Geek Girl Eats Cake

Pompeii

If you could visit anywhere where would you go?

We ask this question to eachother all the time. There are lots of places I would love to see, but the one that draws me most in the world is Pompeii.

I have always been interested in people. Whether they are fictional told in storytelling such as myths and novels, people watching from benches, psychology, meeting strangers or a autobiographical journey or history. I have always been able to imagine feelings and put myself in others place. So the thought of a moment frozen in time where a civilisation faced their last moments always seemed like a chance to have incredible insight of humanity.

If you are not familiar with the story of Pompeii then let me give you a brief history.

Pompeii was a popular and prosperous retreat for the wealthy. It welcomed travellers and merchants from its busy port and it was a large city, around 163 acres. There were about 10-20,000 residents, and over 80 counters of fast food, a sports ground, two theatres, a baths, basilica, market, red light district, shops, bars, laundries, workshops for craftsmen such as marble men and carpenters as well as villas and private houses.

So it was big. In 79 AD, Mount Vesuvius erupted. Around midday August 24 ash and volcanic debris began pouring over the city. Many fled, and survived, but by the morning of August 25 gas from the volcano killed any that had not already perished. Two thousand people died in the city during the eruption. Due it lasting 18 hours most thankfully could get to safety.

For many centuries Pompeii remained perfectly preserved in motion. In the 1700s, it was discovered under 19-23 feet of ash. Excavation changed archaeology during the 1800s. Graffiti and shrines were discovered, along with temples for Zeus and Isis. Fun fact, penises exist by the hundreds across Pompeii, good luck omens apparently (so blokes be proud of your todgers!).

Most of what we know about Roman life comes from Pompeii and to this day a whole third of the city is still yet to be uncovered.

So what was it like being there? Its not what I dreamed. Rather naively i always imagined the people frozen within their homes and businesses. Although so much was preserved of course this would have kept them vulnerable to the elements.

So instead you experience the city, all, every inch is as it was. You have to not lean or touch anything. I was always nervous about the empathy side of me, that I would feel overwhelmed but as its the buildings it spoke more to the history loving side of me. The city feels extremely modern and you can feel the wealth and how commercial it once was.

The villas still show luxury, the cafes are easy to picture, there was even a pizza oven easily distinguishable. The theatre and baths are extraordinary, and amazingly people still perform on the stage of the theatre in a festival held every year. Pink Floyd even performed there. So I was all good.

But then I saw the bodies. One was of a dog curled up in a ball, its chain still attached. No one thought of the loss of animals only people. Which is why it was like a penny dropped. How many pets died too? I’m a dog lover and know how attached they become to their owners, would they have tried protecting their families? Or bring the last moment of comfort of a child lost? Or a person older, his pet dog being his only escape from loneliness? How many died together?

I only saw a few, one was lying with fists clenched, absolute sorrow and fear. Another simply lay in the position of sleep.

People believe that the bodies were placed in plaster yet the ash and volcanic debris solidified into a shell shielding them from decay. What an astonishing irony, as well as the eruption taking so many lives, it protected them.

There was one group, two children and two adults. They were found together, a man trying so hard to protect a very small child on their lap who’s reaching out. Another small child lays beside a woman. So many things ran through my head, so many scenarios of what could have happened in the last few minutes of their lives.

It felt emotional. You may be thinking the same thing I did, that infact the project did- that it was a family. But no. After examination they found they were strangers. That affected me more.

So many things, firstly what if we didn’t have the means to discover this information? The presumption would remain, and their identity changed.

Secondly, the small children, how long were they alone and seeking help, comfort and protection?

Thirdly and a side question: Is the fact that the stranger protecting the child on their lap was a man and not a woman surprising?

But the biggest thing that group gave me is the stranger was helping the child. We know the children were strangers, how long had that child lying alone perished? Did they all see each other for that one moment or try and work together to survive?

If a disaster hit, and time was escaping, would you focus on your loved ones and you or help others along the way? Would you protect strangers?

If someone is crying on the street or falls you of course help them, normally without a seconds thought. But that has no impact on your safety. If it did would you act the same? Its an interesting question. The people in the Forces, firemen, police already know their answer to certainty. But every day people?

That man did and now his act is immortalised. There were others that did the same. I’m glad they can be remembered. And it is this show of kindness and bravery that would never have been captured anywhere else. This is the magic and uniqueness of Pompeii.

Greetings from Roma 🇮🇹

When I told people where I was going on holiday there came a different reaction to other holidays. Normally you say the destination and the response is “ooohhh nice!” or “I went there a couple years ago.” Yet when you say Rome, people respond with “Oh wow!” or “I’m so jealous! I always wanted to go”. So you may be surprised to learn when searching for flights to Rome, they actually came up cheaper than other parts of Italy or even Greece.

When you mention Rome, a certain reputation follows. Grandeur, luxury, class. I spent a week there and I want to divulge some of the things I learnt during my stay.

Spritz– This is seemingly the drink of choice during the Roman Summer. An Italian spritz is a refreshing, low-alcohol wine cocktail traditionally made with 3 parts Prosecco, 2 parts bitter liqueur, and 1 splash of soda water served over a mountain of ice. It is offered and has signs everywhere! It costs €6-9. I didn’t bother with it to be honest- not a fan of soda and reminded me too much of Pimms which in Britain exploded and you couldn’t go to a social gathering without it being the only drink going. Pop in a few shots of tequila and I might have been tempted!

