Blogging should be fun not frightening

Sometimes I find myself sitting at the keyboard completely blank.

Its as if my words have just disappeared.

I want to write words that are wise and full of wisdom.

Yet I am far from wise and as for wisdom, heck i don’t even have wisdom teeth.

When did blogging become frightening for me?

When did i start to feel pressured by my own words?

I wonder if the influx of bloggers has made me more aware of my own writing.

To be honest I haven’t got a clue.

What i do know is that its time I got over myself.

When I started this blog i wrote because I simply loved it.

I wanted to share my life and experiences.

It didn’t matter if anyone actually read it.

My words were simply for me.

So this is where I need to get back to.

Finding my freedom in my words.

Blogging should be fun.

Not frightening.


Dr Maya Angelou

I was sat watching the sea when I heard the news.


My daughter phoned me when I was away to ask me if I had heard the news.


Dr Maya Angelou had died.


As the waves crashed against the shore.


I cried.



I didn’t know Dr Maya Angelou but when I read ” I know why the cage bird sings” it simply changed me.

Her strength, her determination got me through some dark days.

Her words gave me hope when I didn’t believe in it.

Even when life became lighter her words were still my inspiration.

I devoured her books, her writing, her poetry with a passion.

Her grit, 

Her courage

They filled my heart.


Dr Maya Angelou was a fighter, her advocacy in civil rights is a legacy on it’s own.

“She lived a life as a teacher, activist, artist and human being. She was a warrior for equality, tolerance and peace.”


Her families statement honour the beautiful lady she was.


I am so thankful for the words Dr Maya Angelou shared with the world.


Her writings were often close to the inner workings of my mind.


I bear one of her quotes on my arm.



This quote is so true for the writer in me.


Yet it’s another which I live my life by.


“People will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”



Dr Maya Angelou you have left this world a brighter richer place.


Your poetry, your stories, your voice have all left such a lasting legacy for the world.


Your were an inspiration to many.


You were my hope and strength.


Thank you Dr Maya Angelou for never giving up.


“Listen to yourself and in that quietude you might hear the voice of God.”


Bless Heaven Dr Maya Angelou as you blessed the earth.


Turning the page

As any writer will tell you there are times when the words flow and others when each word written feels like it has been torn from your soul.

I often have days of both.

One thing that seems to free up the gates of inspiration is when I am writing about something that I am passionate about, surprising hey.

A month or so ago I received and email from the company i worked for telling me about a competition that was being run by Irwin Mitchell Solicitors and KIDS. They challenged us to write a piece about disability, either from living with one or caring for someone who had one.

Of course this set me off and before long I had emailed my entry in.

Now this was rather surprising for me as I normally hold back in fear of rejection but as part of my nothing ventured, nothing gained new outlook I decided why not.

Well imagine my joy to receive an email telling me that I was joint winner of the 18 and over category.

I have won an amazing prize of a Kindle Fire but I will also get to see my words in a book they are making to raise money for KIDS.

I am super excited about it all and cannot wait to get my own copy.

If you would like to read what I wrote and the amazing winning entries in other categories please take a look here. My piece is called Never say never.

I”m so glad that i didn’t allow my fear and insecurities stop from entering this time.

[Tweet “Nothing ventured, nothing gained”]

Sometimes you have to fight to be happy.

Someone once told me that “happiness is a choice”.

I’m not sure if I fully grasped at the time what they meant but over the last five years I have had to choose.

Choose to be happy. 

You see emotions are like waves, sometime’s they can be calm and peaceful.

Yet at moments they can be raging against the elements, wild and unforgiving.



Grief especially is a whirlpool.

It tries it’s hardest to suck you down into the depths of despair.

So I have had to fight.

Fight to be happy.

And you know what thats ok.

I’ve learned a great lesson in life

That happiness isn’t a given.

You have to look for it

At times you really have to search for it.

You have to remind yourself that darkness is only the absence of light.

So you have to look for that light.

I call that light hope.

I find the light in my children’s laughter.

Listening to their plans and dreams for the future.

It’s there in memories that I hold dear to my heart.

Never forgetting the strength and courage of the one I have lost.

I find my light in the knowledge that life is for living.

That I have to make each moment count.

It’s there in the promise that one day I will hold my daughter again.

Sometimes life gets does get hard and I find myself fighting against the waves.

Frightened that I’m drowning.

But I still search for the light.

The promise of a new day.

The chance to make another memory.

I remind myself that although the whirlpool will never leave me.

I don’t have to let it consume me.

Keep swimming

Ride the waves

Tomorrow is always a chance for hope.


Choose happiness 




Speak life

I watched this video yesterday and loved it . The message is so simple and so true.

Words can heal.

Words can wound.

Words can make a day brighter.

Words can surround one in darkness.

Words can build one up.

Words can tear one down.

Words spoken.

Words typed.

Words in any form are powerful.

Choose your words carefully


Choose to speak life.




Therapy in print

They are just words on a page to many but for me right now it’s the beating of my heart.

A day of joy

A day of pain.

They fall out of my soul like rain from the clouds.

For so long writing has been my freedom. The only way I could bring the storm inside of me to calm.

As the words fly across the pages my heart returns to its normal beat.

There are days where I ache to write.

When my mind is full of stories and memories , I yearn for time to allow them to just flow out.

My hands twitch with the need.

