Tuesday, 18 April 2017

Wordy gathering

On this Tuesday 18th April 2017, I celebrate my blogaversary. Let the excitement flow! Nine years ago today, this gathering of words commenced.

I probably need to mark this prestigious occasion by raising a glass or two. I will not do this sarcastically. Though I feel like I'm making a joke at my own expense. No, this is a genuine celebration. This blog has been my outlet to joy, pain and pointless rambles. It is cathartic and transformative. Some of the biggest relationships of my life so far commenced since it began. I have documented their trajectory within. The greatest of these, was the birth of my daughter.

Thoughts by The Renegade Glitter Fairy, how I adore thee. 

Here's to beginnings. To endings. To bits in the middlings. Most of all, here's to words!

The RGF xx

Friday, 14 April 2017



I'd love to play this song on guitar. Of course there is that slight issue of being unable to play guitar. Coupled by the troubling fact that I don't own a guitar. Otherwise my journey towards expert strumming in a Heartless Bastard's stylee looks sound.

Thursday, 13 April 2017

It is time

The first record I bought was The Buggles, Video Killed the Radio Star. This song comments on technological advances and grieves the emphasis on image in video rather musical focus through radio.

In certain respects this song connects my thoughts to Ludschuch. A place that is emblematic of a desire to retain heritage and a refusal of the progress which threatened it. The Luddites met there. There are other stories associated with the space. In general there is a nature theme running through them.


Ludschuch, in turn, reminds​ of Tolkien. Whose books have been described as a metaphor for industrial age that ripped through the countryside. His fear that human's were emphasising greed-power as opposed to soul-power were portrayed through the elves, ents and orcs in Lord of the Rings.

Change is necessary and progress can be marvellous. Yet progress should not destroy otherwise it is the opposite of it's alleged intention. Music should never be secondary to image, as represented by the video star. If we must worship nature, the very stuff of life, in secret, as the Luddites did then humanities priorities are in grave question.

I see Sauron as a terrifying representation of a power crazed society. Where money and control is deemed more important than oxygen. Trees are ripped out. Resources are monetised. Human life is secondary to wealth.

We need to return to something pure. We must value human life over money because money has no value without​ humanity. What use is power if the planet is dead. There would be nowhere to wield it. Appearance is irrelevant without a soul to wear it. As someone once said, we do not have a soul, we are souls.

We must re-prioritise. It is time.


Tuesday, 11 April 2017

Monday, 10 April 2017

Fake messages

Positive aspects:

  1. Correct 'you're'. 
  2. Correct 'we're'.

Negative aspects:

  1. The message is from two men. Well possibly. It may very well be from twenty men. Hmmm I wonder what their motivation is, I think we can safely assume it's not marriage.
  2. There is no profile picture. Though if there were, it would be fake.
  3. Annoying text language abbreviations in the form of 'lol'. My goodness, even the fakers use annoying text language. 
  4. For some reason the 'compliment' was amusing. You message, include a sex focused compliment then actually laugh out loud at it. This is all kinds of wrong. 
  5. The message is clearly a copy and paste. If you're going to approach a woman for sexually untoward reasons, at least customise the damn message (and don't lol at the 'compliment'). 
  6. Dave and Steve are two of the most common English names. Though it is more than feasible that a Dave and a Steve are living in a flat in London somewhere, I seriously doubt that the message is from any of them. At best, the message practically screams fake names and at worst, dodgy sex ring. 

I have no words. This is so unlike me. I'd laugh to hide the pain, if I wasn't bombarded with messages like this all the time. No, I'm afraid laughter will not be possible. Like Elvis, it has left the building. However, I believe I can manage a weakly executed grimace.

The RGF xx

Sunday, 9 April 2017

A long way

Although I gently nod towards the irony within, I find that I've come a long way. I don't feel like I did a few months ago. Nor as I did a few weeks ago. I will never forget my second love but I'm finally letting him go.

This is my progress song. Hidden irony notwithstanding:

Saturday, 8 April 2017

Benedict Darcy Batch

As if my delicate disposition can cope with such imagery. Benedict Darcy Batch! Though I realise he has portrayed the wet shirted Mr Darcy emerging from the lake before, which, I believe, was for an advert. Oh how the Cumberladies swooned. Yet
imagine Benedict as Mr Darcy. Full role. My heart is fluttering out of my chest at the prospect. Swoonathon.

Edit: he was Darcy in the lake for charity. Thanks Google.  

Better still, imagine Benedict Cumberbatch and Brian Cox in the same room, at the same time. Ideally, whilst I too inhabited the time and space. The excitement-a-meter has just landed on explosive. 


When I spot the signals, I rather hope they'll appear in Gandalf mode - interesting shapes formed from pipe weed. What I'm saying is metaphorical. I'd like a potential romantic someone to send me a clear sign. One that's impossible to miss. I'm not requesting a wisened old Wizard who puffs da 'erb.  I like a beard. Bit of grey within is cool. But a really long beard, fully greyed and attached to a man of indeterminate age, does not maketh my boat float.

I digressed a little for a moment there. I know, I know, so unlike me. Ahem.  In short, I've had enough mixed signals to last me lifetime. Send me a sign created with clarity. The kind I can comprehend from a distance. Also, Seranade me with the songs of Snowmine. I ask but I don't believe I ask for much.

Thursday, 6 April 2017

Syrian gas attacks

Everytime we close our hearts
Lives are lost
Everytime we cover our ears
Injustice is served
Everytime we shut our eyes
Suffering goes unnoticed

Do not let those who place no value on human lives destroy, damage and devastate.
Do all you can to protect all human beings.

