Wednesday, 31 August 2016

Mash up

If the answer is 42, what is the question? We never found out in Hitchhikers.  If we were so inclined, and I know I am, we might say: it is the question that drives us, you know the question, just as I did
- what is the Matrix? Or am I mashing up my fiction here?

In fact, a mash up might be bang on point. The mash up is a slang way of describing a synthesis - the combination of elements. Musically, a mash up in the merging of two or more tracks to create something new. A synthesis of the self is the amalgamation of the whole self: the mind, body and spirit. A synthesis within the self also relates to self-knowledge and deep wisdom. So maybe, in some out there, lunatic way, the Hitchhikers Matrix mash up is a clue.

Perhaps the question is the answer.  Bare with me here......the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything is the quest for wisdom. Our purpose, thus the ultimate question is the accumulation of knowledge. And it is this that drives us.

I'm not exactly sure where 42 comes in but Adams' claimed that it was chosen at random. A little joke to get us thinking.  So perhaps 42 merely referred us back to the question. The question which is simultaneously the answer. Therefore, keep questioning everything. Et voilà!

This is just the idle ramblings of a weird mind on a Wednesday afternoon. Might be nonsense, might be pure genius, might be 42.



The RGF xxx


My vibration is running through my heart like an algorithm. I just need a Babel Fish so someone understands the code. 

Tuesday, 30 August 2016


A synthesis is a connection between elements. When a synthesis is present, as applied to the self, it is a higher state of conscious awareness combined with the self. In other words it is the whole person.

The higher self does not reside in ego. It resides in spirit. Knowing the self is about continually referring back to our pure selves. The self that operates via emotional intelligence, intuition and empathy.

When a synthesis is present, we are able to connect with our higher self, access our wisdom and be who we truly are. Through this process, we become. 


Monday, 29 August 2016


Yesterday I spent a hefty portion of the day wandering around holding a unicorn.This happens when you have a four year old. The irony of the unicorn was not lost on me. All this time has past, and still no metaphorical unicorn. In other words, there is no romantic partner to have and to hold. Yet there I was, carrying a unicorn that I really didn't want to have or hold. Fate, it seems, has a razor sharp sense of humour.

Maybe waiting for some metaphor to start shitting rainbows through its’ arse, is a futile hope, and, put like that, it actually sounds profoundly unappealing. Perhaps, much like actual unicorns, the metaphorical variety doesnt exist?  I had thought I'd found my unicorn but they thought otherwise thus it's looking increasingly likely that the concept of soulmates is flawed.

Somehow I have to believe that the metaphor has potential for reality, otherwise it's bloody depressing. Let's face it, Im not actually looking for fairies at the bottom of the garden or searching for pots of gold hidden somewhere over the rainbow. It's not that happy clappy hippy out there. All I seek is someone that fits. The missing pieces from the puzzle. Essentially, someone with whom I share a deep, magical connection.

Statistically things look unfavourable. There is only hope and wishes. Therefore im keeping every cliché I can throw at this post crossed until they turn up………….


Thursday, 25 August 2016

Perpetual dawn

Today I have been thinking about the dawn. The transition between times. Where the tendrils of night hold onto the day. It is the long, reluctant goodbye. Where stars fade then mix with the orange of sunrise. It is the stretched out orgasm of the sky. Ever repeated, from the dawn of time to this day. And it's certainly something that should be seen through love's eyes.

In times gone by, I often experienced dawn whilst leaving a club or a party.  Thus visual joy tended to be coupled with an unnatural high.  Sometimes I was between two states – neither fully sober nor completely cocooned in an altered state of consciousness.  At other times I was probably so away with the fairies that the concept of dawn was lost to me but no less beautiful for the lack of reference point.

There was an occasion when dawn descended from a garden in central Manchester.  A hidden green space, juxtaposed against the grey urban landscape.  I remember there was a boy riding around on bike.  I think he had been delivering papers or maybe he was waiting for McDonalds to open. If memory serves, which it probably doesn’t, my friend had some really massive pants with him. Gigantic comedy pants they were.  The kind you could sleep under, if a blanket was unavailable.  It’s entirely possible that this was a story shared in the Manchester garden and I never actually saw those pants.  They may have been the giant pants of my imagination - and it doesn’t get much more surreal than that. This is quite fitting given our reasons for being in Manchester.   

