Friday, 9 January 2026

Launching Gracie's Way: Everything I've Needed to Create a Pet Bereavement Project

By Aimee Wilson

What we once enjoyed and deeply loved we can never lose, for all that we love deeply becomes a part of us.

— Helen Keller

Hello! I’m Aimee, fellow mental health blogger (at www.imnotdisordered.co.uk). My guest post today, however, is to mark the official launch of my huge new project, Gracie’s Way. I decided to use this guest post to write about all the things — big, small, technical, emotional, and practical; EVERYTHING! — I’ve needed in the creation journey.

Experience and Inspiration

Of course, the most obviously helpful thing to have in creating this project, was the horrible experience of losing my youngest bunny, Gracie. For around two days I had noticed wet stools (a symptom of Gut Stasis which my first rabbit died from) but because I had two rabbits (Luna being the name of the eldest) I couldn’t tell who was doing it. So, it wasn’t until October 31 that Gracie finally started showing all the other symptoms of Gut Stasis. She stopped eating, she stayed in a hunched-up position, and she wasn’t responding to her name or even to Luna licking her! So, I immediately called the Vet who gave me an appointment for the following morning.

Gracie stayed in the hutch in the same position for at least four hours before going behind the washing machine for at least five hours before I went to bed. When I woke up on November 1, I heard scuffling under my bed. I honestly imagined seeing both rabbits under there and feeling stupid for panicking. But it was Luna. So, I looked in the hutch and then behind washing machine and couldn’t find Gracie and it was only when I went to walk into the sitting room that I saw her outstretched on her side on the floor. I think I spent about five minutes staring at her side just begging for it to rise up and down but there was no movement and I touched her and she was freezing cold and stiff.

I think I cried the most I had in a long time, but I was so stunned at the same time. I mean, yes I knew she was poorly and after losing my first rabbit (Pixie) to it I’m more than aware of the dangers of Gut Stasis in rabbits (though admittedly, I didn’t know until after losing Gracie that it can be fatal within just 24 – 48 hours of the symptoms starting) but I honestly didn’t think for one minute that she was anywhere near dying during the night! Fortunately, as traumatic as it was finding her like that and as heartbreaking as it felt seeing Luna nudge Gracie’s lifeless body and my cat (Ruby) refuse to come into the sitting room until I’d covered Gracie with a blanket, I became grateful for it happening at home. I came to recognise that it meant she had been surrounded by the ones who love her most, in her own home, and not in a scary Vets with tons of drugs going through her system.

For some reason, I took a photo of her and I actually ended up glad that I did because it meant that when the Vet saw the position she’d been in, they could better guess the cause of death. They determined that Gut Stasis can cause seizures, shock, and heart attacks — all of which can cause sudden death in a rabbit. And having some sort of thought on what had caused it was actually helpful for me to accept her death as reality.

Shortly after losing Gracie, I was reminded of an invitation from Waythrough (the charity who provide my Recovery Workers) to attend an event with their Board Members at a new service in Leeds. Initially I was reluctant because I didn’t like the thought of leaving Luna and Ruby for a full day, but then I came to realise that actually, it might feel like a bit of an escape and a relief from things. Both in so far as emotionally because one very difficult thing about losing Gracie at home was that it felt like her death almost permeated everything in the house and it felt like the entire home was grieving and traumatised too. But also physically in putting some distance between me and this sad environment. I’ve worked on one month’s worth of daily content for Gracie’s Way’s Instagram (@gracieswayuk) and there’s one where it’s about what pet bereavement feels like. I’ve done a ton of analogies and one which works well here too, is that it’s “like the house is still standing but the warmth has gone.”

Anyway, I’m so glad I changed my mind because it was at this event in Leeds that the idea for Gracie’s Way was born. Waythrough used to be two organisations until October 2024 when Richmond Fellowship and Humankind (who focused on supporting those with experience of addiction) merged so that they could help people with both their mental health and addictions because they recognised the possibility for a connection or dual diagnosis in a lot of people. It meant that the Leeds service was an addictions service and so when one of the staff said that service users had asked to do some work around bereavement support, they focused on the loss of people through addiction. I mentioned considering doing similar work but around the loss of someone in relation to mental health e.g. suicide. Then, I somehow found the confidence to tell everyone that Gracie had passed two weeks earlier (the event was November 18) and that I thought it would be good to consider work around pet bereavement too. I said that in the Waythrough Life Experience Council I’m part of, we regularly talk about how helpful our pets are for our mental health — with everyone finding benefits in both different and very similar ways — and recovery journey and so I thought it would be something a lot of other service users would support and want to see happen.

Passion, Confidence, and Dedication

With the idea stemming from that Waythrough event, the original plan for Gracie’s Way was for it to be a Waythrough piece of work and so the logo originally had Waythrough’s circular logo as the tail for the rabbit! But on talking things through with the staff member who had invited me to the event and ran the entire thing, we determined that it would be a far longer process to make it happen that way than if I ran with it myself and then asked Waythrough to endorse it. As he pointed out, he was also aware that this project was going to be really influential on my own bereavement journey and he didn’t want that to be stunted or paused in any way.

In deciding to sort of “go it alone” I recognised it was going to take a lot more of a lot of different things from me than it would if I’d been working alongside Waythrough staff and other service users. Passion, confidence, and dedication were three of those things. But especially the confidence bit. Confidence in my career is something I think I’ve only really recently developed and established a decent amount of it(!) this past year or two. I mean, when I first started blogging, if anyone asked what I’m NOT Disordered was about, I would say “just my life ...” And yes, part of the reason for that was that stigma and discrimination around mental illness was — in my opinion — so much more rife back then (January 2013), but ultimately it comes down to confidence and not being confident enough to stand up for myself if I received any horrible comments or responses from stating that I blogged about mental health. That has definitely changed! My confidence in this respect has most definitely improved and my perspective or mindset now is that if I say my content is about mental health, any negative judgements or assumptions etc are a greater and more poor reflection on that person than they are on me.

But there’s another side to improvements around my confidence with my content too and that’s in terms of my skill level and abilities. I’m finally coming to believe that my content is good enough to be promoted and publicised. That it’s of some sort of quality that means it’s deserving of attention. And this confidence has mostly resulted in me feeling more capable and braver in being open and honest and telling complete strangers all about I’m NOT Disordered and the content I create. I’d actually say that I don’t think I’ve handed out more business cards in the first ten years of my blogging career than I have just these past two years!

This confidence has also helped with my recent labelling drama of being called an Influencer. When it was said, I did some research in the hope that my findings would provide me with ammunition to say that I wasn’t one. But no! I found out that some actually even split Influencers into categories depending upon the number of followers. For example, anyone with 10,000 – 100,000 followers are “micro” Influencers and those with over one million are “mega” Influencers (you can read more about it on The Viral Union). I had a chuckle to myself when I thought about how I’m NOT Disordered has over two million and wondered if that made me “double mega”!