Please take a moment to sign and share.

We must demand justice!

Wednesday, 5 April 2017

Venusian day

I'd like to spend a venusian day with you. That's a rather impressive 5832 hours. Beats a measly 24 hours or, to be more accurate, 23 hours, 56 minutes and 4.1 seconds.

Granted, at this point in time I don't actually know who you are but when I stumble across you, let's have a first date venusian style - hot and really flipping long. But you know, for practical-staying-alive reasons, we'll enjoy said date on Earth.

Tuesday, 4 April 2017


I might have mentioned this already. Yeah, I've definitely said it a number of times. I'm repeating because sometimes things are profoundly repeatable. Snowmine: They are, as I've uttered, simply incredible. I thank You Tube from the bottom of my internet connection for recommending them. Oh algorithms. I don't know how you configure yours You Tube but I bloody applaud you.

If Snowmine were clay, I'd create, well, erm, yeah, I'd sculpt a boyfriend from their words and music. That person would be flipping mind blowing. Gawd, I wish I was a real fairy.


Shouting in silence

No matter how loud
I scream the words out
I'm shouting in silence
Lungs trapped in cloud

My words become whispers
Then silence surrounds
Still you don't hear me
This abandon unfound


Freedom: music download

This man does incredible work to help refugees.  He has released a song to raise funds for refugees and vulnerable people.  Please buy the song and share the link.  We can create a better world.  We can bring about freedom!


Sunday, 2 April 2017


Is romance dead? Can anyone offer insight on this? From my perspective, which, granted - has been coloured by recent  negative experiences - romance is doa. May it rest in peace.  Perhaps I'm wrong. Or at least temporarily misguided. I invite a change of perspective. May the rumbles of romance roll in.


Saturday, 1 April 2017


Some time after watching Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, Orbital's Time Becomes dropped into my mind. Unsurprising really because the concept of looped time is a integral part of the story. 

Without giving too much away, Peculiars hide themselves in loops - a particular day repeated continually. 

If you could repeat a day, which day would you choose? I'd choose the day that my memory repeats on a loop. 

Friday, 31 March 2017

Time travel

Somehow time travel still remains at forefront of my mind. 

If I could ride my thoughts, I would. 

Thursday, 30 March 2017

Perfect brew

Sometimes it would be truly lovely if someone was around, just once a week, to make me a cup of tea in the morning. I'd flipping worship that brew. It wouldn't have to be perfect. Flavoursome. Drinkable. Proffered in a clean mug. But certainly not tea perfection. I'd quite appreciate a cooked breakfast, a back rub and, let's be idealistic, myriad gifts but I'd happily settle for a cup of tea in the morning.  

Wednesday, 29 March 2017

Blame and domestic abuse

Why don't people necessarily recognise when they are in an abusive relationship? Why don't they all leave immediately?

The answers​ are far from straightforward. It would be near on impossible for either a professional or a victim of abuse to give a conclusive answer. Based on my experience of domestic abuse, personal research and an awareness course - these thoughts are a starting point:
  • To acknowledge the existence of domestic abuse in a relationship, we must understand exactly what domestic abuse is. Physical violence is a fairly obvious example. As is rape and sexual assault. Whereas financial, emotional and psychological abuse are more difficult to recognise. 
  • The domestic abuser is often someone that the victim loves. The abuser moves from monster to lover constantly. They manipulate. This does not mean that the victim is stupid, it means the abuser is a master of their art. They were manipulating their victim from day one. They know how to charm. They know how to get what they want. The more sociopathic the abuser, the harder they are to spot. 
  • Once you love someone, it takes some time to unpick your feelings. The victim is trying to recategorise their abuser into someone who is a million miles from the person they thought they knew. This can take time. Whilst the victim tries to make sense of their feelings, the abuser is trying to win them over in any way they can - from declarations of love to suicide threats. 
  • When we love, we idealise. We make allowances for personality flaws. We make excuses for misdemeanours. Yes, even if it means operating in opposition to everything we believe in. It sounds incredulous to suggest that a victim of abuse can accept the abuser's excuses if there has been physical or sexual attacks. But we must remember that the victim has invested in the relationship. The abuser may well be a master of manipulation. They will go to great lengths to hold onto the object of their control. 
  • Sometimes victims are vulnerable upon entering the abusive relationship. They may have physical or mental illness prior to meeting the abusive partner. This makes it easier for the abuser to abuse. 
  • Mothers fear for themselves and their children. The abuser may threaten to kill them if they leave. Escape may seem difficult, even impossible. Remember abusive people seek to undermine autonomy. Thus the victim may not feel in control of their lives. This doesn't happen immediately but over time they may be scared to leave and scared to stay. 
  • Abusers can physically prevent their victim from leaving by restraining them and / or harming them. They may continually suggest that the police won't help. The victim may start to question their own sanity. 
  • Victims often blame themselves. We are taught to take responsibility for our own actions and we are told that their are two sides to every argument. Only the most self-important of people fail to ponder if they might be partly at fault when contentious situations arrise. And abusers blame the victim anyway thus the victim's doubts are internal then reinforced externally. This may be seen as the 'blame trap'.
  • The 'blame trap' supports the abuse. The victim blames​ themselves. The abuser blames​ the victim. Onlookers treat the victim with contempt because they cannot comprehend how they ever ended up in an abusive relationship. The victim feels ashamed because no one wants to appear vulnerable or weak. The abuser feeds that fear. Contempt from other people feed that fear. And so it continues. 
In summary, domestic abuse is multi-faceted. Each person's experience of it differs: the abuser's modus operandi, the victim's back-story, the victim's responses and other factors may contribute.

