We are born and given a name. Sometimes it fits and we love it. Sometimes it doesn’t and we think it sucks, just an early form of torture from our parents. There was a debate on the television a few weeks back about the importance of names when it comes to parental and managerial approval of such a person with ‘common’ English names such as Tyler and Chardonnay (although this to me is not common at all). A ridiculous woman with a daughter called India slammed parents with children who have common names and insisted her daughter would not be permitted to play with children such as these (the idiotic woman went on to say she despises names that are locations such as London, Brooklyn… duh!). Now one of the hardest decisions I’ve made as a parent is that of a name. I still am unsure of how these will affect my children in later life in the wake of this national debate. Then it got me to wondering whether my name is a help or a hindrance? I find my name rather indifferent and at one time it was rather unisex. Surely employers base employability on more than just a mere name, or is there an actual job out there where it is your sole responsibility to look through applications and résumés and discard upon first glance at a skanky name? Hmm I reckon I could be quite good at that. It then also got me to thinking about how JK Rowling was persuaded to initialise her name so that her target audience of young boys would assume Harry Potter was written by a man and therefore buy the book. I wonder if this actually rang true when the book first came out?! Hmm maybe something I could look in to. I wonder why we place such importance in a name. At the end of the day it’s just a word. So long as you’re not calling your kid asshole or something equally offensive then I reckon that’s one kudos to the parent. Well done me.
Let me tell you a little story
Once upon a time, there was a twenty-something year old neurotic mother of three. The depth of her neuroses were relatively unknown to most people, and what seemed like pure ignorance sometimes, was actually an instinct to hide, become invisible. After many years of putting up social defences, the mother found herself quite alone in the world of friendships and as invisible as most days she’d wished for.
This mother was prone to walk as close to the inside edge of the pavement/sidewalk as possible, so as not to obstruct or inconvenience anyone and should any adjustments need to be made to allow safe passage, rest assured the mother remained overly courteous. This was how she avoided contact, conversation and general interaction with the human species.
It started off like any normal morning for the mother and her brood; arguments over clothes and dressing, the quick dash of getting everyone to where they needed to be at the right times.
Upon leaving the grounds of the Bear’s school, the mother’s anxieties quickly grew, as per usual. Everyone else seemed to walk out with somebody having a good chat and making arrangements for after school activities and weekends. The mother was just glad that nobody noticed her as she moved unseen through the crowd. The mother came to a narrow passage and face to face with a double buggy and another anxious, stressed out mother. Common courtesy prevailed and the mother squished herself into the wall to allow the safe passage of the new mother and her sprogs. This is when the skies clouded over and somewhere in the distance, thunder disturbed the clouds. Some cretins had decided that they were more important than either mothers and barged their way through. The mother decided to stand her ground and allow the buggy through, biting down hard on the cold piece of metal in her lip. A forced and awkward smile was exchanged and once the buggy had passed, the mother continued the road to safety, home. However, it was to be a testing few minutes as another passage became awkward as the mother was faced with two gaggling biatches and their buggys. Again, the mother squished against the wall to be polite and the skankier of the bitches decided to stop, right in front of the mother to reapply lipstick, check her phone and generally fuck about. The mother politely coughed, sniffed and attempted to peel her cheek off of the wall she’d rammed herself against. The bitches slowly ambled past, one behind the other, and continued on their way. No acknowledgement was made of the mother. No polite smile, nod of the head or even just a damn look! The mother wanted to stomp off in a huff but alas, more people had decided to barge their way past the mother keeping her trapped against the wall – very obviously too I might add.
This got the mother to thinking about the decline of manners, common courtesy, politeness, social niceties. How was the mother to teach and instil these timeless necessities into her children when they so very rarely experienced them?
The mother did contemplate mass homicide. But instead, the desire for a cup of tea was just too much.
The End.
The Death Issue
It’s never an easy one is it… That age old (or young) issue of Death. I’ve experienced many forms of the dreaded D word throughout my (almost) 28 years on this Earth. Grandfather, Uncles, Cousins. Some I’ve mourned, some I’m still mourning. The deaths that come gradually are hard to take, watching the one you love suffer and diminish. But it’s the ones that come so unexpectedly, the ones that literally take breath away in the blink of an eye… Those are the ones you replay over and over with the countless what ifs?! When all is said and done… Death takes so much away. Much more than a person, a soul. It snatches belief, trust and the carefree and happy attitude you grew up with, clean away.
