Had it entered his head to put himself in our position?
I doubt it.
Well a very long time ago a council house kid from a rough estate in the north of england with an alcoholic father dreamed of living in Wales . Dreamed of having a real family. Of being safe and loved.
I cant tell you how hard the journey was to get here.
Thats another story.
But every step has been worth it.
Its every bit as beautiful as i drempt it to be.
Family yes I have that too.
Its here in Canalside.
Its the beautiful people that need my Retreat.
So Mr steve Phillips from neath port tolbot council.
Natural resorces wales.
Im going nowhere
Paradise is worth fighting for.
The gloves are off.
Sitting in circle last week I had a reading .
Beautiful lady looked into my eyes and said..
I want to say you have lost half…. Of yourself.’
Can you take that?
That is so accurate.
Yes I can take it I smiled.
My best poker face.
She has no idea, no one has, not really.
I miss you.
I miss the half of you that was me.
You always said we were meant to be together.
Well this is a shit way for you to prove your point Donna.
I miss opening the door to you moaning about the state of the tow path.
I miss you badgering me to straighten your hair..
You asking me for a cwch.
The top of your head fitting under my chin
Breathing in the smell of your hair.
Making up some really stupid fact to tell you then laughing because you’d believe me.
Lying on the grass watching clouds finding pictures.
Your random facts and infectious giggle
I hear you saying you know I’m right boi!
You texting me , sending me songs ..glitter in the air…
Our granddaughter Emilia is looking more and more like you everyday
That’s such a comfort.
But I still miss us.
Me without you
How can that be?
I got into my little van packed lunch and a flask to go off with my dog and maybe camp.
Found myself just sat for a min.. lost in the silence
‘ your supposed to be there on that seat beside me I say out loud to you.
I feel your hand squeeze mine
I’m here you tell me .
The sun is shining.
But I’m sure it was brighter when you were here.
Memories so vivid.
They often become dreams
Like slipping behind the veil .
To replay to remember.
To see you.
Lying on the deck of a boat.
A boat with a stick you’d call it.
One of your favourite places
Hot sun, cool wind.
Black and gold plays on the radio.
Turquoise blue of the Mediterranean surrounds us.
As we sail off the coast of Turkey to forgotten caves and deserted beaches.
There is a gust of wind and the hat that was covering my eyes is now floating beside the boat a tiny speck in the blue blue sea..
I hear you laugh, your long black hair unruly.
The smell of coconut sun oil
As you tilt your head and smile.
I know what your thinking.
This is perfect
I smile as you squeeze my hand.
I close my eyes and listen to you sing along.
And the stars fell out of the sky
And the tears rolled into the ocean
And now I’m looking for a reason why
You even set my world into motion
‘Cause if you’re not really here
Then the stars don’t even matter
Now I’m filled to the top with fear
That it’s all just a bunch of matter
‘Cause if you’re not really here
Then I don’t want to be either
I wanna be next to you
Black and gold, black and gold, black and gold
I go back there often ..
To lie on that boat
Next to you.
Black and gold, black and gold, black and gold.
This is the link to our Healing Cabin Podcast.
All things holistic.
Pull up a chair get yourself a warm drink and relax
Please share if you enjoy.
If there is anything holistic or spiritual you would like to hear featured.
Drop me an email
Excited to share the latest addition to my #etsy shop: Polished shungite spiral Pendant https://etsy.me/30PTIbO
As a kid I loved old western films.
They were escapism.
Not the cowboys I was always on the side of the Indians , I’d be devistated when tipi’s were burned Indians homes moved .
Equally id be thrilled when cowboys lost.
Spending much of my time as a kid outdoors avoiding my family it was the outdoor living that appealed to me.
When the fair came to the estate id be drawn like a moth to a flame.
Caravans outdoor living.
A tribe that lives differently on the outskirts of the norm. over the years I guess not much has changed .
I’d rather sleep under canvas then in a house I’m lucky to have found my hubby who is equally as in love with the outdoor life.
As you know I live on a canal in small cottage in Wales .
Tiny street twenty nine cottages and a converted chapel.
Behind each door is a different story.
It’s not a street of shiny cars and neighbors that don’t know who lives next door .
It’s my tribe very like an accidental commune .
Extended family I love this place and it’s people.
We range from Mick who’s 83, to Rachel and her babies at top of the street .
Mental health, vulnerable adults, kids, teenagers , self employed, unemployed, widows married couples and single mams.
You may know also have a second cottage Ravens Retreat at the back of it is my therapy cabin.we provide completely free breaks for cancer patients / mental health and counseling for veterans.
All in memory of my best friend Donna Drewson.
Who sadly left us on 11.09.2018
As a community we are quite a diverse lot but we fit.
Like a jigsaw.
Like those Indians in the westerns .
It’s feels particularly like that at the moment.
We are like the Indians that are desperately trying to protect and fight for their sacred land. .
The cowboys are national resource Wales,
Neath council ,
And leeders port tenant canal.
It’s a battle since or home were flooded by first storm Callum Oct 2018
Then Feb 2020 by Storm Dennis
Most of us lost everything on ground floors of our homes. Plus our cars .
Me and my hubby lost everything in our cottage, ravens Retreat. and our healing room .
Under 3 foot of sewage .
It’s funny that when something like this happens you have no time to be heart broken although of course I was. But from the min that water spewed up through the toilet bath and the letter box you go into some sort of surreal automatic pilot.
When the last deluge came I was standing under the under pass at 2.30am in morning with Jon my neighbor we were praying it wouldn’t breach the wall.
Suddenly a red van stopped on the bridge overhead and shouted at us to get back to RUN .
it was like a bad horror film a huge tree was blocking the bridge acting as a dam .
So we ran..
Rain pouring as we ran down the uneven toe path, stumbling in pot holes.
Through my front door over the two pathetic sand bags we had been given by the council.
Heart banging in my head as I shouted to Jeff who was taking things upstairs.
I looked out the window and the water came over the wall like a wave.
The canal became a river and poured over the garden wall I shouted again to Jeff and we preceded to try to stop the water.
It was pointless .
But we tried .
Towels at back of front door and in letterbox .
I ran to the back door the most foul smell as the raw sewage spewed like horror movie sewage chocolate fountains..
I slipped and fell onto the kitchen floor within minutes my tiny dog was swimming.
I shouted to Jeff we have to help the twins .
Erica and Joanna live next door and I could hear them crying.
Jeff looked at me wading in water I begged him to come upstairs.
We were soaking everything was floating.
Still I’m on auto pilot
I open back bedroom window shout to the girls next door to stay up stairs .
As I phone fire brigade.
I need the toilet but it’s downstairs. Jeff fetches a bucket .
The fire brigade are on their way and all lights go out. It’s pitch black I light tea lights the cat comes through the bedroom window.
I hear sirens .
They are coming to front of houses with dinghys
I shout down I’m not coming tell them to get the twins out.
They tell me I have to leave .. but I don’t ..
I shut the bedroom window
I can’t I don’t know why but I just can’t go.
Morning comes we haven’t slept I tried I keep hearing the man in the van shouting run! The girls crying the water is still high .
The smell is vile.
I worrying about Ravens retreat my cabin.
The patients that are relying on us for breaks for treatments.
Jeff holds me..
Don’t worry he says I’ll fix it.
Three words that ruin me.
He’s almost sixty he’s fit and good for his age a grafter he’s done it after the last flood .
Having to do it again
This was not the plan.
We have no insurance.
We did have after first flood then they wouldn’t cover us .
Don’t think about it he says it will be okay .
We start to bail.
My phone rings .
Colleges from NHS friends are all on their way .
My daughter who’s I’ll with auto immune collitus Wade’s through 3 foot of water to rescue my dog and kitten.
The clean up begins AGAIN.
as the water leaves the cottages. We are left with a layer of sewage coating everything.
We move from each others houses supporting each other .
Men lifting out furniture .
Carpets laminate floors.
Children’s toys .
People’s lives pile up Infront of there ruined homes .
Council wagons take it away then come back for more.
The media arrive they call us the forgotten street.
I’m at the front to be interviewed determined needing everyone to know we need help.
We need the promised preventative measures.
Telling them this is the second time .
Begging for help
A young couple stand outside their home newly weds.
The letting agent arrives tells them their tenency is ended.
They stand in wet sewage soaked clothes homeless.
I want to scream to cry.
The electricity comes back on I offer to make soup for everyone then realize the cooker is full of sewage.
I ring my boss explain.
Ask for emergency leave .
Carry on cleaning people bring food , strangers come to help,
Eventually both cottages are empty .
The boiler in retreat is 6 months old is ruined.
My cabin my books everything gone.
My daughter tweeted my story I was contacted about the Retreat by Michael Sheen .
Who wanted to help.
That was the point the tears came.
Tears of relief .
I don’t mind not having things fixed in our house but the thought of letting people down in Ravens Retreat who were end of life loosing free holidays killed me.
I felt helpless.
Michael offered to get our oil boiler repairs sorted which was my biggest expense and one I just couldn’t afford. Im honestly I’m beyond grateful.
I know he’s famous well know and lives part time in the States. but he’s a valleys Welsh man who knows his roots and cares, really cares about others about things that matter . I honestly can never thank him enough.
He then went on to raise money for flood victims all over Wales .donations came in from everywhere .
The Ravens Retreat benefited from that too replacing our ruined front door and windows .
We now don’t have a letterbox!
I’m so in awe of people’s kindness.
That was February the Corona virus came In march .
Every thing stopped.
The forgotten street our canalside tribe was forgotten again.
By all those agencies who had previously promised us preventative measures.
Where were the people to dredge the river?
The people to higher the wall?
to clear the aqueduct?
The water board to fix the drains the surveyors to check the walls under the British legion.
Social distancing they said.
Higher up the valley there was work in the rivers.
Here in Canalside nothing.
It was locked down we were stuck we started a Facebook page a private page for our residents our tribe Canalside.
We sorted out shopping reassured everyone that needed help shared shopping had veg delivered cooked for others we went on to work on our houses.
We did what we could it was surreal the world has stopped but we had to carry on to rebuild our canal side paradise.
I had to think of something so I suggested that we clear the river ourselves.
There is tons and tons of debris. The bridge arches and the aqueduct had been smashed in the last storm they had promised us it would be removed it was now June if it wasn’t done before September we’ve been the same position again. Another flood.
Every time it rained the anxiety within me would rise.
So I organised a street clear up of the river bed.
I contacted Michael Sheen told him about plans and asked if he could help.
We rang ITV news. They told me they were still filming Corona virus news.
I told them Michael would be there.
That swung it.
That day was awesome.
Mick 83 and Colin 71 in charge of wheelbarrows.
Paul balenced on a a deralict aquaduct.
Lee , wynne, moereen
Everyone from the street who could be there was there all sporting orange buckets it rained but we didn’t care we were in the river socially distancing.
Paul and Jude are shielding we took photos to keep them in the loop.
Of us moving debris showing the UK how much we loved our street how we wouldn’t be forgotten we were tribe.
The twins were there, Rachel with the children ,
Vicky, Mave, Gemma and the kids Stuart, Steve, Jon and Anna .
Michael Sheen was amazing he told them our story that he had the platform to be heard and rightly said that without him our voices should still be heard.
National resoures Wales turned up and promised us that before the end of July there would be machinery in the river to clear 600 tons of stones of trees of debris it felt like a victory a small one but at last something was being done.
Last week they arrived I was so thrilled when I saw them in the river I sobbed I don’t think I’d realise how much the whole situation was affecting me at that moment I did.
News travels fast and before long we are all up looking over the wall all everyone smiling.
We have a meeting setup for the end of the month you asked everyone to attend all the agencies they have promised his help.
The day after they started to clear the river they stopped not because they’ve finished because they’d only just started maybe they’ll be back the day after we thought.
But they haven’t been back.
Another item to be discussed at the meeting.
I sat here today and suddenly the reality hit me it’s almost August we could be flooded in September .
We haven’t recovered from the last flood.
How hard can it be to put the preventative measures in place to save our homes to save us our tribe. If someone were badly hurt or killed but they do it then?
Will it cost a life?
I will be like the Indians will they move us from this sacred place the place that we love.
It isn’t just our cottages it’s each other who will help the twins?
Who will cook for Mick? Who will Jeff laugh and joke with if John and Steve are not there?.
Why are we forgotten?
It breaks my heart to think the everything I have dreamed of everything that Jeff has built for me this retreat ravens retreat could be gone everything here for cancer patients for for mental health for war veterans.
Cottage breaks counselling psychotherapy it’s all free.
Years ago when I tell people what I plan to do do most people said you can’t do that for free.
Because I know no it’s a bit isn’t free there will always be someone who misses out someone who can’t afford it so it had to be free and it’s worked I’ve had the most amazing people stay with us they come as strangers and they leave as friends and to think that this could end now that really does break my heart.
Because in reality we have two houses on a flood plain that are worth nothing and a cancer retreat that is ireplaceable.
It’s a feeling of helplessness but we won’t stop fighting until the agencies involved listen to us for we are canalside we are tribe.
I live in a cottage on the side of a canal. I have a healing centre and I offer free breaks to cancer patients we have a counselling service and in my spare time I walk my dog in some of the most beautiful places on earth here in Wales.
I like reading tarot, crystals and crafting firepits, camping and laughing with the amazing friends that I have made while I’ve been here Wales.
Does my life sound? perfect I suppose it is.
Because this canal the work that I do is paradise it’s my paradise.
At 55 always been a bit of a rebel I suppose I still am sporting spiky hair shaved sides hippie clothes I’m bare foot most of the time I’m comfortable in my own skin I like who I am.
Believe me that’s taken a while.
So if you saw me if you met me and you knew all this.
What would be your opinion? Would you judge me what would you think as I’ve just said I have the ideal life.
My previous blog talks about the young man That we recently helped he was homeless and was wanted by the police.
Obviously we didn’t know this but it got me thinking about the different paths that we take in our life the choices we make. Because our story, our beginning ultimately paves the way to our destination. Wouldn’t you agree.
Rewind 45 years my story was different I didn’t have the best upbringing and that’s an understatement. I came from an incestuous family alcoholics, sexual physical and mental abuse.
That was my normal.
Yes that’s right normal. Because when you’re brought up being continually treated a certain way you believe that is the way life is.
Everyone must be the same behind closed doors inside all those houses.
It’s only when you get older you start to see the difference and then it’s too late.
Why too late? You’re different and it’s a secret and you can’t tell anyone.
Your the weird kid because their live is so much different than yours.
They could never understand and you don’t want to be different you want to fit.
It’s like a circle a rounder bout you just can’t get off.
I could go into more and horrendous details but that would just be like Scratching old wounds that I’ve worked so hard for a lifetime to nurse and to heal.
Occasionally there is something to remind me A flashback a nightmare a patient in work with a similar story that throws me right back there but my poker face is amazing.
I’m not that scared little girl That rebellious teenager, that fierce single mother anymore.
I’m not a victim.
So I guess the point I’m making is I’m one of the lucky ones.
Somewhere along the path there were signposts .
But despite everything I wouldn’t change a single day if I could go back have a different childhood I wouldn’t.
I know I can see you shaking your head.
What! you say?
the whole thing has been a journey my journey.
If I went back and change things I wouldn’t be sitting here right now in my cabin My sacred space by my cottage near the canal in Wales.
Yes I might have had an equally nice life but I want this one and everything that happened to me in the past has made me exactly who I am today.
I remember my father would call me gunner. Always gonna do this always gonna do that.
He’d tell me if aspire to be nothing but a whore.
For a long time I believed him .
Dispite all of this for as long as I can remember I wanted to live in Wales.
To escape my mother sister had a caravan in North Wales and she take me and my cousin
Once a year just a week but it was amazing there is a beach the chip shop and in Orchard where would climb up trees and I slept at night. I slept well.
So that was my wish I suppose it was cosmic ordering I just didn’t realise it at the time but no matter how bad things got or where my life took me And I can tell you there were some pretty dark places.
I dreamed of a magical place
I was going to live in Wales I was never sure how but I was going to do it.
I also wanted to go to University not sure why because I was never in school when I left home I was pregnant not for the first time.
18 years later I moved to South Wales. It wasn’t plain sailing I had countless disastrous relationships behind me but I was to determined to start new.
I went to University studied psychology human behaviour it fascinated me it still does Why people behave the way they do.
Nature versus nurture
I was hooked.
I carried on studied holistic therapies became a hypnotherapist reiki, reflexology counselling and psychotherapy i got a job working in community mental health I really felt like I was giving something back.
Making a positive difference.
You see one of the main things no matter how you try that sticks with you when you’re brought up in such a dysfunctional family is that needing that wanting to fit wanting a family.
I remember years ago after my mother died and a counsellor said to me there’s no such thing as the waltons every family has its problems and it took awhile to say that she was right.
In 2002 I met a guy whilst out for a drink with my friend he was quiet an unassuming Shy even. We became friends he was different than anyone else I’ve ever met we were opposites but then You know what they say about that so to cut a long Story short eventually we were married
We bought our cottage by the canal. By this time I was working in end of life care and it was a dream of mine to have somewhere anyone with an end of life diagnosis could come for a free break to get away from appointments and just to be themselves three years ago we bought small cottage in our street it was my dream.
That cosmic ordering finally is coming true.
My husband is amazing I dream it he builds it So now we have a beautiful cottage lots of people benefit from it.
A healing cabin And I can honestly say I couldn’t be happier. I finally found that place I fit.
One day I’m going to have a farm no animals but an open space and a bigger Retreat therapy cabin and celebrant services.
I’ve put it out there to the universe
Everything I do is there a reason I’m paying it forward I’m so unbelievably thankful for the journey I have been on.
I’m aware it could have been so very different.
And as I said in my previous blog about the young boy last week who was homeless I can’t ever turn anyone away.
Because truly there by the grace of God god go I .
I’ve had a lot to think about this week and it’s made me reflect about the way we see people. Even though we don’t intend to judge I think sometimes most of us do.
2-weeks ago friend of mine was contacted through her website by a young man who was homeless and looking for a safe place to pitch his tent and somewhere to charge his phone.
Being in lockdown this proved more difficult than ussual.
My friend runs a country pub with rooms and so she decided to let him stay. He was a very polite young man excellent manners quietly spoken he didn’t ask for anything but was very very grateful for the roof of his head.
I arrange to go over to see him he needed a new rucksack his old one was tattered and in pieces. I bought him a rucksack it wasn’t too expensive but did the job and also asked about to friends of mine who had son’s his age and size and very kindly clothes were donated.
He was over the moon very humble and again very grateful. He told us a little bit about his life he said he’d lived Outdoors for a long time that he didn’t like to be thought of as homeless it was his choice he was a bit of a nomad and loved been out in the countryside.
Whilst staying with my friend he would be up early and out exploring the beautiful countryside around the pub waterfalls mountain walks he loved it.
He told us he worked casually and there is someone in Cardiff he had done some casual work for who owed him some money he was going to bring it to him that week and after that he’d be leaving Wales to stay with friends who had bought a farm just outside of Southport in the North West of England.
He came over to my house to have dinner with my family whilst in the kitchen he looked at me and said I can’t believe it’s only been three weeks and ‘I’ve met so many lovely people who have been nothing but kind to me.’ I knew these words we’re coming from his heart.
I gave him a crystal I have made into a pendant and wished him well I told him to keep in touch and if he ever need help to come back to Wales.
He hugged me me and thanks me again. He was a genuinely lovely young man there are a few things about his story I didn’t seem to fit but I guessed somewhere along the line he’s been trouble but he had been nothing but polite courteous and grateful to myself and my friend.
2 Days Later he left on a train to go to the north of England I messaged him on Facebook later that day to see if he has arrived safely.
He assured me he had and thanks to me again telling me he would stay in touch. He stayed in touch with my friend and my daughter who lives in Swansea she was as equally taken with him as we were.
Then a few days later my friend and her husband return to Wales from a short break in Brighton the following morning the police were knocking at her door asking if they had seen or been helping a young man the name given was not the name of the young man we had helped.
But a photograph confirmed it was indeed the same person. He was wanted by the police for breaking bail and not appearing in court and had been on the Run since January. We were told he was dangerous not 21 as we had thought but 27 and from the south of England.
Yes we were shocked but we were also concerned as I said earlier there is absolutely no clue then he could have been dangerous. The police asked where he had gone and my friend told them the north of England but we didn’t have an address.
We were notified later that he had been arrested still in South Wales in the area where he had stayed. My daughter feels that’s on all those walks he went on he was probably looking for somewhere remote and hidden to pitch his tent.
He must have known the police had an idea he was in Wales. The police couldn’t tell us what he was wanted for or anything about him although they did tell us his real name. So we looked on Facebook and the internet and it seems there’s not much that you can’t find out.
I worked most of my life if in mental health nursing so I’m aware of people who have committed crimes I work closely with them in forensic units and I know show some of the people who have committed most terrible crimes look the same as you and I.
They don’t look like Monsters they don’t wear a badge you could be standing next to them in a supermarket. I’m also aware that people who have got onto the wrong path often have horrendous life stories behind them and I’ve been treated terribly themselves.
Please don’t think but I’m excusing any crime I’m not but I’m saying there’s always a story.
So I believe this young boy let’s call him Harry found kindness when he came to Wales. And in that kindness I hope some healing occurred I take people as I find them for who they are with me.
And I hope the kindness he was shown here he remembers. I think we’ve got to remember that old saying there by the grace of God go I.
Harry was someone’s son, brother and I suppose in a different dimension he could have been my son.
Would it stop me helping someone again definitely not who am I to judge anyone it may have only been for a few weeks but I believe the kindness that he was given helped him to show the person that he really is.
I wish him well and continue to send him healing and love.
We are all so multi faceted.
We are all many different things to many different people.
I don’t mean labels like, daughter, wife, mammy.
