The goal that waited for me.

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.

Soul midwife.

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 write.

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.

Why do we all write?

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.

A community.

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 to 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.

Flight & floating mystery

So on my way back to South wales from cannock driving down M6 past Birmingham airport.

Overhead flies a bowing 747 coming in to land.

Now I’ve never been a fan of flying probably as my head can not work out how such a huge lump of metal weighing 439,985 kg loaded with people bags food fuel can FLY. yes I googled it.

It completely spins me out!.

So then Jeff goes on to tell me that equal to approx 8 40 ton lorry’s duct taped together.

How?

Then he says cargo planes carrying tanks ect are even heavier 🙈

My head hurts.

He’s no hysterical laughing.

Is it just me? Does anyone else have a problem with the how is this even possible?

Discounting witchcraft.

One woman on a besom is far more easier to comprehend.

I also had this problem six years ago as we boarded P&O cruise ship the Ventura.

It was a 50th birthday present for jeff.

Now I’ve been over to France when I was 16 on a ferry and to Isle of man and of course I was expecting something a little bigger.

But f@@k me it was huge..

As I stood next to the smiling man who took my car keys at the dock looking up at the huge building like structure. I wanted to get back in my car.

How was That going to float?

Sixteen floors of restaurants dance floors swimming pools and people?

Don’t think about it Jeff says. It just is.

I have a theory.

When I was a kid there was a massive Co op shop in town where at Christmas you could que to see santa.

His elf would seat everyone on a beautiful decorated magical sleigh fairy lights would flash brightly scenery would pass snowy cabins and mountains of the noth pole as the sleigh rocked to and fro.

Exited children would then be shown off the sleigh and now magically they had been transported to Santa’s workshop in the North Pole!

We we’re definitely not in the basement of the local co op in a small northern town.

It was magic.

So maybe Santa’s sleigh builders progressed to building boeing 747 and huge cruise ships.

That has to be a much more understandable explanation.

😉

In a flash – I’m back

Sometimes I’m still there.

Suddenly.

Unexpectedly

Without warning.

A smell, a taste, a song.

Catapulted at the speed of light.

Flick of a switch.

A blink of an eye

A tactile cine film begins.

It’s running inside my head in high definition

I’m suspended in time.

Back in time.

A prism of light of dark of terror.

A different dimension a parallel world.

It will always be there never very far away.

Operating on a different frequency

Like an old valve radio slightly out of tune.

Then that something, anything turns the knob,

Adjusts that channel pulls the two dimensions together

Past and present become one

Jolting me back into the nightmare

Silently I’m screaming but I know that no one can hear me.

Invisible

Lunch time you don’t really see me.

Sitting by the huge school bins.

Hiding with my dog.

Hating being in school.

Listening to the dinner ladies

Spouting the same old monologue.

Angry on the inside

Quiet and shy on the out.

Screaming inside my head.

But unable to let it out.

Scared by all the feelings.

Going on inside my head.

Wanting someone to make it better.

Or wishing I was dead.

My escape is drawing, painting and writing.

Imagining a better life

A world were things are wonderful.

With no one to hurt you

Or school bullies and family strife.

A world where lumps in your throat

Don’t block the words you need to say.

Where families love each other.

In a loving normal way.

But drawing painting dreaming.

Are not going to change this world.

So I will keep this label of a rebel trouble making girl.

Life before mobile phones and I pads


Were our summers longer?
In the days when there were no mobile phone or games consoles
As a child I all through the school holidays i would leave the house after rushing breakfast or taking it with me,
Running through the woods with a piece of burnt toast in my hand
Toby my dog at my heel
Heading for the huge oak tree at the top of the hill that held our rope swing.

Huge and beautiful ever changing I loved that tree swinging climbing sitting in it’s branches with a book. When we had rope for a swing and a good strong stick I’d sit with my back pressed against it huge trunk at least five feet wide watching as friends swung out over the high drop where the stream ran below.
Bright pink rhodadendron bushes and spiky Holly would break our fall if we fell.
Red Sandy soil tall green grass bright blue sky.
It wasn’t a massive woodland and it was in the middle of a council estate but it was our paradise I loved it.
When it was my turn I’d grab the thick blue rope and swing as high as I could. Legs strieght out leaning back, long hair blowing in the warm summer breeze and for a few minutes I was free, I was flying.