Tourist tax– Italians are a friendly bunch and incredibly welcoming, but some restaurants (a large number during my stay) charge “tourist tax”. In Britain we see a menu and that is the price. However, in the city centre of Rome, they will charge you for tap water, napkins, hide included service charge and then ask if you want to leave a tip when you pay. Basically anything and everything and never tell you, instead you find out from the receipt after you pay your bill. These include family run restaurants. So be careful with your wallet, always make sure you have double, sometimes triple the cost of what’s on the menu.

Ruins– These are everywhere, ornate, setting a beautiful landscape. Any disrespect toward them can land you with a hefty fine. So no climbing on fountains for the perfect pic, or letting the kids loose to climb on statues. Rome’s passion and pride for their history is extremely justified. It is in every school curriculum and their achievements toward civilisation paved the way for our lives today. I love ruins and history so I was in paradise.

Food insights– Gelato is on virtually every street. However as a local informed me there are two types: tourist and authentic. The tourist kind comes in beautiful colours to tempt you inside from the street. A long range of flavours, but there is also a huge amount of additives and food colouring.

The authentic is the uncoloured stuff. So if you want more of the Italian experience stay away from brightly coloured ice cream. Each seller will tempt you with more than one flavour or act like its out of the ordinary if you just want one. This rockets up the price so be aware.

Pizza is different in each region. The Roman way is extremely thin and crispy, the Naples base is thin and soft. All margherita pizzas have the same- red tomato sauce, white mozzarella and fresh green basil to reflect the colours of the Italian flag. Italians bend the pizza so sides are curved. They tend to share pizza too.

Lots of courses, its an entire evening when going for a meal with a spouse, relatives or friends. Their phones are silent and placed somewhere discreet, instead they relish the moment of each others company. Its a enviable way of life. Britain we tend to just scoff stuff down!

Chips/french fries– these are offered on so many menus. Being from Camborne, chips are one of my main food groups so this was awesome.

Massive fruit– due to different climate, the fruit here is massive! If you get a chance pop into a supermarket and try. I found granny smith apples half the size of my face.

Bakery– as tempting as the windows appear to be resist the bakery! Apart from the staples of limoncello dessert and tiramisu, the baked stuff either was really bland or ridiculously sweet. Its mostly due to the locals not really big fans, they are all savoury or gelato. Fresh bread is also mysteriously hard to get hold of. Its really strange.

Italy is expresso heavy- self catering accommodation will most likely offer only an expresso machine- no instant. As I am reliant on excessive coffee and also a non Expresso drinker (me on expresso can you imagine? I’d outrun Usain Bolt or have a heart attack after a day) , this was a bugbear. So English or coffee lovers be warned. Italians also only have cappuccino as part of breakfast with a pastry. If they see someone drinking it later in the day it screams tourist! They also don’t do tea.

Walkways are not pedestrian right of way- This is important. Do not assume traffic will stop, they keep coming from both directions. You have to judge fast. It’s live action Frogger. I went with crowds- easier to see and if people in front of me got mowed down I stood a fighting chance!

Water– designated water fountains and public taps are everywhere, bottled water is overpriced. If you have an empty bottle refill whenever you see one. The sun is hot there, stay hydrated.

Public travel– the nice thing about Rome is they cap the taxis so you know the maximum amount you will pay for different regions. They are still far from cheap but using an app to get a ride is the best way to go if you need one.

Bus drivers can be assholes. In Italy you get one a bus, click your card for each person and you get a limit of 1hr 15 minutes of travel on local buses. I caught one, everyone else got dropped off at stops but still quite a few left before I was due to get off. The bus driver pulled over and stopped for 25 minutes.

I google translated, “why waiting: and “do you need me to get off?”, went up to find he was playing a game on his phone. He aggressively shooed me away and then sat there silent. After another 15 minutes of not moving, I made the decision to catch another bus. As soon as he saw me step off he drove away. This might have been an isolated incident but best to warn others that although most of Italian people will wish you “bonjourno” and smile, some really dont like tourists so beware.

With every place you have different experiences, but if you are thinking of a trip to Rome these may help you.

It is highly recommended to visit, its stunningly beautiful, lots of attractions and things to learn and see. I had an amazing time.

The Hemiplegic Condition

For years now I have been diagnosed as Hemiplegic. No one knows what this means- not surprising as it only effects 0.01% of the population and is classed as rare. Basically it is a severe type of migraine whose symptoms basically mirror a stroke.

You feel paralysis down one side of the body (usually the left), extreme difficulties with speech, dizziness, vision problems, sometimes confusion but strangely no headache.

Before diagnosis there came many trips to A+E, tons of MRIs and lots more abbreviations and procedures I was too out of it to remember. The staff look at the scans and then look at you. The confusion spreads and they become dubious of your symptoms (they don’t cover hymeplegic migraines in mandatory training only hypochondria). Finally you get referred to a Neurologist either cause they haven’t got a clue why this keeps happening or think you’re batshit crazy. Luckily my referred Neurologist knew straightaway and I was diagnosed on the spot.

Like a conventional migraine the best way for it to pass is sleep.

The condition was first found in medical journals over 70 years ago by English Neurologist C. Whitty. There are two types of hemiplegic migraine sufferers:

Familial which means you inherited it from your family.

