The crisp chilly peak autumn weather hasn’t lasted long this year. We’re only half way through October and it’s already freezing rain most days. What’s a girl to do on dreary dark night? Spooky nails of course!
It’s not Halloween without a cobweb or two. Add some sparkle & it’s creepy chic.
Black cats are supposed to be bad luck, but I felt blessed with these cheeky darlings on my finger tips.
As a 90’s bitch I can never resist paying homage to my favourite scary movie. Blood & ghost face are a striking look.
It recently came to my attention that Joni Mitchell’s masterpiece, Blue is 50 years old. I find it incredible that words written half a century ago still cut right to the heart of me. I discovered Joni when I was around 12 and 28 years later I still love slipping into the blue. This week I have found myself listening to one song in particular on repeat. It’s Baby Loss Awareness week, as I see others share their own losses I find comfort in Little Green.
Little Green is perhaps the most perfect song ever written. I didn’t know precisely what it was about on first listen but I still got it. It still wrapped me in it’s magical sadness & hope. Green immediately struck me as a beautiful name for a girl. I decided there & then that should I birth a girl, I would indeed call her Green.
I’ve been listening to that song since my teens. Dreaming of the tiny bud who would be my Green. In the passing years I have learned the true meaning of the song, talked to the Green nestled inside me & discovered the reality of loss. Joni was writing about a different, but similar grief. Her words remain entwined with my experiences.
When I dream of a daughter she is a gypsy dancer. All tangled red hair & high spirits. She likes the scent of pine trees & bracing herself against a strong, cold wind. She’s quieter than me, but chatters when excited. I read her everything I loved as a child. Take her to the places that made me feel big things. Her childhood is filled with standing stones & patterned tights & Joan Lingard books & seaside air & empowering women & red liquorice. She is exhausting, exhilarating & exquisite.
When I wake she is a girl in a song. A fantasy my mind summoned; fuelled by 70’s folk poetry and my deepest longing. Listening now is a sweet agony. Pressing my sorest spot because I can’t resist the beauty of it all. The intro wrapping me in the blanket my babies never had. The lyrics bringing the sketches in my head to life.
I’m glad we’re beginning to open up about pregnancy & baby loss. I hope others won’t have to spend so much time alone in their heads with their babies. It helps to talk about losses. To give solidity to those tiny unlived lives. It is such an enormous relief to have the world acknowledge our children.
Autumn has officially arrived and I couldn’t be happier. This is definitely my favourite season. I love that first chill in the air, the rich colours and of course all the spooky fun.
This week I’ve been enjoying that crisp weather & getting out a little bit. I kicked off with a wee (work based) hotel stay. What do you do alone in a hotel on a Sunday night? Mess around & take pictures obviously.
I took advantage of already being in town to meet to with a my favourite man. Covid has meant I have seen him much less than I’d like. So, tapas, wine & chat was perfect. I also took the opportunity to debut the first of my spooky bargains. I kind of want to wear this bat playsuit every day now.
Wednesday brought a midweek adventure in the firm of Frankie Boyle. My sis & I took in his Work in Progress at Glee Club. He was of course hilarious. If e your things, get a ticket. His support, Christopher MacArthur-Boyd is also chuckle worthy. If sharp political commentary & utterly repulsive comedy are your thing, get a ticket.
I concluded the week with a tea party to celebrate my besties’ twins. I’m never happier than when on Auntie duty. Bigger niblings got on with some carry on whilst a bunch of women coo’d over the babas. It was a good Sunday.
It’s 2.35am. I’ve been alerted via social media posts that it’s World Mental Health Day. I feel bound to write something on the topic. However, I’m a little stuck on exactly what that should be.
We’re probably all feeling stuck in one way or another. Nearly 2 years into a pandemic that has changed everything and nothing at the same time. It is surreal to learn that global crisis is status quo for the capitalist monster. It shouldn’t really have been a surprise, but somehow I thought perhaps we might find a way to rise. We haven’t. The incredibly rich continue to suck the (literal) life out of almost everyone else. Those already in the worst positions suffer the most. The rest of us get sick, grieve, sacrifice, struggle and still find ways to pay the rent. It’s A LOT. Even folk with the most robust mental health have floundered. Anyone who was shaky pre Covid probably found the rigours of a plague made them increasingly sinkable.
I’ve found myself in and out of a strange no man’s land. Not ok, but entirely unable to properly articulate the details of that not okness. I’m generally a bit lost. I feel like the world is crumbling around me. We’re witnessing tragedy after tragedy. Death & destruction abound. Our leaders seemingly with no more clue than the rest of us. Politicians still scrambling for money & power as the bodies pile up. Your boss still wants their 35hrs, tabloids still print trash & people are still sleeping on the streets. None of it makes sense.
We’ve already started packaging the accumulated trauma of Covid as ‘burn out’. People write peppy pieces on how to beat burnout with an aim of getting everyone back to bloody work. Back to the commute & the offices even though people are still dying every day. Why? Because despite working from home actually proving to be more productive the higher ups want you back where they can see you. No comfort for the workers. The Tory government continues to grind their boots on our necks too. Cut universal credit amongst Covid & Brexit insanity. Carry on fucking the NHS and refugees and hungry children. Then they film the PM doing puns of their ridiculous slogan and pretend that’s a solution. I’m surprised anyone is still sane.
It’s not over. No definite end in sight. Always another calamity over the next hill & zero provision for help. No extra money for mental health services. Accessing even the most basic support is more difficult than ever. All the people who were already living on a knife edge haven’t gone anywhere. The problem has just multiplied.
So, this year I’ll repeat what I’ve been saying forever. Awareness is great, but to treat mental illness we need money and a different ideology. I can’t see any change in NHS mental health funding or direction until there is a huge change in Downing St. Not merely a change of party, but a shift in the will of power. My heart sinks when I think about how long that could take.
This week I turned 41, which felt very weird. Mostly because I’m not sure that I have actually gotten used to being 40 yet. Pandemic time is very strange. In some ways it feels like the last year didn’t happen. It most definitely did though. The good news about that is I get presents!
I’m lucky girl & received loads of gorgeous gifts. My people know me very well. I’m so in love with the new additions to my wardrobe that I just had to share.
My darling sister got me the perfect transitional dress. This light weight black jumper dress is super slouchy, but hugs my curves in all the right places. Me likey!
Mum came up trumps with this amazing g wrap dress. The lighting isn’t great (no spoons to re do), but it a mixture of red, burnt orange & leopard print. I am very into it.
New shoes never fail to make me smile. So, when I opened not one, but two pairs of knock out shoes. Well done, Mother!
Finally I got these excellent undies from M&S. The bra has little flowers that match the knickers. It is one of markies extra support for massive boobies bras. I love that they make these pretty whilst still having scaffold like support.
I’m even more excited for autumn now that I have this gorgeous clobber to show off.