Copper And Corpses…


Given up by Mother Earth and lovingly shaped by Tethys, these nuggets of sea tumbled Copper are warm to the touch and blessed with various metaphysical benefits. Wearing Copper bracelets is well-known to be helpful in reducing the pain of arthritis and rheumatism.

It is connected to the sacral chakra and will help the body to heal and regenerate, whilst also stimulating your primal creative energy. Copper was present when the world was born – thus it will help you give birth to your own dreams and bring them into being. With this in mind, it is an excellent focus foe meditation, as it will take you back, deep within your own psyche to find and develop answers for your own spiritual growth.

Copper pictures courtesy of Lizian – thank you! x

As already mentioned, Copper is anti-inflammatory and soothing for aching muscles and it can also help to release creative frustration and emotional tension… Corpses by their very nature induce emotion… as mother to the Furry Four I am regularly presented with a variety of little corpses, from moths to birds, mainly through the generosity of Lily.

Ting caught a fly once and Tooty attempted to murder a pigeon, but my little princess Charlie has never caught and killed a thing… However, I accept my role as undertaker and dispose of these little ones with care, sending them on their way with love and a prayer. I have only ever seen one dead human body, my partner’s father, and I was struck by the sense of difference, of something no longer needed and left behind like an old coat…

I remember when I was a little girl and my beloved Snoopy made his final journey, my father buried him under the apple tree in our garden. A couple of years later, when I was still quite young, I was distraught to find that my mother’s dogs had exhumed my cat. Crying, I ran indoors screaming:

Mummy! Mummy! The dogs have dug Snoopy up and they’re playing with him in the garden!”

I was devastated – my mother laughed… I can only ascribe this to her somewhat morbid sense of humour and the way I said it…

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“Hey! I’m just sleeping!!”

My most recent encounter with a corpse came courtesy of Erin, who is normally the most ladylike and refined of dogs, with manners as impeccable as her pedigree. Whilst out walking the other day, she discovered a rotting frog corpse… and rolled in it. Thoroughly. I was too late too stop her. She stunk. Thoroughly.

Walking back, tiny bones smooshed into her fur and entrails hanging off her head, I lectured her:

That is absolutely disgusting. What is so attractive about rancid amphibian? Chanel No.5 I could understand…”

As we entered my mother’s house she yelled:

Oh my GOD! She stinks! What have you been DOING??”

I laughed….

Wonderfully atmospheric photo taken by Alex…

Home…Sweet Home…I Suppose…

Looking out across the city, from Castle Rock

I have a love/hate relationship with the city where I live. Nottingham. Supposedly home to Robin Hood, Charles I raised his standard here at the start of the English Civil War, Richard III stayed here the night before his death in battle at Bosworth (the last true English King to die in battle too) and one of the largest slums outside London during the 19th century.

An interesting fact from the Castle Musuem…

Although I have lived here for over twenty years now, I still don’t like it very much. And yet… I miss the place when I’m away. I adore London, the theatres, the diversity, the vibrancy and total utter madness of the city, and yet it’s almost a lost love – I had my chance there and missed it. I love North Yorkshire, Whitby, Harrogate; all places from my childhood that I love and miss passionately, where my actual family originates from, starting in the early 1700’s.

Found him!

So… Why am I here? When my parents divorced, my mother moved to Nottingham for work – we also have one of the largest teaching hospitals in the country – and as she had primary custody of me, I came with her.

Both my children were born here, and I have had some of my worst times here. Some of my happiest too… been homeless and also found security. I was talking to a man the other day, from Walsall, and he said the East Midlands isn’t really the Midlands of the country at all. Nottingham is a peculiar place, coming quite late in the day to be an acknowledged settlement in comparison to places like Lincoln and York.

Situated in a dip in the actual country and surrounded by a sandstone ridge, the city is built on a network of caves that have served purpose as wine cellars to bomb shelters… but as a rule, most things, political and weather, tend to blow straight over the top of us. As a constituency, it remains staunchly labour and we are quite lucky in that here our M.P. works primarily for the people, not the party.

Weird sunset as I was walking home… 

The weather in the East Midlands is generally a bit of this, a bit of that, and some of the other… basically take a coat, jumper, umbrella and sunscreen out wherever you go and you’ll be fine. In the city itself, there is history past, and in the making (apparently we are putting in a bid to be the 2023 European Capital of Culture…hmm)… a fascinating, horrible city.