We had travelled there to experience the mind-altering brilliance of The Orb. This was the first time I'd seen them live, and, as it transpires, the last. I remember that they played Little Fluffy Clouds – we all felt it, as much as heard it.  It was one of those times where sound, light and body combine perfectly.  The room was unified - from The Orb themselves, to their viewing public.   Strangely I cannot recall if they played Perpetual Dawn.  Yet I’m sure they must have.  It is one of The Orbs more bouncy tracks thus would have been an appropriate choice.  Memory can become so fractured over time. Artificial highs tend to ‘help’ with that.  I can remember the flowers on my boots, the long haired hippies, the blues of the light show and even the patterns on the toilet wall but I cannot recall Perpetual Dawn.  Although memory probably fails to supply: my mind’s ear enjoys the brilliant Perpetual Dawn, as dawn broke over the Manchester garden.

Let the dawn play ever on.

Love for all,

The RGF xx

Wednesday, 24 August 2016


Do not distract, act!

In the last few days I have seen pictures that have upset me greatly. Heartbreaking images of people that have perished in war zones. I don’t want to think of any human in pain. I don’t want any human, especially a child, to lose their fight for survival at the hands of war.

Most people feel sad when lives are lost at war. Yet many of us may believe that we have no control over what happens in the world. War has always happened. These people that suffer because of bombs, fear, dictators, governments, terrorists – we cannot stop their suffering. This viewpoint is flawed. Literally fatally flawed. Ignorance supports suffering.

In the UK, we live in a democracy. Though it almost feels as though we don’t. There are great doubts over the abilities of the elected government to do positive things. There are doubts over the electoral process. There is fear about the interest groups that control the media which subsequently influence votes. Never-the-less, governments do change and we can influence policy. We can use our vote. We can sign petitions. We can create petitions. We can use social media to fight for what’s right. We can stand together against corruption. We can send aid to war torn countries. We can welcome the victims of war to our own shores.

Human decency demands that we do not turn a blind eye to the suffering of others. Human rights require each and every one of us to do something to create a better world.

Join Amnesty International. Support their work. Share their campaigns.

Demand that governments serve humanity – all of humanity, especially children

Use social media to make waves

Support charitable and voluntary groups in their work to help others

Stand up for human rights

Use your vote

Join with people that have the interests of human beings at heart

Avoid people who are self-serving

If we believe that we cannot change the world, then this will become a self-fulfilling prophecy. The world that happens out there is our world. We live on this planet and we have a right, a duty, to make the planet a decent one. We have to believe that change is possible. We must be the change we wish to see in the world.

#bethechange #getupstandup #peace #humankind #oneworld #onepeople #donotdistractact

Tuesday, 23 August 2016

Car park rave

Dancing: it's probably the most fun you can have on your own. Come, come now. Let's keep it clean. Much like Nicole Kidman in that obscure perfume advert, I love to dance. It isn't exercise. It's spiritual, powerful and tremendous fun (I sounded like The Famous Five in my head there). I often find myself dancing around the lounge.  The genre doesn't matter. If something resonates and the urge to move comes, then it happens. I particularly enjoy those moments when dancing becomes hardcore. There is something cathartic about dancing like you mean it.  That sense of being lost in music – absolutely not caring what you look like, just feeling the sounds and letting your body reflect the rhythm.  The opportunities to dance in a crowded room are few and far between these days.  Attending an actual rave - if the term rave hasn’t completely fallen out of favour – is limited to rare occasions. I've tried dancing in Asda but bizarrely this does not bring about the kind of unity one feels at a gig or massive rave. It tends to encourage puzzled looks and military style avoidance tactics from the other shoppers.