Something else that has contributed to improving my self-confidence has been my passion for what I do — blogging, content creation, and just general communications and marketing work. It’s actually something that I’ve mostly harnessed for public speaking opportunities. I’ve found that if I focus on why I’m doing it — what my passion for this industry will gain from a successful speech or presentation e.g. more readers who my content could help, new collaboration opportunities, special experiences etc — then I have much more confidence to get up on a stage in front of hundreds. (My largest was 350 people at a joint Police and NHS event!) I turned my passion into fuel, and my dedication has had a pretty similar influence too in terms of being motivation and confidence-boosting.

Anyway, this new-found career confidence has helped massively in the decision to run with the idea for Gracie’s Way alone because it meant I felt a lot surer that I’m capable of succeeding with it than I would have thought if it had happened a few years ago. I felt certain that I knew what I was doing and that if I discovered something which I didn’t know or understand, then I felt confident I would be able to figure it out too! And that really also illustrates just how important dedication has been for this project. It may have “only” taken around six weeks to put it all together, but there’s actually been a lot of hours spent doing it through those weeks. I’d say, in all honesty, that Gracie’s Way has been more than on par with the workload I took on when I was creating all of the content (one blog post every day from December 1 – 25) for A Secret Blogmas last year.

Creativity

I’ve been a creative person since I was little and used to write short stories about horses going on adventures. (I used to go horse-riding, so I was obsessed with the animal!) I think something that powered me through writing those, was the reaction and support from my Mum and my Nana when they would read them. Apparently, my Nana always used to ask Mum when the next story was coming! Then, when I got older, I began drawing — especially fashion drawing — and actually opted to study Textiles at High School for my GCSE exams. And I think the motivation or the reason for my enjoyment with that was about having some sort of creative release for all the pent-up thoughts and feelings that came with the trauma (which happened during my GCSEs). I liked that being creative allowed me to use my imagination and put a lot of time and concentration into something different that meant I wasn’t overwhelmed by all the thoughts around the trauma as much.

In my blogging career, I feel that my creativity has really stood out these past few years as in 2017 I learnt all about Canva, a digital design tool that’s often used in the communications and marketing industry. The number of functions available on there means your creativity can really shine and flow nicely. Like, there’s very little that you can’t do on there. And so, you can really indulge, develop, and build on your ideas in a way that means you don’t ever feel as though you have to reign things in. To put this into perspective — for anyone who has never used it — even since 2017, pretty much every time I’ve used Canva I’ve discovered a different or new feature. And I think this is a very good quality to have because it means the user is almost always learning. I recognise that might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I think that most Influencers or content creators and those in the communications and marketing industry really enjoy learning new things that can improve their work in so many different ways.

With all these positive opinions of Canva, it was almost predictable that I would use it to create almost all the resources that Gracie’s Way offers and provides. (The only one not to be created on it is the Training Session because it’s on PowerPoint.) I don’t think that I could have done what I have without Canva. I can’t think of alternative websites or methods that would have helped me to produce all the work and content that I have on Canva. Also, in learning new things every time I use it, almost all of the new things I learned or discovered really helped to speed up the entire process of the content creation and allowed me to feel more organised in terms of not feeling that I was rushing to finish everything in time for the launch.

Practical Bits

1. Blogger: I used Blogger (which is owned by Google) as the hosting platform for the Gracie’s Way website because it’s what I use for I’m NOT Disordered so I feel confident that I know it well and can navigate its functions easily and quickly.

2. Canva: I used this digital design tool to create literally all of the resources available on Gracie’s Way. You can find the list of supportive materials for bereaved owners here and those for professionals here.

3. GoDaddy: This was a headache! I purchased I’m NOT Disordered’s URL via GoDaddy so obviously I turned to them again for Gracie’s Way. I originally purchased graciesway.online but it turned out that Blogger doesn’t really forward too well to URLs without www. or without the .co.uk or .com domain. I finally settled on www.graciesway.co.uk but it was a nightmare trying to set it up. I won’t lie, the chat on GoDaddy was horrific in terms of communication and customer service but on the phone? Well, big shout-out to Ethan who said to ask for him for future problems because he’s the only Ethan working for them in the UK! So, there’s a good recommendation if you need assistance with them too.

4. Chat GPT: I used AI a heck of a lot in creating the content and resources for Gracie’s Way and that was mainly because it would have been too large a workload to take on myself. But my other reason for deciding to use it was because it genuinely has some brilliant ideas and information around things I haven’t thought of or didn’t know about. And pet bereavement is obviously a bit of a new subject for me. I have written blog posts on I’m NOT Disordered after the loss of pets prior to Gracie (I’d lost three pets, plus the family cat, before Gracie died) but I had never really delved properly into the topic and researched all the bits I needed to know for the contents of the resources, particularly those I created for professionals.

5. PipDig: I’ve seen the attribution for this company at the bottom of so many blogs that I really admire and which I feel have been influential on my own blogging career, so I turned to them to purchase the design for both I’m NOT Disordered and Gracie’s Way. I chose Tundra because it had the exact layout and aesthetics that I wanted. You can preview it here. If you use WordPress, they do layouts for that too so they’re still definitely worth checking out.

6. Stationery: I’m a huge fan of stationery and have recently taken to assigning one notebook per project I’m working on. For example, I have one for my blog, one for general day-to-day tasks like food shopping and things, one for a secret project launching this April, one for Blogmas, and one for Gracie’s Way! This MILAN pen is my actual, exact pen, and this notebook is very similar to mine.

A Support System

Finally, the support I’ve received in the creation of Gracie’s Way from both loved ones and an absolute stranger has been incredibly influential and important for me. I recognised from Day One that creating a pet bereavement project would be gruelling emotionally and psychologically, as well as the more physical or practical workload. Because of this, I tried to establish a support system before I really got into the project and to a point where I felt there was literally no possibility of turning back!

So, who’s been most helpful?

Well firstly, and most obviously; my Mum! She’s always my greatest cheerleader in all that I do and take on, and Gracie’s Way has been no different. My Mum was actually the first person I called when I found Gracie. (Obviously if I’d thought that there was something I could do to save her, it’d have been a call to the Vets first!) She said it was heart-breaking to hear how devastated I was. From the moment of losing Gracie, whenever I’ve talked about my thoughts and feelings surrounding her death — even recently — she’s done nothing but show/provide me with compassion, empathy, and support. We haven’t had a single conversation about Gracie where I’ve thought, “she doesn’t get it.” And yes, some of that will be that she has gone through her own pet losses — with the greatest being the family dog when she was younger and then our family cat. But I think that her brilliant responses also stem from the unconditional love she has always shown me.

Secondly, my almost-Step Dad! Whilst there’s still probably so much he doesn’t know about because their relationship started sort of recently, he puts in so much effort to be supportive with all that he does know and all that has happened since our families united. And losing Gracie was no different because he drove my Mum straight over to my home and was genuinely emotional when we had a group hug in the corridor of my home.