My house…if someone could kindly tell the National Trust to leave and shut the door on their way out…

There are gems. Wollaton Hall, which I fondly refer to as my house, and the Castle. The Castle is visible from all areas of the city, although strictly speaking, it’s actually a fortified manor house, with only the gatehouse remaining from the original 1087 structure.


I know I’m home when I see the Castle, lit up, glowing and golden, welcoming me home. So. There you have it. Nottingham. Come and visit… you might like it. But then again, you might not…



The little girl sobbed in fright and sat up in her bed, as once again, the old pipes and plumbing of the house began to scream and whine. Her bed shook as the floorboards juddered, and, panicked, she called for her parents.

They arrived, tired and rumpled from their own room, and the little girl tried very hard not to cry as, for the umpteenth time, her father explained with exasperated kindness how it was just water moving through the pipes that made the house shake, that the pipes expanded and contracted in the heat of the day and the cool of the night.

Unconvinced, the little girl let herself be tucked back into bed and given her favourite teddy to hold. She drifted back into an uneasy sleep.

The days passed, the nights too, and the dark circles under the little girl’s eyes grew. Every night she lay awake and trembled in fright as the pipes howled and wailed their screaming demon song.

The blood pounded in her ears as she lay in bed, taking on the rhythm and depth of footsteps, troll footsteps, that thumped in her head till her heart hurt and she grew dizzy from not listening.

Till one night, she couldn’t bear it any longer. She pushed her warm duvet aside, leaving behind the comfort of her teddy, not even stopping to push her feet into her little pink fluffy slippers.

She crept out of her bedroom, and across the landing, avoiding the creaky floorboard that would alert her parents. She placed her palm against the bathroom door and pushed. It opened silently, obligingly, welcoming.

The tiles were very cold under her feet, and were faintly vibrating, or so it seemed. A tiny whistling, ghostly and ethereal, was issuing from the plughole of the washbasin. The little girl could just reach, if she stood on tiptoe, to pull the light cord that illuminated a tiny mirror over the basin. She caught a glimpse of her own pale, tired face and leaned forwards, a little further, over the basin.

The plughole gaped, threateningly and suddenly the whistling howl was louder. A lot louder and as the little girl leaned forwards, the plughole leered and yawned and gaped and –

Gone. Suddenly swallowed. The little girl was gone.

Her parents would never move from that house. Her father blamed himself, and her mother swore that she could her her little girl calling, lost, somewhere in the pipes.

Thank you to Samantha – great name – of Key Image, for the idea for this little story, after a conversation about plumbing… !

Sulphur And Spirits

22712026_143329693079113_370281420_oDespite its associations with brimstone, fury and the Old Gentleman, sulphur is actually a very beneficial crystal. It is toxic so I must emphasise DO NOT make an elixir from it and ALWAYS wash your hands after handling it.


Not surprisingly, then, given some of its negative connotations, it can be used to help dissolve bad attachments and release stress. You can carry it around with you, provided it is in a sealed contained or wrapped up securely, to help with mental awareness and avoid people who would deceive you. It can help you get rid of fixed mental patterns and be more open to possibilities too …

At this time of year, as the seasons change, the veil between worlds is thin, and perhaps easier to see through and beyond…

As intelligent beings, I believe everybody should nurture an open mind and be prepared to recognise that things might not always be quite how they seem. Although I have only had a few spiritual experiences myself (the other worldly kind, not the alcoholic sort – had plenty of those) I do feel that everything that has happened in the world leaves an energy imprint behind and when you think of all the people who have gone before us and those still to come, it’s not surprising that sometimes these imprints can be felt.

Not those sorts of spirits Ting!

Possibly any potential haunters regard me as too short-sighted to be worth the effort of an appearance for a really good scare… I remember, though, when I was a little girl, the day after my Burmese made his last journey across the Rainbow Bridge, he came back for one last goodbye. I was lying in bed, totally heartsick and bereft, when I felt a sudden weight at my feet. I was actually a little frightened, as we had no other cats at that time, and then I felt what seemed like little paws, walking up the bed to his usual place at my side. One last “goodnight”? I hope so – I fell asleep shortly afterwards, a little comforted.