The stream meandered below we would build dams from large stones and sticks the lads would steal cargo nets off the lorries that would park up on east lancs road
Then they would tie them high up between four trees we would bounce about up there it was more luck than our knot tying skills that prevented us from falling!
Crank caverns we’re a few miles from the estate another favourite place I loved it there I’d often set off with a Terry prachett book a bottle of water and walk the few miles spend the day up there.
The lane to the caverns started between two old farm houses Mrs Hewitt one of our teachers lived in one with her daughter Sally she would wave as I passed by. Behind her house where the horses fields and the most beautiful Chestnut mare I’d stop for a chat feeding her handfuls of lush green grass from my side of the fence she couldn’t quite reach. Her warm breath and soft nuzzle rubbing against my face
If I was lucky enough to have custard cream buiscuits I’d share them too and she would rest her huge head on my shoulder and I’d tell her anything and everything. Dogs and horses were always my confidants.
The next part of the walk was through beautiful golden fields thin strieght path through swaying wheat fields I’d sometimes walk into the field and lie down in a cocoon of earthy smelling golden wheat corn or barley reading my book I never felt alone or afraid.
Often falling asleep book in hand . Thankfully never when the combine was working
The caverns (caves) we’re in a small valley surrounded by a small dence disiduous woodland
Trees so close there was places that where almost darkness then another few steps bright sunlight flooded in. I would try to have one food in dark the other in light. Shady and cool on a hot summers day
It was said that the caves were once connected to a hall in Rainford the next village over the years they had become blocked but I would still venture inside as far as I could go.
Feeling my way along the cold stone graffitied walls.

The energy inside there was palpable.
They fasanated me.
I’d stay as long as possible lighting a small fire as night closed in.

No light pollution the sky on a clear night was light a black stary blanket only the sound of crickets and shuffle of nocturnal creatures hedgehogs foxes Badgers
Earthy smell of fallen leaves and thick grass that seemed to grow moss like that was often my bed.
I always slept well outside.
I’m sure this magical place sparked my absolute love of camping, walking and being outside any chance I have.
If you have ever been woken gently by the dawn chorus around you, you’ll know what I mean.
All this magic I was around eleven years old no one missed me whilst I was gone and I know look on that as a blessing.
I always had my dog and carried a small folding pen knife gifted to me by my Nan.
She gave it to me with a wink and a ‘dont tell your mam.’
I’d pull up a swede or carrots peel and eat vegetables taste amazing when eaten as you pick them .
In the next village Rainford there was a huge field of peas
They are one of nicest sweetest things I’ve ever eaten. I’d walk home with my pockets full.
Do my chores then leave again for another adventure.
I’m so very glad I was a sixty’s child
For life was and continues to be beautiful if you go outside look at the sky walk touch the earth talk to animas connect with guardian trees lie in fields of gold
It’s never too late. What are you waiting for?

Mountain adventures.

The pathway up the mountain started at two tall trees of oak,

Tamika thought they were like two huge gateposts–and at a single stoke

she walked between them–it was like entering another world–a shiver went through her frame

it was like walking under arches or beneath a waterfall after rain.

It was as if it was a crossroad into some very special place

and strangely for a moment she felt her heartbeat race.

This could be the place where magic happened–even fairies may live here,

and it was a really lovely morning for walking with her dog Saffie who was always near.

It was one of her favourite places, where she liked to walk

she would stand and listen, and Saffie was always near –if she wished to talk.

She walked with a large canopy of green leaves over her head

and then realized that she wished to walk in the sun instead.

She felt someone was watching her–but she felt no alarm

and as Saffie sniffed around she knew Saffie, would not let her come to harm.

She wondered happily among the big flat leaved trees

with squirrels birds and hedgehogs, she was completely at ease.

She was looking away down at her village–the river running through it, like a silver thread,

the town hall clock the folly on the hill when she thought she heard a voice within her head,

it said ‘’Excuse me miss’’, it sounded rather hoarse and she immediately-dismissed it of course,

but Saffie’s ears had pricked up, which meant that she had heard it too

she looked all around but there was no body in view.

Then the voice said ‘’Hay I am up here’’ and on a branch of an Hawthorne tree

was a man no larger than her hand, who said ‘’I am so glad that you can see me’’.