Although each of these alone carries different expectations.
I mean the parts of us that we comfortably show to others .
Do you know what I mean?
I love the people that I can be real with.
Honest and comfortable.
The ones that just get you.
There is something so comforting about fitting.
Laughing with someone until you ache.
Watching the night sky.
But I wonder how often we find those sorts of friends ?
Is it rare?
The ones that we can genuinely “just be” with.
We have so many acquaintances hundreds , thousands .but sometimes there’s that one that you feel that connection with.
The one who you think you must have know before.
No matter how often you see them or how far away you are .
You still know that they are there .
Those are your tribe
This is this month’s stress and anxiety release guided visualisation.
From my hypnotherapy column in the amazing Emma Heaven online Magazine.
So relax turn off your phone the next thirty mins are just for you!
Click on you tube link
These last few months have been history in the making.
What ever you believe regarding the origin of the corvid 19 pandemic it has affected us all.
Never before has something touched us globally.
I live in a small terrace of canalside cottages.
2020 had been challenging before the pandemic we had to deal with the trauma of being hit by floods that ruined our homes destroyed our possessions twice in fifteen months.
But we are an amazing community and we had helped each other through it.
With love support cleaning each other flooded homes endless cups of tea and smiles.
Over half the families had to move out whilst their homes were rebuilt.
We stayed grafting my hubby jack of all trades repairing our cottage and the cancer retreat we run.
Then a month later Covid arrives bringing more disruption in a very different way.
So now we are in lockdown my hubby’s garage closes.
The tiny street is quiet
The building work stops. No one can get building supplies social distancing affects our community in a completely different way.
The street seems surreal only eight houses out of thirty are occupied.
We open at Canalside page on Facebook and we keep in touch through the page if one of us is going shopping with post to ask does anyone else in the street need anything picking up? Is everyone ok does anyone need any help
we arrange local businesses to deliver fresh fruit and veg.
we look after elderly residents check they have enough food and they’re feeling ok. Mental health is more important now than ever.
Thursday evenings we stand outside clapping for the key workers waving to each other smiling we are Canalside we are community we are family the floods strengthened our community the pandemic even more.
The more challenges this street has the closer our community becomes.
It really is a magical place to live
Thankfully the weather is good.
Newspapers and every day on TV they tell us the death toll rises they tell us to wash our hands to only go out to buy essential shopping not to visit close family or friends and to stay stay six feet apart.
when I was 16 very long time ago I spent my time chained to the fence at greenham common protesting about cruise missiles fearing for the future of my children I was 16 at the time and pregnant.
I had hitched a lift from my home just outside of Wigan to greenham common I’ve been befriended by a group of Welsh women who would sit and chat about the fear the nuclear weapons.
Each of them had been taken there by the fear they felt for their families future we would join hands singing blocking the path of these huge lorries transporting these huge cruise missiles.
Women trying to make a difference to change the world
Women of all ages from so many different backgrounds but with one common belief life is indeed precious
it seems strange now that this pandemic has created the same wave the fear but this time it is a fear of something none of us can actually see.
That experience as a young teenage pregnant girl instilled something within me I always believed that people are inherently good. This gift this realisation was given to me by those women at greenham common.
And I’ve lived by that positive thought ever since I’m not saying that life is a bed of roses but I am saying that life is sometimes hard but it is always beautiful.
I always remember their unshakable belief in a better world when I need hope and reassurance.
That when something threatens the thing that we love the most our families our communities then so many of us stand up to protect those things.
We’ve pulled together and we try your best to make a positive difference.
So it’s been 8 weeks now since this pandemic and lockdown began “pandemic “it’s global and we’ve I’ll have to slow down we’ve all had more time on our hands we’ve had time to think what matters most to us to reflect we have witnessed so many things that have happened in this world and those things have often been positive.
And I thought of that circle of strong Welsh women.
Here in the UK we have the national health service it’s .
Don’t get me wrong I think it’s always been appreciated but it’s always been struggled under financed I work for the NHS and I’ve seen so many changes over the years we haven’t got enough staff we haven’t got enough beds, psychiatrists supplies, the list is endless I could go on but you get the picture.
When something goes wrong within the community or crime happens and it’s a mental health patient it’s mental health services that are blamed but often it’s a deeper problem that we really just can’t cope. Huge caseloads closure of wards .
Patients are sent home from hospital far too early in my opinion there are so many unsafe discharges but that’s because we haven’t got the beds and patients are accused of bed blocking this is all down to the government.
My daughter-in-law works in general nursing and it’s a very similar story there too waiting list for operations are years if you would like a counselling appointment if you are suicidal 12-months 18 months how can that be?
but that’s the way is a wonderful NHS has been slowly run into the ground the staff are on their knees but now in 2020 during this pandemic we have seen people out on the streets clapping for the NHS politicians who have deprived us of money who haven’t supported us a clapping for the NHS I wonder and I hope if after the pandemic they will realise just how amazing the staff and the service is.
it has broken my heart to see friends of mine going into work dealing with this virus with no PPE armed with only a an apron and an inadequate mask.
This is true care they don’t go into work for the money obviously they need their pay packets but the pittance they are paid is nothing compared to the service that they give willingly everyday.
And I think is a nation we have been reminded of this throughout these difficult times.
as I said earlier the weather has been amazing and that in itself has been a blessing I can’t imagine coping with lockdown if it been raining or terrible weather and we are all stuck inside.
What a difference no aeroplanes and no traffic has made. Everyone has commented look up how blue are the skies how quiet are the roads less pollution less chemtrails
We’ve had reports of wildlife roaming in city centres of dolphins swimming in the canals of of Venice clearer water in lakes less pollution breathed in surely all of this is positive.
Families are getting to know each other interacting more walking together.
How many people walked before the pandemic I know the footfall past our cottage on the canal has probably quadrupled.
Just these few things we can reflect on and maybe keep some of the changes we’ve had to make.
I don’t think we can ever get back to “normal” because in reality the way we were living wasn’t at all normal.
Isn’t it sad that it’s taken a pandemic for most of us to notice this?
So before this ends maybe we could take that time of reflection to go inside ourselves and to ask what are the changes we would like to keep.
Because this really is history in the making so when our grandchildren ask us about the pandemic of 2020 what will be the story we tell them? What will the world be like that they are living in and how will we have helped to create that.
This is our planet our world our country our community and it’s up to us to take personal responsibility so will you be that change you want to see?
Remember life is often hard but always beautiful
In my lonley and self imposed fortress of darkness.
Wrapped in a foggy cocoon, playing inner cine films of you.
In a large empty theatre for one.
Talking to you of how lost that I feel
Listening and knowing all your replies. making new deals as I stare up at the night sky.
Wishing for just one more day spent with you.
To just watch the clouds maybe share a drink or two.
Dancing to pink and taking you home
Then waking and knowing I’m still here
Without the madness of my random best friend
Knowing I must go on get a grip and not spend.
Days fretting without you I have no choice but to be strong
Knowing your still.beside me
Knowing what you would say
You’d give me a row
For loosing my way
And so now I have
found the courage to lite a candle within myself.
Embracing the shadows asking for enlightenment.
In the darkness of grief I found my true self.
I was not completly lost.
For the flickering of the returning light.
I found this note I had written at the end of 2019 before the madness of 2020.
It’s seems a life time ago .
When we could sit next to strangers and chat in a public place.
I wonder how the lovely gentleman is now.
I pray he is okay.
I kid you not people are wearing hats and coats.
I think it’s warmer outside in the winter sun.
Is the heating broken?
I sit watching an array of people walk through the doors.
I work for the NHS encounter the affects of cutbacks everyday.
It’s affecting patients and staff.
It’s going to hell in a hand cart.
The staff are amazing we care but you can’t pour from.an empty vessel and believe me we are scraping the bottom.
Hailed as best heath provider in the world but for how long..
I feel so sad as I look around
An elderly couple sit beside me. Chat about lack of disabled parking.
He leans his head on his hands.
Milky eyes, papery skin and wrinkles tell a thousand stories.
He struggles for breath, she smiles. C.o.p.d.
Years down the pit she says.
I smile my heart aches. I come from a mining town I know the graft the blue scars and toil of pit men
All my life he says as if reading my mind.
My son’s too.
One still a miner now he’s says with pride in his rasping voice.
Our other boy is a teacher she says in Australia. I think that I hear relief in her proud words.
We are hoping to get a nebuliser to help him breath marvellous they are.
Expensive maybe we can get one now,
his chest is so much worse than the last appointment.
Maybe? I think?
Why oh why hasn’t he got one now?
This lovely proud hard working man.
Struggling to breath without complaining
Worked all his life
Asked for nothing.
Time that should be enjoyed.
Outdoors with his loving family.
He sits in a cold hospital corridor.
On a shabby uncomfortable chair.
Struggling for breath.
Where is his rewards
For a life hard worked.
Give him all that he needs.
Give it to him now.
How can you be expected to wait to breathe?
He smiled as they call his name.
Goodbye he says with a wink.
Nice to meet you.
It’s a honour to meet you sir. I say as he shakes my hand
I forget about the cold.
As I concentrate on the wonder and blessing of my breath.
I had walked through the graveyard under a ink black sky.
Heading to my favourite cross roads to perform my ancestor ritual.
There is a beautiful avenue of ancient yew trees in this tiny 13c churchyard an ideal place to honour our ancestors.
The sky so clear I sat down beside the end of a ivy covered tombstone my son Matthew and I have been estranged for quite some time and today as most days he had been on my mind.
The atmosphere this night was heavy.
I sat looking at this old tombstone covered in ivy and moss. who are you I whispered.Opened my bag took out my candles and incense placed them beside the coffin shaped base.
Something told me this is where I needed to be.
I gave thanks to my ancestors who have walked before me.
Sat with my black mirror to scry then after ritual I sat watching the sun rise birds began to sing.
I was still sat on the grave stone I began to pull at the ivy. It had pushed its way into the stone but somehow it felt the right thing to do.
Who are you I asked again as slowly a name was revealed.
My samhain companion.
I chatted away until I had a full name..
Died.. I smiled..
Samhain.31 October 1888.
He had been hidden in in knot weed and brambles covered in ivy for years and years.
I remember you Matthew Goodridge.
I said out loud touching the top of the stone.
Further down were the names of Matthews two daughters.
Sarah Anne 14
And Tirzah 9.
In the blink of an eye he was gone.
I looked over towards the yews and the big wrought iron gates
But there is no one about.
A crow caws above me.
Your welcome Matthew I say.
As I pick up my bag..
The sun light picks our the names on the stone.
I’ll be back soon to finish tidying .
That was two years ago.
Since Matthew and I met.
I go there often to keep the ivy at bay I have found the missing end piece of the tomb dug it up repaired and fixed it back into its original place.
He is my peaceful place
An ancestor of this land I call home.
He won’t ever be forgotten whist I speak his name.
I will remember him.
Matthew Sarah and Tizah my samhain ancestors of this place that I love.
I’m not sure about the phrase “self isolation”
It conjours up thoughts of loneliness.
Especially for the elderly
If back in December someone close to us had suggested that a world wide pandemic would be with us in twelve months
Borders closed, normal people would turn into selfish beings panic buying food medicines and baby milk.
There would be an even bigger pandemic of mass fear inducing self isolation and social distancing
Would we have believed it could happen so quickly? As I write I feel I’m discribing a plot a of a Margret Atwood novel.
Yet here we are.
Everyday a new chapter unfolds. This week schools in Wales will close for the foreseeable.
People are working from.home if they can. Supermarket shelves are empty old people stand in the rain outside doctors surgeries waiting for their medication to be brought out by masked staff .
Social distancing forgotten as they huddle under umbrellas
I hear people saying the world has gone mad.
Everything has slowed down. Venice canals are now clear dolphins visit
There are no planes over head pumping chemitrails into the sky.
The usual bustle of shoppers riding by each other unoticing has calmed .
Although everyone is worried I’ve noticed more smiles.
Concern for family friends, strangers. The flip side of the panic buying.
Let’s try to focus on what we can do. Instead of what we can’t
Pick up your phone for a chat with family and friends.
Read the book you haven’t had time to pick up.
Discover the joy of podcasts and radio plays.
When weather allows it get out into the garden spring is coming .
If you don’t already try meditation.
The power of visualisation can take you anywhere. YouTube is a good place to start.
The world hadn’t stopped it’s just slowed down. Maybe she will take the time to breathe and to heal.
Maybe we can too.
When all this is over remember this is history in the making.
Our great grandchildren will learn about 2020 in school.
The year that everything stopped and changed..
Let the next line be ..
For the better..
Canalside one street our story.
Listen to the most recent episode of my podcast: One story of one street https://anchor.fm/joolz-raven-stewart/episodes/One-story-of-one-street-eb5apj
OPEN LETTER TO PRIME. MINISTER, GOVERNMENT, ENVIRONMENT AGENCY, PRINCE CHARLES PRESIDENT OF THE CANAL AND RIVER TRUST. NEATH COUNCIL .
I also run a non profit cancer retreat (soon to gain charity status)
I provide completly free breaks, a soul midwife service, celebrant service, counseling and therapies for patients with life limiting illnesses and their loved ones
Lots of people said I wouldn’t be able to do this completly free, but they don’t know about the magic and support of canalside.
We have been doing it for over two years. Provide lots of beautiful people with a safe happy space to forget about hospital appointments and just to be themselves
To walk on our beautiful canal explore local areas supported by us and our neighbors.
October 2018 were devistated by storm Callum all our hard work and love Ravens retreat was ruined.
To the powers that be.
Prime minister, government, environment agency, Neath council. Prince Charles president of canals & rivers trust.
It’s a almost a week since storm Dennis devistated our little street Canalside.
We are a terrace of 29 old but beautiful cottage as the name suggests we are nestled by the side of the Tenant Canal.
You hear older people talk of how it used to be when people look after each other, you could ask neighbors for help, leave your door open. When there was real communities.
I always smile feel proud and blessed because canalside is exactly that they are describing us. Canalside.
I know everyone in our street.
We are a tribe.
We look out for each other, we remember birthdays, pick up shopping, give lifts when needed, fix cars, we don’t live in each others pockets but we have always got each others backs you get the picture.
But we hadn’t had flooding here since early 90s so we pulled together as a community baled water/ sewage dried out the cottages hacked of plaster dug up floors, pulled out fitted kitchen, white goods sofas furniture clothing toys nothing was salvageable due to the sewage imagine a film.of human waste covering everything you own.
Strangers came to help, we had no electricity for days but canalside residents stuck together unbreakable bonds were made, strangers were now friends .
It took us from October 2018 of storm Callum to June 2019 to recover
The sun shone we welcomed home those who had moved out whilst builders re built their homes.
Ducks, geese , the dog walkers passed our cottage again our community breathed a sigh of relief we were home, together.
Life went on.
We welcomed families for cancer breaks from at Helens , Liverpool, North Wales, Swansea .
A word they often used to describe canalside was magical.
I vividly remember our first group of ladies after the flood Viv and Jule. Were friends from my hometown of St Helens.
Viv had just finished radiotherapy. A mural friend had rang to ask if she could join them with her best friend who was having chemotherapy for a terminal diagnosis.
Everything was arranged and they traveled down together
You see that’s what Ravens Retreat (wish cottage project) is all about.
Fulfilling wishes and dreams giving people hope
We are so much more than a little cottage in a little street.
When Bex Viv, Shaz and Julie drove away at the end of a perfect week the sun shone their car radio blared they sang at top of their voices .
They arrived from Liverpool after a long drive I introduced myself to Bex she smiled but looked quite and lost, she was wearing a back brace and they had wondered if the drive over would be too long but she had been determined to come.
As the four of them looked around our retreat slowly Bex began to smile.
That week was truly wonderful.
They sat by our fire pit, sunbathed on the decking, drank wine laughed lots discussed hopes and fears.
Bex confessed wanting to climb mountain.
Leave it with anything is possible in Canalside.
It was a sunny day when we drove into Swansea to mumbles pier.
We had lunch then
I sat on the beach beside Bex there’s your mountain I smiled pointing at the light house on the hill.
Her face lit up..
I sat in the dun watching her slowly but surely climb up the hill to mumbles lighthouse..
She stood at the top wind in her hair waving over to me..
That will always be Bex’s mountain.
My heart smiled.
The girl who arrived looking quite and tired left glowing happy and smiling.
I’m privalaged to call her my friend
And to have been part of her journey sadly Bex died a few months later.
Why am I telling you this? It’s because although you ‘see’ the floods on T.V and a few of you may walk down the street you don’t get to know our stories.
You come then leave to sit in warm houses without the real fear of ‘What if’ hanging over you when you go to bed, or if your in work and it starts to rain.
Behind each door of each cottage is a story.
A family just like yours .
I want and need you to know how loved and important this small street is.
So a week later after our second flood in sixteen months we have done the same again.
We pulled together bailed sewage,
cared for our vunerable less able neighbors.
New strangers have arrived we have lost all our possessions again..
Because the preventative measures promised were not honoured.
This time I have no insurance.
Not because I chose not to because I couldn’t get cover after storm Callum
A £6000 oil central heating boiler a beautiful sofa bed bought for patients who are too weak to get upstairs.
All our white goods, carpets, crockery all contaminated again by sewage .
Preventative measures that we were promised didn’t happen.
Why am I writing to you a week later..
Because as I clean up the mess in my bedroom that has been trodden upstairs all week
I have found a pile of thank you cards from people who have stayed with us . A letter from my best friend Donna Drewson who died September 11 2018 telling me how proud she was of me and the Retreat.
She always believed in me
Everything we have done is in memory of her.
Finally my strength left me.
I sat on my bed and sobbed.
I want to believe that you neath council, environment agency the water board, local government prince Charles and the prime minister have took on board our dilemma.
That this time you will do something preventative to help us.
My greatest fear is a few months down the line the reporters news crews will leave.
Council will be spending money on speed bumps and once again we will be forgotten.
So prime minister, local government.
Put your wellies on.
Knock on our doors hear our voices our stories.
Talk to us.
We are worth saving
Do I want to move?
Of course not.
Where else could I find such a melting pot of amazing people
It may not be your idea of paradise but it’s ours .
Please help us preserve it.
Yours in hope
So I’ve been I’ll all day V &D due to the 3 ft of raw sewage that spewed it’s way into my cottage early hours Sunday morning.
Beginging of storm Dennis.
We knew what to expect we endured exactly same 18 months ago storm Callum
I’ve been reading alot in praise of what council and environment services have done for canalside (our forgotten street) in this flood ..
Here are a few facts
I live at no 20 no one was there in the street when the flood came at 2.30 / 3 am
No one came apart from the guys dropping off 4 sand bags and placing one useless row at top of the street.
I moved here 14 years ago and a team of council employees came to do a dummy run of what would happen in a red alert
They came fitted new flood gates front and back.
Then they promptly took them off and put them back on the lorry?
Asked if we could keep them we were told no that on red alert they would be brought out and fitted along with advice and help to elderly and vunerable to lift furniture ect
So storm Callum…
WHERE WERE THEY
Storm Dennis WHERE WERE THEY?
No one knows where these flood gates are?
No one knocks doors helps the vunerable warns us
We look.after our own
There was a meeting in the legion after Callum
Promises made about prevention highering walls, finding elusive flood gates,
More storm drains
And money from Europe for flood victims … False confidence given to vunerable people.
I have been scrubbing what can only be described as liquidised s@@t from all surfaces in my cottage the sewage was 3ft deep spewing up from toilets bath sink.
Help advice on contaminated water would have been helpful
Also we have vunerable tenants in the street in rented property.
Land. Lords now have to have a licence (rent smart Wales)
One young couple have had their tenency ended by their landlord no where to go…
The twins having to stay with a friend as their land lord has failed to help and find them.alternative accommodation.
It’s easy for people who aren’t experiencing this devistation for second time in 18 months to sit in their warm dry uncontaminated homes
With their opinions
They aren’t living it.
Not only is my home ruined my car is too.
For the amazing people who have knocked on our doors and walked the walk with help and support… I truly am grateful.
But council and services could have done so much more BEFORE and after the event FACT
So my little rescue dog Mavis who came to us at just over a year so very nervous.
She had lived in a flat never been outside at all.
The flat was covered in dog poo and she was fed on scraps .
She came to us in such a sorry state and after a yeAr with us she would still run under the sofa and hide if anyone called in.
I thought maybe this was the best she would ever get.
Then a few weeks ago I was asked if I’d like a little ginger rescue kitten.
We have two adult cats Lucifer and Luna who are both okay with Mavis but when they are not sleeping they are out so not much company so I said yes and we welcomed Brian into our cottage.
He is just what Mavis needed.
She adores him he is lively and lots of fun and has taught her how to play!
They really are best pals.
My little dog is changed she’s so confident and sleeps beside her new best friend.
Here they are ❤️
So Mavis seems to have fallen in love with her new house mate..
Brian our new addition a playful ginger kitten.
They adore each other
So I rang the police for help.
A welfare check is what I need
The curtains were closed the doors and windows locked
I couldn’t see inside, an overdose or had you cut yourself to bleed
Behind the front door a little dog barked
1970s bubble glass distorted my view.
Vertical letter box I strain but can’t catch sight of you
Gut feeling .
Something very wrong this I knew.
No answer on the house phone
No answer at the door.
You weren’t in a good place
Have you decided you can’t live life anymore.
I ring the police again
Are you on your way?
The car has been diverted.
There was an emergency on the way.
This is an emergency I tell them
My gut is never wrong.
There is nothing I can do until they get here
The but why are they taking so long?
Six hours later they arrive
Check with neighbors then break down the door.
A whimpering dog stands beside you.
Cold and lifeless
I guess you just couldn’t take anymore.
I’m left with a feeling of sadness
Feeling let down by a system that doesn’t care
When you needed protection and safe space
In the end there was nobody there
tiny ginger rescue kitten has moved into canalside.