And then another, more recent appearance. I was in the kitchen cupboard, dragging out yet another pair of Alex’s trainers to be packed, when out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight – only for a second – of a well beloved grey tabby cat, with smart white shirt front and gleaming white paws. My Walter, forerunner to the present Furry Four and still sadly, achingly missed. It was the first time I’d seen him actually, since he went. I hope he’ll pop in again, make sure things are running smoothly…

So. There’s more than one meaning in the world of spirits… be of good spirits, my friends, don’t imbibe too many spirits and if you see spirits… just say hello from me!


Journeys And Jewellery

22711785_142694666475949_715329520_oI seem to have spent a lot of my life travelling, like a particularly bad mathematical question… how long does it take one person, one case and assorted memories to travel from Point A to Point B if they don’t drive… Consequently I have racked up a lot of hours on public transport, mostly buses, but sometimes trains. Now Alex has gone to University (he’s getting on very well too, thank you for all your good wishes) I am travelling again.

22751340_142526699826079_1909739752_oI’m not that great at reading timetables and things like that, but I do have a very good sense of direction, a good memory and the ability to mental-map places…perhaps surprisingly, since I am away with the fairies half the time.. Two weeks ago, Alex’s father and I went to visit him, taking more essentials, like crystals, plants, clean clothes… We went by train and I find train journeys curious things, I’m never entirely happy on them as they seem sealed off little capsules hurtling along while anything could be happening outside. We got there though, reasonably efficiently, although I was quite amused to see three rats at one station we stopped at, rummaging happily through the bins…


Now, buses are the mode of transport I use most often, not necessarily the most comfortable or efficient, but by far the most entertaining – I have had some traumatic experiences but also some highly amusing ones – so I thought this week I would try the bus to Loughborough. It was… epic, as we barrelled down country lanes, scaring pheasants and glimpsing huge herds of menacing looking black cows, through some traditionally pretty English villages… I became more and more convinced that I’m a city girl…

A brief excerpt from my text conversation with Alex:

Me: “I have no idea where we are but we nearly killed a pheasant…”

Him: “Ah. I don’t know either. Can you see any signs..”

Me: “Just passed somewhere called Gotham but never saw Batman…”

Him: …..laughing face emojis….

You get the idea.

However, upon reaching my destination, I was extremely happy to see Alex and after I’d cleaned, tidied and sorted his room, we went out for a late lunch and a look round the shops.

Loughborough has some fabulous charity shops – I find it hard to pass a charity shop without stopping for a look, I found copies of texts Alex needed for his “A” levels at a fraction of the price, and I am also the sort of person who can’t pass a skip without stopping to look – but Loughborough charity shops have been the source of some stunning pieces of jewellery at bargain prices… look…

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Clear Quartz necklace… 
This is Rhodonite…

Wonderful Landscape Jasper pendant

And although I am still searching for that elusive piece of Faberge, or forgotten Turner masterpiece, I am more than delighted with our haul of genuine crystal jewellery… so I will continue stringing my journeys to Alex together like the individual hearts on this wonderful Fluorite necklace…




All my life, I have been haunted by a scene, one particular scene, dream-like and yet so vivid I live it every single time, over and over again.

I’m tired, so very tired, aching to my bones. We’re marching, or walking rather; my eyes are fixed on the back of the man in front of me, the monotonous drag of his feet and slouch of his shoulders.

The straps of my pack are chafing my own shoulders and I hitch them up irritably, the rough green canvas scratchy against my fingers. My rifle is heavy and unwieldy, slung across the front of my body. I’ve had enough now,, how had I ever thought this could be an adventure.

The captain calls a halt, and we slump down gratefully for a minute’s breather and a gulp of lukewarm water from my canteen. I try to adjust my boots – the tough leather has rubbed the skin off in a red angry circle all around my the bottom of my shins.

The man – boy, really, next to me, coughs and spits, the road is dusty and relentless. Up again and onwards, the going’s better now, a country lane, dusty, still, yes but curving round to the left and there’s a farmhouse, yes, a little farmhouse and a yard we’ll be safe there can rest but there’s a shot –


I woke up, sweating and cold in my own bed, my husband’s warm bulk, snoring gently, next to me.