To free the mind with a pen.

Many don’t understand to them writing is a chore.

For me it’s a gift.

A need.

The excitement of a new notebook

The pleasure in a new pen that flows.

Words are my heart, I need them to stay sane.

From childhood diaries to grown up journals they have always been my friends.

My very best friends.

The only ones who have known the real me.

The closest confidants I’ve ever had.

The only places I don’t have to hide my heart.

At times they aren’t pleasant places. No structure, no sense.

Full of pain in twisted sentences and unfinished paragraphs.

No editing here just truth spilled out.

Truth is a hard journey at times, but to move forward acceptance has to be found.

In my words I can find that peace.


Thanks to Adam @ Cannock Ink for my new tattoo.

Summer BMX fun.

So summer is finally here and I’m determined to get my family out making the most of the nice weather and making some special memories.

So when Argos offered me the opportunity to review one of their bikes I was rather excited.

Not for me but for my youngest who had been dropping big hints about getting a new bmx.

Argos delivered quickly and Alan had the bike ready in less that 30 minutes for Brodie to try out.

PicMonkey Collagebike

Lets just say the bike was a big hit. Brodie has been out every afternoon. She absolutely loves it.

I’m going to let my photos show you just how much.

IMG_9267bike pic 1IMG_9499bike pic 5 IMG_9271bike pic3 IMG_9305bike pic2

See, a picture is worth a thousand words. In Brodie’s words this BMX “rocks “

This is a great BMX from Argos

Here’s to many more memory making days.


* I was sent this BMX for the purpose of this review but all opinions are my own or my daughters.






Language is a diverse communication in my home.

From a child who takes everything literally to one who only listens when it suits him.

Diverse is interesting but at times it’s so frustrating.

Ever asked a child to take to their earphones upstairs only to later find them literally up the stairs. It wasn’t disobedience I hadn’t asked her to put them into her bedroom had I ?

Or found yourself repeating yourself numerous times to a child who has decided to switch off simply because he doesn’t care for what you are saying?

Diverse, different, challenging

Yes I guess you could say this.

Also not all our language is in the spoken form a variety of written cues and makaton a form of sign language is used too.

Language is a fascinating thing and as a lover of words I find beauty in the sound of certain words as they fly across the air.

I love the art of poetry creating images in prose. Transporting me to different places, different times.

The entrapment of a story which takes you into the world of make believe.

I adore the language of love, those heart felt words spoken in a tone only shared between two lovers.

Or that sweet gentle tone of a parent to a child. The language of compassion.

Language is unique to each and everyone of us.

Words the same but spoken in a way that is truly only ours.

Diversity of language can be found in countries, cultures, religions.

Language can be found in many forms.

These days it’s less verbal than ever as we send millions of texts from our mobiles.

Or emails from our computers.

Yet nothing is so special as that face to face three simple words. That has span across generations.

Those three simple elegant beautiful words that make our hearts sore.

I love you.

The best language of them all.

The language of love


Simply unforgettable

She cried herself to sleep in my arms.

She had a dream or maybe a nightmare?

She was surrounded by people she knew, people she loved but they didn’t remember.

She was asking questions that they had no answers for.

Sharing memories that they couldn’t recall.

She cried so hard, fear tugging at her soul.

Struggling to breathe through the sobs.

Hiccuping, coughing, nose running.

My sleeve felt wet as she snuggled her head into my arms.

I could feel the heaviness of her chest as it lay on mine.

“They have forgotten her mom”she cried.

“She’s gone” “disappeared “.

“How could they? ”

“why would they”?

I hold her tight my tears dropping softly on her head.

How do I find the words?

How can I make this right?

Her fear, her nightmare is the inner demon I fight every day.

“Please Lord don’t let her be forgotten”.

We hold each other close like we are the strength we need to stay all together.

Mother and daughter a bond like no other.

We whisper promises to heaven.

Words of memories.

We will never forget.

The bond of a mother daughter

The kinship of sisters.

It’s eternal

We won’t forget.

She is in every breathe I take.

In every beat of my heart.

We won’t forget.

Because simply

Livvy is unforgettable.

One of those moments

You know those moments when you pass on words of wisdom to your children only to find out later that they got it so very wrong.

Well a couple of weeks ago my youngest came home from school in tears an annoying boy had taken to looking at her waiting for her to look at him just to say “what you looking at”.

Now of course first we tried the just ignore him tactics and the don’t look his way ones too, but nothing was working and it was making her life miserable.

It was such as shame as senior school is hard enough without annoying boys. I mean she has all of her marriage to put up with that.

So my husband had enough of this boy and simply told her the next time he asked her “what you looking at” she should answer with the words and the old favourite “I don’t know they don’t label crap”.

Well anyway cue us sitting up the dinner table last night when Brodie told us that she had shut the boy up with what dad had told her to say. Of course we were pleased but then she continued with the words “he looked a little confused”.

What could be confusing about the statement?

So we asked Brodie what she had actually said.

She explained that when the boy said his usual “what you looking at” she had replied with.

” I don’t know, i don’t look at things that aren’t labelled” and then she added “you need to get yourself labelled “

Of course once we had picked up ourselves off the floor in hysterics we kindly explained where she had gone wrong.

Anyway the boy left her alone, confused maybe or frightened whichever one it worked.

Memories in the making.