Our new granddaughter, Harper




Harper  Ann  Goodswen

September the 5th, the year 2018,

A more tiring day, Katie never had seen,

Coupled with Kurt through long hours they waited,

To meet their new baby, a life they created.


At last, she arrived, with the help of a team,

Of doctors and midwives, a long endless stream.

Their small, helpless baby girl entered this world,

Leaving the snug place in which she’d been curled.


Dad had a cuddle while Katie was mended,

Relief flooding through them, the worry had ended,

A beautiful daughter for them to adore

In just this short time, they couldn’t love her more.


With her sweet button nose, and adorable pout

Hands, oh so tiny, when they start reaching out.

Feet soft, and smooth, like the rest of her skin

Face softly rounded, and cute double chin.


Contented full tummy, her eyes tightly close

When opened so lovely and then into a doze.

Dolphin-like noises emit from her lips

Feet drawn up tightly, so close to her hips.


Downy soft hair above the smallest of ears

Hearing the croons, so content with no fears.

Peaceful, serene and so drowsy and calm,

Drifts back to slumber land, clearly no qualm.


It’s hard to describe, now, the love that we feel

Seeing our granddaughter, it doesn’t seem real.

In our arms she fits perfectly, snug like a glove.

Such beauty, such wonder, so deep is our love.


by Julie Goodswen (aka Nanny, aka Glamnan)

September 2018



Filtering out unwanted friends

Isn’t it strange just how much emphasis we put on our circle of friends?


I have friends from all walks of life and, while I don’t view them under labels, the labels are so varied, it’s eyewatering.

I have long-term friends from schooldays, old friends from former workplaces, friends who I am only in contact with through social media nowadays,  blogging friends who I have only ever chatted to online,  a disabled friend (who will always be my best friend), friends from dancing, friends who run their own businesses, friends who don’t work at all, retired friends, friends much younger than me, friends much richer than me (most of them, haha).

The list could go on forever. Its difficult to continue putting effort into friendship but as long as contact remains, you will always have friends.

A friend is someone who doesn’t constantly analyse the relationship, finding fault at every obstacle which is against their own set of blinkered beliefs. A friend will focus on the good times and filter out the bad times, unless intentional harm is caused which is another story altogether.

Most of all, friends support whatever path you take, be it quietly, remotely or right up there beside you.

I am truly blessed to have some fabulous friends, some equally great acquaintances,  a great family and, most of all and definitely top of the list, a fantastic husband.

There are times when you just need to walk away from a friendship and, although it can be sad and momentarily unsettling,  it can reward you with a freedom that you hadn’t realised was missing from your world.

Sometimes you just have to break free from the restraints of a friendship which has become stale and simply not worth the effort. Don’t be governed by those who feel they know ‘how to do it the right way’. They may simply be blinded by their own naivety and lack of experience in the real world.

Move forwards,  enjoy life.


How Writers Can Relax

A Writer's Path

by S.E. White

We’re almost halfway through the year, so now is the appropriate time to hear about some of the methods authors use to unwind. A little self-care, a little stopping to smell the roses, and your writing productivity will thank you.

These are all tried and tested ways that writers relax. They’re reliable things to try if the breakneck pace of writing is wearing down your physical and mental health. They’re also science based*, so attempt them with confidence.

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This Simple Trick Will Make Reaching Your Writing Goals So Much Easier

So many true thoughts here. Thank you for posting this. We all need to relax and let life take its course just a little. x

Meg Dowell Writes

When I was younger, I used to worry about what my writing life might look like two, five, 10 years from now.

I remember spending an entire lecture during my first semester of college writing out my entire five-year plan. I “knew” exactly by what point I was going to graduate, when I was going to publish a book, when I was finally going to “be a real writer.” A “professional.”

I remember bits and pieces of that plan. And I can almost guarantee you that not a single one of the points on that plan played out the way I thought they would.

I did not graduate in three years; it took me five.

I did not publish a book at the age of 22; I still, technically, haven’t. (Unless you count self-publishing, which I did not at the time.)

I didn’t go on to get a master’s degree…

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