Third, I’d say my three best-friends — Martin, Jack, and Spencer — have been phenomenal too! They’re each different in terms of the support I feel they offer and provide me, and I really love that they each have their own special qualities because it’s like every angle of my bereavement has support to turn to. And this is similar to a group of other people in the support system: my two Recovery Workers from Waythrough because they’re each so different in the way they work and their personalities and how we get along etc. And it means I feel comfortable saying different things to each of them. For example, one of them is really useful and supportive in talking about positive things and the other is brilliant for when I’m really struggling. So, I love the notion that no matter how I’m thinking or what I’m feeling, there’s someone there.

Finally, I want to recognise and acknowledge the incredibly valuable and respected input and support from all the people who have submitted reviews on the resources that Gracie’s Way offers. I decided to create a Testimonials page on the project’s website because through my mental health journey, I’ve learnt the power of peer guidance and support. I will readily admit that I’m so much more likely to follow the advice of another service user than I would a professional. I figured that I may not be alone in that thought process and that perhaps it runs true to bereavement and really, any other difficult experience in life — that hearing from someone else with a similar experience can be more powerful and important than having a professional speak about it or advise you on it.

It wasn’t until a few days after securing a number of reviews for the bereaved owner’s resources though, that I realised it was equally important to get reviews on the professionals’ materials so that professionals were hearing from their peers too. So, I made contact with three amazing ladies who have had a huge variety of roles in my life and each have such a different career and potential role in pet bereavement. I liked that quality because it felt like having a variety of professionals provide reviews could improve the odds of other professionals finding someone they relate to on the testimonials page.

So, a final huge thank you to everyone who contributed to the Owner Testimonials and Professional Testimonials on the website.

 

Photos by Aimee Wilson.

 

Wednesday, 7 January 2026

There's a Bagel in Your Future! Little Treats for Busy Days

TW: Mention of food and eating disorders

Life is better with cream cheese and a bagel.

— Unknown

This blog post was inspired by a video call with Fran while I was on one of my lunchtime walks. Three thousand miles and five timezones away, Fran was heading to the gym after which she had a few errands to run. She’d earlier mentioned stopping at Mister Bagel (“We Bake ’Em Best!”) on her way home so as we ended our call I jokingly reminded her, “There’s a bagel in your future!”

It struck me as a fun reminder that no matter what chores and responsibilities lie ahead there can be room for treats. I knew the treat Fran had in mind. An everything bagel with cream cheese. For those unfamiliar with this delicacy an everything bagel is baked with a mix of toppings that generally include garlic flakes, onion flakes, and poppy and sesame seeds. They’re available in the UK under the New York Bakery label. I dare say they’re nothing like the freshly baked delights at Mister Bagel but they’re pretty good.

Bagel connoisseur or not you might be wondering why I decided to write about them. This year I’ve written about chips (fries, for my American friends) and chocolates (candies). Rest assured, I’ve no plans to turn this into a food blog. There’s something that connects these pieces, however. In When the Chips Are Down I described how much I was looking forward to a tray of chips on my day out at the coast, and my disappointment when that didn’t happen. First Munchie / Last Rolo focused on the role of chocolate as a token of friendship and affection.

The content warning at the top of this post is an acknowledgement that using food as a reward can be problematic or triggering. This is particularly true for anyone with a complex or difficult relationship with food or looking to manage their weight. For more than a decade Fran and I have accompanied each other on our respective journeys towards a healthier relationship with our weight, eating, and body image. These things are not easy and we take the challenges — our own and those of others — seriously. Fran recalls how “One time I went and Mister Bagel was closed. I was devastated. It messed up my whole day!” There’s an echo there of my frustration at the coast.

It didn’t look like I was going to get any chips. It was a disappointment, for sure. More than I’d have imagined. Maybe I’d tied my hopes too tightly to the idea that at some point I’d be sitting on a bench with a tray of chips. Maybe a chip butty. With salt and vinegar and a dash of brown sauce. I could practically taste it. I took a few more photos of the bay and began walking back the way I’d come. I couldn’t think of anything else — or better — to do. What did “better” mean, anyway?

The disappointment was the more acute because these are things we reserve as an occasional treat. I’m very rarely at the coast. The image I’d entertained of sitting on a bench eating my chips recalled specific memories of doing so in the past. It was similar for Fran. “I don’t go out of my way to go for a bagel,” she told me. “I attach it to other errands like going to the bank [as a treat].” She also halves the bagels and eats them over two days, “because of my food issues.” On a lighter note, she added, “The reason I choose the everything bagel is because I’m indecisive. This way I don’t have to choose what kind to have.” This makes sense to me. The Mister Bagel website lists a bewildering array of bagel types, spreads, and toppings.

Fran isn’t alone in paying attention to the nature and frequency of her rewards. My friend Robyn agrees that treating oneself with food “is a bad habit as it can lead to bad relationships with foodstuffs. [I] can be very prone to binge eating and emotional eating so using food as a treat [...] often ends up bleeding into those things instead.” She nevertheless recognises the value of rewarding oneself in small but meaningful ways. After visiting her doctor for an annual review and bloodwork, she planned a trip to a coffee shop to sit and journal “with a couple of large hot drinks to treat self for letting vampires at her.” She added that people ask her why she doesn’t give up drinking coffee as she “is T1D and an insomniac etc.” She noted, however, that she “wouldn’t do stuffs if it wasn’t for little motivations along the way.”

Those little motivations are what this post is about. They don’t have to involve food, caffeine, or any other specific ingredient. What matters is leaving space for small delights, no matter what else we’re going through. I do like my tray of chips when I’m at the coast but I rarely use food as a reward or encouragement. My motivations include finding space and time to journal, to catch up with friends, to work on my blogging, or to watch disaster documentaries.

Whatever works for us it’s important to maintain a sense of balance. Aside from other negative effects, if we rely too much on treats they can become a habit, a distraction, and a means of escape from the reality of our lives. Overindulgence also cheapens the nature of the reward. A tray of chips is special for me precisely because it’s a rarity. It wouldn’t be the same if I sat there eating chips every week of the year. Likewise, Fran’s everything bagel is an occasional reward for navigating the ups and downs of her life. The Mister Bagel website confidently declares “We know you will be back soon.” I’m sure she will, but not too soon.

Over to You

What bagel, literal or otherwise, do you have in your future? How do you treat and reward yourself in ways that are healthy for you? Fran and I would love to hear your thoughts, either in the comments below or via our contact page.

 

Photo by Patrick Perkins at Unsplash.

 

Wednesday, 31 December 2025

2025: My Year in Photos and Blog Posts

Since 2020, I’ve marked the closing of each year by sharing one photo and one blog post for each of the preceeding twelve months.

Continuing the tradition, here’s my look back at 2025 in photos and blog posts. I hope you’ll enjoy looking through it as much as I did putting it together.


January

As regular followers will be aware I’ve kept a Traveler’s Notebook (TN) for a number of years. I often include it in the photos I share on social media. (I suspect it has more fans than I do.) It holds two inserts and several hand-made folders and pockets. I use it as a memory journal when I’m on holiday and to record other special occasions. Stickers, tickets, photographs, and assorted ephemera cause the inserts to become much thicker than when they were new. The TN as a whole gets impressively “chunky” as a result. This photo was taken just before I archived the older insert and replaced it with a new one. I always feel sad when I do this because it means I’m no longer carrying around the memories the older insert contained. But it’s necessary if I’m to record new memories. It serves as a reminder not to hold too tightly to the past. If you’re interested in the Traveler’s Notebook system check out my list of the various sizes, colours, inserts, and other items.