People think they know exactly how they'd respond to a domestic abuser. They believe they'd recognise manipulation and control as soon as it begins. Yet the reality is quite different, for the reasons outlined above and likely others not discussed here.

As indicated, those who haven't experienced abuse can look towards the victims with contempt. They ask: surely domestic abuse is obvious and boldly suggest that everyone would leave at the first sign of it. This, at best, is a partial viewpoint and at worse both inaccurate and indirectly contributory. Moreover it completely misses the real issue.

As human beings we should seek to educate ourselves on the signs of domestic abuse. We should support family and friends, if we believe they are victims of abuse. Domestic abuse is always unacceptable. Not only does it damage lives, it can end them. Every time we are incredulous towards the victim, we fail to acknowledge the reality: the fault lies with the abuser and a society that allows domestic abuse to continue.

Tuesday, 28 March 2017

The light

We "must be captivated by the light. Always the light" (The Lake House). In the context of the film, the words apply to architecture. How the architect must consult with nature when creating a structure that will stand the test of time.

I think it is light - in all that may be considered beautiful in this world, that must guide us. Not the kind of beauty that is illusionary but the kind that begins at the core and shines upon the world. 



Treat people with kindness. Not the kindness they deserve because what they deserve is subjective.

Basically, we should realise that "an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind” (Gandhi).

Monday, 27 March 2017


For some reason, I quoted Kate from The Lake House on my dating profile. Perhaps I was alluding to the soulmate concept, in a vague hope of finding them. Im theorising on this. Doubtless I knew the reason on a subconscious level but I don't recall making a conscious choice. These are the beautiful words “sometimes I feel as though I'm invisible, as if no one can see me at all. I never felt that way when I lived at the lake house”.

Kate lost something of herself when she left the lake house or, if you know the film / book, she hadn't found it yet.  The lake house sat between two worlds and two time frames. In it was her past, her future and the man she was yet to love / loved from the beginning.

As I re-quote her, I realise that I know the words without checking. Many aspects from the film resonate with me but I thought the star crossed lover element had mainly pulled me in. The sense of finding someone at the wrong time - just like Jane Austen’s Persuasion which the film heavily references.  As I recall these words, “sometimes I feel like I'm invisible”, I realise that the truth is far more difficult. It is not merely that my time frame is out of sync with someone elses, it is that I'm somehow invisible. Though I have a clear understanding of myself. I don't feel that I belong here.  Like Radiohead's Creep, I really am a weirdo.

In short, my tribe has very few people in it. In many respects, it's just me and my daughter. The small number of connections beyond family are dispersed through the repeated requirements of adulting. Even though I quite like being different and certainly don't know how to be otherwise - there are times when I'm just a little bit lonely.

Maybe I need to find my lake house or at least the space where my time frame connects up with someone elses. 

Friday, 24 March 2017

The shiny step

I was talking to a friend about domestic abuse some months back. She told me​ a story of a woman who was often injured by her husband. The story took place in a time where ladies on terraced streets kept their front steps clean. The cleanliness of your front step represented who you were. It mattered in the context they lived in. There was a woman in the story who didn't keep her step clean. She was the victim of domestic abuse. One of woman's neighbours commented, in scalding response to this woman's situation "well, look at the state of her step". The implication being that she deserved the abuse. Her husband was entitled to injure her because she wasn't maintaining proper standards. I'll let that sink in. It's an appalling statement isn't it. Though spoken many years ago, similar mentalities continue today.

I had another conversation with an ex colleague about the physical abuse experienced by Rihanna at the hands of Chris Brown. Notably we discussed the heavily publicised attack that left Rihanna injured. My ex colleague said "she probably deserved it". Obviously I was very swift to correct her, once I'd recovered from my shock at her words. The context of the abuse is irrelevant. Unless he was literally fighting for his life (he wasn't) then, no, Rihanna was the victim of abuse. There is no justification. There is victim. There is perpetrator. That's it.

Abusers will utilise every excuse at their disposal to justify their behaviour. Examples will include: I was stressed. You drove me to it. Whispering a threat is not the same as shouting it. I was jealous. I was drunk. I was stoned.  I was joking. You started the argument. You were jealous. I was worried..........

Abusers can be brilliant at disguising their behaviour. They can switch their emotions on and off. One moment they can be calm, the next screaming threats. Life with an abusive person is like dancing on eggshells. You always try to second guess them. Sometimes you recognise the signs of what's to come, which is abuse in itself. Sometimes it comes from nowhere.

There is no justification. Each of the stories above have common themes - abusers who believe they are justified in hurting someone else and bystanders who normalise thus accept their behaviour.

If you believe you are being abused, you are. Leave the abuser. If you see abuse, help the victim as quickly and, if possible, as discreetly as feasible. Only by standing together against domestic abuse will it ever end.


Wednesday, 22 March 2017

Awaken and embrace

We know when someone is falling for us. We feel it as a recipient. We don't have the right to drown ourselves in the attention of another because they feel. As we bask in the light they impart, they connect with us.

We are not idols when we carry out a relationship with another person. It isn't a crush from afar. It's the activities of the heart. The lived experience of romantic love.

Words matter. Choose them wisely.

People matter. Treat them carefully.

Don't speak the words of love, unless you're in it. Don't demonstrate it, unless you feel it.

Overall folks, it's what Bob said…...

Monday, 20 March 2017

Easter fairies

The long awaited fairy garden. Our entry for my daughter's Easter craft competition.