Rescue no four.
I was stopping at three 🙉
But my friend sent me his photo and how could I say no.
So Loki joins Lucifer, Luna , and Mavis .
We love him already 💓
As a child I grew up with an alcoholic abusive father.
I grew up hating the way he treated us. Embarrassed that he would fall or fight in the street.
He constantly smelled of booze or vomit.
Not being able to bring friends home
Always feeling afraid.
It was always just one more drink.
There was a tiny piece of him that I adored.
The sober piece .
The man that taught me to love animals, whispered to horses, taught me to write poetry.
But as I grew up that piece all but disappeared I’d pray for a miracle it never came.
Eventually I learned you can’t have a relationship with alcohol and people
It’s either or.
It’s a completely self absorbed loop of selfishness
My mother wouldn’t leave so eventually I left home 17 and pregnant and never went back.
Last night made me think of the things that the universe gives us as part of our journey and learning.
I studied psychology as a mature student and eventually went into mental health a lot of the patients I’ve worked with over the years have drug and alcohol addiction.
Some addicted to class As or prescription drugs
Some to alcohol.
Some to both.
All self medicating for one reason or another
I have tried not to take them onto my case load.
Let someone else take them
Not because I wouldn’t work well with them.
Just because some situations are so near the bone for me.
No one knows my past.
But somehow the challenging patients they always work their way to me.
I support them with medication.
Getting to appointments.
Self help groups and working towards counseling then detox it that’s what they want.
It’s emotionally challenging in many ways.
Many (not all) are following patterned behaviour.
Or are self medicating due to physical, sexual or emotional abuse in their lives.
I see them in different moods drunk, high, sober.
But always at some point I see that spark that is really them .
That tiny piece that’s visabl when their guard is down.
That’s the piece that I nurture and nurse.
When they move on and are discharged or more to another service it’s so good to know you’ve played a small part.
Sometimes nothing works and it’s just not the right time for them to make a change
That really can be tough.
So for a year or so i haven’t dealt with drug or alcohol issues .
Being Christmas my dad has popped into my head it was never a great time of year as a kid just a excuse to drink even more.
Anyway last night I went over to my son’s to babysit my grand daughter.
She’s eighteen months old a fabulous age filled with curiosity and wonder.
My son was working and my daughter in law had a Christmas night out so off I went and had an evening of spoiling Emilia.
I drove home at 11pm and as you know I look be on a canal tow path so the road town past the cottages is poorly lit and full of pit holes and it’s pouring with rain.
Visibility is poor.
My car is bumping along up and down the pit holes I’m half way along and I see a small flash of white in the road.
Im going real slow there it is again I stop.
Put my lights on main beam and gasp.
There lying face down in the road is Peter the man from no 14.
He’s around 69 an alcoholic he’s lying in a water filled pot hole the white had been a reflective strip on his trainers
Thank the goddess I stopped I’d have run him over.
I jump out the car it’s lashing down.
Peter I shake him
He opens his eyes.
He’s so cold.
“Freezing” he says.
Can you get up?
Are you hurt? He smells of brandy and vomit
I’m kneeling in the rain and I feel ten years old.
His face is bruised I’m okay he says .
I manage to sit him up lean him on the wire fence.
His sister lives six doors up I’ve passed her house .
I run and bang the door
I bang harder
For f@@ks sake I think we live in a tiny street and no one is about.
I’m running back and phoning my hubby Jeff.
He’s asleep but within minutes hes with me helping Peter to his feet.
Then banging in his sister door until her husband and her come our to see what all the fuss is about.
He’s freezing I say and hurt I think you should take him to the hospital or phone an ambulance.
Jesus says Colin he left the pub at 9.15 he’s been there hours .
They get him into his house.
Thank you says Colin and and Jeff and I leave.
I deal with all sorts of situations in work but this has shaken me.
Jeff makes me tea.
If you hadn’t have been home late he would have been there all night he says.
He would have died from cold.
I know .
This mforning he’s still on my mind I see Colin as I drive out of the street.
Is Peter okay I ask.
Yes he says shaking his head .
I can’t believe he lay there in the rain for more than two hours
I’m glad he’s okay I say and drive off.
Tonight Jeff got home from work.
I just seen Peter he says.
He’s limping face all bruised looks terrible.
I cringe .
He was on his way up to the pub.
Said he needed a brandy.
Universe give me a break I’m failing to see what it is that your trying to show me.
I have some amazing women around me. This poem is for you. For us.
You are my circle.
Like moths to a flame we have found each other.
We are strong women
Wild women, funny. Clever sensitive. Passionate.
inspirational we are free.
We are poets, tellers of stories. Lovers. mothers, daughter’s, Sisters.
We have each others backs.
We are fortress like protectors.
Divine feminine energy
We are goddesses.
Star dust we are spirit.
I feel you for we are connected.
Strands of the same astral web.
We are sparks from the same bright flame
We are source.
Reach out know that I am always here for you
For I am you,
You are me
We are tribe.
No I don’t want a cup of tea.
There is an acrid taste of vomit in my mouth.
Questions asked and I hear them.
I hear them like I’m underwater or in a bubble?
It’s this real or is it a dream.
My head hurts if I move it.
The tea the police man has given me is stone cold.
My tears are warm as they run down my cheeks and splash into the tea cup.
I wonder how many tea cups of tears I will cry.
Enough to fill an ocean?
Rushing now that loud noise in my head.
Technicolour scenes I cannot pause or mute.
Play over and over.
Although my eyes are closed I still see it play.
I press my fingers hard into my temples as if they are stop buttons on a memory remote control
but batteries are dead nothing can stop it.
I’m not wearing any shoes.
My feet are dirty there is a scratch on my left ankle.
Dirt from my front garden I’d been out there all day pulling up privit hedges.
That’s where I was when my world changed standing barefoot grounded.in the April sunshine.
Surrounded by my children in the late afternoon I’ll just finish clearing up this mess then we will go down to pick up your Nan I told them.
A car pulled up in front of my house.
Suddenly I knew, that gut feeling. I felt it physical pain.
I caught my breath and I knew he had killed her.
My Mam. The only one I’d ever known my alcoholic father had finally done it.
The button was pressed the flashbacks began
The chaos was real.
I sorted out my children and got in the car stood in the door way of her flat.
I hear him singing in my head..
You are my sunshine my only sunshine…
Dark cloud of blood on her carpet marking where she had fallen hitting her head.
Her china cup, Mam inscribed in gold letters half full of cold tea on the window ledge.
Photos of my children on the walls I can smell olobis oil on a tissue she had used.
I hear a shrill scream then a gutteral howl. The cine film of memories in my head plays on.
The scream is mine. No I don’t want tea I want my Mam back.
People ask where the name of my retreat here in Wales came from
Here is my story
Little black bird.
She was small tiny in fact.
Not one of them, not part of this tribe and so she didn’t belong.
Saul the king of the crows had said her mother had been a visitor a maverick laying her egg in a nest here in the woods then leaving it to be hatched by one of the king sauls female mates.
Little bird had emerged small scrawny and different she didn’t fit.
The only thing about her that was like the murder of crows she lived with was her colour. She was blacker than the night.
Every day she was reminded that she wasn’t like them smaller not good enough she lived there but she didn’t belong there.
Saul the king was big and mean she had learned not to upset him dodge the sharp elbow of his mighty wing his shrill caw and she had many scars from his sharp beak.
She would wait until everyone had eaten before she dared to look for what scraps were left she survived by living and blending into the shadows.
She lived roosted and nested on the edge of the woods in an old oak tree in a small hollow of a branch near to where she had been hatched.
She knew there was no room for weakness in the woods where she lived the fittest survived the weakest didn’t
The seasons changed the wheel of the year turned new eggs hatched young were born and raised their gathering grew but she was not to see her young born.
Saul would fly into a rage smash her eggs killing her young before her eyes they didn’t stand a chance.
She wondered what was beyond this place her oak tree these woods the stream she dreamed of another place where she could fly and be free.
Then one warm summers evening as she glided alone on a warm summer breeze she was startled by a whoosh of wind as a beautiful huge black bird flew past her.
She watched as he darted and glided this way and that his call was different louder deeper and his feathers though black like hers were darker she followed him as he landed stealthy on an old oak tree on the otherside of the woods.
‘Where do you come from?’ asked the little black bird across the ocean far from here he said preening himself
The sun shone as they spoke of other worlds green valleys and oceans and the little crows heart fluttered.
Could I go to this place she asked?
The beautiful Raven cawed ruffled his feathers and laughed. He tilted his head his eyes were brown and in them she saw a reflection looking back at her.
She let out a caw,
Yes he said seeing the surprise on her face.
You can go anywhere, you too are a Raven.
‘Me a Raven?’ ‘Yes you.’
Why are you nesting with the crows their king is not a good being. His heart is blacker than his feathers,
Fly from here fly south look for the purple topped mountains and green valley’s there are others like us.
Do not be afraid any longer you are brave and stronger than you think you are a warrior little Raven. You can live anywhere you choose.
She flew back to the woods cawing out thanks to the Black Raven.
The king crow was getting old now his eyes were failing and suddenly she realised he wasn’t bigger or stronger and the fear she had felt for all those years roosting in the woods began to leave her.
She puffed up her chest and cawed loudly as she flew down to the place by the river where her smashed eggs and young were buried.
Her heart banged in her Raven chest she was afraid to go but more afraid to stay.
Head tucked under her wing she slept knowing this was the last night in her oak tree in this small woodland that had been her home since she had hatched in the wrong nest.
Tomorrow she would fly
She wished only for good weather and then she slept.
The next morning the sun came up she drank from the stream and caught sight of her reflection again in the water a raven there was new determined look in her eye.
She was no longer the tiny bird the outcast who had taken so many beatings.
A proud strong Raven stared back at her.
She cawed loudly. ‘Goodbye woodland of my youth.’
Gentle winding stream and old oak tree thank you for my shelter and quenching my thirst.
She heard King Saul caw a cruel laugh behind her.
‘Little bird’ he jeered. ‘Who do you think you are?’ ‘Where do you think you are going?’
I am not little bird I am Raven Storm. I am mighty brave and strong a warrior that is who I truly am. Today I shall fly and find my own path far from here.
King sauls eyes flashed anger ‘you dare speak back to your king you defy my orders?’
‘You would choose solitude and loneliness this is your place.’
The other crows waited for her to answer no one ever left this gathering no one ever left this gathering.
Raven puffed out her chest and spread out her wings ‘I am not your little bird. I choose freedom’
Lonleyness and solitude are yours
There was a gasp from all who gathered as Raven circled for the last time above the small woodland that had been her roost.
As all the crows begin to caw loudly a last goodbye.
The warm winds carried her south. Warm sun shone on her feathers and hope beat a drum inside her brave Raven heart.
She was free.
It’s almost that time of year again.
I work in community nursing and I see families on low incomes struggling to buy kids the latest I phone, lap top, scooter or whatever the latest craze is.
I’ve always struggled this time of year.
As a child it was the time my alcoholic farther would get more drunk than normal.
Fight in street more.
Well you get the picture everything he did
He managed more.
The thing I found hardest to understand was he would wish anyone who would listen HAPPY CHRISTMAS.
ALL THE BEST.
I’d walk beside him cringing more than normal.
I hadn’t quite got understanding hypocrisy yet.
The people he fought with all year, or didn’t like for a week or two he would be civil too.
I remembered asking my mam she shook her head shrugged her shoulders what do you mean?
She asked puzzled.
It’s Christmas .
So I suppose even somewhere at the bottom of dads home brew bottle it said good will to all at Christmas.
I didn’t understand.
I’d go over to my nans Christmas day.
My cousin’s Gary and Phil would be there same age as me.
Whist dad mam auntie aggie and uncle Peter would go over to the labour club to “celebrate”
We would play cards with Nan, look at old photographs as I think back I realize everything about her was about spending time with us.
Not distracting us with something to do.
She would be doing “it”
Her house was sparse she had minimal furniture old vinal sofa table and chairs yet she had everything.
She gave everything.
She was although I didn’t realize it until much later in life my greatest teacher the best example on how to live.
Don’t get me wrong she said things as they were.
She would tell you streight if you were wrong.
But she was loving and she was fair.
When eventually dad would roll up falling drunk being sick in the garden laughing and smelling of nothing but beer and whiskey.
She would always smile at me with sadness in her eyes
“It will be alright ” she would say.
It was early 1970s
Women didn’t argue with men.
Kids did as they were told.
When I think back she must have been heart broken these were her son’s.
The only thing she could do was let us know she was always there .
That was her greatest gift.
One of the lesson I learned was don’t just be nice smile and wish good will to all at Christmas
Get up everyday and resolve to be kind.
If you can’t say something nice.
So at this time of year my advice would be to anyone who asked.
Don’t spend money that you haven’t got on things that you don’t really need.
Spend time with those you love.
Spend time with a stranger a homeless person. Stop and chat ask if there is something you can do?
Ask the elderly in your community is there anything that they need?
Step away from your hypnotic phone.
Look into the eyes of real people.
Don’t buy expensive presents
Be present be here now.
Give your time. Yourself
How will you make a difference?
So today is the second birthday you’ve been gone.
I miss you Donna.
Everyday there is some thing new to miss.
Last night I drempt of you.
We were in your old house in bay street.
Decorating the Christmas tree.
Well you were it had to be perfect.
You were dancing to Pink
Glass of vodka and lemonade in your hand laughing long black hair shining
We sat together on your huge sofa
Guess what I’ve bought you.
I sigh roll my eyes.
Shall I give you a clue?
Tell you what it begins with?
Nooooo I laugh I’ll wait.
You loved Christmas.
Everything about it.
I woke up I could still.smell your perfume.
The rain battered at the window.
I heard your voice “raining on my birthday!”
Happy birthday I whisper.
I miss you.
Im working but plan to go to the cemetery on way .
I’ve bought you a happy feet penguin it’s so heavy
Concrete it’s a garden ornament.
I know you’ll love it.
I ring your daughter tell her I’ll meet her by the cemetery gates at 11.30 after I pick up flowers
Drive over to supermarket to pick up sun flowers for you.
As I’m driving pink comes on the radio.
I smile your everywhere I know your by my side.
There are no sunflower left I stand there and something catches my eye.
A Christmas tree a potted one with roots.
I think of my dream
Pick up the tree and a pack of baubles
Ten mins later I meet Sarah and Chloe and after I decorate the tree as symmetrically I can whist sat in a car in the rain
I take it to you.
Happy birthday love I say as we all get out of the car .
Sarah puts the star on top
Chloe ties a balloon to the little fence we put up in summer .
The dancing penguin and tree are just you Donna.
The rain has stopped .
Hope you like the tree I say
She would love it Sarah says
I know you do.
You’d be long gone
I’d stand up and punch them out
‘Cause they’re all wrong
‘Cause you said forever
Happy birthday Donna ❤️
This poem was inspired by a blogger friend here on word press you know who you are.
You have got this.
I’m waiting for you in the place of new beginnings.
Nan you were 4ft 5 made of dynamite.
Orange lipstick to match your orange head scarf.
Long grey hair I loved to brush.
I’d open your letter box and shout.
Jesus Mary and bloody Joseph you’d reply
As you hurried down the hall.
Pretending to be angry
Yet again I wasn’t at school.
Thick cut bread and thick pea soup
Old biscuit tins with buttons in one photos in another.
Stories told of my grandfather
You never loved another.
Giving me a big jug and sending me off to the ‘out door’
At the flying horse pub
Filling it with stout was the score.
Cover it with a tea towel
And slowly walking carefully back.
Little sips of stout and a bag of crisps
Before we hit the sack
Get up them apples and pears you’d shout
As the stone hot water bottle was carried up
Id snuggle into bed beside you
A torch to read my book
Shadows on bare plaster walls
Shining lamp post outside your house
Morning woken by the kettles whistle
Smell of hot buttered toast
Radio on kitchen window
Milk left at the door
Life so simple at your house Nan
There will be blue birds over the White cliffs of Dover you’d sing with Vera Lynne. Smiling at me.
I really hope so I’d think.
Sunday afternoon a loud rattle and clang as my dad fell drunkenly over the rubbish bin.
I was shook back into reality from my night away.
From the madness of my parents
Nan would hug me tell me it would be okay.
There were no blue birds over our house
Only monsters in shadows that would lurk about.
No hot water bottle or hugs in nans bed.
As dad lay on the floor and vomited or fought in the street
I’d run and hide in the old garden shed
Living in our house was existing in a night mare
Selfish drunken narcesists who are incapable of care
The only glimmer of hope would be a afternoon with nan
I’d run across town to see her as often as I can
Escaping drunken monsters was life’s childhood game
Planning my escape from this hell to find shelter from the rain
But living in a different world isn’t as easy as it may seem
You have learnt all you know from your disfunctional tag team.
Your family life is engrained into your very soul.
The journey to unwind all the abuse damage is a long long walk alone.
A pilgrimage a baptism of more learning to begin to make you whole.
There were so many parts missing from the jigsaw puzzle of life I couldn’t see.
I’d filled the missing pieces with sadness, fear and anger
A new journey of self descovery
Battle armour was the only thing to wear
I’d encounter memories and demons as I walked from here to there.
I had a choice to make a victim or survivor would I be?
Sounds a simple choice but what I didn’t see.
Was self care and self love weren’t something I knew how to do.
If you don’t love yourself how is anyone else expected to?
Like being a child there were times I’d still run away.
Like a moth flying hypnotically to a flame my self distruct would come into play.
Gradually learning to love the spark inside that was me..
Learning to trust
Finding my voice
Accepting I was now free.
For I am a warrior I am a mother I am a friend.
I have put down roots I see the beauty in life
So is this the end.
Of my journey it’s just the beginning a place of wonder of learning of love and magic this place was visualised by me.
If you are on the same journey know im patiently waiting here for you
If I can get here I promise that you can too.
I hear you nan in the distance the words of your song were part of my key.
There will be blue birds over the White cliffs of Dover
My darling just you wait and see.
So I’m not a sharer of memes
I am however a believer in the fact that thoughts and words are beyond powerful.
You attract what you project.
I live in Wales U.K.
A small village not some huge city but still I hear the barrage of negativity on the news and social media.
From being a child I wondered why news papers and T.V news talk so much about “the bad things” that are happening in the world.
Now I’m not for a minute suggesting that they shouldn’t be broadcasted.
But percentage wise there is in very few positive news stories giving the opinion that things are out of balance .
I believe it’s the opposite.
I know that people for the most part are inherently good.
Dispite low wages and unemployment I see such amazing acts of kindness daily here in Wales.
Community and people who want to make a difference.
All worthy of news coverage I’d love to be a local news reporter just for a week!
Here is this week’s example.
I attend a spiritual development and meditation group.
Last Tuesday a new guy turns up he’s quiet and unassuming new to the area.
We sit together and chat for awhile he’s ex military had fallen on hard times had time on streets homeless and eventually in a psychiatric hospital.
Breaks my heart how this can happen to.men and women who have given so much of there lives to services.
A few months ago the royal British legion give him a grant to use as a bond to get a private rented house.
He finally feels like he’s been given a break.
Hence the move here it’s a new place for him he tells me his story quietly .
He smiles as he tell of the little cottage with a garden with a view of the mountain.
It’s so good to have a roof over my head to feel safe.
He such a lovely man I work in mental health and know how tough it is leaving hospital with no support so ask how he’s coping .
He tells me he’s doing okay pleased to have found our group he loved the meditation and will definatly join us again.
When we leave it’s freezing and I offer him a lift as he’s walked the two miles to the hall.
On the way back we chat more and I learn the only possessions he has are a bed, chair , portable T.V and his tool box.
He tells me in such a matter of fact way.
It’s fine he says smiling .
Can I help I ask?
How he smiles at me as he gets out of the car .
I don’t know yet I laugh leave it with me .
We swap details and I drive home knowing I’ve just made a forever friend.
I tell my hubby about him.and his story when I get home sitting there on our sofa infront of a roaring fire.
Sometimes we forget just how lucky we are I say.
Now here is the power of social media.
There is a fabulous Facebook page called kindness matters Swansea
My beautiful friend Sam runs it.
I message her and ask her to post asking for a sofa, microwave, and anything else that could make a empty cottage into a home.
Within minutes my phone is beeping.
A young lass Sarah
Says I have a sofa he can have!
Rhi messages with a nest of tables and a bag of bath towels tea towels and flannels!
My daughter sofa cushions, and a few house plants and a bed side table.
Zoe a microwave.
A beautiful oil painting
Han and my work colleagues are bringing in food to make up a welcome to your new home hamper.
I’m so thrilled but I’m not surprised.
Put it out there expect kindness and you will see how wonderful people are.
The next day I folded down seats in my car collected the sofa and the rest of the donations then drove over to the cottage .
As I open the back of car the next door neighbor come out to help
The three of us unloaded the car I feel so thankful for the amazing kindness of strangers who are all now friends.
There it is that eternally expanding web of connection again.
To see the difference in the cottage
As he sits on his new sofa with a huge smile on his face I cant help but smile too.
We had met less than twenty four hours earlier .
Thank you Joolz he said giving me a huge hug.
Your welcome I say.
Trust the universe and ask.
I’ve not been too good at asking he smiles.
Today I saw this which is everything I believe in.
In a meme.
Try it and see.
Don’t believe everything you see on the news .
There are some truly amazing people out there .
So what if I haven’t reached the goal of what I was going to be when I grew up.
Does that mean I haven’t grown up yet?
I do hope so.
The problem is you see the destination.
The goal it hasn’t really changed. It was always right right there.
It paused and waited patiently.
Waited whilst I grew my wings and bravery left home.
Waited whilst I became a mother and raised my children alone.
Waited when I went to college, tapped its pen to remind me that it was still there.