Continuing the journaling theme, January marked five decades of my keeping a daily diary. In One Day at a Time: Celebrating 50 Years of Diary Writing I explore how that began, the types of diaries and notebooks I’ve used, what I write about, how much and when I write, and why I continue to sit down each day to record the details of my life.


February

I’ve chosen this photo of my local Nandos restaurant because it’s become a regular part of my life over the past year. It’s a ten minute walk from home, it’s light and airy, I love the decor, the staff are welcoming and attentive, and the food is great. What more could anyone ask? Larger coffee servings, perhaps, but I’m partial to a pint of Sagres (“Portugal’s favourite lager”) with my meal so that’s not an issue.

The blog post I’ve selected for February is How to Be There for a Friend: Seven Suggestions for Time to Talk Day. The idea of Time to Talk Day is to foster supportive spaces where people feel safe talking about mental health. In my post I offered seven tips based on my friendships with Fran and others. I shared the post at work and received a really lovely reply. “Thank you for adding this link, that is really useful to me, your suggestions are amazing and so supportive of your friend.” Moments like this remind me that being open about mental health really can make a difference.


March

I took this photo at Longbenton Metro station while waiting for my train after a day in the office. I thought I might use it to illustrate a blog post about self-care. That hasn’t happened but it caught my attention again when I was selecting photos for this end of year post. There’s something about the neon effect text and the model’s looks and pose that don’t quite work for me as an invitation to self-care. But that’s why I like it. There is no one “look” that’s universally appropriate. Self-care is for everyone regardless of how we present and no matter our interests, age, health and ability, gender, sexuality, financial situation, nationality, or ethnic status. The tagline — “The first stop on your self-care journey” — is a neat pun given the poster was displayed on our local rail network. It reminds me that respecting our needs is a process not a destination.

Inner and outer journeys feature in the blog post I’ve chosen to highlight. Inspired by a photograph by Norwegian photographer Vidar Nordli-Mathisen Looking Out is written as an open letter to my best friend Fran. I explore her sometimes complex relationship with travel, contrasting her wanderlust with my nature as a “stay-at-home, rocking chair loving, ‘comfort creature traveling vicariously.’” Viewed from that perspective, “I’m watching from inside the house [in the photograph], experiencing the world through your eyes and your words.” That’s not the only way to interpret the image, however.

Another shift in perspective. The woman standing by the lake is still, contemplative. Perhaps she’s not setting out on new adventures but returning home from meeting friends or from the store, her backpack filled not with travel supplies but with wholesome ingredients for the meals she’ll prepare in her cosy home. She ponders her life, everything she’s seen and achieved, and questions whether one more adventure would add anything to her appreciation of life or her sense of self-worth. Perhaps, she thinks, it’s enough to stand in awe and take it all in. With a final glance at the mountains, she walks the narrow winding path to her little house. Opening the door, she calls out to say she’s home. I’ve already got the kettle on.

It’s my personal favourite of the pieces I’ve written this year. I know it means as much to Fran as it does to me.


April

As the blog post I wrote afterwards records, “Thursday April 17, 2025 was a big day for me. I took myself on an adventure. It wasn’t a big adventure. Just a day out at the coast. But it was the first time I’d taken myself out for the day in almost a year.” Of the many photographs I took that day the bleakness of this litho-filtered selfie best captures my mood. I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing, why I’d gone out, or how I was feeling.

I guess the question I’m posing by doing something different is “what difference does it make?” Why did I come here instead of spending another morning writing at Costa? Is this better? The same? Or is the question itself meaningless? There’s no scale against which to measure any of it. Do this. Do that. The universe doesn’t care — or even notice — what I choose to do or how I choose to spend my time.

The one thing I did want to do was buy chips and sit eating them by the sea. I failed utterly in my mission. A friend loved my reference to “potato-related disappointments” but I wasn’t laughing at the time. There were lighter moments but the title of my blog post — When the Chips Are Down: A Tale of Frustration, Sailboats, and Sharing — captures my mood perfectly.


May

You might wonder how I choose the photos for my end of year blog post. There are no specific criteria. Sometimes I pick an image because it relates to the blog post I want to highlight for that month. The shadow selfie (April) and joint selfie in the Wateredge Inn (July) are examples of that. Sometimes, the photo is a jumping off point that affords me the opportunity to talk about something else. That’s the case with my Traveler’s Notebook photo (January) and the self-care poster (March). Sometimes, I just really like the photo for its own sake, as with the interior shot of Nandos restaurant (February) or the view north from Durano Lounge (October). And sometimes I choose a photo because it brings back fond memories. The photo of St. Thomas’ church taken from Caffè Nero in Newcastle (August) is a good example of that, as is this one of two horses in their field.

It’s not a great photograph. The horses merge into the background. One has its head down. The focus is soft and there are artefacts from the digital zoom. The moment itself — 12:12 pm, May 6, 2025 — carries no specific significance. And yet I selected it out of all the photos I took that month. It evokes for me the lunchtime walks I’ve taken through the year when I’ve been working from home. Weather permitting (and often in the rain) I’ve taken myself out to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. I cover much the same route each day. It’s one I finessed during the long months of lockdown in 2020 and 2021. The “horsie field” marks the furthest extent of my walk. I don’t go that far every day but it’s nice to visit them now and again, especially if I’m on a video call with Fran. We’ll each call out to them and give them a wave. I doubt the horses realise they’re known and greeted from three thousand miles away in Maine. Isn’t that the way of things, though? We don’t always know who sees us, thinks kindly of us, and wishes us well. A little lesson there, I think.

The blog post I’ve selected for May is The Man the Myth the Legend: A Few Thoughts On Turning Sixty-Four. Inspired by an office conversation about birthdays I looked at my health and statistical life expectancy, inevitable if not imminent retirement, and generational stereotypes. More generally, it afforded me the opportunity to think about what it means to be the age I am and how old age is perceived.

It’s nice that people can’t believe I’m as old as I say, but I actually am sixty-four. What does that mean? What does it feel like to be me at this particular point in my life? What’s it like to live in this sixty-four year old body? In — or with — this sixty-four year old mind? The first thing to say is that I don’t feel old. But that only dodges the question. What does old mean, anyway? What does it mean to be old? How old is old?

I’m reminded of a t-shirt I saw recently with the slogan “IT’S WEIRD BEING THE SAME AGE AS OLD PEOPLE.” The guy wearing it looked younger than me. Make of that what you will.


June

This photo was taken on a return visit to the coast, following the potato-related disappointment of my April excursion. This time I was there at the invitation of three friends. Before meeting up with Aimee, Spencer, and Jack for what turned out to be a lovely afternoon I had time to fulfil my earlier mission. This chip buttie from Bill’s Fish Bar in Cullercoats really hit the mark! Keen followers might recall that chips also featured in my roundup of 2024. What can I say? I like my chips!