PS. When I say long awaited, I mean by me. Slow to complete due to pesky things like sleep, food, work, school etc. 

Snowmine 🦄

"Tell me that you came for me!
Cuz I've been waiting for you.
Tell me you can hear what I'm saying.
Cuz it's a long walk back to town,
And I'm a far cry from the old me.
And I'm a far cry from the old me." 

Snowmine 🦄

Because in the end, that's what we all seek isn't it. The sense that someone completely gets you. Understands your algorithm. A shared language, which stretches beyond words. 

This band speaks to my soul. Nay, they shout to it. Like I'm being called back to myself or something equally mystical. 

Tuesday, 14 March 2017

Repeating 42

Has anyone else noticed that the number on the taxi in Deadpool is 42 and the radio station that Lucy tunes into, on the film erm Lucy, is also 42?

Coincidence? I've said this before but it bares repeating:
Mycroft: "what do we say about coincidences?"
Sherlock: "the universe is rarely so lazy".

I really think Douglas Adams was onto something.


Every other lover


.......not constantly. Sometimes foreground and at others just background. I cannot launch myself at love. Everyone has stuff and everyone's stuff matters. Yet when romance comes, this is the level of passion required. As Marmaduke Duke once said "every other lover in the world is just wasting time".


The chase?

I have written, and yes, occasionally ranted about the dating etiquette that promotes the traditional gender roles of hard to get.  I've even suggested that maybe I need to play by the so called rules, even though I think them utterly ridiculous.

I cannot comprehend why I ever suggested anything of the sort. I want a partner not a saviour. I'd like to start with balance and improve upon it. How can I do that if I'm playing the role of the feeble female? If I wait passively for someone to snap me up, I'm essentially contributing to patriarchy.

If I'm interested in someone, I'll send them a clear sign such as 'hey, would you like to go out sometime'. If the question itself puts them off, then I too am put off because they are not the sort of person I want to invest in.

I won't settle. I will wait but my waiting will be active not passive. Brace yourself unicorn-Starlord-Deadpool because I'm feeling confident. ;-)

PS. You know when you have one of those ephinany style moments? Well this is one. There are many things that one can and perhaps should compromise on (the ideal height for example). Yet one should never compromise on the self.


Sunday, 12 March 2017


Dates are reciprocal arrangements. Based on compromise, consideration and effort. Basically, showing up at someone's house with beer or similar isn't a viable first date. It isn't even a date. It's a hook up pretending to be a date.

Men (yes I know I'm generalising) try not to confuse dates with hook ups.


Wednesday, 8 March 2017

I'll rise

"You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you? 
Why are you beset with gloom? 
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken? 
Bowed head and lowered eyes? 
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you? 
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you? 
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs? 

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
  I rise."

Maya Angelou

Tuesday morning discovery

I stumbled upon these beautiful words via the ways of the internet. I particularly like "I claim the dawn". The inbetween time of the dawn. The end of one, begining of another. http://1974haze.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/perpetual-dawn.html?m=0. 

Endless Tuesday Mornings

"At night I am everything I fear

In the morning I am nothing I can't handle

I claim the dawn

for yesterday is simply what I was

and tomorrow today will be gone.

Emptiness builds a home here

in between hearts where hollows have bred

a deepening sea of nowhere consumes

and eats away at every connecting thread.

A Tuesday to spare

fingerprints on the edge of a frosted 

midnight dream a promise in pieces, so untrue

endless Tuesday mornings going against the stream."


International Women's Day: Men, let's do this!

On this day of celebration, this International Women's Day, I would like to shout from the rooftops that women across the globe are incredible beings. 

Every day should be a celebration of women. Yet often it feels more like a fight for survival in a patriarchal world.

There should be balance across the genders. We, the people, can do things to redress the imbalance.This incredible article makes a number of fantastic suggestions.

Let's do this! Men of the world, be a practical feminist every day.


Tuesday, 7 March 2017

You Wanna Be Adored?

I have been giving quite a bit of thought to narcissistic personality traits. And, as I write these words, my playlist landed on I Wanna Be Adored by The Stone Roses. Coincidence? Doubtful. Everyone, to some degree, wants to be adored. We want to be valued, respected, admired. As human beings, it is absolutely standard practice to desire love and to return that love. It's balanced thus rather marvellous. Yet some of us seek worship. In certain cases, it is an emphatic need for adoration, at the expense of all others. This is the modus operandi of the narcissist.

Unfortunately, I’ve been attracted to quite a few narcissists. Some have been much worse than others. One in particular may well have been a psychopath. This revelation is a little alarming, to say the least.

Why have I chosen men with broken personalities who see a romantic partner as an extension of themselves? How have I failed to recognise such awful personality traits? Am I completely bereft of wisdom? Or, as something of an empath, do I want to make broken people whole?

I believe the latter description holds the most truth. Whilst I certainly don’t suggest that I have attained ascension as a person. Indeed, if I was to say that, Im fairly sure I’d be heading in a narcissistic direction myself. I do believe that I’m fairly self-aware, reflective and emotionally intelligent. I’m definitely too empathetic for my own good. I see the good in people, even when it's absent.

If I think back to every single important romantic relationship in my life so far, each one has been imbalanced. Those I've loved have needed fixing. They haven't all been narcissists (phewy) but not one of them has been relationship ready. Some were still in love with their exes. Others were emotionally immature etc etc. And, as suggested, there have been the men who slid around on the scum of the narcissism continuum. Yikes.