The prospect of inappropriate dancing brings me to this paragraph. This morning, as I purchased some food from the sandwich van, an old skool track landed on the radio. I almost raised my hand in a pointy gesture and said tooooooon to the sandwich lady.  I refrained. However I was unable to stop myself from enjoying a brief, excited, mini dance.  Had she joined in - I could have grabbed my whistle, which I always carry, just in case and the carpark rave might have gone off.  However, my dancing was entirely one-sided.   There was just me, holding food and a rainbow purse.  On the plus side, I was not wearing my top back to front. It had been noticeablely so when I dropped my daughter off at holiday club.  No one wants to dance at a sandwich lady with incorrectly placed clothing. There's something very wrong about that whole sentence.

Anyhoo, despite moderate embarrassment from this morning’s impromptu car park rave, I am left determed to dance the evening away.  This will take place in my lounge.  I hope I don't get too hot.



PS.  I actually have a rainbow purse. It has a smiley badge on it. I do not carry a whistle around in readiness for unexpected raving - though it seems like a habit worth getting into.

PPS. This was the toooooon:

Monday, 22 August 2016

Metaphysical baby

Ever since I decided NO to anyone who didn’t feel like my metaphorical unicorn, I have received numerous messages from men seeking to reacquaint themselves. By numerous I mean five. That's five in two weeks. They arrived through the cracks, hitherto presumed lost in time. It is interesting perhaps - from a metaphysical perspective, assuming that I have a vaguely accurate understanding of metaphysical - that each of these men has chosen to message when I've decided I'm not open to them.  They, somehow, have picked up on this from across the cosmos.  My disinterest has made me more appealing.  The chase is on, except it isn’t because I’m not running about Benny Hill stylee saying chase me, chase me.  If anyone I’d ever spoken to was paying attention, I don’t play hard to get.  I’m either interested thus available or not interested thus unavailable.  I don’t have some grey in betweeny category.   

There is  only one man I’m interested in hearing from.  Unless we include famous people – then a WhatsApp from Benedict C might be quite nice but he is married and, incredibly, doesn’t have my number.  So within the realms of a Non-Benedict-reality, there is just one man. I believe this situation is known as sods law.    

If I’m anti-desire-manifesting then I’d like to stop doing that because it’s fucking stupid.  I’m only interested in a WhatsApp (or flowers – may as well push the tempo) from one man and he knows who he is.    


The RGF xx

PS. The blog post title is a play on Teenage Fanclub's Metal Baby. A favourite track from times past. The song is lyrically impaired but otherwise kinda perfect. You might even say that it has feet of clay. 

Sunday, 21 August 2016

Orange ticket

I'm noticing the colour orange very frequently at the moment. So much so that I've actually noticed that the frequency is, well, erm frequent. Thus I assume it's significant in some way. Either that or I'm bonkers.  I'm not someone who usually wonders about the significance of colours nor am I someone that is particularly attracted to orange. Purple and blue are more my hue (as my purple blue hair will bare witness to). Although I had orange tips a few weeks back, hmmm, interesting.

Research by the way of Google suggests that symbolically orange signifies happiness and vitality. It's also the colour of the sacral shakra so may signify sex. Excellent. If orange is my ticket to happy bouncy good stuff, and by good stuff, I mean sex, bring it on.

Clause: I take my sex in a relationship. A 50:50 one. Or maybe 60:40. Crucially, it ain't casual sex in a cineplex. Nod to The Sultan's of Ping there. If I'm in a cineplex, or a cinema as I prefer to call them, I'll be watching the film. Cinema tickets are damn expensive. I don't even use the loo halfway through which is hard after 2 pints of cola and a three hour filum. If I'm excited enough to get fresh on the back row then the lucky fella will be my boyfriend.

Thanks though orange. Nonsense-made-relevant-by-the-wild-imaginings-of-a-woman-who-thinks-too-much this may be but none-the-less, thanks.  May the happiness commence.......

PS. I'm reading Pratchett's Unseen Academicals again. The cover is very orange. Coincidence?

The RGF xx


Do you want ordinary ice cream or the one with the chocolate and stuff? I don't want ordinary anything. Ordinary is synonymous with boring. I'll have extraordinary please. It's a design for life.