Or my type: Sporadic (I have always been random) which means it is down to a spontaneous mutation in genes. I always thought the X-Men were cool but this has to be the most dumbass mutation you can get.

I am actually really lucky mine only occur years apart, some sufferers can have them 3-250 times a year.

Unfortunately for me I had an attack on Friday morning.

During the last stretch of a cool down routine I do most days after a work out, a shot of pain went in my head and on my right eye. The pain in the head each time is like a lightening bolt- an unprecedented intense, precise flash but your head after this does not hurt. A few minutes later my vision blurred I was unable to focus, dizziness set in and my speech was rapidly declining. The words were there but there was a mental block and I could not get them out. Every sound was a stutter, prolonged or didn’t come at all.

This is the scary bit as you feel helpless, communication is everything. Soon after, I had growing numbness leading to paralysis on the left side of my body, my teeth felt cold as my mouth drooped unable to hardly move. It is scary. You have very little control, you feel completely powerless. Trapped inside your own body as it betrays you.

All this happens quickly, but then I slept for 6 hours. Woke, had a cup of tea (I’m British it fixes everything), my vision was good, left paralysis was gone and my speech was better. Words were there but stuttered and clipped. Slept again and a few hours later my speech was better again. And by the end of the day more back to normal. The only thing that stays for a while is your body is extremely sore and aches. Its been put through a lot. Normally an attack comes when you have had extreme stress or overworked your body and mind. It saves it up and punches you in the face and knocks you out for a bit.

It goes without saying that Friday prompted this post. I think of how many people who don’t know about this, some maybe sufferers and not know it yet, or at that horrible stage of dealing with sceptical looks from hospital staff in A+E, confused over why this keeps happening to them. The mind and brain is a powerful thing. But as all symptoms are fully reversible in a few days, the only thing you need is someone with you just in case and a nice comfy bed. As conditions go it could be a lot worse. Oh, and a good Neurologist. Someone who knows your brain better than you do. Attacks can be scary but even with more frequent ones it can be managed. Worryingly most common beginning points are in childhood and are mistaken for epilepsy. It’s important that awareness spreads.

One Man’s Dream at Christmas

Stanley swore as he tried to pull his thick fairisle jumper free. It must be caught, he thought and tugged a little harder. A shot of pain reached his back and shoulder as a ripping sound accompanied the woolly garment.

“Dagnabit!” Stanley held the jumper by the collar and saw the arm hung limply, half-severed, precariously linked by a single strand of white woollen thread. Stanley shook his head. He felt inside the drawer and found an opened tin of picture hooks jammed in the corner. He could not remember why they were there. Thirty years he had that jumper, it was the last Christmas present from May, his wife. Not bearing to part with it just yet, he opened his wardrobe and fed a coat hanger through the wool placing it on the rail.

Stanley found a thin cardigan instead. A poor substitute. He moved his arm in circular movements to try and shift the pain. It was freezing outside, so Stanley put on his gloves, cap and scarf over his raincoat and opened the door. Stanley paused as he always did when leaving his home. He waited to feel warmth by his feet, an excited bark, but the cruel silence and presence of air was a stark reminder that no one was home. He felt in his pocket for the letter, nodded and closed the door.

Every day, late morning, Stanley Morris made the familiar trip from his house in Sunrise Close to Tescos. He would buy a sausage roll, a single banana and a red apple for his lunch and twice a week donate something to the food bank. Walking, he realised quite often he would walk automatically without thought, and wondered what the purpose of him actually was. Each day has been wasted really. He had old friends he saw once a year who travelled, took seaside coach trips or trips abroad but in truth, Stanley just couldn’t be bothered. He did question if his existence in the world had any effect on anyone.

Lost in thought Stanley was taken back to reality with a ping. Instinctively, Stanley patted his chest, and realised a button had become loose and dropped to the floor. He stood still, examining the pavement but couldn’t see anything. A car came past and the driver stared at him in a scowling manner. “Lubberwort.” Stanley muttered as the car drove out of view, and he moved closer to the kerb. Whilst looking he saw a spot of gold amongst some leaves. He groaned as he bent down and brushed the leaves away. He saw it was a type of ring, and held it up. It was a band of gold on a chain. But his coat button was nowhere to be seen. Stanley hung the chain on a pertrubing bush and carried on walking.

After a few minutes he diverted into a little road that led into an estate where he saw a young woman and a little boy. The woman was on the phone whilst the boy was singing Santa Claus is coming to Town and holding a balloon decorated with a big 4. Stanley felt his hand over his pocket and to check for the envelope. As the mum and child came closer, there was a rumble further down. It got louder, the boy yelled, and Stanley saw the latex four bouncing on the road. The boy ran into the street, Stanley quickly grabbed him and pulled him toward his mother, who clutched the crying child’s hand, met his eyes and smiled. Avoiding the spray of puddle as a lorry passed, Stanley turned into Sunrise Meadows as a chorus of acceleration roared behind him.

Stanley looked for number 3, found the letterbox and posted a misdirected letter. He walked back the way he came before the diversion and approached Tescos.

Inside, he found the hot counter and bagged a sausage roll before proceeding toward the fruit. On the way, he passed the cans of meals and saw macaroni cheese. Although it was not a usual food bank day, Stanley picked up two cans. He pulled a banana from the top bunch on display, placed it under his arm, and grabbed a Gala apple before making his way toward the till. The woman behind the counter was an older woman with kind eyes who greeted him with a smile. A man was pacing behind him forming a short queue.