So now I’ve recognised the pattern, how do I fix it? A kind friend suggested, rather amusingly, that I should deliberately choose someone I'm not attracted to. She was joking. Yet there is seriousness to her wise words. Though, how do I choose someone I’m not attracted to? Attraction is the very basis of romantic entanglement. Hmmm, maybe some reprogramming is in order…….

In the meantime, if any of the traits in the following article relate to you, then stay the hell away from me. ;-) Actually, seriously. If anyone is interested in applying for the romantic partner vacancy, narcissistic / psychopathic personality types need not bother. (Moot point alert: because narcissists don't recognise themselves as narcissists. Oh the hilarity).

Fortunately I have an app in my phone which beeps every time I stumble across a narcissist. Ok, I don't but wouldn't that be handy. On a serious note, I think I'm now able to recognise the traits fairly swiftly. I just need to avoid people who are otherwise broken, whilst still retaining my preference for wordiness. Looks like Beyonce's Single Ladies will remain my theme tune for the foreseeable then.


Monday, 6 March 2017

Is this just fantasy?

I always thought that I wanted a romantic hero. The kind that Bonnie Tyler sung about - yet mighty with the pen rather than 'fresh from the fight'.  Think Shakespeare or John Donne, with their armour of poetry and passion. I, misguided as I was, imagined that some exciting man would one day sweep me off my feet. As they made their fated entrance - violins would play and fireworks would shoot across the sky.

I'm still fond of the idea of soulmates. Whilst fond, I doubt that it actually exists. I'd like it to, of course but all evidence indicates otherwise. Soulmates are, perhaps, a romantic notion created via our human need to believe in something beyond ourselves. It is an ideal. The epitome of romantic love. I blame the likes of Donne for this. Poets grow the idea of romance - like ivy hanging off the heart.

I'd still like a little romance in my life but I recognise its' transitory nature. It would seem that a good match is a good match and nothing more. Sigh. Do bare with me here because I'm unpicking 30 years of hopes and dreams as I write.

Blind faith. That's what I've had until now. Faith enmeshed with all the romantic comedies, poems, love stories and fairy tales that the years have provided. Plus I'm an idealist and a romantic. My belief in soulmates has never been evidencial. Everytime I've come close to near perfect romantic love, it's ended.  Every other time, I've been fooled by charlatans. Thus I have very clear evidence that soulmates are little more than fantasy.

This post doesn't contradict the preceding one. I still want to be wowed with words. This desire is statistically probable because I've been impressed with words before. I have actual evidence of wordy types. Gawd I hope there isn't just one or two men living vaguely close to me that are capable of language - aka a modern day John Donne. Naaaaa. They'll definitely be others. Right?



Sunday, 5 March 2017

Words in time

So few men are able to write well or, in fact, write at any kind of acceptable level. I'm told that these things don't matter. Good sentence structure isn't important. Knowledge of poetry doesn't maketh the man and so on. Whilst I recognise that it's important to consider various elements when choosing a romantic partner. Verbal ability matters! Not empty dialogue, words must be matched with actions, of course. But crucially I have to be captivated by someone's words, otherwise I struggle to feel the magic.

I want a person that fits with me and part of that connection is established via romantic language. I can no more compromise on my need for words than I can on left wing politics.

There is someone who fits. It's just time.

Question your connections

Interesting article. If your ex wants to stay friends, it might be wise to question their reasons. If it feels controlling, unhealthy, imbalanced then let them go. Our time here is short. Make your life a positive one.


Thursday, 2 March 2017

Size doesn't matter?

I wrote of the ideal height some months ago. http://1974haze.blogspot.co.uk/2016/10/the-ideal-height.html?m=1. I suggested 6 foot 2ish as the ideal height. This, of course, remains the case. Yet, as previously noted, exceptions are feasible.  Simon Neil from Biffy Clyro being a prime example.  You can't put a height restriction on hotness like that.

I would also make an exception for the fellow described in this blog post. http://1974haze.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/mr-big.html?m=1.  He is still able to send my pulse racing, even though he barely speaks to me. I don't even know why it happens. Pheromones probably and erm beardedness. Unfortunately his interest in me is so completely absent that I have more chance of dating the already married, well known Scottish rocker that is Simon Neil.

Unrequited attraction notwithstanding, in the case of my Mr Big, it is worth acknowledging that sometimes size really doesn't matter.


Wednesday, 1 March 2017

A springy step

Today I feel ready to step forward rather than back. Perhaps it's because Spring is approaching or maybe the beginning of a new month is generating a sense of excitement.

I recall reading on t'internet that something cosmic is afoot. It may have been a spiritual alignment of some kind which enables new beginnings. Certainly Spring has long been associated with new life and growth. After the barren landscapes of Winter, Spring places a lot of green into the world. In fact it’s well known for this green making phenomena, which is commonly referred to as flowers and shit.

Coincidentally, or perhaps connectedly, I've recently exorcised one or two personal demons and transformed some loose ends into tidy knots. Furthermore, (brace yessens), I have an overwhelming desire to clean things, which, in itself, must signify something massive. (Note, this is an exaggeration, it's more a sort of low-level desire which could easily be overtaken by a need to sit down a lot).

I do feel inexplicably fresh and clean, much like an OutKast tune. Give me a minute and I'll be shaking my posterior like a Polaroid picture. This may be a step too far, it's certainly way too much for the people standing behind me, ahem, nevertheless, I do believe that I've underlined my point.

Whatever is in the air, it might buggar off as quickly as it arrived, thus I'd better commence operation get fit, new job, personal development etc without hesitation.

See you on the other side…..