As I listened to a particular track by Arcane Roots today, I cried uncontrollable tears. I couldn't stem their flow. I couldn't distract my thoughts. The emotions I felt came through the song and my memories whilst hearing it. This leads me to a question: How long must one wait until one can separate a song from memories?  Or rather how long until the memories don't induce tears? I flipping hope it's weeks because I really love that song. I never meant to apply it to anyone else. It was accidental.

This was the song:

Saturday, 20 August 2016


"If I should die this very moment

I wouldn't fear

For I've never known completeness

Like being here

Wrapped in the warmth of you

Loving every breath of you

Still my heart this moment

Or it might burst".

This infinity. Love much.

An extract from Lamb, Gorecki



Juliette Drouet wrote Victor Hugo some 20,000 love letters. Now that's commitment to the written word. One wonders if she spent all her time writing him and whether she received 20,000 letters in return.

Héloïse d'Argenteuil wrote many letters to Peter Abélard. Their's was an ill-fated story of forbidden love and secret marriage. Sadness aside, how right she was in the extract from her letter to Peter below. It is the words that undress you, not only of clothes but they lay bare your heart and your soul.

“I have your picture in my room. I never pass by it without stopping to look at it; and yet when you were present with me, I scare ever cast my eyes upon it. If a picture which is but a mute representation of an object can give such pleasure, what cannot letters inspire? They have souls, they can speak, they have in them all that force which expresses the transport of the heart; they have all the fire of our passions....”

Mary Wollstonecraft, was instrumental in the beginnings of feminism and is something of a hero to me. I'm further impressed to discover that she and her husband, William Godwin, lived in adjoining houses. They often communicated via letters from their unusual living space! I can see great beauty in this. Given Mary's groundbreaking writing of Vindication on the Rights of Women, at a time when women had practically none, it is perhaps unsurprising that her marriage also defied established social rules.  

The loves of these great ladies, suggest that when the written word is spoken with passion, with love, with soul - they become as real as the body, as conversation, as lived memories. In other words, the love letter is as much the relationship as the lived physical experience of love itself.

The RGF xx

Friday, 19 August 2016

Keats to Fanny

This is a letter from Keats to his beloved Fanny. The emotion in his words. To be loved like that. At the time of writing, his love was somewhat unrequited but she did return his feelings in time. Hardly surprising:

My dearest Girl,

This moment I have set myself to copy some verses out fair. I cannot proceed with any degree of content. I must write you a line or two and see if that will assist in dismissing you from my Mind for ever so short a time. Upon my Soul I can think of nothing else – The time is passed when I had power to advise and warn you again[s]t the unpromising morning of my Life – My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you – I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again – my Life seems to stop there – I see no further. You have absorb’d me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving – I should be exquisitely miserable without the hope of soon seeing you. I should be afraid to separate myself far from you. My sweet Fanny, will your heart never change? My love, will it? I have no limit now to my love – You note came in just here – I cannot be happier away from you – ‘T is richer than an Argosy of Pearles. Do not threat me even in jest. I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion – I have shudder’d at it – I shudder no more – I could be martyr’d for my Religion – Love is my religion – I could die for that – I could die for you. My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet – You have ravish’d me away by a Power I cannot resist: and yet I could resist till I saw you; and even since I have seen you I have endeavoured often “to reason against the reasons of my Love.” I can do that no more – the pain would be too great – My Love is selfish – I cannot breathe without you.

Yours for ever

John Keats

Thursday, 18 August 2016

Presque vu

Last night, I almost had an epiphany. I could feel the tantalising hint of its arrival. Like the build up to an orgasm that’s oh so nearly but not quite. This sensation, which doesn't quite become, is known as presque vu.

I was somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, ready to embrace my unconscious mind. I felt momentarily at peace, connected and happy without reason.  The melancholy which descended upon me almost two weeks ago had gone.