Then when I was busy again opening a barbers shop.
Then onto different jobs changes of career going here and there moving houses sometimes towns.
That goal it never really lost sight of me and I thought of it often.
I waved from afar.
Mature university student, another packed van heading over the border to that magical place of green valleys and purple toped mountains Wales.
There it was following the removal van.
still waiting ‘the goal’ never a thought of leaving me.
Flying with me like a colourful kite in my catching my eye.
following me like I followed my dreams.
Falling in love, cottages, canals, dogs, cats, geese and ducks.
Secure job that I love.
My children gifting me with precious grandchildren to love.
Opening our beautiful cancer retreat.
Life had moved on the wheel continually turns.
That defiant rebel girl still dreams and the goal she had was a simple one.
To be a part of the story tellers who shaped her life with books of magic and poetry.
The books she found on dusty library shelves.
Terry Pratchett. J.M Barry John Steinbeck. Daisy Aldan. The stories that filled her with hope. That carried me to far away places to disc world to castles and places I could only dream of
So now I see why it waited so patiently.
Here I sit with a lifetime of memories, dreams loves and experiences that bring life and meaning into my poems and stories.
So the goal and I sit together often and when I now step
Into into my sacred space of magic poems and stories. I’m so glad it never left, waited like a faithful old friend.
When I’m not there in that space I know that it still pauses, waiting again patiently like a half blown dandelion, waiting for the next breath of life to blow gently and set the rest of the seeds free.
Each tiny seed a story a poem or dream.
Paused waiting to float gently land and grow pushing its tendrils and roots of ink onto the page. Words meandering like winding inky rivers collecting meadows of wild flower colours.
Gentle breeze blows the words into valleys of green healing and purple toped grounding mountains where warrior ravens fly.
So as most of you know any jobs improvements on our home “Crow cottage” has been on hold since the flood of 2018 as we have been getting our cancer retreat which is in same street back up and running.
We have lived in our little cottage for 12 years .
I fell in love with it the minute we turned out car onto the canal tow path I hadn’t even viewed the cottage on the inside and I knew we would live there.
Ducks geese canal mountain view from the window .
I loved it.
Now when we decided to look for a house to buy we couldn’t afford to live in the city
However just ten miles out in a small Welsh valley houses were quarter of the price.
That’s how I found our canal.
After never being able to settle in a house for more than a year I found my paradise.
Now I had a friend who was a builder .
Joolz he advised DONT buy a cottage .
The walls a 4 foot thick and they ALWAYS need money throwing at them..Good advice .
So I bought a cottage and twelve years down the line I can say.
He was absolutely right 🙈But it’s been an adventure.
We don’t have fabulous paid jobs Or credit cards
Thankfully we don’t have a liking for all things new.
I love second hand furniture.
In fact I love 1930 furniture and it’s in keeping with the cottage.
So I don’t mind car boot sales
Second hand shops , e bay
My living room cost under £500 to furnish probably furnish whole house for under £1.500
I guess I’m telling you this so you get the picture that I’m not a I want a new sofa kind of girl.
I buy when we need.So when we moved in I thought eventually we will get a new bathroom.
For now it’s fine.So few months ago
I find a beautiful bath tub on Facebook market place FOR FREE! so off we go to collect it.
It’s in the garden of a lovely ladies house who asks if I’m going to use it as a pond ?No I laugh I really like it and It’s going in out cottage ours has seen better days paint is chipping.
She’s thrilled it will be reused proceeds to give me a lovely set of telephone taps and a bath panel and off we go!
Two days later it’s a bit of a squeeze as it’s slightly bigger and has to come in through the window there’s lots of swearing and mentions of Vaseline and he’s going to buy me a bloody tape measure for Christmas as my long suffering husband fits this lovely deep bath.
I’m thrilled but I’m now on a mission to find a sink and toilet.
I don’t have to wait long
As a week later we are picking up some slate chippings to finish cancer retreat garden from builders merchants I spot a brand new toilet for £30.00 in the sale.
Jeff’s off looking at wood on his return I try to look casual as I push our trolly to the cashier.
“Er what’s that? ”
I ignore him
We aren’t buying a bloody toilet I proceed to tell him just how much we are saving it’s £60 off
He’s doing that look!
One raised eyebrow as I push the trolley into the car park and attempt to change subject.
So that was five weeks ago.
The toilet in its box is still standing in my bloody living room under the window with a view of the canal.
Apparently Jeff is too busy to fit it!
Now here is the Christmas link.
He’s sat eating breakfast this morning. 1st December
The Christmas tree and decorations convosation starts .
I don’t mind I say reluctantly.
Yes it will be nice for our grandchildren and I’m sure our cats Luna and Lucifer and tiny dog Mavis will have a wonderful time climbing up said tree 🙈
Now the tree goes in the living room window.Stands Infront of it were the new boxed toilet is currently living.
This is it .
It’s weekend he will have to fit it today or no Christmas tree!
I’m feeling smug as I say
Okay we can do it later after you’ve sorted toilet because you’ll have to fit it out of the way to put the tree up.
Cup of tea love before you start?
I wonder into the kitchen and click the kettle on
Well he says looking at the toilet.
I thought if we put a Xmas table cloth over it.
We could use it to put the tree on and I’ll fit it in the new year?
He’s really serious!
Can you guess what my answer was😈
The decorations and tree arent up yet.
Watch this space.
I’ve hidden the Christmas table cloth.
I walked through the gate
there standing before me was a huge 1930s detached three story house.
I’d driven past here hundreds of times and never noticed it.
hiding behind tall fir trees.
it was drizzling rain a dull damp day.
angry clouds above this huge house
I stood beside my friend Chris he looked at me.
looks a bit run down I say choosing my words
old-fashioned rooshed net curtain that haven’t seen a washing machine in a long time adorn the huge windows
I hear my mother saying “they need steeping in some Sally white bleach ‘
your not wrong mam I think.
come on then I say to Chris as we walk past the huge cars on the drive shining and polished complete contrast to the grey and dismal house.
the Adams family comes to mind says Chris as we walk up the stone steps to the first floor front door.
Rocky horror I smile
I ring the bell and we wait.
nice view across the city I say as the door is opened by a well dressed man in a suit
he struggles to open the door pushing boxes to the side of the hallway and beckons us to come in.
I introduce Chris and we take a seat in the waiting room.
Dust in corners of ceiling cracked paint spiders webs and if the windows were cleaned there would be a fabulous view across the city.
the furniture is 1970s g plan in a faded green ancient Wilton carpets thread bare in places tell of better times and I wonder if families stuck within their grief fail to notice the neglect around them as they sit here being advised on their loved ones funeral.
Waiting to pick up ashes or to view a loved one before a funeral.
I’ve worked in many funeral.homes but this is, well run down. shabby and cold. It’s shocking
The man who runs things is lovely a little aloof but I didn’t see this coming.
He asks if there’s anything I need.
No I smile
Okay I’ll go and get her, I’ll put her in the chapel of rest then I’ll come to get you.
off he goes .
I look around.
is there a secret camera I say?
we are hear as part of my soul midwife work.
I’m doing the hair and make up of a lady I’ve worked with.
before her family come to view her.
Then next week I’ll do her funeral.
Chris has come to help
for the first time
probably the only time after this.
after few mins he comes back up stairs guides us down stairs to the chapel of rest.
I swear you couldn’t make this up.
It’s under the house next to a garage
Bang bang bang constant hammering of coffins being assembled.
he opens the door creak. musty damp smell
why didn’t I video this …
blare witch goes to funeral home
there before me is a huge room set out with old wooden folding chairs
very dusty chairs
I’m wishing I’d brought a feather duster and some polish it’s set out as a chapel
wow I say.
Chris nudges me
this “could” be fabulous obviously it’s not used now
no says funeral director.
not for years
He smiles shuts the door behind us it’s dark and dismal and I’m reminded of a Steven king film
Here is chapel of rest
a door to the side is opened into what can only described as a large cupboard with a gurney trolly in there body on it looking like it’s been dropped out of a plane and landed very akwardly.
head twisted mouth and eyes open not just cold but bordering frozen.
I look around almost sureal slow motion
now first and foremost I’ve seen alot of corpses in my job
I’m not afraid or shocked I care for the body
when I go to funeral directors they are usually lying with dignity eyes mouth have been closed head straight .
You know what I mean.
Everything okay says funeral director?
There is a arched window behind him covered in dust and spiders webs
it’s winter but the flies are alive one lands on the face of the body
I flick it off
are you going to put a stitch in the mouth I ask?
Oh no he says I don’t like that..
would you like a tea or coffee?
I’m tempted to ask for a gin I bloody need one
I shake my head
he leaves closing the door and I wonder what the fook is going on.
Chris is standing in the corner with a is this a sick joke look on his face .
I take out my kit and get to work.
talking chatting to my lady as I work.
well I’say to her
ou chose this place I’m betting you”ve never been here before!
Chris come help me hold her mouth closed.
I work gently hair make up fix her body into an acceptable position and close her eyes and mouth.
there is still rope around her feet from when she was brought from the hospital morge
a sticker across her chest her name and date birth.
I flick away flies
There I say as we finish
goodbye my friend
I pray her family don’t come to view in this room
it’s just beyond unbelievable and I’m glad Chris is with me or no one would believe this
we go back up stairs he is sat at an old desk.
where the sink I ask?
sink? He looks puzzled.
Yes I’ve just been handling a body id like to wash my hands.
Chris laughs nervously.
We wash our hands say a polite goodbye tell him I’ll see him to do the funeral.
we get in the car
sit for awhile
seriously that place is beyond I say.
I wonder what I can do
vow to get funeral over with then go back to speak to him
he needs to sort that place out he needs help says Chris.
he needs a mop and bucket and a complete renovation I say.
The funeral went well cars staff everything was good
but behind the scenes there was a completely different story .
I wouldn’t tell the family
what could it achieve?
but I plan to go back and have a chat to see just what the score is there has to be a reason such a beautiful place has fell into such disrepair.
what do you think?
No mobile phone.
Not even a house phone
Out of bed dressed and rushing out to play.
Leaving house early morning.
Playing around the estate all day.
Didn’t go home if it rained
Sat in bus stop or under the slide in the park.
Pinched turnips from the farmers field to eat.
Trapsing home rotten dirty in the dark.
Building dens, camps and climbing trees.
Riding on bikes giving backies and grazing our knees.
Staying at my mates house she had a massive cat that made me sneeze
Playing kerby in the street with a football we had found.
Hiding from my drunken Dad
In school always being the class clown
Jumping on the milk float
Hiding out in the church hall.
Sharing sherbet dips
And sweets from the half penny tray.
Camping out in crank cavern caves
Star gazing building dens in tall stacks of hay
Building dams in woodland streams at the Dam across the way
telling ghost stories and lighting fires
Sharing bags of chips
Making rope swings sitting in old car tyres
Wagging school and breaking rules
Just council estate scallywag we were never in the cool
Fresh air good fun
Good times we made we didn’t buy
Our childhood was free making memories the sun
So tired it’s 2.28am.
I’ve crawled into bed
That place where my brain rebels
Insomnia fairy and writing muse lurk in the shadows of my room.
Hello it shouts as my head greets the softness of my pillow.
It shouts don’t forget tomorrow you need to buy cat food.
Shhhhh! Stop im shattered
It’s like having a hyperactive child who has an obsessive need to tell me random things in the early hours of the morning.
Or discover a line of a poem I’ve been baking in my head.
Oh and you need to ring the g.p before 8am
So if you hurry you may just get five hours sleep.
Have you locked the car?
You forgot to bake banana bread
Did you wrap the crystals up ready to post tomorrow?
Has the dog had her spot on flea treatment this month.
Shall we go out for Christmas lunch or stay home?
What time are trago mills open until on a week day.
Who played the detective in all that remains ?
What that on BBC or Channel 4 ?
I concentrate on my breathing
Mindfully imagining a beautiful beach and the sound of the waves on the shore.
Have you switched the washing machine off?
I open my eyes
The Pendle witch peers at me from her broom stick on the ceiling
I think I see her smirk.
She knows my nightly dilemma
I reach for my pad and pen
Put on the salt lamp and write.
The glow from my window
By the canal I wonder how many other witching hour writers are out there?
Out of bed pen in hand woken or kept from sleep
Scribing tales poems blogs.
Until the writing blurs ideas quieten
Sleep finds us.
If you have facebook please check out our page Ravens Healing crystals.All funds made go to our cancer retreat providing free breaks, therapies and soul midwife services Thank you in advance
Sat chatting around my kitchen table
A throw away comment from a friend
she or I had commented on the amount of certificates and qualifications we both have.
in different therapies and healing modalities.
I’d been thinking of doing yet another course.
I do like to learn and be busy.
yes she smiled we do it to be good enough, to be worthwhile.
She said it in such an accepting way.
such a thoughtful look on her face.
I did not answer
her simple comment
was a huge realisation I felt the truth of it spear me in my soul.
As I breathed in a simple truth
I have stepped away from the college brochure.
of busy people
stopping to pee or eat.
fast food at high prices
that pulsing sound of air con
fruit machines and cash machines
electric car chargers and shiny steel escalators
ever flushing toilets
mobile phone chargers
communal eating areas.
no one looks at anyone else.
staring at phones
back through the glass door
hurrying back home
from this always open oasis
this no man’s land
doors always open
each new day is the same as the one before .
My random girl you are everywhere.Reminders that you’ve left this earthly plane.The cranes on the marina I smile as I hear you sayI hate those cranes why are they pointing this way.I miss you random girl.I drive past Sainsbury’s memories flash like cine filmI hear you beside meI’ll be sitting by the window hurry up I’ve got you a cup of teaI smile to myselfSimple but still .I miss youSinging badly in the carStick throwing for honey never went farWind street the scene of many mad nights out.Transparent vodka as you danced aboutChickoland and queing for taxis in the cold night airOr summer nights sat on huge picnic tables with nutty Russians your favourite cocktail.Pink blaring you knew every word.If someone said three years from now you’d be long gone..I miss youRandom text messages.Can you guess what letter it begins with.Long black hair cheeky smile.Knob was a term of endearment.I miss youThe days of champers and the king’s on the high streetFoam party’s at H2OLong beach walks.Flip flop shoppingDog walkingPainted toe nailsI miss youRandom facts like you loved coffee in take away cups.Drawing in the sand.Walking barefoot on the bay.Writing out names watching the sea wash them away.I miss youSitting on the wall at Barry eating chips.Remos at sunset collecting shellsSand in my car.Pebbles in the glove boxBreakfast at vees cafe.I miss youWatching full moons riseWishing the world would go away.Holidays in the sunWalking on different beaches.Singing and having funDid I say I miss you?Memories of songsWind in our hair boat trips on open seas.Sam Smith sang black and goldYou lay with your head upon my kneeWarm sun kissed skinTime flew by days turned into yearsChildren grew families intertwinedWe were going to be nannies togetherHow could fate be so unkind.Although we knew that time together was running out fast.We packed in so many memories I replay them each day that goes past.I speak of you oftenI talk to you stillI loved you my random girl and know I always will ❤️I miss youI miss meI miss usIf someone said three years from now you’d be long gone..Who knew
It’s been a long year.
I’m a great believer of power of positive thought .
So at begining of the year I had enough money saved to have our therapy cabin built.
But that was it nothing left for extras like insulation decorating carpets ect.
I thought if it’s meant to be it will come.
So held out my hands to the universe and visualised it done.
That was February.
It’s been slow process but I’m thrilled to say we are almost there.
I’m so happy.
We just put gravel down outside I need a garden picnic bench and outside loo building then a tidy up along the back way out that leads to car park and we are done.
I’m sitting here on my own in my counseling corner feeling so very grateful.
Some curtains up and inside is done!
This time last year it was just a dream.
Trusting in the universe, visualising and alot of hard work and we are almost there.
Ravens Retreat Healing Hive.
Thank you universe ❤️
Earth, water, fire, we have walked through together.
I know we have only hours left as friends.
Air will be the last element to leave.
Like a cocoon of protection we are together on the final part of this path.
A journey I promised I would accompany you on
You told me you were scared.
What if there is nothing at the end of the road?
What if it’s simply a snuffing out of a candle, lights out.
Darkness then nothing?
How could I tell you what I knew to be true?
It is like the lighting of a candle the opening of a new door.
Walking out of the darkness.
I know because I’ve been here before.
The first time they said was a near death experience.
I had to disagree.
It was near life utter calmness floating watching quizzically at the panic below.
As they fought to bring me back maybe it wasn’t my time to go.
Many times I have had the privilege to vigil to hold hands as souls leave.
Chanting in whispers
Mirroring those last breathes
Catching sight of loved ones who come to greet you at your death.
Death of the body but not of your soul.
As you let go of my hand as your welcomed back home.
I stand in the calmness then trace my steps back alone.
I remember the day I learned to read.
You know that sudden click when the penny drops.
Books have always been by very best friend.
The magic of being in the story.
Knowing the characters.
The sadness of finishing a book.
Writing was much the same.
My father wasn’t the best.
But I’m thankful he taught me to write.
He gave me an old jotter.
A thick pencil.
Wrote my name at the top of the page .
I copied it and copied it.
Then my address
My dog’s name.
Then a sentence I’d ask him to write.
This was before I started school.
It was magic
I could write,and I did.
I have never stopped.
English was my favourite subject at junior school.
I remember the teacher giving us a subject in creative writing and within minutes I’d be lost in the story that had began to bake in my head.
I’d write about anything and everything.
I remember writing about the starlings.
I lived backing onto the woods on a huge council estate
There were always hundreds of starlings they would swarm all flying together in a squarking fluid like black cloud.
I’d stand on the shed roof to watch.
Hundreds of birds together.
Almost moving as one huge cloud.
How did they do it.
I imagined their leader calling out to his tribe their were ranks.
Everyone of them had a job.
All looking after each other.
They weren’t the prettiest of birds or the biggest but I loved them.
The teacher loved it she asked if she could keep it.
I was a shy eleven year old.
Blushed and nodded.
Mrs Moore I was so happy.
She was a wonderful teacher who inspired me throughout my school years.
Diary’s note pads, poems.
Lists I wrote everything down.
I wrote when I was happy, sad, mad, upset or lost.
I think it’s because writing gives me a way to work things out?
Does that make sense?
Words are easier for me when they fall out of a pen or a key board.
Although since loosing my best friend nursing her through cancer.
Ive written about my journey through bereavement hoping it will help others.
I’ve also discovered voice note.
I talk to her and record it.
I need to find a way to add it t o my blog.
So where and why did you start your blogging journey?
Could you live without writing.
I definitely couldn’t.
Pen paper and blogs are my friend, counselor and confidant.
So as I’m grounded I thought I’d have a go at copper wrapping crystals.
My son Michael says you can learn anything on YouTube.
I reckon he’s right!
Two pairs of small pliers and some copper wire oh and a collection of crystals
This is the result!
I’m quite pleased.
I love crafting but never have the time.
It’s quite relaxing.
Watch this space 😊
I’ve admitted defeat I’m Ill.
I’m not a person who has coughs and colds.
I think it’s genuinely because I haven’t got time to be I’ll.
I work three jobs. My most important is my work as a soul midwife. (Cancer care)
Then I also work a full time job with the NHS mental health services
Thirdly I run our cottage retreat which provides breaks and free therapies for cancer patients.
As I’ve just written this down and read it back I’m like WTF?
Something has got to give.
I did the funeral last Monday of Karen the beautiful lady I’ve been working with.
I saw her everyday in the last four months .
She lived in the next village .
The visits were around a hour maybe two a reflexology treatment, out for coffee, chatting, paper work re wills and funeral .
Sometimes just sitting.
Whatever she needed.
Then as I say I work full time which is community work with mental health patients who have a servere long term diagnosis.
Home to sort out tidy clean restock our cottage retreat.
Help my hubby to finish building our new therapies cabin out the back of the retreat .
Then sort out own house out general cleaning cooking fall into bed get up and do it all again.
Oh and on a Tuesday evenings I go to our development circle in our spiritualist church .
Wednesday evening I do healing circle.
These two things I try to protect as they are my “me time”.
Every other Friday I have my grand daughter over night as her parents work and it’s so lovely to have her to myself.
So you get the picture I’m busy.
Anyway Karen died on 28th Oct.
So a huge chunk of what I was doing stopped.
I’m convinced my body went..
Yay she’s stopped shes got time to fight this virus or whatever the f&&k this is!
So I did what I normally do.
I ignored it.
Yesterday I couldn’t get my ass out of bed.
My poor hubby despairs.
‘you won’t be told’!
He says as though I’m a naughty child have you been to the doctor’s?
I’ve rang I say sheepishly.
I hate taking medication especially antibiotics unless it’s absolutely needed.
So I agreed to night nurse medication
And a day in bed.
I’m sure it’s the universes way of getting me to rest.
Like those stingers the police throw infront of stolen cars.
The tyres go flat and the skid sideways.
Well that’s kinda how I feel.
I can’t help think there’s so much I should be doing.
But okay universe im listening.
I’ll have a lazy Sunday I’m bed and a week off work.
Keep me entertained guys tell me what your up to.
Have a fabulous weekend.
So I’m originally from the north of England.
Five miles outside the town of Wigan.
And At Helens
Google Wigan and pies.
They are famous for them.
Wiganers are known as pie eaters
St Helens has Pimbletts pies.
Wigan pools pies
Greg’s ect the list is endless
This is relevent I promise.
So 16 years ago I move to Wales
South Wales it not the other side of the world around 150 miles from Wigan.
So here’s the thing.
Welsh have cheese and potatoes
You’ll see it on menu’s in cafes
Buy it chilled in local supermarket.
BUT IT ISN’T A PIE!
So dictionary says a pie is a filling encased in pastry.
Well it is in Wigan.
But not here in Wales.