Tuesday, 28 February 2017

Total Recall

Total Recall is on. It's fast approaching bedtime. It's a school night. I must sleep. Yet I repeat, Total Recall is on. Curses.

Petals on his jacket

I keep thinking back the first time I saw him. There were petals on his jacket, from where he'd gotten too close to the climbing flowers. His long(ish) hair cascaded over his striped shoulders. He felt entirely beautiful, in every way.  

We could have been anywhere that night. Everything else was background except us two. Our images were sharp, merged, colourful and almost illuminated. I felt as though we could have lit a thousand cities with the energy between us. 

I would groundhog day that first meeting in a heartbeat. In fact, in memory, I often do. 


The RGF xxx

Monday, 27 February 2017

Second love

I discovered some months ago that 17th century sexting is flipping marvellous. I think I found it so appealing because I love language. The combination of sexual  and romantic wordplay became foreplay from afar. Indeed, that was rather the point of it. We both wanted to send endorphins zipping across the miles until we could enjoy them face to face. By Goddess, enjoy ourselves we did, both off and on the page.

As a sapoisexual who is a little obsessed with romantic language, when interacting via messages that are so vast and well articulated that they present as the handwritten love letter - wooing occurs. I don't think my wordy partner wanted me to fall in love with him, in fact I'm positive that he didn't but he did want to impress.  Unfortunately, the former was the unexpected side-effect of latter. 

Essentially, I didn't want to fall but like interactions with The Borg, resistance was futile. There are those who do not accept that love is possible in so short a time. They say, you only fell in love with the idea of him and to those people, I say this: people only ever fall in love with the idea of someone. It's how they seem to us that we love. Sometimes we hold back but if the feelings come, they come regardless. Love is not time sensitive. If you're ready and right person turns up, you fall.

Furthermore this man reminded me of my first love. Something that I've only recently fully realised. The first guy I fell properly in love with, was also fond of poetic language. I recall that he used compliment me in ways I'd never stumbled across before. Comparisons to the pre raphaelites and similar platitudes often fell from his perfectly formed lips. He bombarded me with flowery language.  Most of which was probably nonsense but it was beautiful nonsense nonetheless.  And my seventeen year old self was impressed by him, thus I fell in love without barrier or hesitation. I wasn't trying to hold back. I was inexperienced and idealistic. In certain respects, I haven't changed that much. 

I've been in love numerous times since I fell for my first, yet it wasn't until Summer of last year that I experienced the love I'd long been searching for. Though my Summer romance was brief by many standards, it was a transformative relationship for me. There have been many changes and much creativity since I met that man.  Moreover, I now refer my Summer romance as second love because it's the second time that I've felt it that way.

Here's to firsts!

Here's to seconds!




Saturday, 25 February 2017



At times, in soul, we interlock
You're here in algorithm
Like that time I heard the clock
Heart's beat in synchronism

As I curve my body back
Our shapes, rhythms, magnetic
The second of the zodiac
Links the ninth in biometric


Monday, 20 February 2017


As The Stone Roses play I wanna be adored through the speakers of my phone, the three half-written poems have become one. Thus, the words are now complete.

In the end, finishing was fairly straightforward and swift. Isn't it a shame that other things cannot end so easily.


Wild notes


Twisted strings, blood red
We were opposite and one
Behind these lines, mirrored
We’re wild notes lost in song

Travel me back, in time, in place
We'll be there, star crossed still
My mind retains, cannot replace
Make what was lost eternal


Sunday, 19 February 2017


I have a million words roaming around my head. I can't articulate any one of them into words on a page. This isn't like me. Words are my thing. Perhaps the three, half-written poems sitting in drafts will be completed in time. I think perhaps these poems are a metaphor for my soul - though complete in itself, its' twin is missing thus in a sense my soul awaits full completion.


Thursday, 16 February 2017


"In the silence of the garden
Moths are rising on the wind
And the beast is pondering love love love
‘Till the rusty nails grow dim

I can’t seem to make you mine
Through the long and lonely night
And I try so hard, darling
But the crowd pulled you away
Through the ribbons and the rain
And the ivy coiled around my hands

So I lingered with the people
In the silent August glade
But the rain has brought the night
And the night has brought the rain."

The Clientele (Used in The Lake House). 

Monday, 13 February 2017

Saturday, 11 February 2017

Soul stuff

Vote Grimes

I care not that Grimes' album Art Angels divided the fans. It is the best thing since the beginning of, well, things really.

Every single track blows my mind. Sometimes she sounds like a My Little Pony on acid but this does not matter. It's strange. She's strange. And it is all absolutely perfect.

Vote Grimes!



Alongside spaffing into the abyss that is this virtual page, I have been known to put brush to canvas and other places.

My recent creative outpourings look like this........

Fabric paint, tie-dye, pastels, broken CDs.

With love,

The RGF xx

Friday, 3 February 2017


I love my family and friends with all my heart. This needs to be written. Without all the incredible people I know and those I've known, I wouldn't be me.


Wednesday, 1 February 2017

Queen of my heart

Incredible. I only wish I could go back and discover her sooner. 💃✌💖


In online dating: To ghost is to cease interactions without explanation. The ghoster simply decides to ignore the person they're interacting with. Prior to ghosting, communication may have taken place over many days or weeks.

Ghosting is, in my opinion, representative of the lack of consideration rife in modernity. Offering an explanation requires effort and who has the time to consider someone else in the hectic flow of everyday life? And does it really matter? After all, the only person that ever had any relevance in the interaction was the ghoster. Wrong. Dead wrong. Everyone matters.

