Becoming a story sounds romantic, the reality is a lot bleaker… I never met all of my Grandparents due to them passing away before I was born, but I can tell you stories about them that my parents have told me and I can tell you about by Grandfathers who I spent time with…but what you’ll actually receive by listening to my story is my perspective on past memories, told by me and reflected from my past. Often as humans we share memories with an emotional subtitles such as ‘My Grandad was so funny, this one time…’ or ‘ My Nanny was so brave she once…’ – the bleaker reality is that in under one hundred years your stories like those of my great grandparents will be slowly lost. Our lives will become shared memories and stories, a few will become iconic within familiar circles but most will be forgotten.
What does this mean for today? For me it means to live authentically and not for other souls. To delight in my whimsy corner of the world and to ensure that even when I am considered rude, aggressive or perhaps unkind it has purpose and a truth to me.
Often when people recount a memory you shared, you don’t remember quite the same set of events. As time passes memories fade, alter and different people resonate with different aspects of the experience. It doesn’t mean they are wrong, we all just process moments individually, most forgotten altogether.
If this feels heavy or sad relish the joy in the forgotten. Few people will remember the excessive ‘Rachel from Friends’ hair you attempted to pull off in 1996, the tiny blemish that you doused in toothpaste and worried about all night, even we often forget why we worried all night just a few weeks ago…
Time really is a gift and ‘that’s why we call it the present’ – where possible leave people feeling good and often the stories they will recall will be of a similar nature. We can’t control the narrative and nor should we. Day by day we are all doing our best and sometimes in a blink of a moment our happy ever after has unfolded. For those you have loved and are no longer with us, recall the stories you cherish to others and for yourself be kind and don’t worry about the details, no body else will.
Authenticity is one of the many things that makes you wonderful. Talents vary, interests unique – you are you and that in itself is precious.
I began this blog when my son was about nine months old and in hindsight I’d probably lost myself between career, homemaker and my new role as Mum. It makes sense that I sought a creative outlet, a place to be me, some where that I could voice my thoughts and dance to my rules rather than plan and prepare for others.
Life can move so fast that you can get caught in variations of yourself that don’t allow you to balance all of the aspects that make you happy. For some it’s hobbies that get boxed up due to work commitments, for others it’s suppressed emotions or family life that requires your full attention.
Dreams and whimsical notions are often the first things that we shed when life gets busy, but often they bring joy and hope for better versions of ourselves. Creative outlets can be hard to maintain and time with those that we love can sometimes get lost between mundane tasks…so what can we do?
Make a cup of tea, cut a slice of cake – if that brings you joy and grab some paper and a pen. Whilst you sip your tea write a list for things you are grateful for and in the next column write down a ‘to do’ list, not in this case the ‘pick up milk’ and chore type but the one that you’d like to do…the things you’d like to do, like to experience or have more time to do.
Next comes the hard part, making it happen. You don’t need to do the whole list overnight, in fact the list may take a life time and if you review it every few months, you may find your desires alter. What I can guarantee is that small shifts and being true to yourself will improve your quality of life.
Warning: being authentic to yourself is contagious and may increase your wellbeing, quality of life and health.
I reviewed my list at the start of the summer break and wrote down ‘drink more water’ – I know that I am happier when I’m hydrated but honestly sometimes I just forget to drink enough. To ensure this happened I made sure I drank from my glass bottle, kept it in the fridge between sessions and gave myself a goal that I could manage. Every time I reached for my water I was prioritising me and that in turn made me feel better about myself.
Another I did a little while ago was I started recording on instagram what I was reading. I just took photos of the covers and sometimes wrote a few words about the books to make me accountable, as last year I read less than previous years. Reading and making time for my imagination is never not a good thing and books are something that bring me a wealth of joy and sometimes knowledge too.
Unless I am authentic to the life I want to live, I can easily get swept in a life that mirrors those around me. The images online that the algorithm send me, the goals my friends have and I feel I should do too, progressing in my career in the same manner the person above me has…I need to check I am happy with my choices, the way I spend my time and with who. Unless I am myself…I am lost.