He jumped down and landed at her feet brushing off his clothes he was very neat

with tiny trousers coat and bracers too, so perfect and so petite

Tamika stopped and rubbed her eyes-because although small, he was a big surprise

He said ‘’I wasn’t sure my shields were down so that you could see me’’.

Saffie sniffed him curiously–them licked him self consciously

he giggled and said ‘’Stop it, you are making me all wet.

But if Saffie was happy Tamika was too–the little man was not a threat

Saffie continued licking, the little man said it tickled too,

Tamika said ‘’So you have to lower your shields, so that I can see you’’.

He said ‘’I know you are Tamika and you are with Saffie I see’’.

Tamika looked at the little man asking ‘’how do you know me’

‘’All of the fairies have known you since you were a baby

and I’ve always watched your visits although you could not see me’’.

Tamika said ‘’All the fairies, are there more, what do you all do’’

he said his name was Simon, he was the water guardian, and of course there were more.

Tamika said had never believed in fairies, why had she not seen one before?

‘’It’s because people no longer enjoy nature, the streams and animals are not valued as before,

when did you last roll in the grass or jump a puddle, that is what puddles are for.

You are all so busy with computers and TV they don’t see them any more,

you are surrounded by what we look after–the mountain which we live underneath.

And you coming here today is such a huge relief’’.

But before she could ask him what he meant, another voice said ‘’Hello Tamika I am Holly, I look after the trees’’

she was no bigger than Simon with lovely flowing silver hair

and she explained that there were fairies for water fire flowers and even for air.

and they had a problem with Simons water, she went on to tell

that the tree that she was sitting on blew down and into the river it fell.

‘’I allowed the wind to blow too hard, I am Jake the guardian of air’’ his voice was full of stress

Simon said ‘’He’s full of wind and didn’t take enough care–and now we are in a mess’’.

‘’The tree has dammed the river, which feeds the royal well,

and they were not big enough to move it’’ they were ashamed to tell,

She asked what they would do, if the well was dry–they didn’t have very long

Holly said that they thought her and Saffie both looked pretty strong.

‘’If you tie her lead to the tree we ‘ll sprinkle her with flying dust,

we shouldn’t really ask you but we know you are someone we can trust.

Saffie let out a bark–to indicate that she would help

if she hadn’t been willing, instead of a bark she would have let out a yelp.

They tied Saffie’s lead around the tree and Michael whispered in her ear,

and climbed upon her back holding on to her collar– he was quite pale with fear

He sprinkled something on her, from a bag around his neck

and to see that every thing was alright he looked around to check.

he climbed off and told Saffi ‘’ It’s okay. follow me’’ ,and Tamika turned around

shocked to see her lovely dog was floating above the ground.

By flying, in less than a minute Saffie had moved the tree

and straight away the water was once more flowing free.

Then Tamika had a shock because a cheer filled the air

she looked around and found that there were fairies every where.

All of them were smiling on every bush and branch and tree

and on the tree they’d moved stood a couple dressed so regally.

‘’Tamika Tiger’’ said the king and they all cheered again

for now the well would refill when ever there was rain.

He said ‘’Tamika thank you-and the queen wished to give a reward’’

‘’We will make you an honoury guardian’’ the others cheered with one accord

‘’Really’’ said Tamika and Saffie wagged her tail

both of them so happy that their effort did not fail

She was told, we have always watched you— you have much love in your heart,

for the mountain and all it is, you have always done your part.

You love the birds and animals the bushes trees and stream,

you pick up other people’s litter to help keep the mountain clean.

You didn’t even know, that you helped us in our task

and so if ever you are in need of help you only have to ask.

’’But how will I ever find you’’–Michael said ‘’To whisper at the old oak gate

and the wind will answer, and please make it soon–don’t leave it too late’’.

When you come to see us again we will show you the fairy land down below.

But now we have to say goodbye, it’s time for you and us to go’’

He waved his stick and they all vanished and were gone,

leaving Tamika happy knowing such a friendship would go on.

They both went down the mountain path, to have their teas

and a hundred voices said ‘’see you soon’’ as they passed the old oak trees.

She was smiling ,knowing she could visit any time

and for such friendship and such pleasure it would be well worth the climb.