It’s mash potatoes with cheese stired in more sprinkled on top. In a dish.
No pastry to be seen so it’s not a pie!
My Welsh hubby thinks it’s so funny
So come on guys is it a pie or not?
And don’t get me started on rissoles!
So today I went to a spoken word poetry event . One of my favourite venues chilled and friendly. Beautiful old church.
This is the story I told after I’d finished reading I was approached by a lovely lady who is possibly a relation of Matthew the man in the story.
As she spoke I was reminded of what I already know
Without doubt we are all connected. We are a circle within a circle with no beginning and never ending.
Read on tell me what you think?
I worship the old gods of this land the isle of Albion.
I follow the wheel of the year. Tonight the wheel turns it is Samhain eve in a 13c churchyard.
Its 3am and almost a full moon. There is a avenue of yew trees and it’s without one of the most magical places I know.
It’s my favourite place for ritual. The place I come to give thanks, to show gratitude. To talk with spirit.
To think to read. To just to be.
I wonder from my usual path many of the tombstones are overgrown covered in ivy surrounded by knot weed.
Standing back from all the others is an old stone old coffin shaped base it is covered in ivy.
I’m always drawn to it but no details are visible.
I stand in the moonlight. I ask ‘who are you?’
Touching the base of the cold stone.
I start to pick at the ivy..
it has pushed its way into the grey stone clinging green fingers into the details of intricate carved words.
I chant and hum quietly to myself it becomes quite mediative
As I pull at the vines they come away in narly sharp lengths sometimes tiny pieces that cling with remarkable strength.
We are a circle within a circle with no begining and never ending. I sing to my yet unknown companion
Time slips by slowly and the winter sun begins to rise birds begin to sing.
The carved words become visible.
I read out loud. Matthew Goodridge. Age 43
Mellincreethin a shiver runs through me as I read the next line .
Died 31 Oct 1888 Samhain..
Further down I read the names of Matthews daughters .Sarah Anne 14. Tirzah 9.
I catch a glimpse of someone watching me from the avenue of yew trees a tall man he nods smiles politely lifts his cap as he walks slowly through the avenue of sacred yews.
Matthew I whisper.
The sun shines as Celtic new year is born.
I sit there beside Matthew his two young daughters .
I will remember you Matthew.
My samhain ancestor of this place I love.
We are a circle within a circle. With no beginning and never ending.
All of us connected. The stuff of stars.
That was four years ago Matthew.
Your stone stands straight and tall cleared cleaned and cared for.
I remember you often.
This poem is for you.
Your tombstone stands among the rest;
neglected and alone
The name and date are chiseled out
on centuries old welsh stone
It reaches out to all who care
It is too late to mourn
You did not know that I would exist
You died centuries before I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you. stardust connected
in flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
entirely not our own.
Dear Matthew goodridge , the place you filled
hundreds of years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left
who would have loved you so.
I wonder of your life you lived of those l loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
and stand here to honour you.
I need help. There I said it!
I run a cottage retreat offer free breaks for cancer / end of life patients.
Im a soul midwife end of life companion and advocate for anyone who needs me.
No charge free.
Therapies visits support all free.
Im also a wedding and funeral celebrant this service is also free for patients
I also have to work full time to finance this bills have to be paid.
Car needs fuel.
Mortgage electricity oil ect.
What I need is someone to advise me and or help with funding or grants that I may be eligible for in the U.K.
My dream is to be able to devote all my time working as soul midwife but at the moment that’s not possible.
It’s so important that my services remain free.
I never want someone to think they can’t afford a soul midwife.
Donations are fine I’m good with that
There is a donate now button on my website.
But to enable me to let my paid job go I need some sort of funding
So do you or anyone you know have any experience of how to go about this?
I know there is the national lottery grants act but I’m hopeless at all this entails
We are a community interest company.
Completely non profit.
So I know we are eligible.
If you can help.in anyway or you’d like to fund raise for us.
I’d be eternally grateful.
Please share our website and this post.
Hopefully someone can point me in the right direction.
I am forever grateful for this small row of cottages and the bank of the tenant canal in South Wales where I live.
I settled here fourteen years ago.
We originally looked a bit further out from the city as houses were cheaper.
I’m so glad we did.
Don’t get me wrong readers of my blog will know we’ve had our fair share of problems massive flood thanks to storm Callum in Oct 2018
But in a way it made me fall in love with this magical place even more.
Family’s helped each other bonds and friendships were made and strengthened
It’s not a posh place to live.
Small two up two down cottages
But it’s paradise to me.
Our home is here.
Our cancer retreat and therapy cabin is here.
Our cats our dog geese swans and birds
Home is where the heart is.
My heart is right here.
For that I’m truly grateful.
I came across this old photograph.
that’s my Nan and grand father the year is 1966.
that’s me sitting on my grand father’s knee, my niece Angela is the baby in the shawl.
I don’t remember my grandfather.
he died when I was three.
my Nan was amazing a huge influence on who I am today.
Strong northern woman.
You can see from the photo they didn’t have much.
She always worked he like all the men in our family drank never a few always too much.
This was taken in their home a very old run down terraced house facing a park in a collery town in the north of England.
I remember the smell of damp. frayed seat covers on the old two seater sofa I’d pick at the sponge foam through the thread bare covers as I fell asleep listening to the sound of my Nans old Jones treadle sewing machine
it was a magical rythem of my life.
The playground across the road was known as Nanny goat park.
it stood in the shadow of glass factories.
I remember cold fingers gripping the handle of the roundabout as nanny’s old staffie dog Bruce barked until I’d get off.
Cold morning air white spiders webs in privit hedges
Ice on the inside of the bedroom windows. Cold breath in the air.
Chopping stick in the mornings to lite the fire.
The smell of fire lighters and inky fingers from screwing up yesterday’s news paper to insure a flame.
Grand dad died when I was three and nanny moved to a council house with a garden
no park across the road but also no smell of damp.
the windows had lead that reflected onto the bare plaster walls from the light of the street lamp.
while I’d snuggle under sheets blankets and coats to keep us warm
complaining that they made me itch
She would shush me and given a stone hot water bottle wrapped in a tea towel.
sitting on the back doorstep waiting for the kettles whistle hot milky tea.
sterilised milk and a chipped China cup.
Perfect boiled eggs and thick buttered toast.
hearing her singing Vera Lynn White cliffs of Dover and shouting at my cousin’s to stop kicking the bloody football on the side of the house.
Jesus Mary and bloody Joseph she would shout followed by your make the bloody saints in heaven swear as my drunken dad would fall into the back door the smell of beer tobacco and vomit.
John players fags from the shop and jug of stout from the outdoor.
Rapping her door shouting through the letter box.
laughing when she would tell me to bugger off home.
Stop bloody mitherin me!
Corned beef hot pot.
massive egg custard tarts.
bacon ribs and pea soup.
Lying with my head on her lap the smell of Sunday roast on her pinny.
her orange lip stick from the Avon woman with the blue bag.
boxes of old black and white photographs telling stories of her life. rhubarb onions, and spuds from her garden
pop soxs and polka dots.
string shopping bags and the football pools. silver hair
Always protecting me I loved being around this tiny woman .
I think this is the only photo that I have of her.
That’s all I need.
the rest I carry with me Nan.
I’m never really unwell. Possibly because I don’t have time.
Some weeks I work 40 hours in my paid job n.h.s community mental health.
Then another 30+ hours at our retreat and working with my soul midwife patients.
When I see it written down its madness.
But it’s my life and I have no other option at the moment.
My paid job pays my mortgage on the retreat. Puts fuel in my car, food on my table.
Allows me to provide free breaks and free soul midwife service and therapies .
I’m trusting the universe and I know that eventually I will be in a position to give up my job and devote all my time to cancer patients.
Anyway I digress I’m I’ll.
Not part of the plan but hey ho
I swear it’s when I stop.
My body goes yay.. she’s still and I get a cold or virus.
I’m crap at nursing myself every one else just not myself.
Nurses make crap patients.
So good friend of mine offers me shamanic healing today
I lie on the couch surrounded by aroma of sage and without trying I’m totally relaxed.
I’m vaugly aware of Chris at the head of the table
I’m immediately taken to the beach.
My guide Richard is there waiting we fall into step.
Where are we going I ask.
You already know he says.
In that riddle sort of way I hate.
I sigh and walk. The wind blows gently the sun is warm
Then we step into the familiar cave with the carved seat in cold smooth stone I sit down and he sits beside me
I’m aware of my breathing
Then as we both stand up I feel detached .
I’m walking behind Richard and myself.
On my back I can see a huge moth
With purple wings. Wait aren’t they purple curtains?
There before me is the window I looked out of so may times as a child.
My bedroom window.
I look through it the view is the same
Old oak tree.
My bike leaning on the gate.
The porch roof under my window covered in green
Lead pealing off.
I pick at the chipped paint on the window sill.
I glance around
Old record player one knob missing pile of 45 records from Woolworths.
Humpty Dumpty poster holding glass of beer on the wall.
Dressing gown on back of the door.
Old black wool coat with red lining on my bed no duvets here sheets and coats.
The house of death has me again
I’m now aware of a pain.
In my root chakra.
Ouch I bend my legs up.
Why are we back here I ask Richard?
You never really left he says.
The pain comes again stronger.
Like a contraction.
I’m back in my body beside Richard.
He holds my hand.
As I turn away from the window the moth wings go back to being purple curtains.
You don’t belong here says Richard.
He smiles waiting .
I walk towards him and don’t look back.
The weight had left me
I hear chris chanting the pain lessens
I sit up.snd I’m back in the room .
The water is cool.and fresh
I’m home in our cottage
Where I belong.
Thank you my friend.
For guiding me home. ❤️
Today has been hard
The lady I have been nursing for almost a year as her soul midwife has possibly only a few days left.
She and I have over the last year become close friends and I know had we met under different circumstances we would have been good friends.
We have so much in common spiritual beliefs, sense of humour and we are both strong minded and stubborn.
Our grand daughters have been friends since baby school they are now 13
Tamika and Jayden both nannys girls.
It was through Jadens Mum I met Karen .
She had told her about my work as a soul midwife and our cancer retreat
I think you will get on she said and passed me her phone number.
She was right .
Karen was streight talking a good looking very proud women. Oh and did I mention stubborn in a very fabulous way.
She had lost her husband two years previously to cancer she had been his princess we sat and chatted about her journey.
At the mention of his name there was always a smile and a story.
He had been her Knight in shining armour
She was determined to stay as well as possible for as long as she could for her boys.
Before I knew it two hours had flown by.
So shall I come back next week? I asked .
Yes she smiled I’d like that and tell Lisa thanks for pointing you my direction.
Just before I got into my car she called me back.
The cancer she said.
I told them I don’t want to know how long I have.
What would you do?
I don’t think I’d want to know either I said.
But it’s completely your choice
Someone giving you a time scale on life.
No one really knows.
I’d rather say I’ll die when its my time and I’m ready.
I like that she laughed.
See you next week.
So I’d call in we would chat about anything and everything.
I’d do some reflexology or massage.
We wrote funeral plans and lists.
We put everything in order.
That’s a massive part of my job
It gives back some control and reassures my patients that when the time comes
All their wishes will be honoured
I am a celebrant I trained so that I can confidently offer funeral and wedding services too.
So we plan everything nothing is left to chance
We write wills.
Then when all the serious stuff is sorted
We get on with living.
Quality of life.
Getting out and about
Shopping , for coffee.
I’ve even had one lady request we go on a roller coater
Twice! She loved it.
You get the picture.
I spent this evening making memory jewelry from karen’s finger print and her grand daughter jaydens.
It’s solid silver
So that Karen will always be with her.
Karen has been my friend even if only for a short time.
Her grand daughter has been amazing for a thirteen year old.
She has sat chatting with her in the hospice gone out with her on shopping trips.
It’s a joy to see Karen’s face light up when she sees jayden come in.
She told me she isn’t afraid of dying just afraid of not being around for Jayden.
Last Wednesday was her last good day we spent it together laughing drinking tea and watching T.V I put he in bed before I left and tucked her in.
As I kissed her head she caught hold of my hand.
You’ve been my nurse and my friend she said smiling at me I love you Joolz and I want to thank you.
No thanks needed I kissed he head again try to get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning
Night mam she joked.
I walked out into cold October air and a tear ran down my cheek.
Let it be peaceful I asked the universe.
The next morning I walked into her room towel over my arm to wash her hair how did you sleep I asked.
She looked at me blankly.
Talking about painting the ceiling and how wiccans and dwarfs were playing rugby for Wales.
My heart sank.
Last stages of liver cancer often present a dementia like confusion
I sat by her holding her hand.
joolz it’s you! I’m sorry I can’t go shopping today.
I kissed her forehead.
That’s fine I reassured her the weather is awful let’s rest today we can go next week.
I called the doctor to her as I rang her family.
Things changed quickly.
36hrs later I received that call can you come back to the hospice Joolz it’s time.
My clothes are ready I’m dressed in minutes. Kiss my husband goodbye and step out into the cold night air.
As I’m walking to the car I’m ringing her son’s to tell the the news as I then drive to pick up her Jay grand daughter.
All of this has been planned.
Everyone knows it isn’t set in stone you have no idea how you will feel.
when ‘that’ phone call comes.
As I pull up outside the house jay comes out the image of her nan in younger years
As she gets in the car I ask ar you sure you want to come?
She’s stubborn just like her nan I know the answer
She nods and we head to the Hospice.
The roads are empty she looks at me and asks.
“Joolz what will it be like?”
How do you answer that
Shes 13 her nanny’s girl.
She’s sleeping I say, hoping I can find the right words.
She can still hear you. Talk to her tell her your there.
Hold her hand.
If at any point you need to leave the room that’s okay.
However you want to do this it’s okay.
She nods and we pull into the car park.
She is lying in bed much the same as when I left her last night
Breathing heavier I kiss her gently on her forehead
Ive brought your girl I tell her taking her hands from under the blanket
I sit her son’s beside her jay sits holding her hand gently like precious porcelain.
Im here nan she says.
I remember her as a cheeky four year old no teeth full of mischief slurping jelly at my granddaughters birthday party.
When did she bloom into this beautiful caring strong young.
My heart breaks for her.
I tell them all I’ll just be outside for ten mins to give them some time to say the things they need to.say.
Tell her anything you want I say. I’m right outside the door.
As I come back in I stand back and take in the picture before me.
Hands holding hands words softly spoken a room filled with love.
I sit beside Jay.
We silently watch her breathing slow her youngest son looks at me and asks is she going .
I love you mam he sobs .
It’s okay my friend You can go now, Leon is waiting.
At 5.45 she leaves us peacefully.
This passing was beautiful. A family holding vigil no pain as she quietly stepped from the earth plane to spirit plane .
I can’t help but feel my world will be a little less bright without her in it.
I kiss her gently and whisper safe journey home my beautiful friend.
As I picture her husbands joy at having her back in his arms.
Goddess bless you Karen ❤️
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I’m lying here in bed thinking about my day.Incase this is the first of my posts you have read I’m a soul midwife / therapist I run Ravens Retreat.I provide care, support, nursing and therapies for cancer patientsI have a little cottage that I offer free breaks in for cancer patients and their families.Yes you heard right FREE.No catch.It’s my service to the community and my goddess.How do I fund it?I work full time for the NHS community mental health team.It’s the only way to pay the bills and run the cottage.Not ideal I know but until I find someone who can help me apply for grants and fund raise (we are registered as a non profit company)I’ve no choice.This means I work a 70+ hour week.And I juggle between the two.So today .I go to see a lady I’m working with in the HospiceShe has stage 5 cancer stomach, lymphatic, liver.Final stages she’s 56 I took her into the Hospice four weeks ago they thought she may not last the night.She’s still here a true warrior over the past 14 months we have become good friends.Today as I go into her room she is sleeping I sit quietly besides her. He skin and eyes are yellow she has lost so much weight I pick up a book we have been reading.She opens her eyes and smiles at me “Joolz”Why didn’t you wake me?You looked so peaceful I say and I’m not in any rush.Within a min she is sitting upright giving me instructionsI smile as I get her a cup of tea, make sure it’s ….Strong and hot I laugh..You know me well she says.I put her in her wheel chair and we go down to the sunshine lounge.We sit and chat whilst I do a reflexology treatment on her feet.Rose oil surrounds usCan you do my shoulders she asks..Of course I rub oil into her back a tattoo of an all seeing eye looks back at me she loves all things Egyptian.She takes great pride in making me laugh at the fact she had visited Egypt many times but has never seen a prymidI’ve had a good life she says.But this now is no life is it?My hands are on her shoulders she places her hands on mine .Thank you she says.Your welcome I whisper.I push her back around to her room telling her I will be calling in on her grand daughter on way home to take a mould of her finger print.It’s to make a silver memory necklace I will place her finger print with her granddaughters and put it on a silver chain.Can you put nan on back of my print she asksOf course I say.Keep your eye on her when I’m gone she says.I catch my breath.My grand daughter and hers are friends.I squeeze her hand I will .I fix her bed and help her in.Pull the covers up around her neck as she likes them and tuck her in.I’m so tired she smiles at me closing her eyes.I kiss her gently on her head. See you tomorrow.If you need me in the night ring I say as I’ve said every dayShe smiles thank youNight night MammyShe laughs.As I walk away pull her door shutWalk out into cold December air I’m beyond thankful for my small part in her journey.It’s a privilege to walk with her to the end of this path.Such an amazing beautiful soul.Working with end of life patients changes your way of thinkingI am truly grateful every day for all that I have my health my familySometimes when I have colleagues or friends who are complaining about trivial problems I can help but ask them to role play with me.Okay I say. I’m the doctorI’m sorry to tell you that you have a terminal illness and have six to twelve months to live.The reaction bis almost always the same.WHAT…remember this is only role play.But very real for some people.Now think do the small things matter?What would you do if you only had six months?Would you be more great full ?Would you heal old wounds ?Hold grudges.See more of those you care about.You get the picture.I know life can sometimes be hard.But remember it is always beautiful.Look for the joy.Gratitude is the key to happiness.
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I was almost nineteen when I met Eric he was forty seven.
I had a daughter who was sixteen months old and I was almost three months pregnant.
I had just come back to my hometown.
After running away from my abusive husband from the north of England Id gone to stay with friends in west Wales
I’d began to relax until he knocked on the door of the flat I was staying in.
I remember how loud my heart had sounded banging i my head as I heard him banging on the door.
He had found us.
It was no use fighting him
He dragged me down two flights of stairs by my hair.
My daughter in my arms
His eyes were wild
He spat at me beat me and made me feel worthless my life was a mess.
It was a five hour drive home. I nursed my baby girl stared out of the window
Soon the green mountains of wales became the red brick council houses of the estate where I grew up.
I was back as I got out of the car my father walked across from his house. Swaying smell of beer and cigarettes.The reason is left home was him but as my Nan said I’d jumped out of the frying pan into the fire.
“You’ve made your bloody bed lie in it.” He hissed I was numb. No one could save us.
After a week back home and another argument with my husband I’d wrapped up my daughter in her pram and gone out to walk around the estate where we lived to get her to sleep.
It was an old burgandy corduroy tansad pram heavy and sturdy it was a windy afternoon so I put the hood up and walked past the woods wind blowing my long hair.
I walked down to the bottom shops then back.up past the church
The vicar was mowing the grass of his big house next to st David’s he stopped and smiled.
Feeling arkward I put my head down carried on walking Cheryl was asleep tiny rosebud lips and long eyelashes she was perfect I hated the way we lived but I didn’t have anywhere else to go I’d tried women’s hostels, Wales but he always found me.
Where would it end I thought as I pulled the pram up the steps to the house.I pushed the tansad into the living room.
It was quiet quicky opened the pram scooped Cheryl into my arms and stealthily tip toed upstairs placing her into her cot gently covering her up shushing her as I shut the bed room door behind me .
Rushing back down stairsThere is a huge bang.
I jump as he begins to shout.I pathetically beg him to stop.Please don’t .
You’ll wake the baby .
The smell of whisky hits me first
Then his fist.
My head hits the post at bottom of the stairs
I struggle to my feet.
Taste of iron in my mouth
I’m still begging him thinking of my baby in her cot.
I have to keep him down stairs .He has me by the hair .
Snarling at me spit showering my face as he opens the front door to throw me out.
Im thrown out of the door onto the concrete path hands scraping scrambling to get up
To get back inside to my baby .
His back is to me he is walking into the living room where I have left the pram.
I watch in horror as he picks it up and launches it through the large living room window.
In slow motion it lands on its hood 20 minutes before my baby was in it.
He hadn’t know that I’d taken her out.He could have killed her.
I’m trying to stop him going upstairs.
I’m hitting him he’s laughing
Then suddenly there at the open front door is the man who has recently moved in across the road.
He looks calm as he tells me to come away.
Stand here he says by me.
Jeff looks startled.Who the fuck are you ?
Get out of my house .
Still the man from across the road stands firm.
I move towards himIs this how you treat your women up here?
He’s saying.My husband swings for the man.
Eric he says to me.
He hits my husband and throws him into the living room that’s covered in splintered glass.
The pram in the garden where is your baby?
Upstairs I sob.
He hits Jeff again
He is curled up in a ball.
Our dog is barking
Come on then Eric is saying or don’t you hit men?
He picks Jeff up and throws hm down the path
A police car pulls up and a familiar lady police officer gets out .
She looks at me I look at the floor.
Jeff is shouting about Eric atacking him.”The police officer puts her hand on my arm did he do this ?”
We’ve been here before she asks I say no because if I say yes Jeff has told me he will kill me.
Yes I stutter.
Yes he did and he attacked Eric.
Jeff runs at me .
Police man grabs him throws him against the car.
Bloody maniac Eric’s saying.
Can we take you to hospital she asks?
I’ll take her says Eric.