Are you aligned to your authentic self? you know him/her well when you lose track of time, feel content and aren’t always exhausted. If you look in the mirror and like who you see…
Firstly, a little homage to Pinterest; the little app that I’ve been loving for decades that isn’t trying to be like every other app…contently making boards and window shopping for visually pleasing or specifically themed images forever. I love it! My favourite thing about Pinterest is the secret boards – just for me. Not everything has to for the world, sometimes a little secret board fills my soul of whimsy images and joy.
This blog picks up a lot of traffic from Pinterest, as I upload each post weekly…feel free to join the Pinterest page at: https://pin.it/1uLD19eb6 and follow the fridge journey.
So why would little me adore forty year old me? I think about little me a lot; her likes, joys and hopes. At four years old I wanted to be a teacher when I was older – done!
When I put my sparkly jelly shoes on (no straps, cheeky little heel)…I know little me approves. These are what she wore and would take a full day of summer holidays dedicated to finding. The more glitter the better.
What I wear, do, places I go are often mentally approved by little Lucy. A pink princess who loved Care Bears, Shera and Roland Rat knew her own mind and wasn’t influenced by others, and nor am I now. Of course we evolve, grow up, develop and learn…but I’m truly at my happiest doing things little Lucy enjoyed too…being in nature, playing in water, snuggling dogs (although Little Lucy went through a fear of dogs when a dog down our street ran off with one of the sparkly jelly shoes mentioned above – luckily Mummy ran after the dog and returned victorious, whilst I sobbed in shock that the fluffy ball of joy robbed me), not much has really altered. I still enjoy baking, reading, nature and all the little Lucy elements of life.
Connecting with our inner child isn’t just for people in counselling, it honours ourselves and who we are, our journey.
At around three years old, I had an invisible friend, well husband called Steve. He was an electrician and went to work on a aeroplane, mainly to Africa. If a plane went over head I would remark on whether Steve was on board, heading home or off to Africa for a shift. My forever Mr F is sadly not called Steve, or an electrician- but when we met he did go to Africa for work! *Did little Lucy know? I doubt it but it made for a good serendipity chuckle.
Give time this week to do something the little you would adore, perhaps a historically favourite snack (dolly mixtures), watch a favourite show (Snoopy and Charlie Brown) and honour the littlest version of you, for she/he is your foundation of all things good. Enjoy
As I read this quote I took it to mean, sometimes princess and sometimes warrior…I’m now reflecting that perhaps it meant sometimes young and sometimes old. Well, we haven’t time for aging – far too much life to experience! That leaves us with soft girl and ferocious beast. I am both, we all are. We aren’t one dimensional beings, we are complex hypocritical, emotionally vulnerable and sensitively beings. We are making this crazy thing called life work and some days we do better than others.
I have never grown out of climbing trees – trees are calming and fun and the views are often better than you think. I hope I never grow out of climbing trees. The other day it was sunny, I had a plain white T-shirt on and a peach coloured tutu with white converse. We had decided to go out for a spontaneous evening walk. The forest was covered in dapple light and fading bluebells hanging on to their last moments of bloom. As we made our way through the woodland I saw a tree that needed to be climbed. Under my tutu (I work in schools) I had on some cycling shorts to avoid any awkward blusters of wind. The boys said I shouldn’t climb the tree as I might rip my skirt….the soft dress girl internally roared and I hoisted my tutu into my shorts and climbed the tree. Imagine a ball of candy floss climbing a tree… that was me. When I got to the branch I’d set my eyes on I released my skirt and let it lightly blow in the wind…I am both soft and dino roaring. Making my way down was a little difficult until I threw my tutu down ahead of me and popped it back on when I was ‘back on solid earth’ – some fights aren’t worth having.