Placing his items on the counter, on a whim Stanley asked for a number 7 Scratchcard. “You’re lucky already,” the woman said warmly. “It’s the last one.”

“Oh for fucks sake! Of course he’s going to go for number 7!”

Startled, Stanley turned and spoke. “Did you want the number 7?”

The man apologised, and believing in fate, Stanley told the cashier to forget the Scratchcard, took out his leather coin purse, and purchased the food. The woman placed the items in a bag and handled them to him.

“Thanks mate, sorry about that.” The man said as Stanley moved to leave. “It’s okay,” Stanley replied.They exchanged wishes of a Merry Christmas, as Stanley took out the two cans and placed them in the basket for the food bank.

Another customer came, as Stanley was leaving and held open the door. Stanley thanked them, and saw a man lying in a sleeping bag outside the shop. As his coin purse was still in his hand-the consequence of a jamming zip- Stanley took out £3 and handed it to him.

Whilst trying to unjam his coinpurse, Stanley bumped into a woman. She started shouting and yelling, Stanley apologised quickly, placed his purse in his pocket, and reached for his left ear. He turned off his hearing aid, and walked briskly carrying his carrier bag.

Glad to be home, Stanley decided that was enough of outside and people for today. He felt unsettled that afternoon and evening, still thinking of his jumper and button. He switched on the television that night and watched Its a Wonderful Life remembering holding hands with May as Jimmy Stewart played his most famous role on screen. Their dog, Rolo snuggled by their feet. Stanley went to bed and settled down to sleep.

As he rested, Stanley dreamt he had a visitor. An old man like him, with a kind face. They walked together and in front Stanley could see himself. He was taken aback how old he looked as he watched himself pat his chest. A car went by, and he could just make out the word “lubberwort” as he watched himself groan and bend down. The ring was dangling from the bush and Stanley saw himself walkway but he was still beside the gold ring.

Moments later, a woman was walking a little dog. The canine seemed in later years and kept stopping. The woman seemed in a trance and had no colour in her cheeks. She came closer, saw the ring, and gasped. She took the chain off the bush and placed it round her neck clutching the ring as she walked.

Suddenly Stanley was in a cold barren room with chairs lined in a row. The same woman was barely standing up and her eyes were red. A nurse approached her, spoke and handed her an envelope whilst smoothing the woman’s arm, and left. The woman reached inside the envelope and took out a gold banded ring. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She placed it on her little finger and reached inside again. This time taking out a chain. She thread the chain through the ring and wore it around her neck. She held the ring with both hands and started crying, leant against the wall behind her and slid down into a ball.

The old companion with him held out his arm and Stanley moved toward it. Again, Stanley saw himself. This time along the estate, where the mother and child were approaching. The mother as before was on her phone, and Stanley watched as the balloon floated onto the road, the boy being grabbed and Stanley turning into Sunrise Meadows. A lorry thundered past as a motor bike sped vigorously on the other side of the road swerving just enough to miss the balloon.

Stanley and his companion witnessed the posting of the letter. Then they were inside, watching a young man open it, read, and place his hand to his mouth before slightly shaking. The kind old man with him spoke. “That letter is from his father. This young man was forced out of his home when his father couldn’t accept him for who he was. His dad has been poorly. While he was in hospital, he looked over to his bedside and realised the thing he wanted most of all was to see his son. He is asking for his son’s forgiveness for being a fool. He is telling his son he is loved.” Stanley turned away, thinking of his own son he lost.

The companion placed his hand on Stanley’s shoulder and they were now beside the till in Tescos. They heard the man swear, then Stanley was confronted with a vision of a family. Children had holes in school jumpers, a young girl forced her shoes off, and stretched her toes through soaked feet. The man who swore at the till and a woman was arguing. She was holding up red stamped letters and crying.

Stanley then had a vision of that same man finding a £2 coin on the pavement, switching the direction he was headed, and venturing into the shop. The man stood directly behind Stanley and bought nothing else but that scratchcard.

Outside, Stanley and the old companion watched as the man scratched off the silver, screamed and cried with happiness and relief. “That card was worth £50,000. It was the winning ticket,” the old man stated. Stanley’s eyes widened in disbelief.

They watched Stanley bump into the woman, As a spectator, Stanley realised how thin her body was. Her hair was unwashed, and her eyes were sunken. A bag of white powder fell down the drain. She started screaming and yelling. “What was she yelling about?” asked Stanley.

The kind old man smiled. They were now in a kitchen Stanley didn’t recognise, and the woman who yelled was faced away from them at the sink. “That woman was addicted to a drug. When you bumped into her, her last supply went down the drain. She couldn’t get anymore. She was forced to get clean. We are in her home now.” The woman looked healthy, her hair shone, she turned around so Stanley could see these beautiful bright blue eyes. He looked down as her hands circled her swollen belly. The sound of a door opened. “That’s her husband”, the old man said. “The boy you gave three pounds to outside the shop got to eat for the first time in three days. The food bank cans of macaroni cheese went to a family with an autistic child. Macaroni cheese is the only thing the child will eat. The family saved those cans for Christmas Day when they got to sit and eat together. The first time in six months.”

Stanley stood in silence trying to process everything. “All I did was take a walk.”

Stanley woke the next morning feeling refreshed. And for the first time in a long time he felt content. He walked to the kitchen to take his morning medication and brushed the Christmas tree. A twinkling filled the air and Stanley smiled. It was the angelic sound of a bell ringing.