The blog post I’ve chosen was inspired by one of my many lunchtime walks. As I describe in Do You Ever Just Do Nothing? I was on a video call with Fran. Looking ahead to the weekend I mentioned how unusual it was that I didn’t have a blog topic ready to work on. Fran thought for a moment, then asked “Do you ever just do nothing?” My search for a blog topic was over. It’s very rare that I take time to “do nothing.” It was an interesting piece to write and I included the thoughts of friends who shared what “doing nothing” means to them.


July

Meeting John at the bar of the Wateredge Inn was one of the highlights of my year. (I don’t get out much!) Our ten minute conversation inspired three blog posts. In One Must Imagine Marty and John Happy: Two Strangers Discuss the Absurd in an Ambleside Pub I described our meeting that rainy morning in July. My Welsh Nightmare fulfils John suggestion that I share some “miserable places” to counterpoint my 2022 post describing Four of My Happy Places. Finally, An Instrument for Living: How Am I Using My Words? is my response to another of John’s suggestions, Colin Wilson’s book The Outsider.


August

I rarely go into Newcastle city centre these days. One of the highlights of 2024 was visiting the Laing Art Gallery to see an exhibition by the English artist J. M. W. Turner. This August’s trip was rather more mundane. The four hours spent at the bank sorting out a new account were less than noteworthy but I enjoyed the opportunity to revisit my favourite city coffee shop, Caffè Nero at St. Mary’s Place. I took this photo of St. Thomas’ church on a whim but it came out nicely and remains one of my favourite images of 2025. It reminds me of the many happy hours I’ve spent in that coffee shop over the years. St. Thomas’ was the starting point for the Jingle Bell Walk which a friend and I completed for charity in 2018 and 2019. Good memories.

Not all memories are easy, however, and not all friendships endure. I explored aspects of this in You Feel like Someone I Knew a Long Time Ago — Why Are Friendship Breakups So Hard? It’s not the most cohesive piece I’ve ever written but it stands as an honest attempt to address some of my hangups and failings as a friend. It closes with an insight that’s helped me more than once and is relevant to the Caffè Nero photo. “I didn’t lock the door. I just stopped watching at the window for your return.”


September

In December 2023 I reviewed some of the time management strategies I’ve employed over the years. These include the diaries I’ve kept since I was fourteen, clock and calendar apps, to do lists, social media posts, chat histories, and my blog posts. I also described my on-off relationship with Filofax organisers. This September I purchased a second-hand A5 Lyndhurst organiser (pictured) from a seller on Vinted. Surprisingly, I’m still using it almost every day. I’ve since acquired a Personal size Filofax Clipbook (thank you Aimee) and organiser (thank you Robyn) and a second-hand Naya Paperie organiser.

An office conversation inspired me to explore the role chocolate has played in my friendships over the years. In First Munchie / Last Rolo: Little (Chocolate) Things Mean a Lot I indulged fond sweet-related memories, from old TV adverts for Rolo and Milk Tray to gifts of Jelly Tots, Dairy Milk, and Freddos. The post closes with one of my newest friends offering me her last Rolo. (Thanks, Sophie!)


October

It was difficult selecting just one photo for October. I had two weeks off work and enjoyed day trips in the north-east of England and the Lake District. In the end I chose the view looking north along the coast from Durano Lounge on Tynemouth’s Grand Parade. Styled as a cafĂ© bar Durano Lounge is housed in the former toy museum. The atmosphere is warm and inviting, the staff are great, and the food is second to none with a good selection of vegetarian and vegan dishes. As you can see from the photo the location isn’t bad either.

I wasn’t the only person on vacation during October. Fran spent two weeks on the Greek island of Poros. She was visiting a dear friend of ours who is a captain and instructor on a women’s sailing programme. It was a successful trip but as I recounted in Seven Hours on Sun-beds (I’m Not a Beach Person) being in a beautiful location doesn’t mean it’s easy to set one’s problems and concerns aside. “Sometimes,” I wrote, “being a supportive friend means sitting with them through their darkest moments. And sometimes, it means sitting with them on a beach helping them relax.”

That might sound odd. What’s difficult about relaxing on a beach in the Mediterranean? Weren’t there any more serious issues or problems to blog about? What about the preparation for the trip? The journey itself? There were challenges of that kind and I’ve written about those aspects of traveling before. But relaxation isn’t a given when you live with chronic mental and physical illness.

That day at the beach was the first time Fran felt able to relax into her trip. As I messaged her before she headed back to Laurel’s apartment, “You’ve made this day your own, Fran. I’m proud of you.”


November

This photo of Stacey and Jamie McNeill of Fox Under the Moon was taken at this year’s Christmas Market at Spanish City in Whitley Bay. Meeting them was the highlight of a splendid day out at the coast.

November was a prolific writing month for me. My keynote post was inspired by Colin Wilson’s book The Outsider. In An Instrument for Living: How Am I Using My Words? I examined what lies beneath and behind my witing, concluding that “it’s how I record, reflect, and connect with myself and the world around me.” I wrote two posts for International Men’s Day this year. From Joe 90 to Marty: Celebrating the Boy I Was and the Man I Would Become explored aspects of my childhood and teens. I wrote a follow-up post at Aimee’s invitation. You’ll Never Walk Alone (Walking Alone) was published on International Men’s Day at I’m NOT Disordered and later here at Gum on My Shoe.


December

This photo was taken early in December on one of my lunchtime walks. The splendour of autumn had passed but even in the rain the fallen leaves glowed a rich copper-gold. I like the framing. My umbrella invites the viewer more deeply into the picture than if I’d simply showed the wet ground and the bare trees. Just out of sight at the end of the path is the postbox that inspired my tribute to the perilous act of posting a letter.

Many of this year’s blog posts were inspired by conversations with friends and colleagues. I’ve mentioned a few of these already. Others owed their inspiration to encounters with people I’d not met before. (I’m with William Butler Yeats on this one. “There are no strangers here; only friends you haven’t met yet.”) Bearing that in mind, I smiled at a social media post I saw recently.

writing at coffee shops is great bc every time i need to add in a minor side character i just steal the name and essence of whoever is picking up their order from the barista in that moment. enjoy your cappuccino isaac you are about to die to advance the plot

A few of my short stories were inspired by comments overheard in cafĂ©s or coffee shops. “Playing at Darkness” and “Gamma in the Wrong Place” spring to mind, the latter written in the downstairs cafĂ© at Elula in Newcastle. These days the quotation is more relevant to my blogging. I reposted it with the comment “Blogging in coffee shops is great because the briefest of conversations can inspire a new blog post!” Two such exchanges inspired “Can I Ask What You Do?” Two Coffee Shop Conversations That Reminded Me What Life’s All About.

So if you see me in a coffee shop or cafĂ© don’t be shy. Wave a hand in front of my face or stand quietly at my side until I notice you’re there. A word of warning, however. There’s every chance you’ll end up in a future blog post!

I look forward to many such encounters in the year ahead.