Is that okay she asks
Yes I say I’m going to be okay.
Because I know I will now.
That was the very beginning.He was 28 years older than me.
Just come back to his home town after a broken marriage and a break down.
He knew how afraid and vunerable I was
He helped me pick up glass board up windows
Change locks.Then he slept on my sofa
Supported me to get back on my feet.
He would wake me singing cliff Richard living doll.
You can’t have another baby he said to me gently after a week
You can’t look after yourself.
Your only a few months if you tell the hospital about the beatings they will help.I was horrified.
I’m keeping my baby I sobbed.
Then I’ll help you he smiled.
He took me to anti natal
Drove me to appointments.
Stayed in my house.Is he your Dad?
The midwife asked.No he’s Eric was all I could say.
I was still terrified of anything happening to my daughter.
I refused to have my baby in hospital.
It’s dangerous my doctor warned it’s a big baby.
I’ll be there said Eric I’ll.look after you.I moved to the other side of town new start
Eric had bought a van and had started a furniture removal business.
I had a lovely little house Eric was still poping in and out he put up fences layed a lawn created a beautiful garden.
Cheryl started nursery life was better.
When I woke early hours of morning 7th August 1986 I phoned Eric first then the midwife.
I’m scared I told him as I opened the door.
He kissed my forehead you can do this and again I knew I was going to be okay.
The midwifes and my doctor came Eric held me as I pushed my beautiful baby boy into the world he was 12lb 9oz’
Put the chip pan on for this lad he’s got a tooth!’
Laughed my doctor.Well done
I looked at Eric tear running down his cheek
Come here to your Dad he said as he held my baby.
In that second an unbreakable bond was madeEric had saved me when he had come back from stoke on Trent
He was a good man
My daughter held her new brother and named him Matthew.
Followed a few years later by Michael.
Eric idolised each of my children and they him
Who was it who said blood is thicker than water never met Eric.
Our children grew up we went our separate ways but aways remained friends
Matthew met and married a Belfast girl.
Eric by this time was 76
Michael would go to stay with Eric take him fishing help him around the house.
Cheryl would stay in the school holidays with her daughter. He was her dad from the minute he walked into our door as she slept in her cot upstairs.
He couldn’t have loved her and the boys any more than he did.
He started to shows signs of dementia.
Which over five years got worse.
He still lived in the family home he had come back to all those years before .He needed help now
It was decided Matthew would take him to Ireland.
To a purpose built dementia unit atound corner from his house erics own flat.
It broke Cheryl and mike’s heart to see him go but I know it was the best decision.
I went over last week to see them.
My six foot son helping his Dad walk slowly with his walking frame.
I remembered Eric proudly pushing Matthew in his pram.
That big man who saved us.
There with the baby he had held minutes after he was born
That’s what makes a dad.
Not blood but love.
Thank you Eric we saved each other x
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This is my second visit to Belfast. We are visiting my son and his family Natalie and my grand daughter Hattie.
It’s nine months since our last visit.
Too long .
So today Matthew has organised a trip to Titanic Museum it has been awesome.
Belfast is such a beautiful city with friendly beautiful people the weather has been kind and I’ve pinched myself a few times reminding myself how lucky I am.
My grand daughter Hattie such an easy going polite little girl an absolute joy to be with but oh how they grow up far too quickly
Lunch in the cathedral quarter at a beautiful little restaurant called Made in Belfast .
The vegan choices are stunning.
Then back to our hotel.
I’m lying here reflecting on a perfect day
I’m truly grateful for all that I have.
Family and health are everything.
Memories I shall treasure. ❤️
Im driving to work this morning listening to radio 4.
There is a poet on being interviewed he has a strong Manchester accent and he’s talking about his working class life in the 60s
I slow down as I listen lulled by his voice familiar northern tones of my childhood.
He’s talking about poetry nights that go on in most towns
How they are such a melting pot of people.
I smile to myself and promise I’ll make an effort to go back I love performance poetry but life has been manic and I can’t remember the last time I had a poetry night out.
I miss it.
He carries on and reads a poem called Posh things
I’m catapulted back to the council house of my childhood.
Posh things like paying for your school dinners
Posh things like fitted carpets
I’ve pulled over because I’m crying.
It’s such a powerful poem
I love it.
I start my car and continue to drive into work.
As I pull into the carpark I vow to make time next week to go out.
Thank you Tony Walsh
For reminding me of do many things
And reigniting my poetry passion
You can hear posh things follwing this link.
I need a plan.
Or a twin.
As you know I work as a Soul midwife (end of life care)
I live on a canal bank in South Wales
A small row of 19 terraced cottages.
We have lived there 12 years
It’s always been a dream to buy another cottage on our row to run as a Retreat.
For Cancer patients & mental health patients.
You see I work full time too for the community mental health team.
Now you see why I need a twin.
Anyway I digress.
So I’m working full time then two years ago a cottage goes up for sale
Well I have been asking the universe.
Problem is it’s out of my price range 90k I was gutted. It was perfect needed work but nothing we couldn’t do ourselfs.
Never mind says my hubby Jeff.
It will happen and we carry on dreaming no one moves into the empty cottage and six months later I spot the estate agent coming out of there.
‘Excuse me’ is it back on the market? I ask.
He smiles yes the doors still open come in and have a look around.
I step inside out of the rain
Its very magnolia I say. It’s had a few coats of paint and cheap cord carpet but there’s no damp which is amazing for an old cottage and it’s bigger than our house.
I walk upstairs and I’m visualising the door sign
60k he says
I know he says I’d offer 55k.
I’m stunned it was previously on for 90k
“Okay I say without thinking ill offer 55k”
He looks up from his clipboard.
“Its not advertised yet.
Do you want me to ring the vendor?”
“Yes please” I say assertively
Appearing confident whilst in my head I’m wondering if I can get a mortgage.
He walks into the kitchen chatting on his I phone.
I close my eyes and ask the universe.
“Please let it be” as I open them he comes striding back into the lounge
“Congratulations he accepted your offer, who is your solicitor?
He shakes my hand and I follow him outside onto the tow path.
Ill be in touch he smiles
Im thrilled, scared, and wondering what just happened?
Thank you I whisper to the universe.
As I dial my hubby Jeff.
“Hi love I say as he answers .
Guess what I just bought?”
“A cottage no 28”
There’s a pause. He laughs.
“I need a mortgage and a deposit I carry on. ”
I don’t doubt you’ll get one he laughs you always find a way,
I ring a mortgage advisor he comes out the next evening i can’t see a problem he says and everything is a little sureal.
I find a local solicitor and few weeks later end of Feb it snows my daughter is over to visit so we walk down to no 28 to look around.
“mam looks like there’s a leak in the kitchen from flat roof. ”
We call the estate agent and sure enough there’s a damp patch ceiling and wall.
Im wondering how much it’s going to cost.
Can you ring the vendor I ask?
He drops the price by 4k mor than fair and a month later on 30th march day before my birthday 2017 we complete.
Cosmic ordering at its best.
The hard work begins. Painting furnishing all on a shoe string. We divide the garden in half deck outside the back door and plan to use the other half to build a therapy cabin.
I think back to that kid that was me my father called me “gunner” because I was always gunner do something or other. Always day dreaming. Always going to live in Wales.
I smile he I am with my hubby still dreaming with a man who never doubts me and helps me build them and again I thank the universe.
I have a beautiful oak door sign made “Ravens Retreat”
Register as a C.I.C
(Community interest company) non profit.
And we provide our first free cancer breaks
People love the idea .
Now I’m still working full time and still working as a soul midwife.
Running the cottage and providing free therapies.
We had been open five months cue storm Callum.
The street is evacuated but we don’t leave as the flood waters rise praying that the rain will.stop.
Ravens Retreat is flooded.
The cottages are so old that the drains can’t deal with the flood waters the drains back flow through toilets sink baths and up through the floor.
Its heartbreaking all our hard work.
We throw out furniture carpets the whole kitchen and hack off plaster
Our beautiful Retreat is a building site.
We are doing all the work ourselves, from pay check to paycheck it takes us nine months we work all day and work on the retreat in the evening.
Fall into bed then do it all again the next day.
I have days when I wonder if theres an end to it.
Then in June 2019 we re open.
Im so happy .
So proud our first cancer break is a good friend of mine who has just finished radiotherapy and another friend who is still undergoing chemotherapy.
Four of them arrive and as they walk in look around the sun is shining and they love it.
Suddenly everything is worthwhile.
We have provided many more free holidays this year.
Our therapy cabin is almost finished.
I’m looking for funding to get things finished it will make such a difference.
Then hopefully one day soon can give up my full time job consentrate on my soul midwife work.and the Rtreat.
Dreams really do come true.
This one did. ❤️
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As most of you know I have the privilege and honour of working as a soul midwife and run Ravens Retreat which is a cancer holiday cottage where we offer breaks and free therapies for cancer patients independently.
I find my self working mainly with cancer patients their families and hospice staff.
I witness on a daily basis the absolutely devastating effects cancer has on many.
I also witness incredible strength, love and support from all involved. Cancer doesn’t just affect one person it’s like ripples on a pond. It’s touches everyone they know in one way or another.
These last few months I’ve been supporting families in Ty olwyn hospice in Swansea .
It truly is an amazing place.
The building is bright and comfortable.
Nursing staff and doctors you couldn’t pay for any better.
Volunteers in the coffee shop and a truly lovely man called Mal who serves dinner and constant drinks and can be heard singing and always has a smile and time to talk.
Everytime I arrive he’s there and also when I leave he’s there I’m beginning to think he doesn’t go home .
It’s a home from home a place of tranquility care and love.
I really can’t praise Ty Olwen and Mal enough.
So if ever you think your having a rough week or something is bothering you.
Drop into a hospice have a coffee and buy something from their little shop.
I assure you it will put all your problems into perspective.
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Yesterday was my last counseling session! I’m so proud of myself.
I remember on first appointment I almost didn’t attend.
Panic in the car and a list of very good reasons of why not to go.
I’m so glad I did.
What is it with mental health staff and counsellors not accepting help?
We have apaling self care.
Anyway it came at just the right time I was hanging on by my finger nails.
I also have to say that it helps if you get a counselor that you are comfortable with. You know someone that gets you.
I was extremely lucky.
So for a hour every few weeks I would turn up to one of two hospitals.
The first one has a very modern unit lovely seating area water tower and a large T.V
The second one has a cupboard no windows heating on warp 100° and a distinct smell of musty fish fingers.
My first appointment was in the windowless fish ginger room.
I had resolved to be totally honest about everything whilst sitting in the waiting room.
He would either recommended I need sectioning or be able to help me unravel the tight ball of elastic that was sitting in the pit of my stomach.
And so it began
I told him everything.
Everything that mattered.
Everything that hurt.
I told him about the flash backs
Everything all the things that Donna knew about me that no one else did.
I could feel her beside me willing me to talk.
And it was okay.
I knew I had a connection.
I’m sure Donna chose a person that would understand.
The second session then a third I no longer doubted I could fix this
It was like sitting with someone and letting them help untangle a huge knotted ball of string.
When you arrive you have no idea where the end is .
But gradually after putting it down
Resting then untangling a bit more you see easier ways of doing it.
Then yesterday as I sat in the fish finger room for the last time I reflected on how different I felt from the first time.
Im still working on a few things but I can see again. And I know I can do this
Im so very grateful for the man who sits and listens in the very hot window less room
I believe he was the right person to help at the exact right time.
And for that I thank the universe. 🙂
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I consider myself to be quite layed back. I meditate daily I can’t imagine not doing. It’s my connection to the universe
After a difficult year following the loss of my best friend Donna. Jeff and I came on holiday to Isle of Lewis. It has always been a dream of mine to visit Callanish stones.
Much to my delight the weather was kind the sun shone and the island stole my heart. No light pollution. The northern lights and silence like I’ve never experienced.
The islanders were beautiful softly spoken people who took their time to stop tending gardens and chat to me about island life. No where opens on a Sunday it’s regarded as a family day.
There are no retail parks no traffic. No rushing.
It reminds me of my childhood in early 1970s.The old abandoned croft houses that stand looking out over lochs and peat moors fascinated me
The weavers of Harris Tweed known as the cloth of the land working from their red roofed sheds at the back of beautiful croft cottages sheep and goats roaming the gardens.
Rainbows crashing waves and light houses
The most breathtaking views
I woke this morning sad that it was time to leave
Planning my next visit and knowing this is a place I could happily retire to.
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So we all have places we would love to go ‘one day’ right?
Well I finally got to visit mine.
Is it as amazing as I imagined?
Oh yes and more.
Your wondering where it is?
It’s an island not carrabian or exotic
It’s a beautiful place of white sandy beaches the bluest sea.
Mountains and ancient magical places of the coast of Scotland.
The outer Hebrides.
My reason to come has always been the standing stones of Callanish I’ve traveled all around the U.k but it’s the stones of this island that call to me.
We arrived here on Saturday after the three hour ferry trip.
Did I mention I hate ferries?
Anyway I’ve fallen in love with this island and it’s people.
Rugged coastline mountains and ghost houses that lie abandoned as though one day people just left and didnt return?
Peat fires, Harris tweed oat cakes well you get the picture.
So here is some of the best bits of my very first visit.
I know I’ll be back
To this land of magic and rainbows.
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The air feels cold this morning.
The light dimmer through the rowan trees.
I lie here in that liminal morning place
Under a cool cotton duvet.
Sleeping cat at my feet.
The alarm bleeps at me to get up.
Today will be a good day I promise
I concentrate on my breath
A blackbird sings reminding me of the beauty of my canal bank
I pull up the wooden blind
For this new day.
I hate you grief.
Your cruel and uncaring.
It’s almost a year.
Eight more days.
You’ve poked at me this week.
Reminded me constantly.
I know how long it is since I lost her.
Since I lay beside her.
I have had our grand daughter today.
I brush her hair and sing nursery rhymes
Telling her of her two nanny’s adventures.
She goes home with her dad and I get in my car and head out in the rain.
I’m meeting friends in the next village.
Your there waiting as I pass the old colliery
Hunched craftily waiting in the shadow of the derilict pit head.
Like one of those police sting traps thown infront of my car covered in nails
You make me stop my car and pull over.
I can’t breathe.
There is a screaming a howl from the depths of my soul.
Almost 365 days
It’s raining .
Pouring the mist covers the mountain tops like grey cotton wool.
Like the storm on the bay the day you left my arms.
I miss you.
I sob into the air of this dimension knowing you hear me on the astral.
Not one of my family has ever asked how I am.
Don’t they know that
I’m lonely without you
That I miss you every minute of every day.
For fucks sake I shout
Everyone always thought that I was the strong one
They were wrong
My strength was you Donna.
The rain runs down my windscreen cars wizz past the layby.
Get a grip I tell myself
Grief flows like the rain
As it turns to drizzle
I catch my breath.
Please stop for just awhile .
I dry my eyes as I breathe in i catch my breath as I smell your perfume
Beside me you are always thee at my side.
I take a deep breath and keep going.
It’s the only option I have.
Walking around the lake today with Mavis her last post op appointment at the vets.
Everything is fine.
Although she’s developed that dog planking thing they do when approaching the vets door and suddenly realizing where they are.
Accompanied with a hysterical bark far too loud for such a tiny dog.
To reassure her I she isn’t staying as we leave i fuss her then walk her across the lake to Jeff’s garage were I’ve left my car.
The lake has outdoor gym equipment surrounded by visiting Canadian geese basking in September sunshine
Middle aged men in office attire attempt to lift themselves pulling and pushing at lime green bars casually walking away after failed out of breath attempts.
I sit on a bench watching mams with kids chase balls dogs and toddlers on scooters dropping quavers and melting ice creams .
Get down, and be careful echos in the warm breeze.
As the mothers smile but silently count down the days to back to school.
Men sit fishing eyes closed multiple rods balenced on stands beside them. Plastic sandwich boxes and flasks of tea
Bright red Rowen berries sicamore seeds and blackberries whisper of autumn and the wheel of the year begining to turn.
I love this time of year.
So many shades of green
I feel so very blessed to live here in Wales
There is truly no where else so beautiful
I am grateful every day.
I write every day.
In my phone’s note pad.
My work diary on printer paper.
My head is like a theater stage sometimes as I’m driving I’ll have first few lines of a poem float onstage
I’ll pull over to note them down least I forget.
Storytelling and poetry is such an ancient way of learning. Passing on information.
The druids are a good example spoken word.
My other favorite thing is second hand I was going to say clothes but to be fair it’s every thing.
I have an old oak dining table I bartered for at a car boot sale it has four odd chairs.
It’s role has morphed into a desk a very untidy desk!
Paper note books, Books I’m reading there is always more than one.
There is something comforting to me anout old furniture, pre loved that have belonged to other families been a part of other stories now they are part of mine. I especially like it when things don’t match.
Cups and plates I have an old Welsh dresser with beautiful odd china plates and cups
I bought it for our cottage not thinking of how it would fit through the front door ! Everything here is second hand apart from the mattress.
Old cottage, old furniture. Im sure if I added up how much I’d spent it would be under £800 for the whole house.
We live in such a disposable society.
I think if I’ve got a bedroom chest of drawers that does the job why will I ever need to change it.
I love second hand shops, car boot sales charity shops.
All my clothes are pre loved
There is a Fab charity shop by my office
A little old lady runs it raising money for animal charities.
She has a few just a pound rails.
I never fail to find what I need in her shop.
It reminds me of a childrens program from the 70s called Mr Ben.
Mr Ben was an ordenary man he would go into a shop try on a costume then step through the mirror into another world to a new adventure.
That’s how I feel in Jeans shop.
I love it when girls in work comment on some thing Im wearing and I can say it was a £1.00 🤣
Anyway I’m off on a tangent I was asked to a rarther posh awards ceremony few weeks ago.
Our cancer retreat had been nominated.
Everyone going chatted about what they were going to wear.
How much they had paid where it was from.
Hair make up.
You get the picture.
I moaned to Jeff I’m not spending money on something I won’t wear again he laughed well you need something new go shopping he encouraged me.
I hate shopping.
I reluctantly got myself ready for a trip into Cardiff.
But thought I’d call into Jeans shop first.
Off went like Mr Ben looking for a new adventure
I tell her my dilemma as I look through rails of clothes.
I have to admit I was starting to panic.
What if we win an award?
What if I have to get up on stage?
I turn around to leave resigned to fact I have to go into town crowds of people and hassle of car parks
Thanks Jean I say turning to leave then
There behind me on a rail I’m sure I’ve already looked on is a dress.
Bell sleaves it’s stunning
How much is this Jean.
I say holding it against me its perfect.
£5.00 to you darling she says
Have a wonderful evening.
Thank you Jean you saved the day. She laughs
That night I dress put on my red and black boots Wow Jeff says that’s stunning.
No don’t be silly.
We step through that magic mirror and two hours later I stand on stage accepted the beautiful award with my beautiful daughter in law Sarah,
I talk about Ravens retreat the work that we do and my beautiful brave friend Donna. (Sarah’s Mam) this award and everything I do is dedicated to her.
Im surrounded by beautiful women in designer dresses who had spent the day in the salon.
I don’t feel out of place.
I’d spent the day on the mountain and a hour with Jean in her magical shop.
I stood on stage to have a photo Lou whispered joolz I love the red dress.
£5.00 I smiled from jeans shop I just couldn’t resist and i know Donna would approve.
Sleep where are you?
Why have you forsaken me?
We were never best friends
Aquantances at best.
The barn owl calls to me at 3.30am
To remind me of the beautiful nocturnal world I am now a affiliated member of.
Fox cubs play amongst the dying hollyhocks
Hedgehogs feast on fat slow slugs shimmering sliver ribbon trail their only trace.
Illumination… The Moon card of the tarot pack
Reminds me that the world looks completely different in her misty lamp light.
For those who have the joy of sleep.
Do not see the magic of this stary world.
A magical world of beauty .
Ive always had a dog.
Until we lost Saffie last year i swore I couldn’t do it again.
She had been beside me for 15 years.
I had two cats Lucifer and Luna who had both been rescued from work.
You need to change your job Jeff had said or I’ll have to start work on a bloody Ark.
You had Honey and whilst you were having chemo I’d take Honey out.
She was like a small hysterical sheep a cockapoo.
WTF I’d joke she’s a mongrel.
What an ugly dog. You’d cover her ears and tell her to ignore me.
Anyway I’d gone almost a year with no dog.
Then one day around eight weeks ago I’d had a shit day in work gone back to the office to write up my notes and Emma my friend who sits beside me casually starts telling me about a dog that has been bought as a puppy kept in one room has never been outside and is now a year old
To top it off it’s a patient I’ve already rehomed two dogs for.
I look at Emma. It’s 4pm on a Friday.
Come on let’s go see her I say.
Are you sure.
Five mins later we are knocking on the door.
We go in I sit on the bed and ask what’s. Happening
The flat is full of dog mess and urine and she explains she needs.the dog rehoming.
She’s moving house and thought she may cope with a small dog but can’t cope.
Will you take her she asks?
Off course I will.
Where is she?
At that the smallest frightened dog appears from under the bed
Up onto my knee shaking ears back it’s half the size of my cat I think.
I’m not a fan of tiny toy dogs but it’s looking at me with soulful eyes and beffore I know it I’m offering to keep it myself.
Oh thank you she says and by 5.30 this tiny dog with bat like ears is sitting on my sofa.
Another random end to a day.
Jeff comes home from work looks at me and asks.
I tell him her story and he asks how the cats are.
They seem to like her ..maybe they think it’s a rat he laughs .
Let’s keep her.
Actuually I say I’d kind of promised her.
So being so very tiny I thought she should have a big name.
She looks a bit like a angry old lady.
Mavis Mavanwy Jones
I’m not carrying you I tell her.
Your a big dog!