I write this today as a mourner, a friend. A parent and grandfather snatched away when life was about to get good again. A family left absolutely devastated and living themselves, with the what ifs and the whys?! A family left untrusting, broken and empty. A family left facing the possibility that they’ll never know the whys. My heart aches for them and goes out to them with all the love and best wishes for them to get through today and every day hence forth.
I know what it’s like to have someone ripped from your life far too soon. It’s almost 11 years since that night and the pain is still very real and sometimes all-consuming. The frequency of which I think of him depletes a little but he’s always there, at the back of every melancholic thought and every what if situation.
I don’t believe in God, in any shape, form or religion. I’m actually quite envious of those with faith as I’ve seen the good it does for people going through difficult times and the utmost faith that everything is meant to be and will right itself in time. I can see that sense of security being healing in itself. I just can’t bring myself to believe, I never have. I’ve always had too many questions left unanswered.
I do, however, believe in fate and all it’s cruelty. I believe that many people know that their time is up in some way and do everything they can to make that passage easier. I’ve known long standing traditions pushed by the way side for someone to tell those most important that they love them… To never return home. I believe that everyone has a timer over their head and when it’s up, it’s over, so is your time. Maybe this just makes death easier for me to understand and accept. I know that grief affects us all in very different ways. Maybe it’s pot luck, a totally random draw, a spin of a wheel.
All I truly know for sure is that death is never easy, it’ll never be fully understood. There are too many whys left for those who go on, too many theories and ideas. So for today, my thoughts are with all of those out there saying their goodbyes (they’re never final) to loved and respected ones. I hope that you all find some kind of peace in the future.
In memory of Ray. May you RIP and your family find their peace.
It’s just one of those days where ya don’t wanna wake up…
I guess the title IS rather dramatic but hey! This is my damn blog and I’ll damn well be dramatic if I damn well want to be! *Ahem*
I guess I’m having a baaaaaaaaaaaad day.
My weight is really stressing me out. I know I cheat on my diet all the time with chocolate and beer *whispers – my only friends* but come on!! A little help would be nice. I want to blame it on my meds because what I’ve been losing and gaining cannot be “normal“. For example; I weighed myself Friday then Monday and I’d lost 6lbs… I then weighed myself today and I’ve gained 7lbs!! In 2 days! So basically, this part of my ranting blog shall end with a big F YOU to my weight.
I went for a job interview yesterday and totally screwed it up. Big style. Well and truly. On my way there I didn’t exactly feel great, panicky and on the verge of tears for whatever mental reason my mind decided to make up that day. I took a deep breath and went in regardless trying to remain calm. I sat down. My shoulders tensed (which squished my boobs together in my vest top which could have come across as rather suggestive… oops!) and my mouth went bone dry. It was horrible. I fumbled for words and then tripped over the chair leg as I rose to go for my computer test *the shame!*. The dreaded Excel sheet just stymied me and I had no idea what I was doing. I proceeded to screw up the original spreadsheet trying to figure out what I needed to do and ended up leaving the damn test after faffing around for half an hour, totally incomplete. Fail!
Today is also a bit of a bad pain day. I awoke to find my fingers swollen and my knees rather inflated too. I have Joint Hypermobility Syndrome (which means I’m extra bendy but mainly that I have the hips and knees of a 90 yr old woman) and some days are ok, bearable, some days I want to wrench my own hip off with spoons. Today is leaning more toward the spooning. Lol spooning. Immature yes. Pah! I am so fricking tired too. I swear the bags under my eyes have turned into suitcases. So hot!
The Geek started a new job last week and I’m now in sole charge of the children during the day. OMG! My daughter, my princess, is running the house like some fascist leader! She terrorised the middle one, Pookie, no end today whilst food shopping and reduced him to tears while she maniacally laughed at him. She also likes to assert her authority over me in public too and so I ended up being slapped, pinched, screamed at and on my knees finding a dummy under a shop display. Gee thanks, princess!
I’m attempting to go the whole day with nothing to eat, just fob my hunger off with water. I know I’m going to cave as soon as it’s socially acceptable for me to eat the chocolate in the cupboard (ie. when the kids have gone to bed and can’t nag me for any!). I’ve tried Slimming World and last year managed to lose 2 stone. Nada this year! I’ve tried the Special K diet. Pants. I’ve tried the calorie controlled diet – I just lie to my MyFitnessPal tracker. I’m badass like that. So now, I’m trying the “stop eating you fat heifer” diet. We shall see how it goes… Man I’m hungry!!