Photo and Blog Post of the Year

It’s always fun selecting my photo of the year. For 2020 I chose one of a gaily painted garden fence. The following year it was a selfie wearing my BOYS GET SAD TOO hoodie. For 2022 I selected a photo of the Traveler’s Notebook I use as a memory journal. A year later it was another selfie, this time wearing my LIFE IS SHORT BLOG MORE t-shirt. I have a few writing-related shirts these days. As I sit in my favourite coffee shop today I’m wearing one that declares THIS IS MY WRITING SHIRT. They reflect my increasingly confident self-identity as a writer and blogger. I concluded my 2024 retrospective with a photograph taken on the final evening of my summer vacation in the Lake District.

This year’s photo of the year is another selfie. It was taken in the office one Wednesday in September. I’m wearing my Live2Live t-shirt with its YOU ARE ENOUGH slogan. As I wrote in a post for World Suicide Prevention Day “wearing t-shirts is not enough its own. It nevertheless demonstrates to those around you that you’re a safe person to approach or talk to about subjects which so often are considered taboo.” I wear it proudly, for others and as a reminder to myself. It was my social media profile photo for a while and one of three photographs I chose to illustrate my “From Joe 90 to Marty” piece for International Men’s Day. The shirt’s message is important to me. As I’ve commented elsewhere, “recognising we’re enough just as we are, with all our insecurities, hang-ups, and problems, is the most valuable of self-realisations.”

It’s something I’ve worked on a lot this year. In addition to asserting my identity as a writer and blogger — I’m not ready to accept the label of “influencer” despite it having been suggested several times — I’ve laid claim to the badge of Outsider. This was most explicit in my November post An Instrument for Living in which I declared “it’s a relief to have a badge to wear, even if few regard it.” That statement unwittingly echoes a line uttered by Susanna Aurifaber in the medieval murder mystery drama Cadfael (“The Sanctuary Sparrow”): “I have my pride ... even if no other regards it.” There may be more to it than relief or pride. Fran pointed me to a quote by author Arthur Brooks. In Find More Ways to Be an Outsider Brooks asserts “A mountain of evidence shows that in the long run, being an outsider predicts well-being and emotional strength; it may even protect against depression.”

Another label I’ve claimed publicly this year is that of atheist, most clearly in my June article How Sad the Song: An Atheist Ponders His Mortality. This is something I’ve wanted to explore for a long time and it’s my selection for blog post of the year. One paragraph will suffice to summarise a position I’ve held staunchly throughout my adult life.

My stance is far less scholarly and well-reasoned than those of Richard Dawkins or Christopher Hitchens, but I agree with them on this. I find no personal, philosophical, or scientific need for there to be a god or gods, and am unconvinced by arguments to the contrary. I’m as certain there’s no god as I’m certain there’s no continuity of the self beyond death. Which is to say, utterly and completely certain.

To some that outlook might seem sad, bleak, or frankly terrifying. I find it none of those things. As I wrote, “there will be a day that dawns without me in it” but that’s the way of things. No hand-wringing or wishful thinking on my part will change that reality. I’ve asserted elsewhere that there is peace in closed chapters. I was writing of friendships long set aside but the idea deserves exploring in a broader context. That’s for another occasion. In the meantime, as the chapter of 2025 closes, may there be peace for us all.

Here’s to 2026, whatever it may bring.

 

All photos by Martin Baker.

 

Wednesday, 24 December 2025

When Pemberton Met Bubbs: A Tale of Two Bears

“Please look after this bear. Thank you.”

— Michael Bond, A Bear Called Paddington.

Once upon a few days after Thanksgiving Fran and I were on one of our daily video calls. She mentioned the 2014 movie Paddington she was watching. She’d spent Thanksgiving on her own but had taken steps to make it special for herself, with movies and good food. I don’t think I’ve seen the film but I’ve always had a fondness for the bear from Darkest Peru. I told Fran about my earliest recollections of Paddington on the BBC children’s TV show Blue Peter. The stories’ author Michael Bond was a cameraman for the show. He wrote several Paddington Bear stories for the Blue Peter annuals which I remember receiving at Christmas throughout my childhood. Bond’s inspiration for the books was finding a small lonely-looking teddy bear on a shelf in the toy department of Selfridges store in London on Christmas Eve 1956. He brought the bear home as a gift for his wife. They named him Paddington after the train station closest to their home. The first Paddington book was published two years later.

The fact that Paddington was named for somewhere significant to his owners reminded me of Pemberton Bear. Fran knew who I meant but couldn’t remember how he came into my life. I fetched Pemberton from his place beside my bed and held him close through the rest of our video call. Pemberton is a grizzly bear stuffed toy I sewed when I lived in London in the eighties. The pattern and fur fabric were a gift from a colleague. (Thank you, Marjorie.) I presented Pemberton to a dear friend for Christmas 1984. He was much loved and often cuddled, moving from place to place with my friend over the next twenty years. He returned to me after her death in 2005.

Diary sketch of my friend’s room at 24 Pemberton Drive with Pemberton Bear on the bed. December 1984.

He’s named for 24 Pemberton Drive in Bradford, West Yorkshire. The house was the centre of my social and emotional world for several years. Many of my closest friends lived there at one point or another. I was a frequent visitor during my final years at university and occupied one of the attic rooms for a few months after graduating in 1983.

Clay model of 24 Pemberton Drive, Bradford.

Fran asked me to wait a moment. She returned with her bear. “This is Bubbs,” she told me, holding him up to the camera so that he and Pemberton could meet properly for the first time. I invited her to write a little about him for this blog post.

Ever since I can remember, I wanted a teddy bear. I never wanted a Barbie doll. I was more interested in G.I. Joes and race cars and their tracks. Santa never came until my late twenties when my ex-husband gifted me a GUND teddy bear. I named him Bubbs. I don’t know why but it suited him. Later my ex gifted me a golden retriever. I named him Bo. Bo became my soul mate. Both Bubbs and Bo had that dark rich golden fur. Bo is gone now but resides in an oak box. Our ashes will be scattered together in the ocean when my time comes. Bubbs sits in his own chair next to my bed. He is so good looking with his green bow and fits nicely cradled in my arms. His eyes are clear. His nose is worn, but I pencil it in with a sharpie. On Thanksgiving weekend I watched all three Paddington movies cuddled on the couch with Bubbs. Marty and I introduced Bubbs and Pemberton on Saturday night and the four of us had a grand time.

It’s noteworthy that neither Bubbs nor Pemberton was a childhood bear. Bubbs came to Fran when she was in her late twenties. My friend was twenty-two when Pemberton entered her life. I still have my childhood teddy but whether they’ve been a lifelong companion or joined you midway through your journey bears aren’t only for children. Danny Jackson H. makes this clear in Why I Sleep with a Stuffed Animal Even Though I’m a Fully Grown Adult.

[...] when a teen or adult sleeps with a toy, we tend to assume that person is developmentally stunted. Or that they have a weird obsession with children’s items. Whatever the case may be, people generally don’t think it’s acceptable. Those people are just plain wrong.