I shrugged off the remnants of the dream, along with my sweaty pyjamas and got ready for work. Tense and headachy all day, legs sore with phantom blisters, I was only too ready to go to bed when I got home –


I’m tired, so very tired, aching to my bones. My boots are chafing the skin around the bottom of my shins and it’s red and bleeding. These boots were shiny when we left, shiny and proud, now as cracked and as battered as I feel. How could I have ever thought this would be an adventure?

Sweating, tired, the straps of my pack are digging into my shoulders, and hitch them up irritably. I fix my eyes on the back of the man in front. Captain calls a halt and we slump down, exhausted. I reach for my canteen of water, a lukewarm mouthful and then drop sharply into sleep.

I wake sweating, and uncomfortable up again and onwards the going’s better now a country lane dusty yes there’s a farmhouse a little farmhouse and a yard we’ll be safe there can rest but there’s a shot –

Auras And Angels

22522291_137378393674243_422824421_oI’m loving the Aura Quartzes at the moment. The most readily available is the Angel (also called Opal) Aura quartz. Clear Quartz is already well-known as the Master Healer, that amplifies the effect of every other crystal that it is used in conjunction with; so, to produce the wonderful shimmer, Clear Quartz is bonded with various precious metals.


                  Thank you to Lizian, for letting me photograph these beautiful examples

This was originally an industrial process, used in the manufacture of the reflective backing on car headlights, but used for a higher purpose and created with love, it has produced some fascinating and beautiful crystals.


Some beautiful pieces of Aqua Aura, great for communication and expanding possibilities.

Everything on Earth emits an energy, a subtle vibration – these aura quartzes can be used to link up with the higher energies, that some choose to call Angels, and as they utilise all the colours, these crystals are very beneficial for chakra work, both healing and aligning.


Some beautiful Rose Aura Quartz – good for love, passion and self- esteem

They channel a high level of Life force that can be used to help stimulate the immune system and balance the Mind, Body and Spirit. Emotionally, they are calming and relaxing, and can assist with the release of negativity. They are little bubbles of loving energy from the Universe that connect us to the whole Bar of Soap… sorry… but they are naturally uplifting, a joyous connection to that higher level of vibrational energy that some call Angels.


                                                                        Grumpy angel…. 

Now. Just because I haven’t seen one doesn’t mean they don’t exist…Angels of course. I’ve never seen a panda in the flesh, but I’m pretty sure they exist. As I’ve said, everything on Earth has an energy which can be interpreted in various forms. Some choose to see angels as wonderfully kind, feathery beings of Light… I knew a cockatoo once, called Angel, which was anything but… some, as great explosions of awesome energy, and I mean “engendering awe”, not just pretty cool. Although that too, I suppose.


                                                                  Sweet angel…. 

Which ever way you choose to look at it, we are surrounded by this loving Energy that is with us always, so when our own particular bubble of energy bursts, even though it has changed form, remember it with love. As long as you remember, It exists. And there is Love. Always.

Conversational Creatures…

22396626_136249047120511_319908426_oNow. Everybody knows that animals can talk – well, of course you do, as I even follow a number of blogs that are run exclusively by animals, and some that have human assistance… (The Canadian Cats, Seven Cats and Counting, Adventures In Cheeseland… I would link, but I haven’t quite managed to work out how to do that yet…)

When I was a little girl, I used to watch a wonderful television programme called “Animal Magic”, which was about the adventures of a zookeeper and the animals in his care. The zookeeper was the lovely Johnny Morris, (pretend another link here…) who also voiced all the animals, giving them individual characters and mannerisms. This programme held me transfixed, my sister too, even at the superior age of ten years older than me.

So, to entertain me, my sister began to give voices to our animals – she did wonderful vocalisations for our rat colony, and, as you do, when she and I had our own children, we carried it on. Even now both my sons are older, I still do it, possibly more for my own amusement than theirs; but my present girls have such individual personalities they are irresistible…


                     “Of course I can talk…you just have to listen VERY carefully… “

However, my mother’s dog, Erin, really takes the biscuit…dog, of course. Mum has always had German Shepherds, ever since she was a teenager herself, and they have all been a delight to know and a joy to our family… Nikki, Rosie, Rowan.. and now Erin. Sister dogs and daughter dogs to me, but none quite as vocal as Erin.


