Tag Archives: #newblog

Unconditional Feline Love (flash fiction -150 words)

Alone in the bedroom with their human, the two cats sat watching as the brave face she had put on during the day, the smiles and laughter from her business video calls, vanished. As they watched her pull a baggy t-shirt over her head, a cloud of sadness descended over her. Was that a tear on her cheek?

The feline brothers exchanged a glance, telepathically agreeing their strategy. Their human was their world and they were hers.

In the darkness as she slept, they settled on the bed, one on either side of her. One slept curled up close to her heart where she could reach out and hug him close. The other brother stretched out along the length of her legs, sharing his body heat with her to help ground those human emotions. Both of them purred the sound resonating deeply.

Surrounded by unconditional feline love, she slept soundly.

Note- the cat in the photo was Gandalf, my beautiful white boy who crossed over the rainbow bridge a long time ago. He was one of a kind. Miss him.

Have you ever felt drawn to journaling and not known how to?

Have you ever kept a journal? I have- many of them! (some of them are in the photo)

By journal, I’m not meaning a diary where you record what you did each day. (I’ve kept one of them for 40 some years.) What I’m meaning is a journal or notebook for your eyes only where you have poured your heart out onto the page or vented your frustrations.

Did you know that therapeutic journalling has been proven to help people who have suffered trauma and loss as well as those who suffer from chronic illnesses?

In the 1980’s James Pennebaker, a US social psychologist, was one of the first to study the therapeutic benefits of writing in a journal. His study found that journalling was beneficial both emotionally and physically. Journalling especially if the person has written about a stressful event or situation has been proven to support the body’s immune system.

There’s no right or wrong way to journal. It is YOUR journal for YOUR eyes only so of course you are at liberty to write in any way you feel drawn to. You don’t even have to write in full sentences and no one is going to correct either your spelling or your grammar. It is your space to write how you feel you need to but for those who have never tried to journal or who have tried and not had much success with it, I’m going to share a few suggested techniques.

One of the simplest ways to journal is use Lists to help acknowledge and address your fears or feeling or emotions. Have you ever jotted down a list of pros and cons? That’s journalling. This technique can be useful as it helps you to “join the dots” (think on feelings or emotions as the dots) and can help you to gain clarity around the situation.

It might be that you need to “speak” to someone to explain how you really feel about a situation but face-to-face you can never find the right words or the right moment. If you find yourself in this situation, you could write an “unsent letter.” This technique is also powerful for those who have suffered a loss and are grieving. Use your journal to write openly and honestly to the person on your mind and allow yourself to “speak” freely with out the fear of offending them or suffering any repercussions. It is a liberating experience! Trust me, I’ve written several “unsent letters,” especially over the last couple of years.

You can also journal about specific events that might either be the best or worst moments of your life. By writing about it, telling its story, it could offer you a different perspective on things so that, especially if it is a negative memory that you are reliving in your journal, that it becomes a chapter in the story of your life rather than the controlling narrative.

One of my personal favourite techniques is gratitude journalling. This is one that I practice at the end of every day before I head upstairs to bed. It’s a simple technique. You can buy specific gratitude journals but any notebook will do. For my daily practice, I write one sentence about three or four small moments from the day that I am grateful for. It could be something small like hearing your favourite song on the radio or on your playlist or the taste of your first cup of coffee of the day. Simple moments that made you smile. I also note down three or four things that I am looking forward to. Again, don’t over think it and keep it simple. These techniques only take a few minutes and can help you to find a few moments of light even on the darkest of days.

So, the next time a notebook catches your eye online or on a shelf in a shop, buy it.

If a novelty pen or sparkly pen, catches your eye and makes you smile, buy it. The combine the two with words from your heart.

You’ll feel the better of it.

Frankenstein’s Purr

From the second I saw them

Your blue eyes stole my heart

And you purred

From the day you came home

Cat wars that lasted a decade ensued

And you purred

You would fight with your shadow if it had paws

Advancing age and a lack of teeth didn’t matter

And you purred

The last of “the old guard”

Still looking like two cats stitched together

And you purred

A tiny cat with a huge heart

Always a midnight “song” for all to hear

And you purred

Too weak to stand

The rainbow bridge beckoned

And you purred

I miss that purr.

Frankenstein    Feb 2010- 14 October 2025

Several Pairs of Feet and a Lot of Brown Hens….