You are not one thing and you get to decide what you want to be. You can be brave and scared – most adults are. You can be soft and hard – we are walking contradictions and it’s this simple act that makes us interesting to live alongside. We can do what we please and yes of course we have to live with the consequences but often if we are true to ourselves the consequences are easier to live with. Don’t let people tell you who to be, how to be or what to do, you aren’t a robot and your super power is that you are uniquely you, so wear the tutu and climb tree.
Initially, we are heavily influenced by our parents, not just our DNA but our homes environments cultures, traditions and how we approach basic tasks; in some houses you remove your shoes, others you pop on slippers, some bare feet survices…some sit at a table to eat together, others join in unison on the sofa. In turn, as we grow we subconsciously absorb these as our own, not just how we do things but how we think, our moral compass and often our beliefs,
The influence doesn’t stop there, many children and teens want their hair styled and clothes to look like celebrities they admire. As a little person of the eighties I always loved a pair of patent shiny boots with sparkles on them and titled them appropriately as my Michael Jackson boots, my friend once got her hair cut like Posh spice (she regretted it for months) and I think every teen of the early nineties styled their hair like Rachel from the TV show Friends.
We are made up of what we have seen, who we spend our time with and what we hold close to us. We really are mosaics of those we love.
As our loved ones pass on, I like to think that they continue in the mosaics of those they leave behind. Some bring colour, others intricate design – some leave cracks and others leave very little.
In life we can love and by proxy, pass on small parts of ourselves. Strangers can be influenced by the kindness and compassion of people, and in turn we may pass on mosaic pieces without even realising it. Life really is a large floor plan and each piece we add (or deduct) along the way makes for a unique piece of art. May your life be more beautiful than you’d hoped.
Little people say the best things and I am currently working with the sassiest five year old. This week she taught me all about ‘my menu’ and I’m sharing this little tale in hope that it helps you reflect on your life menu.
The classroom assistant was passing around a bowl of fruit for snack time and when it got to Miss Sass she politely declined the offer of a Pear by flicking her ponytail and saying ‘that’s not on my menu, thank you’ – the assistant misunderstood her and said ‘xxxx, Pears are what we have today’, but Miss Sass stayed in her own lane and stated again ‘Pears are in your menu but not mine’
True to her nickname, she remained polite with a pinch of sass but reminded me about boundaries. Of course, she was actually trying to say she didn’t want a Pear, having seen her lunchbox I would guess a sugary treat was on her menu, but actually just because something is being handed out doesn’t mean we need to except it, especially if it isn’t on our menu. By this, I’m referring to larger life issues than Pears – when a person cuts you off in traffic, you don’t need to retaliate and allow their action to drop your vibe. When someone is gossiping, you don’t need to join in, you don’t need to follow the crowd because being authentic serves you and everyone around you. Often I fall out of alignment due to how those around me act, not my own mood or thoughts.
Since hearing about Pears not being on the menu, I’m wondering if I need to look at my own values and beliefs. Am I rejecting what doesn’t align with me or am I getting caught in other peoples tasting menus? Personally, I’m always a pink lady over a pear kind of person, so here’s to declining Pears and going without – less is more when you surround yourself with your own menu.
If you choose to see it, magic indeed is everywhere. In this week’s blog I’m going to tell you about the hazelnut ‘tree’ but first let’s set a context. In the UK, with the exception of one blue sky joy day – it’s rained. Grey Sky’s, potholes and misery have taken over the landscape, the trees are bare and everything is muddy, miserable and did I mentioned it’s rained a lot?
In February and March the hazelnut bush or tree (the world seems divided on this) produces catkins that hang from its branches. You can pick a few for a cuppa – thanks to its magnesium, iron and calcium packed nutrients it’s super good for you, although does taste like your drinking ‘the outdoors’, recently I discovered that these are the male part of the plant…over dramatic and droopy they swing from the plant looking like fancy tree earrings but the magic is just behind the catkin…(if you peek and choose to see the magic) behind each catkin is the female part of the plant. Its tiny bud gets fertilised as the wind pushes the catkins pollen towards the bud. Seems like usual fertilisation? It is BUT the bud is beautiful! It’s like a red and pink tropical flower, it does not belong in rainy grey UK conditions, and most adults walk past it without even noticing it.