That day was meant to happen Donna you would love her.
She didn’t know how to play. She had never stood on grass scared of the wind.
I’ve taken her everywhere
We walked up pen y fan
On the beach down the canal she’s a different dog now and I can’t believe how much I’ve missed walking with company
Lucifer loves her they chase each other around the house.
I take her to work she’s the office dog.
She’s always thrilled to see me.
So I guess Jeff had better get started on that Ark. ❤️
I’ve never been a brilliant sleeper. 3am is my Muse time. Half baked poems take centre stage begging for an ending.
Meditation, automatic writing. Channels from spirit.
That’s ok I quite like the world when it’s beautifully still. Moon light walks and star gazing at Trecastle
It amazes me how many people are too busy to just look up.
Take note of just how tiny we are.
Yet how amazing.
Last night was inky black and clear thankfully cool.
Trecastle called my little car carried me over the mountain.
I sat listening to the babble of the river over the rocks.
Ancient language crickets seemed to punctuate with the occasional chirp.
The outline of the mountain the shape of mother Earth.
The shiloette of the stone circle, energy pallpuble
There is only one tree on that beautiful Roman road. We are old friends.
She nodded her welcome in the breeze.
She is old and her dress a little tattered no longer a maiden or a mother but a wise old crone.
She holds secrets she hears the cry’s of the lost and lonley she shelters them from life’s storm.
She is bent over almost pointing the way to the stone circle that stands around 600 yards away
Unseen from the road clevely hidden .
Go she tells me bathe in the moonlight walk the circle and speak your truth.
The stones will absorb your pain. The circle will remind you how to dance.
Feel the wind on your skin the dew on your bare feet
Know that you are loved here.
For this place holds magic.
This is your home.
I smile at her a silent thanks
Cross the river and walk barefoot to my circle .
The breeze is warm
As I give thanks for all that I am.
All that I have
As I dance the spiral dance of ancient ways
Come with me on a journey
A journey back in time
To a northern council
estate the year is 1979.
Hi I’m Joolz Im fourteen and I live here on this estate
People say it’s a bad place but I love it.
My garden gate opens onto a woodland
It’s a magical place with Oak Ash and Rowen.
My favourite flower grows here
Can you guess what it is?
It’s a Dandelion.
I know! My mam calls them wee in beds.
But I really love them.
They are beautiful bright yellow just like sunshine.
Then after the flower you get a magical dandelion clock.
Each seed is a wish.
And each wish is a chance.
Everyone needs a chance.
So it’s a bright Sunday morning in May.
I’m creeping down the stairs
I can hear mam and Dad shouting and arguing..
About beer and money.
They are always arguing.
I open the door to the kitchen
There on the yellow Formica top table is Dad’s old Holborn tobacco tin
Lid half off
My dog Toby is under the table in his box furiously wagging his tail
It twacks against the table leg.
Shhh Toby I say patting his head Dad will hear.
I slowly turn the back door knob holding my breath
They are still shouting
I step out into the porch sun is shining brightly the smell of Sunday dinners and cut grass wafts over the Hawthorne hedge.
I can see my old blue grifter bike leaning on the back gate
I step into the sunlight
Frank next door is mowing his lawn
Up and down he walks
Straight narrow lines
Like his straight narrow life
He sees me and stops.
Folds his arms over his chest and asks
‘Are they at it again?’
I cringe and ignore him and he carries on mowing.
I’m half way down the path.
The old oak tree casts a huge shadow trying to hide me.
I get to my bike.
Hold onto the handles and jump onto the seat.
The back door opens.
Where the bloody hell do you think your going lady ?
My heart beats faster.
Er I .
I won’t be long Dad I manage.
I start to peddle.
As fast as I can.
I know these paths like the back of my hand.
Faster and faster I go.
Over knobbly tree roots.
Bike bouncing this way and that .
Im heading for the bottom.field
Dappled sunlight through the canopy of trees
There ahead of me an arch way of light
As the bike busts out into the bright sunlight
I’m momentarily blinded
Then a sudden thwack!
I’m.thrown from my bike.
I cry as I hit the ground.
Half on the the grass half on the path
I look up squinting into the sun blood on my hands and grass stains on my jeans my mama going to kill me .
I look around expecting to see Dad and get another smack.
But there staring back at me if isn’t Dad.
It’s a boy around my age
He has the most beautiful brown eyes
I’m sorry, so sorry he says
He is pointing at a leather football
The same ball that has knocked me off my bike.
That’s not a northern accent.
He sounds like my French teacher
He holds out his hand to me
I’m.sorry he says again.
I’m Jean Claude .
Joolz I say holding out my hand and he pulls me up.
I’m running the gravel from my hands.
He picks up my bike hands it to me.
I have a bike he says.
Come and beckons me to follow.
And I do.
French boy where did you come from?
What are you doing here.
This is a northern council estate.
You can’t possibly be a sightseer.
French kid sent here to be educated
Scruffy council estate kid
Both square pegs both needing to fit.
That summer was the best ever.
We were friends.
We went bike riding.
Went for picnics with biscuits and pop.
He threw stones at my bedroom window
We would like on the grass watching stars
He made me Daisy chains from dandilions
And gave me butterflies for the first time.
Now fast forward to November.
It’s bonfire night
Can you believe French kids don’t do bonfire night .
I’ve arranged to meet him.at 6 o click on the church wall.
I’m so exited I run through the woods I can see my breath in the air.
It’s do cold the air is filled with smell of smoke and I see him sitting on st David’s church wall he’s smiling that big smile and waving
He jumps off the wall.and puts his arm around my shoulders.
We fall into step.
We walk towards the community centre
Chatting and laughing.
As we approach we see the bonfire standing tall like a fiery pyramid.
Old doors leaning around it’s sides
It’s huge he says as we get closer I look up.as Sparks rise like fire flies.
The sky is clear and inky black .
Look look.st the moon she is full says John .
You see her. That is the same moon my mother will see outside my house over the sea.
It is so beautiful there
One day I will take you there
He pulls me closer to him.and I smile.
I believe him
One day I will.go with him escape be free away from this place we have planned it
Then suddenly there is a smash and a crash and a dirty pint glass
A voice shouts loud “hey nigger lover.”
Time just stops…..
I’m dragged kicking and screaming away from my brown eyed boy.
I scream bite and fight.
There is a sound of shots is it a fire work it sounds like dad’s shotgun
I can taste blood.
Smell beer it reminds me of dad.
Suddenly I’m free.
I crawl back towards the fire.
Calling whimpering his name.
He is there laying on his side I grab his arm
Those beautiful brown eyes full of terror
Joolz he whispers
Blood on his face.
Get up . Get up I beg.
Our crime beautiful brown eyed black boy.
Brown eyes white girl
Do we not bleed the same colour blood.
Our hearts best the same terrified beat.
As holding onto each other we stagger to our feet and stumble to a house across the street
French boy where did you come from.
What are you doing here
This is a northern council estate you can’t possibly be a sightseer.
Blue flashing lights and ambulance comes to take us away.
Hospital cleans up the blood stitches us up.
But can’t stop my brown eyed boy from going away.
Back to the Seyshelles his island and family in the sun.
And me northern council.estate kid I stay here on the street where our story began
Bunches of dandilions..
But just one that matters
Let the world see there is no colour to LOVE.
Some people your meant to meet.
Our first cancer break this year was in June. The cottage was back up and running and the break was gifted to an old friend of mine Viv.
A lass from my home town she had recently finished 20 plus weeks of radiotherapy at claterbridge hospital for two agresive tumours in her neck.
She is one of the most funny hard working and kind people i know
So I was beyond relieved when the news came she was in the clear.
So Viv and her partner Julie were coming back to.the canal.
The week before they were due to come I received a message from a mutual.friend Sharon
Asking how many bedrooms are in the retreat?
She asks if she can come down the same time as Viv and Julie her friend Bex has cancer she has two young children and is struggling she’s terminal
Yes of course she can come you and Bex can have a week to yourselves I tell her.
But Sharon goes on to tell me she has a broken foot can’t drive and so if they can all come together that would we better.
So after discussing it with Viv and Julie
They all meet up and agree to come together.
Now as I said they are from my hometown.
Salt of the earth so we go into overdrive to make sure everything is perfect for them this is our grand opening after the flood damage.
I was a little worried about the journey here they were coming in Sharon’s beetle
Julie driving as Sharon has a big boot on protecting her foot.
Thankfully they arrived safely but tired .
Bex fitted in from the start.
Bear in mind that I’d known the others for 20 plus years
Funny, bubbly with a wicked sense of humour.
She was so relieved to get away from ‘ cancer’ to just be Bex on holiday with the girls.
We sat around my fire pit on warm evenings drank red wine laughed lots shared stories hopes dreams
Went over to vivs favorite place the mumbles had lunch and sat by the sea.
Lost Sharon’s car keys spent a hour looking for them
Found them in a flower bed 🙈🤣
Bex said she wanted to walk up a mountain she was wearing a back brace due to weakness caused by cancer so Everest was out of the question.
But the tide was out and the light house stood on a small mountain.
Fancy that I asked nodding at the small mountain.
She laughed do you think I’ll make it up?
Yeah why not.
Go on then I prompted..
You not coming with me she asked..
If you want me to or do you want time on your own?
She smiled and off she went.
I sat on beach with my baby grand daughter and watched her become smaller and smaller as she climbed up towards the light house
Viv Julie and shaz where on the pier I walked up to them
Look I sad pointing at the tiny figure striding purposely up towards the light house.
The three of us watched as she got to the top.
Stood beside the light house sun shining wind in her hair
Arms outstretched to the sky .
This is what the retreat is about I thought
I felt so proud of her.
She stood up there for awhile then took her time walking back across the causeway.
She almost shone.
That was amazing she said.
I was just ME with the wind in my hair .
That’s the picture of her I shall keep in my head that day by the light house.
The rest of their time with us flew by.
Viv and Bex had healings and reflexology.
Although trying to get Viv to relax is a task in itself
And all too soon they were leaving with another holiday booked with us
Hugs and kisses exchanged and they drove off the canal top down on the car singing to the radio four beautiful lasses with so much to give.
Since then Bex got married went to Italy and sadly cancer became more aggressive.
She never lost that warrior spirit raising £670 having her hair cut last week for the retreat.
I bloody love that canal.she told me on video chat.
I’ll be back watch out for me.
I don’t doubt you will I laughed .
She died yesterday peacefully in her beloved Liverpool.
She knew it was time
I’m so glad I met her what a girl.
I see her smiling wind in her hair on top of a mountain.
You asked me when we were doing your healing what I believed.
I told you energy can’t die. It can only go on.
I like that you said.
You were a bundle of beautiful energy Bex.
See you on the canal soon my friend.
Mugwort and wild flowers hanging to dry over the fire place all carefully hand bound. all local collected here on my canal. The cottage smells divine
Insence, tea who knows but all made from herbs and plants of this place .
I lie in my bed.
Right arm arcing around my head.
Like a waxing moon.
It’s almost 3am I don’t need the clock to know.
Silicone ear plugs block external sounds.
Soft orange glow of my salt lamp.
Gentle contented purr of sleeping feline .
Words of yet unbaked poems float across centre stage of my mind.
Pad and pen are just out of reach.
I sigh Pendle witch hangs from my ceiling sways in the breeze of the window sitting on her broom legs dangling metal rimmed glasses perched on her nose .
She knows my nightly dilemma.
The canal bank sleeps.
Ducks and geese huddled together settled
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
Meditation takes me to the
The bardic door in my mind creaks and swings open wide.
A vast library beckons long wooden table and open fire, walls of ceiling high book cases winged back chair and footstool.
Words flow like the raindrops running down my window.
I rise from my bed.
Pick up my glasses and my pen.
The Pendle witch smiles as ink pours onto the page the story unfolds and grows.
Time doesn’t exist here.
This is the land of stories, magic
Of tribe anything is possible here.
Words are powerful.
Write it, chant it, sing it, speak it.
Hold out your hands.
For it shall be.
I know what the books and therapists say about flashbacks
I don’t disagree.
Every theory is valid in its own way.
But spiritually I look for lessons in everything.
So I try to make some sort of sense of everything.
The flash backs started Donna when you left.
Trauma they say .
I know that and I can hear you singing beautiful Trauma by Pink to me.
So I decided to ask for help.
Nhs Oçcy health was my starting point.
It couldn’t hurt could it?
Making an appointment to see a counselor?
I could always change my mind.
I almost did first appointment as I drove up to Singleton hospital I was tempted to drive past keep going to the mumbles to sit on that rock you liked by the sea.
I could people watch maybe?
I was too early sat in the car.
What are you doing I asked myself get a grip I need coffee.
I walked up stairs thinking about the last time I was here in that corridor was with you
Going for a scan 7.30pm
You laughed as you sat in hospital gown it was on back to front bloody exhibitionist 🤣
Should be in the cross keys not sat here it’s 2 for 1 cocktails
Nutty Russian I could just drink one now if my liver wasn’t fucked you laughed just as they shouted your name.
I squeezed your hand three times .
Me to you said.
I smile at the woman now typing I’m here to.see Adrian I say
Take a seat I pour myself a water wishing it was a large gin and t and look at the door.
A smiley man steps out of the office and before I know it I’m sat in a tiny room that really could be a large cupboard
It smells like burnt fish fingers it’s really hot and I’m menopausal. The fan is crap
I’m babbling and apologizing.
He asks be the standard how do you feel questions on scale of 1-5. There isn’t a question that asks where are you at moment if there were I’d tell him im completely lost.
He’s a nice guy. Genuine I hear you beside me.
Tell him . It’s okay.
And so I do.
I tell him everything I think if I say it all at once it’s out there.
Floating about the universe.
He can start to help me pick up the pieces
Or section me 🤣
Mental health workers are shit at talking about their own shit. Or is that just me.?
He listens and we agree on a plan
You’d like him Donna
I’ve seen him three times now.
Its helping I feel safe
He asked me today what would I say to my father’s voice
I didn’t really know.
But it’s given me something to think.about
I’d tell him that nothing he has ever said will break me.
That everything that Donna held for me hadn’t died with her I have trusted someone else.
I don’t have secrets.
I’d tell him im sometimes sad that he didn’t get to know me.
That I accept all the things I wanted he wasn’t capable of giving me.
He didn’t know how
I’d tell him that’s okay.
I’d ask him to stop shouting
Stop being angry
That I hope next time around he has a better life.
That I send him healing.
That I remember good things like him holding the back of the old blue bike saddle teaching me to ride a bike .
I remember crying because a black bird was stuck in a bramble bush and begging him to save it.
Watching him push his arm in holding the frightened bird then letting it go
Scratches and blood
As we walked home he told me that the bird had gone to tell.all it’s friends it had been saved because of me.
I’d tell him that no matter how hard life is it is always beautiful.
That I wouldn’t change a day.
That I’m so blessed in my little cottage by the water in Wales kids geese ducks dog cat and a man I love.
This is my paradise.
I’d ask him if he remembered me saying I’d live in Wales one day when I was a kid.
He would call me Gunner…
Because I was always Gunner do this or that.
Power of positive thought.
The universe listens
Expect amazing and get amazing.
Dad that’s what I’d tell you
So I can’t listen to your negativity.
It no longer serves me.
I’ve been so very tiered
But I’m.getting there
Yes Donna as bloody usual.you were right I needed someone in my corner someone with the right words
I’ll get there . I’m too bloody stubborn not too.
I’d sign my letter wishing you love healing and light.
Because you taught me Donna that’s all there is.
There is nothing else
Only love ❤️
Hello my oldest sacred friend
We talk every day I am always grateful to see you outstretched reaching across as I walk towards you.
Telling you my deepest secrets my hopes and fears
You always have time to listen
No judgement, always patient if I am lost for words you gently wait until I find them.
When I am tired or greaving you have brought me comfort as I have leaned against you. I have felt you gently gifting me your energy.
Draw from our mother Earth and father sky
Your love for them deep rooted and out stretched reaching up your limbs you give daily thanks and gratitude for this beautiful place and the life that we have.
Some would say you are silent, our conversations are one sided.
How foolish they are.
They walk by and miss the sacred magic you hold.
Daily we change together.
Growing older and wiser
Learning and sharing this place this life time
Today I am reflective and thankful for a beautiful weekend.
You are dressed in the most beautiful shade of green.
As you reach out over the water sheltering beautiful pink foxgloves.
Your leaves fluttering I sit beside you and we watch a lone honey bee dip in each bright pink flower
This is my favorite place
My sacred place.
We speak of tonight’s dark moon
The things in my life that are no longer needed
You listen absorbing my words and reassure me.
You are my constant ever changing by the day by the season
I have watched your leaves fall many times
Each time you stand vunerable but strong
Still gazing upwards to the source of all.
And holding on fast rooted to our mother
My luminal beautiful friend
I am forever grateful for your wisdom and guardianship your magic.
May you speak the language of wren’s and Stones sky and roots always.
Does the weather or season affect your mood? It’s April springtime in Wales
Although it has rained a few times this weekend that’s okay the rain is what makes Wales such a lush green beautiful place.
I love this time of year everything is waking up tiny Hawthorne leaves dafodills in their yellow dresses, the ivy seems to boast a new brighter shade of green, the trees on the mountains no longer bare they are dressed in new clothes swaying in the breeze welcoming crows who caw and dart to and fro gathering twigs and straw to build this year’s nests warm and safe surrounded by new leaves and a warmer breeze.
Baby shrews scurry along the canal bank chased by my black cat Luna who also loves the rebirth of spring for different reasons. The nights are lighter.
I’ve spent the weekend clearing my cottage garden building a fire in the fire pit sitting reflecting watching the late sunset.
I feel my mood is starting to lift. It’s been a hard challenging year. The loss of my best friend Donna floored me and I miss her everyday I’ve chatted away to her as I always did tell her what’s happing and all about having to rebuild our Retreat and how its taken it’s toll.
But I’ve discovered some amazing people strangers who have become new friends.
My relationship with my husband Jeff we’ve never had an easy ride but he’s my rock and I his. We are , complete opposite but I can’t imagine me without him at times this year we’ve wondered if there was a light at the end of the tunnel as we would complete one job on the retreat something else would come up.
But yesterday we finished the floor tiling all the way through the cottage hard graft when your doing it after work and weekends singlehandedly whilst also building a shower room and fitting a kitchen
So last night I sat by the fire pit in my little piece of paradise and gave thanks to the universe.
For lessons learned and strength and patience I didn’t know we had.
For good friends chosen family and rebirth of this coming year.
I’m here holding out my hands and trusting. I’m ready for whatever it brings
With the quiet knowledge that this is a new chapter.
I’ll go back in times of reflection and reread the older chapters for without them I wouldn’t be here now.
Sat by the fire watching a black cat look up at the sky. Feeling warm and grateful for all that I am.
This is a short recording of a poem I performed for stand up to racism it’s called Dandelions.
I’m about to take a huge leap of faith. Let go of my job with the NHS to become self employed.
I’ve had thirteen fabulous years working in community mental health and I can genuinely say I’ve loved it.
It’s a huge decision but I can’t do two jobs
The retreat is almost back on it’s feet after the flood my beautiful healing hive cabin is a few months away from being completed. So it really is decision time.
I know it’s the right choice but letting go of what’s old and familiar to do something new is exiting but a little bit scary and not having that guaranteed pay slip at end of the month is the scary bit!
But I’ve put it out there to the universe and when my manager asked about my case load capacity last week I told him I was planning to leave.
He was a little shocked reminding me he needs a months notice at least but as soon as I’d actually said it I felt better quite empowered.
So it’s out there!
I feel like the fool card in tarot standing on the edge of the mountain all his possessions in his back pack preparing to step out into the world as the sun rises his dog at his heels (in my case a couple of cats!)
So I’m holding out my hands trusting the universe visualising good and positive change.
Here’s to exiting times ♥️
It’s been a busy month in Wales. Lots of new challenges. Andy came over to see us at the Retreat to advise us on insulating the Healing Hive Cabin.
Who knew keeping a wooden building warm was so complicated 🙈 not me.
So supplies are on order electric is almost finished thanks to a generous donation we are back on track to open our doors again in May.
For the time being I am still working from Crow Cottage so if you would like a Healing appointment please give me a ring.
To think all of this was a dream I’ve had for so very long and now here I am surrounded by the most amazing family, friends, healers and Therapists.
It truly is cosmic ordering at it’s most wonderful.
Holding out your hands to the universe.
Visualise the positive change you wish to see.
Most importantly BELIEVE!
Im lying here this morning thinking about the little council estate kid with an alcoholic father who called me Gunner.
(Because I was always Gunner live in Wales, always Gunner live by water always day dreaming always BELIEVED in those dreams.)
So as I sit out side our tiny cottage by a beautiful canal surrounded by friend who are other dreamers, I remember him and thank him for his words they made me more determined
When I used to close my eyes tight shut at night I could see mountains water and trees.
Now every morning before I leave the cottage I give thanks and gratitude for all those things that I never take for granted each day I look at them with new eyes.
I thank spirit, Source
Life is truly beautiful ❤️
What a beautiful day on our canal.
This morning I’m sat here writing the hand fasting ceremony for two beautiful ladies I’m privileged to call friends.
I’m a wedding and funeral celebrant and both events are celebrations of our life.
Wedding wise I particularly love the old ways.
Hand fasting is where the modern day referral of tying the knot comes from
The cords used can represent many things from colours chosen and sometimes things used to make the cords with.
The ceremony is bespoke and Taylor made to fit the couple as well it should be because we are all so very different and yet at the same time connected.
This particular ceremony is so very special as the ladies it is for are very dear to my heart.
Sometimes in life we meet people who shine.
The love connecting them is palpable.
These are one of those couples
So today shall be spent weaving magic words to represent weaving for two beautiful souls.
And yet again I’m reminded that life is indeed beautiful.