Anywho… Spiderman is on and I’m about to have yummy snuggles with Pookie. He makes things better. When he doesnt smell. Or moan. Or breath like Darth Vader…
Big Girl Pants
So the Geek has started a new job today and therefore, I am left in charge of the children. I’m quite looking forward to it and so far I have managed to feed them, change their nappies and kept them alive so I’m taking this as a positive. However, it is only 9am. I have found myself being actively productive though and have already applied for two jobs… wondering if this stay at home mum thing is me, or is blending into the background in some dead end job more me? The university thing has had it’s bottom fall out and I’ve given up if I’m honest. It seems like I hit a dead end every time I try to improve myself so now… I’m settling for mediocre. I already have a wonderful husband and kiddies *sometimes* so I guess I’m due a shitty job here and there.
It’s taken me 3 kids to finally realise that the key to true happiness in motherhood is – dum dum dum – ignorance. Not in the sense that they come down in a morning and are left to their own devices and generally wreck the house, themselves and each other (they do that with me watching!), but to a certain degree you just gotta let the little things go. For instance, Princess is now emptying all the nappies onto the floor and attempting to rip the sticky sides off and then placing them on her head like a nappy style Carmen Miranda. I personally think she’s pulling the look off better than Carmen, but I guess I’m slightly biased and luckily for me, she’s not succeeding in ripping off the sticky bits. She’s quiet, occupied and not watching TV – winner! I’d say I’m rocking this parent thing!
The next step in the day now known as – keep-the-kids-alive-til-Geek-gets-home – is to get my little munchkins dressed which I know will be laugh a minute as they adorably run away, kick out and pull of items of clothing quicker than I can put them on. How cute?!
Alas, I fear I am being too cynical. So while the kiddies swallow the pennies they’ve just found on the floor, I’ll write a little paragraph of happiness.
Sunshine today. Awaiting the rain. Lovely rainbows gracing the skies. Bedtime is only 11 hours away. Then it’s time for sanity, or at least my version of scream-into-a-pillow-bat-shit-crazy.
How about this for a Cheshire Cat smile?! I awoke one morning late last week with a foul stinky mood and extreme fatigue. The Geek flounced into the room and presented me with a rather puzzling Amazon package – the puzzling part being that I could not recollect ordering anything from Amazon for a long while. I eagerly ripped it open whilst pushing the bills and mundane post aside to find a book I had just posted a couple of days earlier, onto my Goodreads account, along with a note. A note and a book from a person who has kept me strong in times of weakness, kept me smiling through the barrage of tears I weep often, made sense of the whirlwind in my mind when I’ve just wanted to get sucked into Oz, keeps trying to show me that I can be nice when I want to be. I’ve never physically met this amazing woman. We met at a time of desperation via an online message on a social website. She was calling out for help and I could do nothing more than reply to her. That was 3 years ago and we’re still helping each other along this bumpy road called life, motherhood. She’s been my saviour and rescued me so many times that she perhaps, should have been the one wearing the shining armour riding the horsey into my life. It made my day, my week and I cannot wait to open that book tonight and smile at the thought of her, her thoughtfulness. I hope that each and every one of you out there in cyber land has at least one person like her. When all else is falling to pieces around me, I know she’s there to listen to my rant. As now are you… mwahahahaha <— evil laugh.
Seeing as my princess has now managed to climb up onto the table I think it’s time I sign off. Speedily.
BuhBye x
Morning Wood… lol
It was never meant to be like this.