It was almost like the actual epiphany I had in Wales, about ten years ago. Where I sat in a garden dreaming of a man who was always just out of reach. I knew I had to him go and after years of waiting, I was finally ready to set myself free. I recall that I sort of breathed him away. To this day, I have no idea how I achieved it. It was somehow magical and probably unrepeatable. In that Welsh garden, alone, surrounded by flowers - I had a dalliance with the divine. A cathartic moment.  It was something to do with the timing, the space and my sense of self in that moment. Everything came together in the right way and he left me.

And last night I was incredibly close to my Welsh epiphany. Coincidentally, I have recently been in Wales, dancing with the faeries. On our return from Wales, my friend and I accidentally drove through the gates of Chester. These may be seen as synchronicity and a metaphor for transformation retrospectively.

When sleep came last night, my dream world was filled with metaphors for cleansing, death and rebirth. So it was disappointing to discover that melancholy returned upon waking. However, I take heart in knowing that this too will pass. As all things do in time.

In some near future self, I hope to experience another epiphany or at least return to happy without reason. Then I may move with the magical and dance with the divine once again.

The RGF xxx

Tuesday, 16 August 2016


Why is that, at the moment I decide I'm off the circuit, basically deem myself indifferent to everyone unless they're my unicorn, im suddenly bombarded with masses of male attention. It's like they know somehow. I can almost imagine them thinking oooh Hazel is probably up for casual sex. Well how wrong you are ‘gentlemen’ callers: not even vaguely akin to a knight. I'm otherwise engaged. I'm super fucking busy watching paint dry. Because that's preferable to the casual sex you're all half-heartedly offering me. I'm not even flattered. I'm just annoyed. 

My heart is ajar. That's my heart, not my legs. I'm open to an offer from the right person. They'll be unicorn shaped. The Wade to my Vanessa. I haven't the time or the inclination for anything else. 

Monday, 15 August 2016

Two lovers

I got so lost that I forgot what I wanted: an equally balanced relationship between two lovers. 

Be authentic because truth is the pathway to peace. 


Friday, 12 August 2016


“Your crazy matches my crazy”. It's a quote from Deadpool which captures the kind of love I want. I know that it's possible to stumble across someone who resonates at the same frequency I do: the profound and the ridiculous, tied together with rainbow ribbons.

I want to learn from them, and I want them to learn from me. An equal partnership with kindness, compassion, bravery, comedy, intelligence, wisdom, passion, art and probably other stuff I've yet to think of.

That sense of feeling comfortable and excited simultaneously. Where you just fit together - where it’s just completely right. Fully being with each other in each shared moment: real, flawed and beautiful.

I recognise that this type of love, like any relationship, will have it's challenges because nothing can completely transcend the uneven road of life. I'm realistic about relationships, well, I'm realistic to a point. Crucially though, I'm something of a dreamer and they need to be that too.

I've almost had this type of love a number of times. I've even experienced pure moments of it very recently. I'm not sure how unrequited that was but for me, at times, it felt exactly right.

I'm not going to settle for anything less than the love i want. The colours need to be intense because otherwise it will feel vague. Love can be all-consuming, it can even be ill-considered but it should never be vague.

Somewhere out there there's a Wade to my Vanessa. However the search for them  has ceased because I hope that when they're ready, they'll find me.


Tuesday, 9 August 2016


A recent experience in life had forced me to make a conscious decision to filter my feelings when it came to romantic love.  I wear my heart on my sleeve and tend to fall in love very quickly. This occasion was swift, even for me but no less profound for the speed of it's arrival. At it's ending, I decided to hide my heart. This, of course, is folly.

On this day, I realise that my whole being is within a liminal space.  I’m on the cusp of the future, reluctantly leaving the past.  Within this temporal interruption, I know that I will not completely close myself off from romantic love.  For a little while, my heart will be somewhat ajar. Then, at the right moment, I will transcend this threshold and open my heart to love once more.   

Monday, 8 August 2016


Today I thought about Arwen from Lord of the Rings.  I thought of the moment that she gave the Evenstar to Aragorn.  She chose a mortal life so she could be with the man she loved.  In a sense she chose death so that she could enjoy love. 