The article cites a 2017 survey by Build-A-Bear Workshop that claims “four in ten adult Americans still sleep with a teddy bear at night. And many of those bears are the same bears kept from childhood.” It’s not only Americans. Fran reminded me of a scene from the British sitcom Mr Bean featuring Rowan Atkinson in the title role. I’m not a huge fan of Mr Bean but the scene Fran mentioned, in which he reads his teddy bear a bedtime story, is engaging. As she told me, “I love his teddy story!”

Reading to others — be they teddy bears or people — is for everyone. Fran and I have a history of reading to each other as I described several years ago in It’s Not Just for Kids: Reading Together for Fun and Friendship. One book we’ve read together is Winnie-the-Pooh by A. A. Milne, which Fran gifted me for my birthday last year. The stories are delightful in themselves but there’s also a mental health connection. According to a slightly tongue-in-cheek article on The Disorders of Characters in Winnie the Pooh by The Canadian Medical Association at Winniepedia (“the Wikia wiki for everything about that cubby, tubby, silly old bear Winnie the Pooh and his friends in the Hundred Acre Wood”) Winnie has an eating disorder, Piglet has anxiety disorder, Tigger has ADHD, Kanga has social anxiety, Rabbit has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Christopher Robin has schizophrenia, and Eeyore “suffers from depression and is always sad.” For all that, there’s no hint of stigma or discrimination in the stories. There are confusions, frustrations, and grumbles but the inhabitants of the Hundred Acre Wood are always there for one another. This is expressed beautifully in a quotation by mental health advocate, writer, and speaker AnneMoss Rogers.

The awesome thing about Eeyore is that even though he is clinically depressed, he still gets invited to participate in adventures and shenanigans with all of his friends. And they never expect him to pretend to feel happy, they just love him anyway and never ask him to change.

Rogers is no stranger to mental illness. Her youngest son took his life in 2015 at the age of twenty. A guest post at her Emotionally Naked blog describing child sexual abuse opens with a reference to a beloved childhood toy (“I wrapped my skinny arm around Pooh’s neck. I couldn’t go anywhere without him.”) and includes a quotation in which Pooh Bear seeks to reassure Christopher Robin. “Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” That line exemplifies the gentle wisdom to be found in Milne’s writing regarding friendship, courage, and living the simple life. Benjamin Hoff drew extensively from Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner for his 1982 book The Tao of Pooh in which he introduces the Eastern belief system of Taoism to a Western audience. Other examples of Pooh’s wisdom are not hard to find.

“A day spent with you is my favorite day. So today is my new favorite day.”

“You can’t stay in your corner of the forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.”

“A friend is someone who helps you up when you’re down, and if they can’t, they lay down beside you and listen.”

The last of those echoes something Fran’s said about our friendship when she’s not doing so well. The following is excerpted from the Epilogue to our book High Tide, Low Tide.

It’s true when I say I would be dead if Marty hadn’t come along. So much hurt, so much pain, so much rejection, it made no sense to stay. Not only did he lend me his ear, he lent me his brain and lent me his heart. Mine were broken. He did not reach down a hand to pull me up from my dark hole. He came down and sat with me while I began rethreading, bit by bit, what could be mended. He let me baby step on his feet until I could dance on my own. To him it wasn’t about getting me to climb out. It was about being with me in all of it.

Pemberton wasn’t the only cuddly toy I made when I lived in London all those years ago. Others included two or three small teddy bears, budgerigars, an Old English Sheepdog, and several white rats. A few were made to order for colleagues, others were gifted to friends. I don’t know if they’re still cherished but I can hope they continue to bring a smile to their respective owners. Pemberton Bear’s fur isn’t as soft as it used to be. It’s matted in places. As Fran noted, Bubb’s nose requires occasional retouching. But matted fur and a worn nose aren’t defects or blemishes. They’re the result of and the reward for years of being loved. I remember my friend telling me that Pemberton lived on her sofa and was often cuddled. I think of that a lot. Margery Williams knew a thing or two about being loved. Her 1921 children’s book The Velveteen Rabbit is a recommended read for anyone in need of reminding what it means to be real.

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

Pemberton and Bubbs are part of our respective lives. They are loved deeply and return comfort when comfort is needed. As Michael Bond put it in A Bear Called Paddington, “It’s nice having a bear about the house.”

Over to You (and Your Bear)

In this blog post Fran and I have shared a little about our beloved bears, Bubbs and Pemberton. Do you have a bear? Has he or she been with you since childhood or did you meet along the way? Perhaps it’s not a bear but another cuddly that means the world to you. We’d love to hear your story, either in the comments or via our contact page.

 

Photos by Martin Baker.

 

Wednesday, 17 December 2025

When You Say Meds You Mean Vitamins, Right?

Talk was like the vitamins of our friendship: Large daily doses kept it healthy.

— E. L. Konigsburg

This post was inspired by a recent video call with Fran. As we were talking I noticed the vitamin tablets I’d set out on my desk earlier in the day. I decided to take them there and then rather than wait until later and very likely forget.

“I’m just taking my meds,” I said, swilling them down with mouthfuls of room temperature coffee.

Fran waited until I’d finished then asked, “When you say meds you mean vitamins, right?”

I figured she just wanted to check I hadn’t contracted some prescribable health condition without telling her. “Yes,” I confirmed with a smile. Her reply caught me off guard.

“You call them meds because you want to be part of the club.”

I stopped myself laughing just in time. It was neither a joke nor a question. There was no need for Fran to elaborate which club she meant. Our book High Tide, Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder is dedicated to “the ill ones and the well ones.”

Well or ill, we are all people. Nevertheless, it is naive, disrespectful, and dangerous to downplay the impact illness has on those affected by it. Those who are ill are often treated differently — and poorly — compared to those that society considers able-bodied and (especially) able-minded. In consequence, they have particular life experiences, perceptions, expectations, and needs. To use Fran’s terminology, she is the ill one in our relationship; I am the well one. Nothing more or less is implied by our use of these terms.

My well one label is still valid. Earlier this year in A Few Thoughts On Turning Sixty-Four I summarised my health status. “I’ve never been what anyone would call fit,” I wrote, “and I carry more weight these days than I’m happy with, but I have no specific health issues and I’m not on any medication.” Since writing that I’ve shed thirty pounds in weight, so if anything I’m doing better than I was.

All that being true, why would I want to label myself an ill one? On a conscious level I don’t, but there’s an element of truth in Fran’s assertion that I harbour a desire to be “part of the club.” Most of my friends and family are card-carrying members. I don’t want to be ill but there are times when I feel very much on the outside looking in, unable to share or understand what life is like for some of the most important people in my life. This isn’t a new thing. The following excerpt from my 2021 article Belonging (Longing to Be) describes my sense of exclusion from spaces quite rightly reserved for others.

Around this time [2017] I began volunteering with Time to Change and other mental health groups and organisations, including Newcastle’s Recovery College (ReCoCo). I’ve written elsewhere how excited I was to join the ReCoCo family, and how that fell apart when I realised I never should have been there. Once again, I was on the outside looking in, this time from the other side of a line separating those with lived experience of mental ill health and those without. It hurt deeply, although I understood. Services need to be developed and delivered with, and where possible by, people with appropriate lived experience.