I got out of the shower, refreshed but still perturbed. I didn’t know what to think. It had been almost 36 hours since she kissed me and I was still wondering what social protocol best suited this dilemma. I wasn’t gay. Was I? I had kissed her back. I guess I’d liked it. That feeling of soft lips on soft lips, her hands knowing just where to touch me and when. I’d had no idea it was going to happen, I didn’t even know she felt that way about women, about me. My mind wandered back to all those times we’d sat around in discussing life in general, films, our university courses, boyfriends… Come to think of it, had she ever mentioned a boyfriend? I was certain she had. I tried to shake the memory of her hands in my hair as I dried the excess water from my long crimson locks. I felt myself getting lost in the memory. I couldn’t feel like this, it was a kiss, just one kiss, it was a meaningless drunken kiss. I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince myself or if it really did happen that way. I remember talking to a girl by the bar whilst waiting what seemed endlessly to get a drink. The next few moments seemed to be in slow motion as she fought her way through the hustle to reach me. I remember her hands reaching for me, pulling my face toward her. She looked into my eyes for what seemed like an age, then… then she kissed me. I stared at my reflection in the steamy mirror and I could’ve sworn I caught a glimpse of a smile. No. Not now. I had an interview to get ready for and I really couldn’t mess this one up. I needed to get onto my Masters course. This was my life I was preparing for, actual real life, away from the comforts of my student lifestyle. I pulled the towel off of my body and wrapped my fluffy dressing grown around my shoulders and pulled the cord tight around my waist. No, this wasn’t the time to think about some silly kiss. Yet as I brushed my teeth all I could see was her looking me in the eyes right before she kissed me. I turned off the tap and headed to the carefully laid out clothes on my bed. I was preparing to give a speech to my lecturers and the Dean about why I was so worthy of continuing my study at their expense. I was so close to my dream life, my dream career I could almost grasp it.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this…
‘Cause I’m trying! *very apparently…*
So yeah. Check me out. I’m reading War and Peace. It’s one of those books I’ve always felt that I should read; that I need to read. So as part of my “30 books to read before I’m 29 version 2.0” I decided to pull up my big girl socks and get to it. Of course, I’m reading it on my phone ’cause I’m also down with the kids. Well… as much as a book nerd can be.
Today started out a good pain day, so obviously I decide it would be a great idea to be SuperMum and Skinniest, Fittest Wench of the Year! I managed a whole ten minutes on an exercise bike before I wanted to rip my hips out of socket. Alas, this was not enough torture so I decided to embark on a squirrel hunt with PrincessPants and Pookie in their “lighter-than-air” double pushchair. I was not rewarded with the sight of squirrels being squirrely but instead, knees that were screaming and threatening to give way on me. I guess this was my cue to rest. Pahahaha! Standing, slaving away over the stupid sink in the stupid kitchen my stupid back decides to start moaning and complaining. I guess I really should listen to my body right now. Maybe I shall reward myself with a long hot bath… or I’ll probably do some craft work so my customers don’t think I’ve abandoned them, and fall into bed at some ridiculous hour and complain all day tomorrow that I’m tired. Oh the joys of HMS.
I kind of have this mad idea of being a successful and contributing member of society. This would have begun with me heading back to the crazy student life of University to try and get my mushy brain to focus and work and maybe make something of myself. That would mean life being fair to someone like me who was obviously a half-monster-half-evil-troll in a past life, but it seems as though it’s the age old conundrum of one step forward, a thousand stumbles back. I guess I shall have to contribute to this World another way… is there such a thing as somebody who could change the world by sitting around, drinking tea and reading books? If so, I’d kick ass at that!
The Geek is in the dog house. I’m not sure he’s aware of it at the moment but yeah, I’m pissed off at him. In most ways he’s ridiculously attentive and does pretty much everything for me and the kids, then boom! It all stops. Ignorance is bliss in his eyes even when it comes down to our 3 little gremlins. He immerses himself in his phone, the TV or whatever piece of lint he’s trying to pick out of his belly button and the rest of the world fades away. I’m not a saint when it comes to being sucked into my phone, but I’m allowed. Woman logic! I think it’s the thoughtlessness of him. When I’m attempting to “work” or doing something equally important and life changing as I always do, he still lets the wee ones fend for themselves and eventually and without fail, piss me off! I shouldn’t moan… he does have the greatest ass ever. He’s lucky to have that ass otherwise… whew would he be in trouble!
Brain fog has descended and I’m pretty sure it’s pill time for one of my ailments… so I bid you adieu. Ta-ta x
the “back in my day…” brigade
I follow the news. That being, in the new age society we live in today, I read the news on my smartphone right after updating my Facebook status and downloading a new e-book to read on the go.
Today, following something rather upsetting that I read on the news (isn’t it all that way nowadays?!), it got me to thinking about how I knew that my elders would say “back in my day…“, and a few random reasons as to what I believe made those days so different.
“Back in my day…“ you were a kid! there was limited information being given to you! technology sucked!