Since learning about the hazelnut tree I always make time to stop and check out the stunning flowers, blooming despite the grey and damp surroundings.
Perhaps this isn’t your abracadabra kind of magic, but looking for joy and unexpected delights is a way to increase the magic of March. Feel free to share in the comments below any my wish for you this week is that the pot holes of life aren’t on the roads you travel.
The things I love are: books, tea, stars, my car, disco balls, house plants, baking, cardigans, walking, art, theatre shows and hugs.
I’m not sure what this tells me? That I’m a sparkling, creative academic who likes pretty things…actually that’s probably true. It seems Thomas was correct. Not at all my intention for this post but I totally suggest you freely write a list of all to the things you love and see if it matches up with reality.
I’m unsure I like the word ‘things’ as I wanted to include people. When I think of love I think of the people that I care most about, animals and I guess perhaps walking and theatre aren’t things – perhaps things to do, so I altered the list slightly.
I think we are more than Thomas suggested, ‘we are’ the attributes of our behaviours – we are how we treat others, the values we push out into this discombobulated spinning planet. We are how we make others feel.
In death and traditional eulogies a whistle stop tour of events; birth, education, employment and marriage are mentioned. These are not who we are – these are what we did. I’ve personally never wept a tear because ‘Margaret worked in marketing for nineteen years’ but I have felt sorry for the loss of how others made me feel, kept me in mind.
We should tell people more. In life, we should share random moments of confirmation of how people made us feel. We could hand write notes, send texts or just tell people when we see them. ‘I’m a better person for knowing you because… I love you dearly because… or a simple cheers for always….’ in the month of the over priced flower, chocolate heaving Valentine’s Day that’s squished in the middle of February, instead of getting caught in the consumerism , reach out to those you are grateful for and share how you feel. Memories fade around things but how others make use feel transforms lives.
Approaching thirteen you asked me a question and I’m not sure I did the answer any justice. Instead, I’ve taken some time to scribble my words on the page and now I’m ready to share my answer.
You explained that the girls in your school are plastering on make up, drowning themselves in phenoxyethanol and benzophenomes (your high ability science and I don’t know what these are, but I get the gist), you told me the girls randomly stick mini stickers in the shape of stars, hearts and mushrooms that are meant to hide blemishes but as you eloquently point out, instead draw attention. You finish your confused monologue with ‘all to impress boys and Mum – we don’t like it’
This is what I wished I had said in that moment. It’s not about you. It’s never for boys.
My own story with makeup means you have seen very little modelled on your Mumma. I taught in an all girls school for over eleven years and began this in my mid twenties. I arrived at work daily with a face full of concealer, foundation, blush, mascara, sometimes eyeliner, sometimes eyeshadow and realised that as I preached at the front of the assembly hall on topics of self love, how as young women my girls should love themselves and not worry about others, I was hiding behind a mask myself. Realising my hypocrisy I scaled down my make up operation. I taught makeup-less most days, added concealer when required, a whisp of mascara when desired…but mainly I taught from a place of authenticity. I’m very blessed that my self love is high and doesn’t rely on external products. That isn’t the same for everyone.
Makeup can be fun and on a special occasion I will often use a variety of different shades to ‘enhance’ my features. That said, I have never once dressed or put makeup for boys. I don’t think your father notices if I wear mascara or not. I’m pretty certain he doesn’t, as I can come back from the hairdressers with a full head of highlights and he asks where I’ve been, it’s likely he doesn’t even know what mascara is. It’s never to attract boys, because you are right – generally, the male gaze isn’t keen on makeup.
The girls in your school are working out who they are. This is a deeply personal matter and society has added makeup as a step from girls world to womanhood. Like it or not, it’s there and it’s complex. For some it is a mask, it’s hides deep insecurities and for others it’s frivolous fun. Make up can come with a thousand connotations that as a boy – are none of your business.
