525,600 minutes: A Goldilocks year in review.

Note: I don’t often do personal posts, but as the year ends I think it’s important to show growth. xo

2013: What happened?

The New Year
I started off this year at the top of the Empire State Building. The rest of the year was never going to compare to the harsh whips of wind against my face at the top of one of the most inspirational buildings in the world. It’s the only building I can sketch from memory, and the only thing I draw from instinct. I had been to New York twice already, but this would be my last in a while and I sat in an accepting silence in that mustard yellow taxi back to JFK. Sometimes great loves have to stand still, until real life slows down. The day I came home and hit pause on my love for New York, I hit the start button on my relationship with Rhys. Continue reading


15.06.2013 – Goodbye, to my best friend.

This is one of those posts I have refused to face. I know I have to do it, as I did for Alfie. Back in February, we lost our favourite old bear – our old boxer dog, Alfie. Last month, we lost Jack.

Its one of those emotional car wrecks that few can understand. Grief affects everyone, and in different ways. They told me to write about it, it’s a cathartic process. They said it will help. They say there are five distinct stages of grief, acceptance is the worst. It means making room in your life for the change, and for the loss. It means knowing you’ll never get to share Marmite on toast with him again. Continue reading

Dear Alfie – Remembering a Silly Old Bear

It’s taken me a few weeks to write this post, but I kept thinking so many people are losing their dogs, or their cats, horses, or ferrets (I don’t know, do people even have ferrets anymore?) that I felt a need to publish it.

It’s something people say, it’s always sudden. Whether it’s a long term illness or a sudden¬†deterioration, or just the old age of a canine gentleman, the grief is always sudden. It doesn’t matter how it happened, or when it happened. Only that it did. Few people can understand the loss one feels when a dog dies. I won’t call him a pet, because he didn’t sit in a cage waiting to be fed and he didn’t swim around in a bowl, he was the energy in our home. To call a dog a ‘pet’ doesn’t give the animal justice, they’re an integral force in the family household. Alfie was naughty, leggy, and too scared to jump off the bed. But he was ours. That dog was there from when I was 13, that’s nine and a half years. He was there for the little girl I was and loved me through the growing pains, he was there for a family. Continue reading