The past year has brought insight and a sense of acceptance. The following passage is taken from An Instrument for Living: How Am I Using My Words?, written in response to The Outsider by Colin Wilson.

I now view my lack of belonging as less a personal fault or failing and more a simple statement of fact. There are circles, collections, groupings of people — and there is me, out on the periphery, looking in from the outside. [These deliberations have] also helped me to recognise that the role of the Outsider is well-established, if not always envied or lauded.

There’s an irony at work here. The Outsiders Club boasts a singularly paradoxical membership, comprised as it is of those who don’t belong anywhere. I’m reminded of Russell’s paradox, named for British philosopher and logician Bertrand Russell. His proposition of “the set of all sets which do not contain themselves” broke set theory and with it German philosopher and logician Gottlob Frege’s quest for a comprehensive logical basis for mathematics. For more on Russell’s paradox check out this video by Australian physicist Jade Tan-Holmes or this one by philosophy professor Jeffrey Kaplan. Less erudite is Groucho Marx’s famous letter of resignation from the Friars’ Club in which he’s supposed to have confessed, “I don’t want to belong to any club that would accept me as one of its members.”

Twenty-five years ago I was a valid if temporary member of the ill ones club. I was hospitalised for ten days with severe abdominal pain and bleeding after which I was on anti-inflammatory medication for two years. The suggested diagnosis of Crohn’s disease was never confirmed. It’s interesting that for those two years I took my medication as and when prescribed, two tablets three times a day. I’m much less consistent with my vitamins. For the record, the tablets I took on my call with Fran were Multivitamins and Iron, High Strength Vitamin B, and High Strength Vitamin D. I occasionally take effervescent Vitamin C and even more occasionally a vegan omega-3 supplement. I take them supplement my vegetarian diet.

I’m grateful to Fran for picking me up on my funny-not-funny appropriation of the meds label. She reminded me that it’s inappropriate to claim membership of any club or group without the relevant credentials. Things change, especially as we age. There may come a day when I’m legitimately reaching for my meds but as Aragorn might have declaimed before the Black Gate, “It is not this day. This day we take our vitamins!”

 

Photo by Martin Baker.

 

Wednesday, 10 December 2025

"Can I Ask What You Do?" Two Coffee Shop Conversations That Reminded Me What Life's All About

Find something you’re passionate about and keep tremendously interested in it.

— Julia Child

This post was inspired by two recent conversations in coffee shops. The first took place one Monday morning in Starbucks at Newcastle Airport. I was enjoying a little me time after returning the car I’d rented the previous week. My blogging EDC (everyday carry) kit was set out in front of me on the little table. My Moleskine diary and the Traveler’s Notebook that serves as a memory journal. My new Filofax Clipbook planner, a gift from a friend. My Lihit Lab pen case, my phone on its folding stand, and the larger of my two Bluetooth keyboards. I was working on my end of year blog post, drafting entries for January and February. I’m pretty much in a world of my own when I’m writing but at a certain point I became aware of someone standing just to my right. I looked up to find a young man waiting patiently for me to notice him. We shook hands and introduced ourselves. Moses was fascinated by my setup and asked how it all worked. I was more than happy to talk about it, remembering my excitement the first time I saw someone using such a combination. We talked for a few minutes about the technology and what I was writing. I invited him to sit with me but he had to meet a family member from their flight.

The encounter left me feeling invigorated but I didn’t think to blog about it until another coffee shop conversation a couple of weeks later. As I waited at the counter in my local Costa one of the baristas ventured to ask what I do for a living. She’d seen me writing there many times and thought I was perhaps a university professor. I told her I work in I. T. and that when she saw me writing I was working on my latest blog post. I mentioned my fourteen year transatlantic friendship with Fran and that we wrote a book together about how to support someone living with mental illness. I went on to describe the piece I was working on (To Tink or to Frog? How to Make Mistakes and Live Creatively) and how it relates to many of the mistakes we make in life including those that inevitably occur between friends. Before I took my drink over to my table I thanked Jade for asking and gave her a contact card with our blog and book details. (Note to self: make sure you can put your hand on a card at a moment’s notice, you never know when you might need to!)

I’m grateful to Moses and Jade for giving me the opportunity to talk about my writing — something I’m interested in and passionate about. I’m reminded me of a scene from the TV series After Life written by and starring English actor and comedian Ricky Gervais. I’m not keen on him personally but this scene resonates. His character Tony is sitting on a park bench talking with Anne, played by Penelope Wilton. I don’t know their back story but Tony shares that he’s come to the uncomfortable realisation that life isn’t all about him. “You can’t not care about the things you actually care about,” he says. Anne agrees and replies. “Happiness is amazing. It’s so amazing it doesn’t matter if it’s yours or not.” As the video description says, “That’s one of those lines that stays with you long after the episode ends. [...] Tony’s conversation with Anne on the bench is quiet but powerful — it reminds us that happiness doesn’t need to be permanent, perfect, or even ours. It’s enough to recognise it in others, to notice it when it appears. Simple. Profound. Utterly human.”

I love when people share their zest for life with me. As I’ve described previously in Second-hand Experience I live much of my life vicariously through the activities and experiences of my friends. I’d like to give a shoutout to three people I know through coffee shop conversations. Their interests and expertise are very different but all are passionate about what they do.

Founder of Soul Ceramiks, Chelsea is a ceramic artist based in the John Marley Centre here in Newcastle. I love the enthusiasm she has for her work and the inventivness of her designs. I haven’t attended her pottery workshops but I have friends who loved the experience. For details check out Soul Ceramiks on their website, Facebook, Instagram, and Etsy.

I’ve had some brilliant conversations over the years with Beth. Her new venture is La Toon Fruiterie which sells a wide range of candied fruits for collection or local delivery in and around Newcastle. For details including videos showing how the candied fruits are created check out La Toon Fruiterie on Facebook and Instagram. Tell her Marty sent you!

Given that Jade mistook me for a university professor my third shout out is to a fellow regular at Costa. Nagham El Alani isn’t a professor but she is an architect, design consultant, and lecturer in Interior and Architecture. She’s passionate about her work and has a blog where she shares her interest in embodied learning and innovative learning environments.

I hope my enthusiasm and passion come across as clearly and cleanly as Chelsea’s, Beth’s, and Nagham’s. It means a lot to me when someone is interested or intrigued enough to ask what I do or what I’m working on. Close friends and family know all about my blogging but it’s refreshing to share with someone who doesn’t know why I sit at the same table at Costa every Saturday typing away at my keyboard with my phone and tablet on their little stands. If you see me in a coffee shop or cafĂ© don’t be shy. Wave a hand in front of my face or stand quietly at my side until I notice you’re there. A word of warning, however. There’s every chance you’ll end up in a future blog post!

Over to You

What are you passionate about? What inspires you and makes you happy? Do you welcome people asking you about it or do you prefer to be left alone to your own devices (pun intended)? I’d love to hear from you so feel free to share your thoughts and ideas in the comments below or via our contact page.

 

Photo by Kevin Grieve at Unsplash.