Don’t you find that when an elder person says this to you, it’s usually regarding something they did in their childhood? Ya know, “back in the day; I could roam outside until the street lamps came on, we had actual conversations, if I spoke to my elders the way you did I’d get a good hiding…“. Do you think that the elder person stops to think that all of these have changed for a reason? The street lamps coming on was a sign of a certain time of day, nowadays we have watches, mobile phones, tablets etc. to remind us of the time. Count up how many clocks or time-telling devices you have in your house right now… I can think of 5 off the top of my head. How many clocks do you think would’ve been around when little old grandma was a wee one? I’m betting only the Man of the House would be important enough to know something like the time… Surely it was quicker and easier for mummy dearest to choose a physical change in surroundings for the children to know it was time to come home, than for her to roam the streets or try to introduce the children to a sundial type contraption?!
How about the “we had conversations” malarkey? Now from the random snippets of conversations I remember having with my parents and grandparents, during the time-before-phones-were-so-mobile, I distinctly remember being informed that conversations were between adults, leaving children powerless and to be seen, not heard. Children were to only answer questions directed at them, and at all other times be sweetly silent, and completely disengaged from society, familial matters and general knowledge. *I’m sure not all families were like this, but I need to back up my argument somehow right? I think I may have watched The Sound of Music a few too many times…*.
Alas, we drop into the lap of the “if I dared speak to my mother that way… yada yada yada“. Again, the prior argument fits in nicely with this one. Children would not dare to talk back to their elders, but was this purely a sign of respect or an actual fear of being smacked around the backside with a damn-fine-but-damn-hard leather belt? I remember my father telling me how he was slapped across the palm with a cane whilst in school for talking during class. Woe be tied any child that dared to have an idea, a thought, a valid input into whatever topic was gracing the chalkboard back then. Children were taught to follow the rules, don’t think for yourself, just nod and agree. How wonderful. Imagine the field day the local authorities and children services would have if smacking was brought back as an acceptable form of punishment from adult to child. Any parent/teacher/elder even thinks about smacking a child nowadays and they are the ones to receive punishment, yet “back in the day” this was a perfectly acceptable and encouraged form of punishment and respect… Hmm.
Think now, how readily available information is to us nowadays. Back in the day there were 4 channels if you were lucky, mainly in black and white and slots of 1 hour sessions of news. Surely the topics were picked and edited to engage the viewer rather than to inform, as 1 hour a day of news is hardly going to throw all the sheer horrors of the world at you whilst you tucked into your pudding of tinned peaches and full fat condensed cream. Now we have worldwide news at the tap of a finger, the click of a button and countless satellite channels devoted to informing the World’s population of the horrors of life, the realities of society and the fact that a cheeky duck scared lots of people away from a lowly town by biting their bottoms. Is all this news necessary? Maybe not, but at least nowadays it’s our choice.
On the flip side, was “back in the day” so bad? You pick up a newspaper, click onto one of the many news dedicated channels and websites, and it’s nothing but doom and gloom. Murder. Sex. Assault. Threatening. Power. For a paranoid, anxious mother, I’m terrified at what will be left for my children. I’m tired of not even allowing my very-sensible-and-beyond-his-years Bear across the road from our house, into the park on his own or with his friends. Anything could happen. He could be snatched. He could be shot. He could be stabbed. He could be abducted by aliens. Anything! Maybe the youth of today are the way they are because their choices are being taken away from them. People tend to blame video games, but do video games create killers or do killers create gamers? I’d much rather my kids be stuck to a video game of an evening that out wandering the streets, facing the possibility of a good kicking.
I digress, kind of, I know.
I too am guilty of throwing the “back in my day” card at my kids. It irritates me when they’re stuck to a computer screen or hogging my damn phone to play the latest instalment of Angry Birds. I remember reading, writing, colouring, drawing, playing pretend (I was always a princess whenever I wore my pink glittery jelly sandals and a kick-ass solicitor whilst presenting my case to my endless array of teddies). These activities I enjoyed entirely alone as an only child of two full-time-working-parents. Do my children play on these virtual games because they’re missing something from me? I doubt it. I currently have my Bear sat cuddling me, telling me he loves me and kissing me, whilst I’m typing away here and he’s taken my phone hostage, playing a math game and showing me his progress proudly.
I believe that used in the right way it can bring generations together, families together, friends together. If you feel alienated by the tech-savvy generation, then join in!! This internet thing is a pretty great move societally. Just remember that with every generation, with every societal change, with every technological advancement, there will still be that one person waving the “back in my day” flag. Be assured that back in the day, there was good and bad, just as there is today. Embrace life. Embrace it all!