She is a very soft-footed dog, and adept at sneaking up behind me while I am washing up and delivering a sudden “WAH!” to demand a chew. One particular day, she had been bothering my mother for treats and she said quite sharply to her:

No! You’re not having any more chews! You’re having your dinner in a minute!”

Erin gave her a wounded look and said:


Hard to transcribe phonetically, but most definitely “Horrible!”

She has a vast repertoire of groans and sighs and huffs which she will use to conduct a conversation:

Would you like to go out?”


Shall you come here and get your lead on?”

Ahh! Ha-RUH! Wahh! Ouahh!”

The funniest to date though, has to be what she said to me the other week. I like to read, while I am eating my dinner, as does Mum, and Erin is aware that I generally give her pieces from my plate. Yes… I know I shouldn’t… but…

I was obviously taking too long in giving her a titbit, since she heaved a loud sigh, shifted her front paws impatiently and said:


I laughed so much I felt obliged to give her the rest of my dinner…




Ahh. That time of year again. The crispness of approaching winter in the air, a relief after the slop of soggy leaves underfoot. A sinuous mist that hung and curled, cat-soft around the corners of the city streets.

The veil is thin at this time of year, and as he thought, so he stretched his wings, the grimy sandstone rippling into leathery life. He turned his head, grating and grinding. Perhaps a good year to fly, although the last time he had ventured forth was when good King Richard ruled. He had seen what had passed since and decided, yes, a good night to fly.

Creaking and stretching he extended one scaly leg to his left, balancing, then – away. His powerful wings beat away the layers of time that had settled like a second skin and carried him up. Up, and over the city.

He noted how it had grown, the small mean buildings had given way to brick built structures and gleaming glass towers, far more splendid than his own humble church. Surely these splendid buildings were houses of happiness and joy, and his stony heart swelled with the thought that people had discovered how to live together with love and kindness.

But as he flew, silver threads of thoughts and scenes drifted up to him. He saw:

young men, reeling, drunk

girls, staggering, vomiting

children, crying in pain and fear

dogs whimpering in fright

women, weeping in the cold

And then. He saw a tall man, bending over the body of a woman. He paused, outside the window of the house. He watched, as the man delivered one final punch to the woman’s face, and as he stood upright he licked the blood from his knuckles with relish and saw the silent watcher at the window.

Their eyes met and held and the watcher knew fear, the spine creeping chill of evil and despair. He let his wings carry him away from those eyes, cold and stony dead.

Now who’s the monster

Garnets And Gore

22311986_134306010648148_608124478_oLiving with four cats, I am accustomed to cleaning up a fair amount of gore, from shredded mouse corpses and the like. It is part of a feline’s nature to hunt and kill, although I must say Charlie has never killed anything. She may entertain murderous thoughts sometimes, I’m sure, but despite her tiger stripes, fierceness and occasional bad temper, she’s quite a gentle little cat.


Lily, on the other hand, definitely has a taste for gore… but then I suppose it takes all sorts. I am not remotely entertained by gory horror films – I feel certain franchises have just taken extreme violence and bloodshed to such a level it becomes almost comical and hard to believe.

Certainly, with my parents’ occupations, my mother a nurse and father a veterinary surgeon, I have seen and heard my fair share of gory stories. Indeed, it was tentatively hoped that I might perhaps follow in one of my parent’s career footsteps, but Fate (and phobias) dictated otherwise…

No. You can mop up your metaphorical gore with some nice paper napkins… for me, true horror lies in the unknown, the what-might-be’s and could-have-been’s, the psychological demons of Despair and Darkness – although I have shed tears of pain and horror as Lily has lashed out at Ting and me being a good cat mummy put my hand out to block the blow only to end up with a line of blood welling up across my wrist… like a row of tiny, dark red Garnets…

Garnet is actually quite a good crystal to have on hand in times of danger and stress. Its blood red colour imparts strength and determination to you to so you can deal with difficult situations, seeing them through to a positive conclusion.


Garnet is protective and grounding, and is also said to be able to warn of approaching danger. It will remove negative energy from all chakras, giving you self-confidence and insight.

So friends – when you look for horror and gore

Just remember

It isn’t always red in tooth or claw…