In many respects the rejection of immortality seems like utter madness.  How would one choose life with death, when one could live for eternity.  Yet, what kind of eternity would it be if she had to live each moment without the man she truly loved.  Even a week would feel like an eternity if we reject love.  

Although Arwen's decision is the work of fiction, the choice has its roots in reality.  Without love, there is no life.  Without love, life is only existence.  Without love, there is an unending sea of nothingness.  Thus, the only choice is love.  

Sunday, 7 August 2016


For quite some time I was unable to move from the chair. As if by moving I was accepting my fate. And I wasn't ready. Not then. There was an absence, not only of him but somehow of myself. He had taken part of me with him and I wondered if it would ever return. 

Wednesday, 3 August 2016

It becomes

I read a message today. The words within were beautiful, as they always are........ perhaps made more beautiful by the Rachmaninoff soundtracking on my laptop.

In amongst the great array of profound he said "when a shard of someone else's soul slots perfectly into a space in your own, it doesn't matter if it's not the same shape it was when it left them". He was describing the meaning within lyrics. Though we could probably apply it to anything emotional. If something fits into your soul, whatever it began life as doesn't really matter. It's what it means to you. It is what it becomes.


The RGF xxx

Tuesday, 2 August 2016

Be the change

Like many people, when news reports of the refugee crisis filtered through the press, I felt terribly sad and wasn't sure what to do about it.

Thus a plan of action presented itself: My friend found some groups on Facebook that helped refugees. One of which, is the group I now regularly help. This group is called Care UK. It's a grassroots organisation that wonderfully, recently achieved charity status and continues to operate a 100% donation policy. No one gets paid. Everything goes to help refugees.

Volunteering generally and for our group takes different forms. At Care UK, I pack aid into bags and boxes. At home, I gather aid from friends, family and colleagues, then take the aid to Care UK’s depot.

Aside from the real difference this work makes to people's lives, volunteering makes me feel good. There is a tremendous sense of wellbeing when you take small steps to help others. This is the best kind of win win because it is truly equitable. I help someone else and in so doing, I help myself achieve a sense of peace.

The big win also transcends the impact upon refugee and volunteer. Donating clothes, bedding, camping equipment and other unneeded items has a positive impact upon the planet. If an item of clothing is a good condition but you no longer want it and if it's relatively practical then donate it. Reducing waste is always a good thing to do because the planet doesn't like lots of waste. In this sense donating aid and volunteering makes a huge difference.

I still feel tremendously sad when I hear about about the plight of refugees. Yet I no longer feel so powerless because I am doing something about it. It may be a small something but it is something.

It is possible to create positive change. As a wise person once said “lots of little steps make a giant footprint”.

#bethechange #refugeecrisis #humanrights

Don't call me baby

I wonder if calling a woman baby, princess or darling ever generates positive results in the dating field.  Within a relationship, I quite like being called baby or some similar term of endearment.  Once I have reached an appropriate level of connection with someone - a connection we both recognise - these terms can be quite sweet. However, being called baby or some equally ridiculous, overly familiar, patronising term by some random guy is incredibly annoying.  Call me Hazel.  Call me flipping Barbara if you like but do not call me a name which alludes to affection whilst struggling to hide a vast sea of patriarchal influence.  

Monday, 1 August 2016

Stages of love

Long ago, someone told me about the stages of romantic love. He did so in relation to our romantic relationship and to that of his ex. We, apparently, were in the early phases, which I took to mean less and he had been in the latter phases, which I took to mean more. The early phases were subjectively less profound, less important and less felt. At the time, unsurprisingly, I was heartbroken at the discussion. It was like everything he felt for me was reduced to a mere whisper of that he’d felt before.  

Time brings wisdom. I now know that the initial phase of love are just as valid as the latter. They may lack the depth that only time and knowledge provides but what they lose in depth, they gain in power. Every stage is valid. Every stage is beautiful.  

I also came to realise that if someone explains their feelings for you, couched in terms of the feelings they ‘had’ for another - they have not moved on. They remain very much in love with their previous partner.

The RGF xx

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