Introductions are so mundane…
…but I guess I have to start somewhere.
I am Jodie. I am a mummy. I have a 5 year old boy called bear; a 2 year old boy called pookie and a 1 year old girl called princesspants. I have been married for over 2 years to my Geek husband. He (and now I) loves Batman. This makes gift buying relatively easy. Lucky me.
I am, at present, 27 years old. I have an inane fear of turning 30. I am refusing to acknowledge this birthday when it arrives. I shall forever remain at 29.
I have depressive disorder, anxiety disorder, joint hypermobility syndrome and chronic fatigue.
I am hoping to go back to University this year to study Criminology and Sociology. I like things like that.
I’m an avid reader and would love to write a novel. Unfortunately, I don’t have the skills to write a novel so… that stymies me somewhat.
I like penguins and pandas. Maybe because they’re black and white in a world full of grey. Plus they’re cute as hell.
I’m pretty down about my weight which will no doubt be chronicled here, so I apologise in advance for the influx of weight bashing. It is my personal choice to lose weight, even though I am incredibly lazy and have a love of ice cream and wine.
I adore Hello Kitty. Just a picture of her is enough to make me smile. This means a lot!
My house is never tidy and although this bothers me, hey! I have three kids!
I love Disney Princesses and Hercules – mainly for Megara, she’s pretty bad-ass.
I don’t like to cook, I’m afraid of screwing things up and my Geek is a chef so…
I portray myself as a mega bitch most of the time, but I’m guessing you’ll see the more insecure, paranoid version of Jodie. Dontcha feel lucky?!
I start a lot of entries in my personal journal with “So…“, so yeah, expect that.
My Geek is terrified of me starting this blog as he thinks it’s just going to be Geek–Bashing… there may be some of that because we are a real couple and argue and bitch (mainly me…) but if he does read this (barf alert!) I love you Geek.
I like lists, and being prepared/organised. I find that lists bring me comfort so that I know exactly what and when and where I need to do/be. The majority of my lists are unfinished but still, they bring me joy. Expect a few. I am currently working through a list of “30 things to do before I turn 29 for the second time“. Expect a lot of that.
I’m very nosy, but also a very loyal friend. I don’t do backstabbing. It hurts. I always seem to be the one to end up in trouble. I don’t like people not liking me (and me knowing about it anyway).
I have a rather explosive personality. People tend not to like that. I attempt to work on it, but unfortunately the World is still full of idiots that press my “kick-off” button.
I like tattoos and piercings, a lot! I have a few. I always want and need more. This is definitely one of my life necessities just like others feel the need to drink or smoke or buy shoes (I do that too – buy shoes!).
I like driving on the motorway at night, it gives me time to breathe and think.
I like putting my children to bed and basking in the silence, but with the knowledge that my children are comfortable and safe, and not, ya know, beating the crap out of each other. That brings me joy.
I like to make things from fabric and felt. I’m not particularly great, but I do it. I have a Facebook group. JodiesFeltFancies.
Receiving messages makes me smile. I miss the art of letter writing, so if anybody fancies a penpal – I’m your guy, well girl.
I dislike watching films I know nothing about. I believe this spreads from my need of being organised and prepared. I don’t like secrets or surprises.
I like to dye my hair random colours.
I like baggy trousers and slogan t-shirts.
I like trainers.
I dislike, greatly, high heels.
I like puzzles.
I am a total nerd. Not particularly intelligent, but I try.
I’m hoping that by setting up this blog, I can begin to make sense of my life and the World that surrounds me. I hope to raise awareness into “invisible illnesses” and prove that pain exists even if I seem OK on the outside. I want to let people, mothers know, that it’s OK to be depressed, have a bad day, not be so perfect; that life isn’t always hugs and kisses and smiles and sunshine; that it’s OK to talk (even though I hate talking – especially over the phone!) and mostly that you are never alone.
Please be aware that anything written in this blog is my personal opinion. I do not intend to upset anybody, but I also know that I’m not going to be everybody’s “cup of tea”. If you disagree with something that I write, or it upsets you greatly, please make me aware of this in a mature and dignified manner.
Thank you for reading 🙂 It’d be pretty cool if you came back sometime. 
J x
journal of my journey 