Greetings from Alacante

Alacante, Lucentum, the City of Light.

Palm trees line the streets. I sit on borrowed time in this beautiful city , watching the people walk by from my rented balcony, wondering what stories and secrets they hold within. The gentle climate warms my body tenderly, easing me into the heat.

I walk along the neighbourhood beach, the sun has just risen, the sea is calm and gently stirring. The soft powdered sand provides an impression of brochured paradise. The beach is not yet crowded. In a couple of hours, fellow tourists will embark with pale skin and beach bags full of things they deem necessary to keep kids entertained and “essentials” of modern life.

Two mature ladies with beautiful bronzed weathered skin are laughing, filling their little patch of haven with infectious joy. Bare breasts jiggle over round bellies and tiny bikini bottoms. You imagine they do this every morning, sit side by side, and reminisce over moments from a life-long friendship, enjoying free time, adventures, and good food. A comfortableness and celebration of a woman’s body admired by English roses, who partake the Spainish ways – for a short time at least – free from rain and chillyness from home.

I walk into the centre of the city, rocky mountains, and tower blocks frame the landscape in unison. Locals are either poor or simply using homes to simply sleep. Instead, they spend their time enjoying the wonders outside their windows. Giant melons for under half a euro, fresh fish, and vegetables for meagre prices along with bottles of wine, the Mediterranean diet is something easy to maintain on every income.

Runners in tiny shorts pass me, the most popular way to travel and get from place to place. I pass postcard sea views and formations of pale rock that leave a chalky residue on my hands and sandals.

Another beach as I approach the centre of the city. A group of men varied in age and generation adorn magazine-cover physiques are working out. They help a young boy reach the steel bar, getting him in the routine of embracing fitness and a healthy lifestyle in an environment rich in decadence and relaxed temperament.

I catch the ferry and take a seat beside a boy and a girl. The boy sits awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. The girl watches him. His fingernails are decorated in black, the girl adorned in pink and fluff. He looks out the window, entwining his fingers. He has a lost innocent look, angelic but misunderstood. She has a classic face of beauty, smelling of berries with big emerald eyes. Both adorned a style that would mostly likely exclude them from the popular crowd, but they are the type that would not care. On the surface at least.

Accepting each others eccentricities without prejudice. They have confidence I envied when I was at their age. They look at each other reading thoughts, a secret conversation, a language only they can share. Halfway through the journey, they ask if I can move to let them out. I am the barrier between them. Intruding on their bubble. I move with an apologetic smile, and they step outside as we steer through the sea. Their bodies are reunited, arms wrapped around each other, feeling the warmth and tenderness only first love can bring. Soaking each other in as the sea sprays the deck.

At sunset, I walk along the same beach as the morning after a full day exploring. The sea relaxes me to my core, and I try and memorise every detail of this moment. More examples of body acceptance and positivity fill the shore. A table and chairs are placed on the sand, a banner, a celebration. On the table are trays of food and drink. I have seen many of these during my stay. The locals treat the beach as a home, part of their family life, something to include on milestones and special days each year. The appreciation and love for the environment they inhabit are endearing.

Before I leave, I sit on my balcony as I have every morning, enjoying the most delicious melon that I have ever passed between my lips. I thank the people who pass below for embracing me into their world, letting me stay a while and experience their way of life.

Alacante and its people have enchanted, fascinated, and seduced me. I depart reluctantly with europhic glow, yet I know the city, and I have only shared fragments of what it has to give. There are many more stories to see and treasures to discover.

Take a walk with me …

There’s a magical time of day, when the last moments of night blend with the light of a new dawn. It happens an hour before sunrise. The dark sky is still lingering, ready for its transformation, and this is my favourite time to walk.

In the beginning, the path is just light enough to see, but silence surrounds you. There are no people, no cars, the world seems to still be sleeping. Quite often, I don’t even hear insects in the hedgerow. It’s simply still. Calm.

These night to sun walks are perfect for your mental health. The path is light enough to guide you (as your eyes have adjusted), but beyond just a short distance away is pure black. You can not see far. You are entering the unknown.

It’s empowering and inspiring, especially if there are any worries in your mind at present. You can not see the road ahead but must keep moving forward, and trust the light will come. Whenever darkness surrounds you, the new light is always coming.

The path presently synergetically embedded within fields of thick mist will change. Afternoon walkers will get a new path, seeing it transformed into landscapes of green. In the distance, are faraway homes still sleeping, yet to wake and start the day. As I approach the next stage, trees deepen the umbra as I enter the woods. Beautiful lush forest green leaved wonders are now silhouettes against the sky and formidable barriers against any illumination of daybreak. I need to trust the familiarity of my route.

The path is still there, and as I come into the clearing over the bridge, the railway tracks steer your gaze to a glowing orange blending with a navy sky.

Up the hill comes the view. Miles of farmland, in every direction. Outlines of windmills provide me with my first form of movement other than my own footsteps. The light is progressing gradually more and more, and as I walk through fields of gold where corn once thrived, my mind is at peace.

After a tree tunnel, a back road sees discarded tractors strangely beautiful but rusted resting in a passage place now their work is done. Views of more fields line my way beneath skies of pastel blues and pinks, making me marvel at the palette of a new day. Nature’s kaleidoscope is constantly changing.