I am truly blessed ♥️
So as most of you know I live in a little canalside cottage nothing posh just two up two down on a tow path in South Wales.
I also have another cottage on the terrace Ravens Retreat.
Where as a soul midwife I provide respite free Therapies and breaks for cancer patients or anyone with life limiting condition.
We are slowly rebuilding the retreat after we were hit by storm Callum in Sept 2018 most of the terrace was flooded by sewerage it was a challenging time to say the least.
My hubby Jeff has been beyond amazing he is a jack of all trades and has self leveled floors, tiled bathroom fitted a shower room.
He’s almost finished tiling kitchen and living room
Fitted a new kitchen aquired from Facebook marketplace.
We are doing all this on a shoe string
We have had a cabin built (our healing hive ) on the land behind the retreat and are also trying to get this up and running insulated electrics flooring fencing the list is endless
And as I’ve been off work for a year on half pay I have really been holding out my hands to the universe and trusting we can get things finished.
Offering free Therapies to cancer patients. Holding healing clinics Reiki, Omni, and Soul Connection healing workshops teaching reiki to community
I know this work Is so very important people need to be treated holistically.
This is my service to the community a way of me giving back. A thank you for leading me to this beautiful place.
This post is about just that giving back and paying forward.
I always believe that people are for the best part good
And what you put out there you get back.
That’s what storm Callum has taught me.
This tiny street in South Wales is a community
Very commune like.
We all pulled together. We baled water, carried furniture, cleaned each other’s houses supporting each other in any way possible.
I cooked for the street my son made flood gates my hubby helped anyone and everyone. Reporters came and went we we’re on T.V for the weekend then people forgot.
Or did they.
Friends and neighbors are now closer
People come and gift me time in return for Therapies or healing or perhaps lunch.
Fab electrician had helped wire the cabin, my friend Han from work helped dig out old trees and clear garden. My son, daughter and daughter in love helped clean and grout tiles
Zoe and Ross helped clear up after cabin was erected
My grand daughter Tamika pushed wheel barrows full of garden rubbish.
Out neighbor Paul plastered the bathroom ceiling.
The twins next door brought food when Jeff was working.
My friend Sharon very kindly lent us a digger! How awesome I’ve been truly overwhelmed with kindness I’m truly blessed.
Last week I had a phone call from a lovely guy Chris who wanted to know more about what we we’re doing having heard about us from a mutual.friend
He visited and from minute I opened the door I knew we were destined to be friends.
Today he came over and painted fences helped Jeff out then had Sunday lunch with me and my family.
I guess what I’m telling you is there is a positive in every situation no matter how bad things are
Our little retreat was a lovely little cottage before the flood but we had made do and mended with what we had.
The flood pulled our little street together into a fabulous commune it pushed us to do work that we couldn’t really afford but somehow we’ve done it.
We now have that all important healing space I so desperately needed. A shower room that will make things much easier for wheel chair users or guests with dogs!
Most of all I have met some of the most amazing people who gave us the gift of time and true genuine friendship .
That to me is priceless.
So when life gets hard remember hold out your hands and trust the universe.
It may be hard but it is always beautiful.
So if your passing through neath valley south Wales
Come take a walk down Canalside drop in say hi.
A liminal magical place
My family ❤️
I didn’t get to wake every morning and kiss your precious tiny face;
or whisper mammy loves you to make you feel safe
I was never allowed to hold you tight
when you couldn’t sleep at night
I didn’t get to sing to you a sweet lullaby,
to calm you down when you cried
I didn’t get to fall asleep with you in my arms,
all swaddled in a crochet blanket to keep you snug warm
I didn’t get to hear you laugh and giggle
or see you little tiny baby toes wiggle
There are many things I didn’t get to do,
But my tiny still born but still loved babies mammy never stopped loving or remembering you
I can turn my hand to most things practical, D.I.Y jobs if you show me how to do something I’ll have a go. Tecnical stuff not so.
Like computers like most folk I can find my way around the internet (saying that thinking about the enormity of the web makes my head hurt! It’s like some endless digital universe)
I blog lots use word ect but that’s it.
Oh and shop!
Years ago I ran my own business when my children were small advertising was in local paper, and leaflets which my kids were bribed to put through doors on the estate. If you were posh you had business cards ..
Needless to say I didn’t have cards.
Scraps of paper and a bird. How things have changed.
Anyway my point is all of these simple things were enough so my “business marketing”
Was simple done for me by me.
Time Hop thirty years..
Like the film back to the Future.
Local papers are on line..
The only leaflets I seem to get are pizza delivery and political crap which goes straight in the log burner basket with the kindling.
We run Ravens retreat
Canalside cottage we do Therapies healing , workshops.
The point is I now can’t rely on leaflets and local rag mags.
Looking for something
Ask 20th century oricle GOOGLE. (I’m sure Google is actually god)
If you write things the right way he puts you to the top of his list!
If your not in there no one finds you.
Where do I start with this.
My dear friend Julie Rosser runs The Healing Room in Llangan just outside of bridgend (if you are local to this area look her up! )
She’s amazing healer, reflexology, Reiki teacher.
After chatting to her she tells me of a local guy who designs web sites and does digital marketing. (What witchcraft is this?)
I’ve glazed over as I have no clue about how any of this works.
Let me tell you now it costs a substantial amount more than getting 500 leaflets printed for the estate.
But the clue is in the ww of www. World wide..
So I hand over the last of my savings for this bespoke web site. Then three months running costs after launch.
Then I wait.
This week I get a call from Stewart to go up to check site and finalize design
So off I go over to tolbot green
Meet up with a lovely guy who speaks another language of all things web..
I don’t know what I expected but a ordinary office in a smart business centre. Desk and laptop was where he was at.
We had originally decided on 22 pages (in my head 22 leaflets 🙈)
But apparently I now have 51
This man is a modern day wizard.
Who knew you can do so much online. (Not me)
Buy vouchers, book appointments, which then sync to your Google calendar.
Buy items in a shop Blog ( I like this bit)
Trying to explain to me how Google “crawls over key words to get your services to the top of searches couldn’t have been an easy task but I think I get the idea.
The graphics are amazing to be fair the whole thing is.
There is even a events page. (Banners see I was listening!) and a link to Julie’s healing room and the Malindi centre in West Wales.
The best bit I don’t have to bribe the kids to post them through prefab doors on the estate!
As Peter Kay would say it will be out there on the estate through that tinternet!
So if you need a web site.
Look up Stewart Jones. His website is at
and you can email him firstname.lastname@example.org or call him on 07494 192019
Surprisingly normal looking guy in a normal looking office but I’m sure I felt so energy shift as I left the office I caught a glimpse of a tall hat and a wand 😉
Stewart the wizard of all things digital.
Our shiny new web site will be launched at end of April just before we finish refurb on Retreat.
New beginnings exiting times
Look us up.
Think how many trees we saved.
True Healers have walked a gauntlet ~
By the time someone stands before them, to receive healing ~ You can guarantee they have experienced it themselves.
If not exactly the same experience, then they feel your pain themselves,which makes it possible to help you ~
True Healers have seen things, they would never want for others to see ~
This is how Healers stand without fear. ~
Some real serious things take place, which is one reason a Healers Heart is full of Unconditional Love ~
Healers know, before you even stand before them, they already know, they feel it, emotionally, physically and Spiritually.
Their connection to other realms, have shown them everything, they have stood before some pretty nasty looking energy forms.
They have battled for your Soul. ~ The reason they keep going. ~
To help is their path. No matter how much they would simply want to stop, it is not a choice for them. ~
True Healers do not seek fame or recognition, they have no ego attached to what they do. ~
They are quiet, caring, and usually keep to themselves, so that they can breathe and rest. ~
It’s a hard road, one that shows people for who they are, so they can walk their talk. ~
Love, compassion, truth and light surround them.
When you need Healing, they appear before you.
Will you recognize them?
Will you show them Honour and Respect?
They ask for nothin more than equal exchange!!!
Be thankful they are survivors, true modern day warriors, they are of the four nations, all know from the beginning of time. ~
No judgement of others faith, because that’s what it’s all about
LOVE UNCONDITIONAL. ~
I have a cat with an identity problem.
He thinks he’s a dog.
Now I have never owned a cat before him ( Lucifer)
I was working in community mental health I went out one sunny day in May to visit a new patient.
An elderly lady who lived in a first floor flat.
Just her an her cat
We sat and chatted for a few minutes when in comes the cat.
It’s huge and as it sat down it looked like a massive triangular door stop.
Wow I say is the cat pregnant.?
She looks at me like pissed in her teacup!
“No she’s fucking not !” She hisses
“She’s doesn’t go out of the flat!”
Okay okay! 🙈
I make my excuses and leave
“see you tomorrow
I call as I shut the front door
Me and my big mouth.
I vow never to comment again on the fat triangular cat!
The day after I return.
Her mood had to improved she opens the door and I follow her upstairs she’s muttering under her breath and the smell of cat pee is so pugnent I kick myself for presuming the triangle cat has ever been out side.
She stands at the top of the stairs cigarette hanging from her mouth pointing at the bedroom door.
Your fault she says
You cursed me.
I peep around the door there on the floor by a pile of rubbish bags is the much slimmer triangle doorstop cat licking three beautiful kittens
A voice behind me says
I’m drowning them.
Oh no I say I’ll have one and I’ll find homes for the others
She’s still scowling.
I’ll pay for cat food until they can leave their mammy.
And then we can take her to be neutered.
Still she scowls
Let’s go sit down and chat.
We talk about support and help she needs and I feel her soften slightly.
I call to the shop and pick up cat food and litter and a few packets of buiscits
Take photos of the kittens and ring the pdsa to make appointment.
Over the next few weeks we got to know each other better her guard came down as I took her out shopping and to the pub for a surprise birthday lunch.
Eventually the kittens we’re ready to leave Lucifer, Lola and Ragnar
All had forever homes and the triangle cat was neautered!
Just in case she left the flat again!
I took Lucifer home to my canalside cottage.
My first cat ever
My elderly dog saffie adored him he would try to suckle her and she would lick him soon they were best friends.
When saffie and I walked down the canal
Lucifer started to follow
Where saffie went so did our cat…
If a dog barked at saffie this crazy cat would warn it off with a hiss and arched back! They were inseparable.
Last year we lost our saffie she was 14 it broke my heart.
Lucifer pined for her
Every night 7pm stood at the door by saffies lead.
So of course we still go for a canal walk .
I’m sure she about walking with us too.
Me and my beautiful accidental cat 🐈
You left me on a stormy night in September 2018
loosing you will be as awfully memerable as the twin towers.
The windows looking out across Swansea bay.
A view that you loved.
The beach that you walked on many times painted toe nails and flip flops.
Drawing hearts in the sand with a stick.
Finding pictures in clouds
Paddling in the surf and throwing sticks for saffie then honey
Swansea pride in singleton park there across from the bay.
Singing to pink songs and drinking vodka cocktails.
I sit and wonder how many times we have walked there
How many sticks we have thrown.
How many coffees in take away cups
Sunsets we watched and dreams we shared
That bay holds so many memories.
The light house you loved I told you it was owned by housing association
You rang to ask if it was for rent.
It’s only right that this place you loved so much is part of today.
I have a silloette photo I took of you one summer evening standing looking at the sunset holding my granddaughter in your arms outside our favorite cafe remos.
Any excuse we would go there I’d buy us ice creams and you’d insist you didn’t like it
It’s the early hours of the morning and the stormy night intensifies.
Huge seagulls blow like paper towards the window the night is black and grey the rain comes down in sheets
A tiny glow from the light house blinks on the cliffs
Is the bay morning you leaving us too?
How many grains of sand on that beach . you often asked. As many as stars in the sky?
My random girl.
Every grain of sand and every star like every grain of me will miss you.
Twenty six hours earlier we had walked into that ward.
I’d squashed into the bed to
Hold you knowing we
Wouldn’t be leaving together
Twenty six hours later Im holding you knowing it’s the last time.
Whispering to you that its
okay to let go..
Telling you that I love you.
Your hair smelling of lush shampoo
Wet with my tears
We are surrounded by your family.
A sphere of love.
But as I feel your breathe rise and fall for the last time
I learn the meaning of heart break.
I have never felt so alone.
I promised I’d be strong.
Your faith in me was unshakable
I know your out there on the bay wind in your hair
But I don’t know how to live with out you
I missed you today.
First day of sunshine this year really beautiful weather
February who knew we are in Wales with no rain.
I think of you every day
But I hear your voice today
Loudly exclaiming SUNSHINE It’s flip flop weather!
I know you would be in the salon having your toe nails painted.
Then I’d reluctantly go flip flop shopping with you.
Lunch and coffee whilst you would ask “Do you like my nails?”
I’d roll my eyes and smile you were such a girlie girl.
I miss you Donna
Everything reminds me of you.
This week it’s flip flop.
So I’ll wear them for you.
See you soon my friend ♥️
Lost in a crowd
Like a small boat at sea.
Heard but not listened to
Inside a storm with no key.
Seen but invisible.
Like the astral plane
Silent screams behind convincing smiles
Tears fall like rain.
Sleepless eternal nights
Exhausted long days.
Hiding the sadness
Hoping for better days.
Wanting to fix things
But scared it can’t be.
For I am a wondering warrior
That no one can see.
This is a clip from a book I’m writing about a dysfunctional abusive family in the 1970s and child mental health services at that time.
Thankfully now it’s much better.
He sat at a huge oak desk
The wall behind him was bare brick
A modern clinic for 1975..
A cheese less cheese plant as wide as it was tall stood like a gangly guard in the corner
Leaves reaching out like huge ten fingered alien hands
A photograph of the man at the desk with a woman and two children my age smiling at the camera
But in the photograph he wasn’t wearing a suit like he wears when I see him sitting at the desk. He looks different in the photo. Perhaps it’s his twin brother?
I’m holding onto the sides of the blue plastic chair
Swinging my legs.
They don’t touch the ground.
The only sound is the papers he is holding as he reads silently reminding himself of my last appointment.
The leaves on the cheese plant guard.
Leaning to my left to check around the back.
Fourty two I whisper.
He looks at me over his gold glasses smiles.
“Forty two? It’s nice to hear you speak.” He says
I feel my face flush.
Nod my head
“Leaves I say on your plant”
Do you like counting?
‘Inside my head’
I count I sing sometimes I shout but I don’t tell him that.
So he says
“How’s things been at home this week.?”
I’m listening to the breathing behind me and the faint waft of cigarette smoke
I can’t see him but I know he’s there.
His presence is palpable.
He always sits in that chair by the door
Answer the doctor he says in his gruff voice ..
I look at the photograph. On the desk.
His eyes look kind
I look back at him holding his pen and I begin to count the bricks on the wall
Shit I think as I count
Things at home are shit always .
21, 22, 23.
Talk to the Dr the voice behind me says from the chair
Tell the truth .”
I swing my legs..
She’s shy says the voice again.
Not ten mins before outside in the rain the voice had reminded me to keep my mouth shut.
Mimed turning a key and throwing it away.
“If you tell them ANYTHING the will put me in jail. You will go in a children’s home and you won’t see your mammy again. ”
I looked at the doctor smiled and carried on counting
Until eventually it was time to go home to my Mam.
Talk to me about what matters to you.
What is your passion?
Who influenced you growing up?
What situation makes you want to be a better person.
Tell me what makes you laugh, the tell me what makes you sad?
Who are your tribe?
Where do you fit in the world.
If there was something major you could change what would it be?
Do you have regrets?.
Do you believe in a higher being?
A god or goddess.
The source that connects all beings
Talk to me about the universe.
Watch the sun rise, then set.
Let’s watch the stars and be amazed.
Feel the wind and rain the elements that make us whole.
Walk barefoot through a forest.
Feel the heat of a camp fire, look for pictures in it’s flames
Tell me when you feel most alive
Let me see who you really are.
The spark of life that is you.
The real you.
Everyone needs to believe in something, but I don’t think that belief is something that can be taught. I believe in the pureness of dog’s souls and the unspoken bond between sisters. I believe that you have to leave a place in order to discover how much you love it. I believe in the stillness of a Saturday and I believe you don’t need to understand life in order to live it fully. Confusion is half the beauty, confusion is half the journey. I believe there are countless soul mates for every living person and I believe they are around every corner. At any given moment, I believe there are things at which to marvel at – a never ending stream of chances to fall in Love with the world. Flowers bloom despite frost bitten stems and strangers smile despite the heartache in their lungs. I believe in dreams. I believe I am as free as I make my mind up to be. I believe there is no person or power that governs how I live.
I believe that a person can base an entire religion around falling in Love with being alive. The sun rises every morning and asks nothing of me in return; I could learn a lot from that single selfless gesture.
Women get more beautiful as they grow older.
Female youth is only prized in modern culture because it doesn’t represent as much of a threat spiritually to anyone who is frightened of divine feminine power.
As women grow and mature, they call in stronger forces of sacred feminine wisdom. They vibrate with the creative power of their stories.
They are more of a force to be reckoned with.
They see more, know more, feel more. They put up with a lot less bullshit.
When women are trained into thinking there is something fundamentally wrong with getting older, and are coerced into spending money, energy and power investing in ‘slowing the signs of ageing’, an enormous vault of divine love is lost.
Just think what would happen if all the women in the world started loving themselves even more with every year that passed.
Perhaps a total revolution would occur.
Photo Art: Laurie Anne King
Family isn’t always blood. It’s the ones in your life who want you in theirs.
The ones who accept you for who you are.
The ones who just want you to be happy, and who LOVE you no matter what and for you this feels completely mutual.
This is Family!
This is your tribe
For those who don’t know me. I run Ravens Retreat a Canalside cottage in South Wales.
We provide breaks for anyone with a end of life or Cancer diagnosis.
Also free Therapies for cancer patients.
Counseling, C.B.T. hypnotherapy, Reiki Healing, Omni Healing,
Swedish massage, hot stone massage,
Reflexology and much more.
We teach reiki meditation and past life regression.
We have a list of wonderful Therapists who will visit our clients if they can’t get to us.
We also run death cafes tea cake and chat.
Poetry and writing workshops.
We gave just had a beautiful cabin built at the back of the retreat that will when finished be our dedicated healing space
But need to raise funds to make it into a warm comfortable cozy space where you can forget about the world outside.
As we are non profit c i.c company we rely on grants and donations to pay our Therapists and fund improvments to our service
So we now have a just giving page
Please share information about us to anyone who might benefit.
Here is our just giving link
Thanks and blessings.
Been a busy few weeks.
Last weekend my first visit to Belfast.
This weekend my first visit to Scotland.
I flew Bristol to Inverness to visit my old friend Les who has now made her home here.
I’ve always wanted to visit as Inverness was my mam’s favorite place she would visit twice a year I’d have to endure hours of photos on her return.
That was over twenty five years ago.
I’m finally here Mam. You were right it’s beautiful.
We visited Clava cairns today. Cairns and stone circles so beautiful The sun shone. On this magical place the energy of the ancestors who walked before us there was palpable.
I have a feeling I shall be back here many times .
So here I am in Northern Ireland for the first time.
To say it’s been a wonderful weekend is an understatement.
Me my hubby my youngest son his partner and baby flew over to see my eldest son meet his wife and daughter.
I haven’t seen him for eight years.
I think on the build up to coming I experienced every emotion possible.
I was so nervous.
Other than it being so long I have no idea why other than I really wanted it to be perfect.
It really has been.
We have eight children but to have one missing from for eight years was indescribable there was a huge hole in my life. Nothing I could do about it but wait, and hope.
But yesterday the years
just years melted away
No matter how old our children get they are always our babies.
His wife and my youngest son’s partner sat chatting comparing how similar they both are.
Although the lads disagree it was just so wonderful seeing them and their daughters together finally meeting my beautiful granddaughter was a day worth waiting for.
Belfast and everyone we have met have been so friendly.
It’s 4am and I’m lying here blogging looking forward to welcoming them to Wales taking my grand daughters walking together on the mountains.
I can honestly now say I have everything I have ever needed or wanted.
Life doesn’t get much better than this.
Never give up.
Hold out your hands to the universe and believe.
Life is truly beautiful.
Shouting through her letter box .
Pea soup cooking
Heavy blankets on the big bed.
The archers on the old valve radio
Crazy paving in the garden
Blue lino on kitchen floor.
Tea caddy and aliminium dented tea pot on old pantry shelf.
Whistling kettle on the stove.
Peeling lead on the windows making shadows on the bedroom Walls.stone hot water bottle wrapped in a tea towel
Boxes of swan vesta matches
Brass fireside ornaments
Mirrors that hang on chains.
In their corner they hold captured Victorian painted ladies with parasols furniture polish smelling of lavender.
Lavender tree hanging over the gate.
Rubber spouts on old kitchen taps.
Wooden draining boards and twin tub washing machine.
Tracing paper toilet roll and pink carbolic soap.
Snuffly clever Staffordshire bull terrier to greet us with his tin dish wanting food.
Card games and laughter by the fire for pennies. With cousins.
Bingo at Park Street chip on way home. Cold night air
Head scarfs, blue Mac and walks to the shop for her John player cigs, milk and bread.
Walks to the outdoor for a jug of stout.
Old tins containing buttons black and white photos of memories and stories of her life.
That smell of home of cooking cleaning of love
Fragments pieces of my Nan’s house
Memories of love.
My out look on life is for the best part always positive.
The power of positive thought and putting things out there to the universe has always been at my core.
Words are so very powerful I have never understood people who are constantly negative if you can’t say something nice shut the f@@k up (quote from my Nan) who was without doubt a wise old northern soul who was a million times wiser than Google.
Anyway it’s very rare that I visit my home town
I have relations there whom I have been estranged from for many years 30 plus.
Believe me I wish things were different but I accept that no matter how hard I try some things just can’t be fixed.