Over thirty-five years ago I read a book by Barbara Erskine called Lady of Hay. I still have that copy of it. That book sparked a lifelong interest in regression and past lives.

Is this really our first life? Is it our only life? What about all those déjà vu moments? Were there other lives?

At the time, in the late 1980’s, I remember telling my mum that I would love to be regressed but that was pre-internet, and it was difficult to track down a therapist via the Yellow Pages. Plus, would I really trust a total stranger to do that kind of therapy with me even if I did fine one?

The thought floated through many times over the years, but I never acted on it until now.

If you are a total cynic about past lives, re-incarnation and the like, you might want to stop reading here and come back next week.

Still with me?….

A couple of weeks ago while I was scrolling through Facebook, I spotted a post from a friend celebrating her success with two recent training courses. There was a lovely smiling photo of her with her two certificates. Two words on once of the certificates caught my eye. I zoomed in – past lives.

Ok so now you see where this is going….

After a quick telephone chat with the lovely lady herself, I made an appointment for a past lives’ hypnotherapy session.

If you Google past life regression therapy or past lives’ hypnotherapy you get an AI overview that explains “it’s a hypnotherapy technique that guides a person to access supposed memories of past lives to resolve current issues.”

I wasn’t going into this with the naïve expectation of learning that I’d been a princess living a fairy tale life or been a famous author or anything overly specific. Ok I might have been curious to learn if I’d been tried and hanged as a witch. (None of my close friends would have been surprised if that was the case!)

I didn’t go into the session itself with any expectations. I went in with an open mind.

What followed was the most amazing and surprisingly relaxing ninety minutes or so.

It would be unfair of me to go into too many specifics of the session here. (It might also make for a boring read if I relived it chapter and verse here and now.) Instead, I’ll cover the salient points that I feel comfortable to share.

I’ve never experienced any form of hypnosis before and that was perhaps the part I was a little anxious about. I needn’t have worried. That part was incredibly pretty and relaxing and led to me visualising a dark night sky (although my night sky was a colour I refer to as Reiki purple.) criss-crossed with a web of silver silky cords.

In my mind’s eye, with the therapist’s gentle encouragement, I chose one to follow and picked it up. Over the course of the session, I was encouraged at points to let go of the cord and “drop into” that life, starting each time by looking at my feet.

I saw several pairs of feet. The first pair were crammed into shoes that were too tight. I could actually feel my feet being squashed even though in my current life they were encased in a comfortable pair of Converse. Next were bare feet belonging to a girl of about twelve or thirteen. Men’s brown leather lace up shoes followed then it was back to bare feet. These bare feet belonged to a little boy about eight years old and they were filthy! Emerald green silk shoes followed on, and the final pair of feet were in well-worn black leather shoes.

Each time I got a sense of the lifetime that those feet led rather than feeling that I was in that lifetime. In the brown leather lace up shoes’ life, I was in a printshop with a huge old-fashioned printing press surrounded by piles of paper. I could smell the ink.

The lifetime with the emerald green silk shoes was the one that made me feel uncomfortable. That woman had led a life dominated by a controlling husband and was sad and lonely.

The final pair of feet in the comfortable black leather shoes provided the most vivid images of the session. I was asked to describe what I could see at one point. My reply almost made the therapist giggle. “Chickens. Brown hens everywhere. I like the eggs, but the hens are a nuisance!”

In future blogs or short stories, I may reveal more details of the lives each of those pairs of feet led but for now it feels right to keep most of that private.

The session did give me an insight into where one fear I have may have come from. I don’t like the dark. I get quite scared if I have to walk into a dark room or an unlit hallway. I’m fine outdoors in the dark. It’s indoors darkness that scares me and I’ve never known why.  The little boy with the dirty bare feet shared the same fear.

Several of the pairs of feet lived in coastal areas so perhaps that explains my love of being near water and needing to see an expanse of water on a regular basis. I could never live inland.

The therapist had assured me before we said goodbye that I wouldn’t take any of these past lives with me when I left. The past stays in the past. But, as I drove home, I couldn’t shake the image of the cottage with all of those brown hens in front of it.

When I went to my refrigerator to get something out to cook for dinner, I went to pick up the packet of chicken breasts and paused… It ended up being pasta for dinner. I just couldn’t face potentially cooking one of those pesky brown hens!