Things you take for granted in afternoon strolls feel like artwork to be admired, refusing to merely pass you by. I can see the road back ahead, cars disappointingly flash by, and I know civilisation is looming.

Sunlight illuminates through the trees and branches. Its time to begin to shine has come. The tranquillity and serenity of nature’s creations keep my mind clear.

I walk through the houses, and although their world has awoken, there is still beauty surrounding me. I am ready to start anew, fresh from seeing the world turn, and I am left with a feeling that anything is possible.

BDSM Ungagged

BDSM stands for Dominance/Discipline/Dominance/Submission and has long been misunderstood. So much so that it was used as evidence for diagnosis of mental illness, but it is now proven it has no connection to any psychiatric disorders. It is, in fact, just a fun aspect of sex and for many a part of healthy, loving relationships.

It is incredible to me that an aspect of someone’s sexual identity that is depicted as an act of pleasure in masterpieces of art and books for centuries, can at the same time reflect mental illness, sexual deviance or a history of abuse or sexual trauma. Thankfully, now we live in a different time.

Since 50 shades of Grey exploded into the mass population, it has become much more acceptable to be into BDSM and is now as mainstream as a threesome. High Street shops have small ranges on their shelves, there is a flood of Insta “good girl” reels, and scenes in televiion series such as the “Kneel” scene in Fleabag have become conversations around the water cooler.

It seems we are shifting sexual norms and are more open to exploring previous taboos. In a study, it found that 47% of the population regularly engage in activities of BDSM, and 60% of us have used aspects that come under its umbrella. People who incorporate BDSM into their relationship have better sexual communication than those who didn’t. This is not a surprise. In order to practise BDSM, trust and communication are crucial. You have to know each other’s boundaries, establish a safe word, and the amount of trust involved is huge, especially with acts such as choking, biting, facesitting, or impact play.

Considering the number of people practising BDSM, very little research exists to explore the subject. Alana Schuerwegan at the Collaberative Antwerp Psychiatric Research Institute compared 256 practictioners to 300 that didn’t engage and found that higher levels of sensation seeking were found in those people enjoying BDSM.

High levels of impulsivity were found in submissives but not those identified as Domininants. This, of course, makes sense. To be a sub, you must abide by your Doms’ requirements no matter what they are as long as they are within the agreed boundaries. Whilst there are general rules, some demands are daily, but some can be immediate, and, as a sub, it is your role to obey. This mindset might sound strange to some, but being a submissive to another person can be a way to let go of control and experience a sense of freedom. Domininants are more meticulous and organised. The act of dominating another person can be a way to be powerful and in control. Schuerwegan found BDSM was being used as a way to cope with stress and relieve tension. It has been proven that cortisol levels rise during BDSM play, particularly in submissives, and psychological stress decreases.

Partakers of BDSM are found to be more relaxed, openminded, more securely attached to their partners, and less sensitive to rejection. This brings us to the part about BDSM that is less talked about. The aftercare.

To some, the practise of placing yourself at the mercy of another may seem extreme, but after sessions, there is kindness and intimacy. The Dominant often values their submissive above others and is, as a result, more invested in the relationship. Both partners take care of each other emotionally and physically, ensuring they feel safe and cared for. In a study conducted in the Netherlands, people who practise BDSM scored higher on self-reported emotional and physical wellbeing,

So why do we do it? Time for the science. When our brains activate their natural opioid system ( the body’s evolved attempt to block pain), it can also have a euphoric effect. Neurological research has identified that the brain’s reception of signals for both orgasm and pain run through the same system. Patients with spinal cord injuries have found that when they lose the sense of pain, they also lose the ability to reach orgasm.

Whether you are a participant of BDSM or not, you should be free to express and share your sexual preferences with your partner. Misconceptions that BDSM is abusive or violent can be harmful or stigmatising to those wishing to experiment or introduce it into the bedroom. BDSM is so varied, the aspects of the practice are vast – all levels are accounted for. Being open-minded is a great attribute to have in a sexual relationship, either established or new. No one should be judged when everything is consensual. And that is the key. Consent. If you are beginning to explore or already partake, remember to prioritise safety, communication, and consent.

In 2013, based on hundreds of 21^st-century studies, DSM-V removed BDSM from its list of mental illnesses. So it’s finally official. BDSM is just another way for normal, healthy adults to play. So, have fun!

Call me

New voicemail

Hey, it’s me. I know we haven’t talked since we broke up, but I just needed to hear your voice. I guess you either didn’t answer or you’re busy. The thing I miss most about us Carly is we used to talk about our day. We weren’t just lovers. You were my best friend. I miss coming home to you. I wish there was a better reason for us to be apart. I know you’re doing okay, I’m not doing okay.

The worst part of my day is when I finish work, drive home, and walk into the kitchen. It’s dark, barren, there’s no smell. I loved coming home and finding you at the hob stirring, serving up our plates, and then we’d talk. Now, all that greets me is an empty chair and silence.

I know this sounds weird, but would you mind if I called and just told you about my day? I’m really struggling, Carls. Really. I hope you don’t. Today was a good day at work, I got chosen to pitch for Contender, you know the sports brand? I had a chance meeting with the director of the firm, and we were both waiting for coffee. I did what you always told me to do, I sold myself and my ideas. I thought he would be annoyed but he listened! It was amazing! I was buzzing all day, and the next thing I knew, I was chosen to pitch. For Contender! A multi-million account! Anyway, I’ll let you know how it goes. I miss you, Bye.