If anything, the girls in your school are putting makeup on for other girls. I often dress for my female friends, I always dress to express and I always wear what I want…again with my content confidence I don’t worry about others nor if the outfit and the setting are appropriate and I’ve been cold more often that not because I always forget a coat and never dress practically. But I am happy…cold but happy. All of what I wear and how I present myself is my business.
The issue currently for you is that most girls are appalling at putting on makeup. Like, really bad. They are at the stabiliser part of riding a bike, it gets better in time but falling off in terms of makeup can look horrendous. If you had seen the drawn on eye brows of 2011 you to would have known where Crayola got this inspiration for the chiselled tip . In 2006 I taught in Essex and the fake orange tan smell across the school could put year nine boys to sleep – it may sound stereotypical but the previous white collared school shirts where autumnal shades of orange and brown were a very real thing. But it’s not your business. As their teacher it’s not my business.
What someone adds to their body is their concern only. All that matters is that you treat yourself with respect. By treating yourself with respect that in turn means you allow kindness to be spoken from your lips. If you see contours on a girls face that look like she’a playing cowboy and Indian’s – you do not need to say anything. You don’t even need to compliment a girl who has clearly invested hours of YouTube ‘how to’ videos and looks stunning…it’s still none of your business. You may become close to that girl or perhaps even be her boyfriend – still none of your business. Other peoples faces and fashions are NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.
Instead, I can tell promise it gets better. The girls will take off their makeup stabilisers and learn how to blend, purchase the right products for them (and not something pushed by Tik-Tok algorithms ) in time the makeup in the room will feel less ‘loud’ to you. It’s just a phase and my gorgeous boy, puberty will have its own pathway for you, focus on you and always remain kind.
As we enter 2026 and pack away the Christmas glitz for another eleven months, we might be tempted to declutter our spaces. However, today’s post is about decluttering our energy.
I’m a huge fan of saging or using palo santo in my home. In fact there are many ways I reenergise my spaces. The woo woo meets science suggests that saging kills all energy leaving a blank surface, the bleach of the spiritual world so to speak. Palo santo just removes the negative energy, so is more like your kitchen disinfectant – a little less intense and leaves the positive energy behind. I use both depending on what I feel the space needs and whilst I cant scientifically prove it makes a difference, I can tell you it makes me feel like I’m taking action to improve my living space and energy, how I feel is often all I can control.
Another practice that I do is blow a pinch of cinnamon from the palm of my hand over the threshold of my front door, this is meant to invite money and abundance into my home, again no proof it works but it makes me happy.
Bridges are easier to burn but harder for people to do. If you don’t enhance my life (or those around me) I’m unlikely to contact you. If I’m the one always making contact, I will stop. It’s your loss.
When it comes to taking down bridges there are two aspects that often don’t get discussed. The first is that bridges can be rebuilt or upgraded. If you realise that a friend is no longer a joy but a burden, take the bridge down, if things alter you can always rebuild a new bridge, it might be smaller but friendships can be reestablished. When we discuss knocking down bridges and taking people out of our lives, we often think about the process like we blew the bridge up with nuclear weapons – never to return, in some cases this is useful but in others a little break can often allow you to reflect. Secondly, you get to decide what bridges you cross. You get to decide who you spend your time with. If we return to our bridge analogy then you are the toll booth manager. You say who crosses your bridge and when they can return, you also might need to complete repairs on your bridge eg. You both may need to reanalyse your relationship and give it the attention in needs. Bridge building is complex, much like relationships. Clear boundaries and communication are often important, less so that bridges perhaps.
Either way, as we begin a new year do what you need to ensure the space around you is positive. For some it maybe decluttering (always in my house), redecorating (always in my house) or making time to prioritise things that you want to achieve, be that eating less processed things, reducing sugar or exercising regularly. Whatever it is, always prioritise yourself.
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