If any local friends want to experience their own past lives’ hypnotherapy session please reach out to

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100086909415191

(Image sourced via Google- credits to the owner – no watermark on image)

Staircase (poem)

Darkness enveloped the staircase ahead of me

Shadows stirred in its inky depths

Slowly I began to climb

Trusting that it was the path I should take

Step by step I climbed

Slowly the darkness fell behind

Grey ghostly mists swirled around

I continued to climb

Trusting that it was the path I should take

Sunlight filtered through

Dispersing the mists

Warmth and hope surrounded me

I continue to climb

Trusting that I am following the path I should take.

(image sourced via Google- credit to the owner)

Where do I do it? … a question from an indie author

For the past seven years my cluttered creative corner of the house has been my beloved writing desk in the corner of the living room

Those who have followed this blog for a long time may remember that I blogged about moving from the kitchen into the living room when that change was forced upon me thanks to a new car and a repositioning of the freezer. (Eviction Notice Served …… | Coral McCallum –  in case you missed it)

Over the next two years, I grew to love my creative corner in the living room. The words flowed as freely as they had when my desk was the table in the corner of the kitchen.

Then Covid came along and with it that brought the necessity to work from home. At that point in time The Big Green Gummi Bear was also working from home and had based himself in the study so with no other choice, my creative space became my work space during the day and then returned to being my creative space a night. Like every other scenario we were faced with, I made it work as best as I could.

A few months later The Big Green Gummi Bear fell ill (terminal brain tumour) and for the next three years, I continued to work from home fulltime, working at my desk during the day then switching laptops at the end of the day to restore it as my creative space at night. The study became The Big Green Gummi Bear’s “bat cave” where he whiled away many hours with YouTube videos and films. I made it work as best as I could.

After The Big Green Gummi Bear passed away in late October 2023, when I was ready to return to work I had the choice of where to work when I was working from home. I could go into his “bat cave” or stay where I was in the corner of the living room. Emotionally I knew there was only one option I could cope with. For over nine months, I chose to stay in the living room. This worked for the day job, but it was no longer working for the me creatively in the evenings.

Let’s face it, by this time, I’d spent about sixteen hours a day most days for over four years in the living room. I was sick of the sight of it! It had begun to feel like a prison cell.

Creatively, the words refused to flow and that frustrated me…and scared me a little. Could I still do it?

About a year ago, I finally felt emotionally ready to claim the “bat cave” as my own and moved up there to work during the day. I’ll not lie it took a long while before I was comfortable being in that small room for more than a few minutes at a time.  Bereavement does strange things to a person.

My writing desk in the living room became my creative space once again…but the room still felt like a prison cell. The words began to flow a little more freely but overall, it still didn’t feel right.

I persevered then made a decision. It was time for another change.

A couple of weeks ago, I finally had the room re-painted. Gone were the candle soot-stained peach walls, replaced with a fresh clean silvery blue shade called Frost Fairy. New curtains were bought and hung. A new sound system was added as some of the speakers in the old one had long since given up the ghost. I de-cluttered the room. I tidied out my desk and de-cluttered the top if it, only retaining a few of the things that had previously sat there. I added a stunning new crystal sphere (poppy jasper and flower agate – just in case you were curious). Gone was the old uncomfortable chair. I replaced it with a nice new kneeling chair. I’ve always wanted one of those!

I’m viewing this as a much-needed creative re-boot.

The smell of paint still lingers in the air and perhaps it’s a little too soon to be sure, but I feel more confident now that the words that have been desperate to be set free will once again start to flow.

Time will tell….

The Measly Jar of Motivation – Rosebud Sweets

As soon as I pulled this prompt from the Measly Jar of Motivation, I smiled as a childhood image came flooding back – rosebud sweets!

I haven’t tasted on of those sweets in almost forty years! (Lord, that makes me sound SO old! LOL)

When I was a wee girl, before I was old enough for school and then during the school holidays, I would go to the local post office on a Tuesday with my Wee Gran to collect her pension. The postmaster, Mr Stirling was a character. He was a lovely old man who always had time for a blether and a joke with his customers but equally important, he kept a dish of sweets beside him to give to the children who came into the post office.

The dish was actually the plastic lid off one of the big jars of traditional “old fashioned” sweets that shops used have lined up on shelves behind the counter.