New voicemail

Hi Carly, me again. I just wanted to tell you about Contender. It turns out theres four of us working on this pitch, and one of them is Darren. Do you remember Darren? How could you forget! The atmosphere is really awkward. it’s awful that one kiss and reach for the pants could cause all this fuss. I really hope this doesn’t fuck up my chances of impressing Mr Maddern. Bit of the buzz has gone now as you can imagine. Anyway, hope you’re well. Miss you.

New voicemail

Fuck Carly, its all happening. Whilst in the conference room as we’re knocking around ideas for Contender, Darren tells Nora and Will about the kiss and cock grab. Oh fuck Carls I am in deep shit! I can’t believe he’s doing this! He went to HR, and now there’s talk of an investigation. What the fuck!?!! He’s even talking about getting me kicked off the pitch. I can’t believe this! I hope you’re okay. Miss you.

New voicemail

Hi, I’m really low today. I feel like everyone is talking about me. Work is really hell. My anxiety is through the roof. I wish you were here. Love you. Please, if you get time, I don’t know. I just miss you. Call me, okay?

New voicemail

Hi, I took a day off work and pulled a sickie. I’ve been working on ideas for Contender at home. I really want this, I’ve worked so long for this, as you know. It seems so bloody unfair to have it taken away, especially like this. I want to work. I need to work. This is so shit. I know I have to go in tomorrow, but I’m bricking it. Wish me luck! Love you, bye.

New voicemail

Carly! I had to call you! I know it’s been a few days, but as I’ve clogged up your voicemail, I thought I better update you. The most unbelievable things have happened. Honestly, it’s like something out of a movie!

Nora and Will spoke to Gina, our manager, and told her Darren did the same thing to Will that he did to me. Except Darren wasn’t drunk with Will! Can you believe that? Will, like me, thought it came out of nowhere. And he’d rather just forget it cause Darren just had a crush, but he’s been trying it on with other male co-workers! Nora was told by Dave Venn it happened to him, too. Will didn’t want to speak up but couldn’t let Darren lie and get me kicked off the team for Contender. Darren is being suspended as Gina is doing an investigation, and there’s talk of contacting the police over it! I said to Will, “I don’t know how I feel about that,” but Nora said Darren might be targeting male-coworkers as he knew they wouldn’t feel comfortable coming forward.

So that night, as a three, we worked through the night and smashed the presentation, landing the client! We’re getting a bonus this month, and this morning, there was a hamper of stuff waiting for me as a thank you. Nora asked me out for a meal, so I have to start getting ready. See ya Carls, I know you never answered, but thanks for listening. Take care.

OUTGOING CALL…Dialling

The Pride of Lions

If you had to choose the greatest animated film of all time, the correct and only answer you should give is The Lion King. Okay, I know it’s all opinion blah blah blah, but be truthful – who doesn’t love The Lion King?

Family drama ✔️

Comedy ✔️

Self discovery ✔️

Realistic animation ✔️

Stellar voice cast ✔️

Nala’s bedroom eyes ✔️

A kick-ass soundtrack ✔️

A farting warthog ✔️

A villain who is proper evil ✔️

The same voice as Darth Vader connecting two of the greatest movie dads of all time ✔️

Quote dialogue that can be used as slogans on gazillions of merch ✔️

So, it’s agreed the film is incredible and the best animated film of all-time, tick marks equal facts. Of course, it is based on Hamlet from the greatest storyteller, the bard himself. Disney admit the influence, but to them, they were (their words) – making Bambi in Africa. Apart from the iconic parent death scene, and they were both animal based, I fail to see it, to be honest. Hamlet- king gets killed by his brother, who takes the throne, and the murdered king’s son seeks revenge. Bambi – baby deer sees Mum getting killed, goes ice skating. 🤷‍♀️

But here are some nice little bits you may not know about The Lion King:

The 2019 live remake (can’t even bring myself to watch that, seriously what’s the point? Same as jungle book – leave it alone!) is the most successful animation film of all time!!!!

Not as shocking is that it is also the most successful home video of all time. Of course it was. Every household I went into as a kid had that video playing on the telly.

That stampede scene took three years to do. They wanted to make it as realistic as possible. As well as spending time in Africa, the team had real lions brought in to study, which must have been an interesting day in the office!

The Lion King was never meant to be the success that it was. There were two teams working on two different movies, not even all their manpower. Instead, Disney were placing their bets on the other movie in the works, Pocahontas.

Originally, Simba was going to be raised by Scar after he killed Mufasa. So many questions come to mind with this: How would Timon and Pumba work? Would they even be in there? No Hakuna Matata? No scene with Rafiki? What about the stars’ speech? Simba would be a very different character. In fact, Matthew Broderick was chosen for this original storyline. They were planning on Simba being a lion version of Ferris Brueller.

Simba’s mane was styled, so it looked like Jon Bon Jovi’s hair.

Scar’s big number, Be Prepared, was originally gonna be reprised for him to sing to Nala in a scene of seduction. Now, that would definitely take the song to a different meaning! They didn’t stay completely away from the freaky as Simba and Nala were actually related.

The Lion King was groundbreaking for Disney. It was their first original story. The first time, they didn’t use a book or fairytale. It was also the first time Disney used an entire scene in the trailer.

