leila0arts

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Pigeon English As I grow older, I find myself thinking about my parents more. I think about who they were before children came into the their lives.

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I’ve never actually stopped being in contact with Harriet. We speak regularly, and she stays with me whenever she comes down to London. She is my closest friend, by trade she is an Artist but she is also one in her heart and soul. We have always been connected through our love of the creative, but it’s also because of her I met the love of my life. Her friendship has brought rich and vibrant colours to my life.

I’ve just never been to her house since she left London five years ago. Not once. Ever.

She was the first friend to get back to me with a date and insisted I stay with her and not at a nearby B&B as I had suggested. So, this Saturday S and my baby girl drove 107 miles to my dear friend’s house in the coastal town of Bournemouth.

I avoided driving all together when Rebecca was born because she used to scream like I was torturing her which resulted in me becoming a nervous wreck who walked everywhere. It was the first time S and I were doing this sort of drive with a toddler but we had planned to stop at service stations as many times as needed until we got there because we were determined to do one thing ..and that was to get there!

Rebecca it turned out loved the drive and we pulled up outside Harriet’s house with her standing at the door laughing and waving in excitement to us. And here I was, five years later outside the home my dear friend had dreamt and created. We had had conversations about it, and in many ways it was for me like I had stepped into a dream. I knew this place. I just hadn’t been here yet in physical form.

Harriet showed me around and I felt proud of what she and her husband had built and designed. And then she took me into her studio and I felt tears begin to fill my eyes. Light poured into this creative hub of hers, and in its centre was a portrait photograph of her beautiful mother who had passed away when Harriet was very young, and behind that photo to the left was a painting of a small baby at the foot of a tree, at the feet of Mother Earth. Her studio breathed a maternal, creative, wise energy, and I couldn’t help but be moved to be standing in its glow. This room was my artist friend personified and I had waited far too long to be in it.

‘It’s such a beautiful space.’ I said to her, my words unable to capture its presence.

‘Thank you.’ she smiled. There were no other words needed in this space, as the space said it all.

That evening Harriet cooked us a gorgeous lamb tagine, and while Rebecca laughed and played around the table we talked about life and friendship.

Bournemouth is a pretty, quirky and fun seaside town but travelling to my friend living here was the most joyful and moving start to my friend travels.

An actual real Cat Cafe!

Forest

Bournemouth Oceanarium

Bournemouth Beach

Flirt Cafe- a great place to have lunch and perfect for a toddler

    Colours by the Ocean I've never actually stopped being in contact with Harriet. We speak regularly, and she stays with me whenever she comes down to London.

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Travels to my friends This summer a friend came to stay with me who I hadn't seen for ten years.  A close friend who I admired greatly, with whom there were long lengths of time where there was no contact at all.

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Four of Cups, I kid you not!

Four of Cups, I kid you not!

I had been meaning to shuffle my tarot cards for a while and pick one, to use as a lens to see the world through, but have found it very difficult to find any time to do so. In fact, at present if you’re going to hear me say anything it’s this: ‘I don’t know where time goes. It’s Monday and in a blink of an eye it’s Friday.’ I’m like a broken record! Today, however I was determined to select a…

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Books. When I was little I used books as stepping stones into new imaginary worlds As I grew, forgotten in teenage silence, reading transported me to foreign lands…

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A cafe with a garden, please...

A cafe with a garden, please…

When Baby A was born, S and I started to have similar dreams. In the early hours of the morning, eyes exhausted with the desperation for more sleep and bodies yearning to return to bed, we would mumble our dream to the other. ‘I dreamt last night our house had an extra room which I never knew about.’ he said ‘Me too!’ I replied. ‘ I dreamt there was a room at the back of our bedroom.’ We kept…

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Friday Magic...

Friday Magic…

...  is in the early morning sunrise on an autumnal day.

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Flashbacks happen in the strangest of places! I have facial hair. You can take that as a confession of some sort, and I think this bravery of mine deserves a whole post of its own but it's not what this is about.

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So whose problem is it? I work in a psychiatric hospital. There's a lot to say about this; the desperate children and young adults who are admitted with bodies and minds tortured by mental illness...

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Lost & Found (I hope) I've been creeping slowly towards this project of mine for a while - hoping tapping into it won't render me disloyal.

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The Psychology of Tarot I've been doing quite a few readings lately. I go through phases with it. There are times when I carry my cards with me everywhere, and other times when I pay no attention to them for months.

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A Vision board of Art I've always loved finding ways to channel positive thoughts - affirmations, meditation, writing, herbs, spells and even images stuck on my notice board have been important to me.

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King Basil For: Money, Success, Happiness, and Peaceful home

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'Taken from the 'Lost' files ... '

"She made the sign of a teaspoon,

He makes the sign of a wave.

But they ended up by sleeping in a doorway,

In a damaged cardboard box ….. “

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The Hummingbird Diaries Legends say that hummingbirds float free of time carrying our hopes for love, joy and celebration. The Hummingbird is…

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Friday Magic ...

Friday Magic …

… is in the beauty within.

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You do what?

‘Darling, what is it you do again?’

I could hear the glasses clink as champagne was poured by solicitous waiters. This isn’t my usual hangout. It’s one of those high society parties where everyone is glamorous and rich. I’d like to say I thought everyone here was too bourgeoisfor me, but I liked them. They were sweet people, kind even, so why was I fighting the urge to yell ‘conspicuous…