Usually there was a lengthy queue in the post office on pension day. I would stand patiently with my gran as we edged closer to the counter. There were always two people serving – Mr Stirling and a lady called Agnes. She too had a dish of sweets beside her, but she didn’t always offer you one. I don’t think she liked children that much and to be honest, I was a little scared of her.

If Mr Stirling served my gran, before he’d stamp her pension book and count out the cash, he would offer me the dish and say to take a sweetie. Sometimes, when he was passing the pension book and pension back across the counter, he would say to take a second sweet.

Those small pink rose scented fondant sweets were delicious. To this day they are one of the scents and tastes of childhood.

A few years later, Mr Stirling retired, and another postmaster took over. The first time after that when I accompanied my gran to the post office, I was a little bit anxious. Would this new man know that he was supposed to give the children a sweet? Would he think I was too old to get a sweetie?

I needn’t have worried. The dish of rosebud sweets was still there.

Years went by and I grew up and became a teenager, while my wee gran simply grew older. Occasionally when I was in my late teens, I would be trusted to go and collect her pension for her. As I stood in the queue feeling both grown up at being trusted with such an important errand and about sixty or seventy years too young to be in the queue, another thought entered my mind. Was I now too old to be offered a rosebud sweet?

It turns out I wasn’t. I guess you’re never too old to enjoy a rosebud sweet.

Image sourced via Google- credits to the owner (no watermark)

Grown (poem)

Tiny fingers and tiny toes

It doesn’t seem so long ago….

Now I look at you and smile

Proud of how you’ve grown

But in my heart, you still have

Those tiny fingers and tiny toes

(Image sourced via Google – credits to the owner)

The Measly Jar of Motivation – how would you take special care of yourself for a day?

And that really is a challenge!

Anyone who knows me personally would most likely tell you that I’m historically not the best at taking “special care” of myself. I am passionate about wellbeing and for the past couple of years have been focused on making sure that my “personal battery” is well cared for and kept charged. Well, I’m trying to focus on that.

Throughout the majority of The Big Green Gummi Bear’s terminal illness, I was running on fumes. It’s only now, when I reflect back, that I can acknowledge that I burned out towards the end of 2021 and then kept going for two more years. Life really didn’t leave me any other choice.

That level of burn out (emotional and physical) takes time to recover from and it’s something that on many levels, I am still healing from.

So, if I had my ideal day to take “special care” of myself, how would I spend it?

There’s an obvious answer – I’d click my flip flops together three times and transport myself to the beach at my happy place.

I’ll resist choosing that option and instead describe a day spent at home.

Let’s imagine that it’s Monday and I have a “rest day” off work and the whole day to do as I want.

My day would start off gently with some yoga, most likely Yin Yoga as I would have the luxury of more time than I do most mornings, followed by a short chakra meditation combined with some crystals and some self-channelled Reiki energy. When I have finished my yoga and meditation, I would journal about the session and set an intention for the day. This is something I do every day, recording it in my gratitude journal. The intention doesn’t need to be complicated. It might be one word or a short phrase like “I will be gentle with myself today” or I will be kind to myself” or “I am worthy”. I would also draw an oracle card for the day from my preferred deck.

The next act of special care on the agenda is a long hot shower followed by breakfast – OJ, black coffee and a toasted cinnamon raisin bagel with a few rashers of smoked streaky bacon or pancetta. (I never said that I was necessarily going for the healthiest option here.)

I would then spend the rest of the morning doing something creative, either preparing a blog for posting or working on my current book baby. If the weather was being kind and was warm and sunny, breakfast and this creative time would be spent outside at the picnic table in the garden with my cats milling about.

I’ll assume for the purposes of this blog that it’s a beautiful warm summer day,

Lunch would be a simple affair- caprese salad, yogurt, an apple and a bottle of flavoured water. (I’m a big fan of Waterdrop tablets so who knows what flavour the water might be). I’d read my kindle while I was eating lunch outdoors.

After lunch, I would continue to read my book for a while in sun before setting off for a walk along the coastal road to the beach. This stretch of beach is quite short but it’s just enough to feed my inner “beach bum”. As I walk along the sand I’d scour the beach for sea glass, searching in particular from some blue sea glass.  By the time I arrive back home a couple of hours later I could easily have walked five miles.