So, there you go. More to this film that meets the eye. It is without doubt a masterclass in animation film and, in my opinion, has never been bettered. So, give it a cheeky re-watch, scream those opening lyrics of “Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba/ Sithi uhm ingonyama” (i know, the spelling isn’t what you thought either) which apparently means “here comes the lion, yes it’s a lion” . Brilliant 😂.

Motherhood – Through the pages

Today is Mothering Sunday in the UK and a day to celebrate motherhood in all walks of life. So what better day, to glance at a few of the most notable mums through the source as an author I am drawn to the most. Literature.

Mary, The Bible

We would not have Mothering Sunday without Mary. She is the original source, the reason we recognise motherhood on this day. Many believe Mary was a child when she gave birth to Jesus, but actually, many sources show she could have been as old as 18 or 19. Mary’s introduction into Motherhood was not easy. After a long journey, she gave birth in a stable surrounded by farm animals. She also had to endure the worst experience a mother can have, watching her child die.

Sometimes, we forget how pivotal Mary was. She was the first believer in her son. In some sense, she was the founder of Christianality as we know it. It was Mary who told her son to help when a wedding in Cana ran out of wine, resulting in one of Jesus’s most famous miracles. It was through Mary that Jesus’ earliest understanding of scripture came setting the foundations of his faith and love of God.

In the Gospel of Luke, through song, we have a sense of Mary as a campaigner for social injustice. Mary tells how God will bring equality by casting down the mighty, raising up the lowly, and feeding the hungry.

Many think of Mary as a prophet in her own right, and she is worldwide a symbol of purity , hope, and comfort.

Ma, Room

Ma in Room is a big example of how brave and resillant mothers can be in impossible situations. Ma was taken at 19, kept captive, and became a mother to her kidnappers son, Jack. Isolated, and only with eachother for company apart from visits from ‘Old Nick’, Ma keeps her son safe, protects him but creates a world for them both where Jack feels loved and cared for, despite knowing nothing of the outside world.

Ma proves that even in the most desolate situations where there seems to be no hope or solution, we can still thrive and adapt, making the best life we can for our children.

Mrs Bennett, Pride and Prejudice

Although Mrs Bennett is the source of foolishness in the novel, there is no mistaking one core aspect of her character. She dedicates and pursues the most fundamental part of being a mum- wanting to give your children the best life. At that time this was being married to a man of nobility.

Mrs Bennett makes this her life’s goal. It is easy to see her as daft, but at her core, her world is her children and making sure they have the best life. This defines her. The success of her children and knowing she has done right by them.

Medea, Euripides

I did say the most notable mums in literature, and this means the good and the bad.

Medea was a sorceress. She helped Jason get the golden fleece, they marry, and then she learns he plans to leave her to marry the King’s daughter, Cruesa. He intends to take their sons with him so they will have the best opportunities in life.

Medea does the unthinkable. She murders her children and Jasons new bride in an act of revenge. Her act is so shocking many will not even speak her name.

Kamryn, My Best Friend’s Girl

Career driven Kamryn never expected to be a mother. But when her terminally-ill friend contacts her and needs her to take on her five-year old, Tegan, Kamryn steps up. Her friend betrayed her, and when Kamryn takes on Tegan, they haven’t been speaking. As well as dealing with a turmoil of emotions involved with grieving, Kamryn goes on a learning journey of becoming a parent.

Kamryn shows you don’t have to have blood to bind you, mothers can be made. It’s through a person’s values and character that brings them to the role.

Molly Weasley, Harry Potter series

Molly Weasley is the matriarch of the Weasley family and a pivotal mother figure to Harry Potter. But as well as being the nurturing symbol for so many characters, Molly was also a badass.

She fought in wars, became a legend after defeating and killing notorious Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange, and was also a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

Molly shows the layers of being a parent. As well as being a maternal mum to seven children, she was a second mum to Harry Potter and loved him like her own son. She fought for what was right, was devoted to family, and became inspirational and a cornerstone in the Harry Potter series.

Margaret White, Carrie

Ironically, deeply religious Margaret has similarities with Mary in how a mother can shape their children and the fate that awaits them. If Mary is the saintliest version, Margaret is the polar opposite. Her abuse and manipulation of Carrie is pivotal to the plot and instrumental in her daughters’ act of mass-murder. Margaret’s influence on Carrie shows, as it is her who Carrie calls for in her final moments, despite her mother’s sadistic treatment and attempt to kill her.

Margaret shows how much an impact a mother has on a child and shapes the person they become.

Catelyn Stark Game of Thrones books 1-3

Smart, beautiful, and strategic, Catelyn Stark lives by the words of House Tully, Family. Duty. Honour. Her husband is killed, and Catelyn becomes a single mother to her five children. When her son goes into a coma, Catelyn does not eat nor sleep for eight days, and when an assassin breaks to murder him, she fights back, protecting him, narrowly escaping with her life.

It is Catelyn who springs into action, confronting and convincing the orchestrator of the attack to make a deal. Through Catelyn’s influence and guidance, each of her five children rises and becomes legends.

Strong, resillant, brave, and a fighter. Catelyn is a brilliant representation of the single mum.

Although all these mums could not be more different, they show the broad scope of individuality when it comes to motherhood. Every woman does it in their own way, but more than anything, it shows the gravity of how our mothers embed the essence of who we are and who we become. So today, we shall celebrate motherhood and everything it brings to our lives. We wouldn’t be here without them.