Only the hardest of hearts would neglect to have an emotional response to ghosting. Very few people are completely bereft of emotions. Most of us have some degree of self-doubt and suffer moderate to more extreme self-esteem fluctuations. Therefore, with this in mind, consider others. If you've had a change of mind about someone - tell the would be ghostee. Save their feelings and say goodbye. Do it because it's the decent thing to do. 

I've been ghosted on numerous occasions. I can report that to be ghosted, is varying degrees of unpleasant. The resulting emotional response reflects the length and level of communication prior to ghostyness.

In short, do unto others, as you would have them do unto you. Also, remember that karma's a bitch. At some point the ghoster will become the ghostee and when they do, it will sting like a hyperactive wasp lost in a world of amphetamines and Gabba. 

People of the dating world, and people in general - don't be a dick. It's easier than you think.


The RGF xxx


As each day passes humanity seems to be falling into the dystopian future described by Babylon Zoo in Spaceman.

*Soulless society. Mediated existence. Fascism. Divided community. Disconnected. Dying planet. Human's as robots. Information consumed not questioned. Suffering of others observed. Hope dead. Self-absorbed. Self-interested. No awareness of the real self. Thirst for media. Ambivalence to knowledge. Apathy.*

"Beam me up 'cause I can't breathe". 

Monday, 30 January 2017

We are the goddess

There was a time when female deities were worshipped as part of a mainstream religious practices. In parallel, and in intrinsically linked to this, women themselves were valued holistically. The very concept of being physically able to birth and nurture a child, was once reverred. Feminity was not fetishised but viewed with wonder and joy. In the past, a woman's beauty was not reduced to her sexual function. Nor considered in terms of her comparibility to an idealised image in the media, which is an impossible and false aim because no one actually looks like that.

There are men who would simultaneously expect physical ‘perfection’ but would recoil at the level of intervention required to achieve this ‘perfection’. Some men, believe every woman should have flawless skin, full lips, long curly lashes, high cheek bones, able to eat half a pizza but look like they only chew on lettuce leaves. Imperfect women should not exist - think these men. Sadly some women think this too. They think this without realising that idea of flawless has been painted onto our psyches through our interaction with the social world.

Beauty is just a construct. The elements that create it change over time, vary culturally and exist in the mind of the beholder. Obviously people ought to be healthy - both physically and mentally. Healthiness is always a good thing but health should not be confused with painted beauty. Trying to align one’s sense of self with an unreachable ideal is folly. We should love, nay, we should adore ourselves exactly as we are right now.

With these facts in mind, coming up is a link to some wonderful reading. We should view ourselves as goddesses. Not as a being whose aesthetic perfection is based on current forms but as the goddess within. Women ought to be sexual beings, who are completely present during sex. Moreover, we should love our bodies and ourselves.

Enjoy: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2017/01/four-ways-to-embrace-our-sexuality-fck-like-a-goddess-adult/

Wise words indeed, so wise, they inspired this blog post.


The RGF xx

Tuesday, 24 January 2017

Endless Tuesday?

Today my blog is my diary. A virtual diary of Hazel. No lock. No key. Just a public record on a server somewhere. Essentially, it's always this but sometimes I imagine it's transactional. Sometimes I talk to the idea of a reader.


Every time someone asks me about Tuesday. As in, how's your Tuesday, I think "it's endless". Tuesday is endless.  I know exactly why I think that but I'm not going to explain it because I'm not imagining a reader.

Tuesday is not endless. It could be the worst Tuesday ever but it will end eventually because everything does. However, there is a vagueness to Tuesday, unfelt on other days. It's a sort of non day. Unless we suspend the very notion of a calendared measurement of time, then Tuesday is not Tuesday. It's just time passing.

I wish to dissociative myself from thoughts of an endless Tuesday. I'd take a wretched Wednesday or a frantic Friday. I'd even give due consideration to "just another manic Monday" but Tuesday can take its' frankly pointless perpetual motion and exit stage left.

Until further notice (to myself because this is a 'dear diary' entry), Tuesday will be known as Irrelevant Tuesday. Its' *endlessness* has ended.

Sunday, 22 January 2017


"Are you irrelevant? You're falling to pieces.

How do you become one again?

Are you an elephant? You crush me to pieces.

How do you do?"

xx Biffy Clyro xx

Tuesday, 17 January 2017

Grimes epidemic

As I listened to Grimes via the ways of the mighty earphones - it takes every ounce of willpower and social appropriateness I posses not to dance like a crazy person in public.

Damn her music is infectious. When she sings directly into me, she reaches epedemic levels. Thus, I have devised a dance which takes place hidden in the dance floor of my shoe.



Broken, not lost. One day I'll seek you in the mystery of Ludschuch. 

Wednesday, 11 January 2017


"You really took something, as I cannot make a sound."


"There's a man on the corner selling dozens of bones.

Every type of bone, except the one that I want."

Arcane Roots and Biffy Clyro


Unexpected discovery

I was rummaging around the date site one evening - which appears to imply expectation - when, in fact, there was none.  My rummage was vague - like the hapless, one-handed sift through the bargain rail in a charity shop.  There is no hope of success but you look anyway. After a time my eyes fell upon something interesting…..no, it wasn't the one, it wasn't even the one-night-only. It was an advert for bridal wear.  I'll leave that there for a moment. Do not adjust your sets. I saw an advert for bridal wear on a dating site.