If time allowed, I’d relax with another drink of water, a handful of plain Pringles and my kindle until it was time to cook dinner. I enjoy cooking so making a meal isn’t a chore.

After dinner I’d feed my creative soul and spend time working on my current book baby. As this is my ideal day, the words would flow effortlessly onto the page…if only!

Around 9pm I would put down my pen and spend an hour or so relaxing by watching TV with the Boy Child. This may also involve a glass of white wine and a few more plain Pringles (I’ll admit to a weakness for plain Pringles)

Before bed, I would write my gratitude journal for the day- best moment of the day, three things I’m grateful for and three things I’m looking forward to. I would also write my diary. (I’ve kept a daily diary for over 40 years) then read a few more pages of my book before turning out the light and enjoying eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Oh well, a girl can dream!

That would be a good day though.

How would you spend a day taking “special care” of yourself?                              

Silver Lake Book Tour 2025

Part of the beauty of visiting Rehoboth Beach, DE, where my Silver Lake series is largely set, is visiting places that appear in the books.

I was fortunate enough last summer to visit several of them and to revisit many of those again this year but a dull day that threatened the area with rain gave me the opportunity to visit one about 12 miles out of town.

For those of you who have read the entire series, you may recall Jethro taking Jake for a nature trail walk in Shattered Hearts, book 4 in the series.

For those who haven’t read the books, here’s an extract that mentions my destination for the day –

He barely registered what direction they were travelling in and only realised that the car had stopped when Jethro declared. “We’re here. Let’s walk.”

“Where are we?” asked Jake, gazing round as he climbed out of the car.

“Prime Hook National Wildlife Refuge,” replied Jethro as he locked the car. “Lots of nice peaceful trails to walk. A good place to walk and talk without interruptions.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever been out here,” mused Jake. “Might have been here on a field trip as a kid.”

“Follow the signs for the Pine Grove Trail,” instructed Jethro, pointing to a path that led into the trees.

Nodding, Jake stuffed his hands in his pockets and set off along the trail. With dry crisp leaves crunching beneath their feet, they walked in silence for a few minutes. Around them, they could hear birds in the trees. Giving nature’s magic time to relax Jake a little, Jethro bided his time before saying, “If the story Jim and Grey told me is accurate, when we get back to the studio, we are calling the police, son.”

Jake merely shrugged his shoulders.

Prime Hook National Wildlife Refuge is a 10 000-acre sanctuary for migratory birds. It was established in 1963 by President John F Kennedy and contains a wide variety of natural habitats including freshwater and salt marshes. There’s woodlands and grasslands and ponds that among them are home to around 270 species of birds, reptiles, amphibians and mammals… and insects that bite!

It’s a vast site and to do it justice you really would need several hours to explore.

In Shattered Hearts, I mentioned on specific area –

They walked on towards Fleetwood Pond in silence. As the still pond came into sight, Jake said, “The day that hornet stung me, she was out at JJL.”

By sheer luck, we parked at the spot that natural routed to Fleetwood Pond!

I didn’t have the luxury of a whole day to explore sadly. Instead, I had a couple of hours to walk the trails, keeping my eyes peeled for wildlife. Like my trip to Gordon’s Pond last year, I encountered a problem. Most of the seabirds seemed to be MIA. I did see an osprey soaring overhead, quietly surveying its territory. There were numerous dragonflies flitting about. In the bushes beside the pond, small birds were singing. In the woodland areas, there were deer quietly going about their day.

It really was the perfect location to meander and to think.

I could almost hear Jake and Jethro ahead of me on the trail.

There was one essential item that I forgot to take with me. Bug spray!

Let’s just say that the mosquitos at Prime Hook fed well on Scottish blood that day!

For more info on Prime Hook please see link below-

Prime Hook National Wildlife Refuge | U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service

If you’ve not caught up with the Silver Lake series yet, the books can be ordered worldwide using the links below

Amazon.com links –

Stronger Within – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VXDSC1M

Impossible Depths – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01C0GS30K

Bonded Souls – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XSQHG71

Shattered Hearts – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZY8ZSDM

Long Shadows – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08RR1FGLG

Amazon.co.uk links  –

Stronger Within – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00VXDSC1M

Impossible Depths – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01C0GS30K

Bonded Souls – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XSQHG71

Shattered Hearts – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07ZY8ZSDM

Long Shadows – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08RR1FGLG