Whilst I appreciate that the dating site and the prospect of marriage should, theoretically, be loosely linked - in that dates ‘might’ lead to a relationship, relationship to marriage, marriage to divorce and so on - I fail to see how this could ever be an appropriately placed advert.  If you've ever used a dating site, you'll know that Mr Right is unlikely to be lurking behind the next click. In fact, unless you happen to have a penchant for bad grammar, dick pics and all manner of casual fuck-fuckery - the dating site will disappoint.

More to the point, why the heck would brides be hanging around a dating site in the first place. Surely the search has ended. Although, given the modern obsession with open relationships, I imagine brides all over the planet peering at dating profiles, just before they take the plunge into wedded abyss.  I can barely contain my amusement, as I picture them browsing the virtual shelves in the dating aisles and simultaneously planning their outfit for walking down the aisle.

Unless.....dramatic music please..... the advert is to encourage Bridget Jones' style imaginings. Dum dum de dum. Dum dum de dum. Nope. It couldn't be that. Could it? I suppose some ladies do get carried away with romantic expectations but even the most ardent of imagination would draw the line at planning the outfit before they'd met the person. 

Crazy theories aside, it seems to me that an advert for BDSM gear or software to prevent the significant other finding online dating dalliances, would be more suited to a dating site. These are bound to gain serious click through action.

On a positive note, I'm given to understand that people still meet, fall in love and unite in coupledom. I've even had one or two pleasant experiences myself. Overall though, the online / offline dating trajectory is a little fuzzy.  More importantly, the dating site: it's not for brides. With this in mind, I think adverts for bridal wear would be better placed elsewhere, like a parallel universe or something.

The RGF xx

Tuesday, 3 January 2017

Two soups?

Blog posts are like buses, absolutely sweet fack all for ages then two come along at once....or is that men? Hmmmm. No, it's definitely blog posts. It would appear that my creative flair has returned from annual leave, fully refreshed and ready to party.  I obviously don't need a muse. Or maybe I'm my own muse. I certainly amuse myself because I laugh at my own jokes all the time. Indeed, I'm often entirely alone in the hilarity of it all.

I've discovered that if one pretends to be some kind of master chef, scraping a million carrots, at 10pm, after working all day then being a super single mum - is actually quite good fun. Obviously this is a lie. Yet the chef fantasy did serve to take the edge off the domestic task. Moreover, and I actually do say this with excitement, carrot soup via the slow cooker will be enjoyed tomorrow evening.

I have just blogged about carrot soup preparation. I don't know whether to congratulate myself or run for cover.


The Domestic Goddess ;-)


Perfect date

I was thinking about the perfect date. Prone to bouts of whimsy, as I am, a small part of me actually believes that a perfection is possible. In fact, I almost had a perfect date once but the protagonists wanted different things so this impairs perfection.

The perfect date goes something like this: two tickets purchased to watch Arcane Roots. A pre-gig curry. In many respects spices combined with oils is not the food of love but curry is my favourite thus it's a digestive risk worth taking. Plus, if you both have garlic, demonic breath isn't an issue.

The in-date conversation would be more free-flowing than skates over ice. Furthernore, the chemistry would reach dangerously high levels.  We would be switched on to the point of glowing. Waiters would have to wave and cough to gain our attention. In short, we'd be in the zone. Our zone. The perfect date zone.

There would be lashings of in-gig kissing and a plethora of furtive glances. We'd sway along on the musical vibrations. Enjoying each moment as it passed. We wouldn't want the first date to end. Arcane Roots would play their best gig ever. Even though their brilliance would be mere background to the majesty of the moment.

The gig endeth. The first date comes to a reluctant close, sometime during the following day. I'll leave the missing elements open to the imagination......


The RGF xx

Sunday, 1 January 2017

A light

I was awaiting the train, as I often do on work days. Christmas had recently happened and 2017 would soon begin. Unfortunately, this day was one of the coldest of 2016.

You know that feeling, when your feet are so cold, the upright position is a challenge. I needed socks designed for artic conditions, but was ill-equipped with some which would have struggled to snuggle hairy hobbit feet. I may as well have gone barefoot. Obviously the train was delayed. In fact, I've never known it to arrive on time, yet this was a whole new level of tardiness. Despite my icey feet and the long long wait - I smiled inwardly. Doubtless, looking like l'd been chasing the dragon. People don't usually smile at themselves without chemical assistance. Yet I was not supported by toxic love. I was just happy because of music via recently purchased headphones.

Before motherhood, I always had music. Once my journeys included a small person, this stopped. One must be aware when travelling with children. Entering a wibbly wobbly world of banging bass lines is not wise when razor sharp observation skills are required. Plus you know, parent child interactions. Of course, I've made numerous journeys without my daughter for some time, yet neglected to buy much adored headphones.

Music is like switching on a light within. I often forget this until I press play, then, as the notes wash over me, my ears begin to orgasm. Furthermore, until I reacquainted myself with headphones, the miniscule gap between the self and the music was lost to me. A speaker close to the ear is rather like the sounds are coming from you rather than to you. Yes indeed, headphones in position, Grimes singing to my ear canal, I was Drusilla in Angel, when she exclaimed “I'm ringing”. Granted she was dancing to the ringing of a mobile phone, and is a fictional, mentally unstable vampire with a bloody awful Cockney accent but otherwise the comparison is entirely sound. Essentially, my headphones allow me to disconnect from the outer world and truly connected with myself.

Incredibly, I spent £7 in Argos and it changed my life. To homage ( should be) Sir Bill Bailey, it would seem that Argos really do posses a laminated book of dreams.


The RGF xx

Highlighted post

Wild notes

~~~ Twisted strings, blood red We were opposite and one Behind these lines, mirrored We’re wild notes lost in song Travel me back...

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