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Manchester

Today I had a conversation with a group of teenagers about the atrocities that unfolded in Manchester on Monday evening. I don’t have memories of such events from when I was their age. The IRA bombings that occurred in my childhood seemed too distant from me and I don’t remember feeling at risk. Even in my late teens when the World Trade Centre was hit, I still felt safe in my little town and would think to myself what would they want in Guisborough? Everything bad in the world seemed so remote and in some ways, you could shield yourself, or be shielded from it.  The young people I spoke to today are so much closer to what’s happened: they know people who were there and they know people who were injured.  They knew of the attack before they even rose from their beds on Tuesday morning, some before they fell asleep on Monday night.  They know details, they’ve seen pictures on their phones, they’ve speculated and debated. Some of them have probably cried. I look at my own children and am pleased they are too young to know what’s happened and, naively, I hope that by the time they are of an age to understand, that acts of terrorism are events in history books.

Perhaps since starting our Love Join Me project I’m more drawn towards the good things that go on in the wake of such attacks but I’ve noticed something. The more terror I see, the more kindness I see. Take away the one man (I won’t speculate on whether he acted alone) and you have hundreds, if not thousands of kind people who are willing to help others.

People held strangers, comforted children, pulled nails out of faces, searched for people they’d never met, offered free rides, food and drink, places to stay, warmth and a listening ear. They gave blood, they gave time and ultimately they gave hope. The ripple happened too.  A homeless man who selflessly ran to help the injured and the dying now has a home, some money and has been offered a job.

When the hubbub goes, the stadium opens again and the Manchester attack takes its place in history, we won’t forget the horror but we mustn’t forget the kindness either.

Pigeon Poo 

“It’s humbling being around a person such as you who despite being hurt can still be kind where kindness isn’t due”. 

This was said to me by a dear friend and it stopped me in my tracks and made me think.  I’d called myself ‘a mug’ and this was this person’s response. 

Sometimes I need to remind myself to describe myself in positive adjectives rather than negative. 

This person also said:

“Arguing with idiots is like playing chess with a pigeon. No matter how good you are the pigeon will sh*t on the board and strut around like it won anyway”

If I didn’t know it already, my friend is wise! Next time I’m feeling bogged down with pettiness, I might just sh*t on the chess board first. Or maybe I’ll just carry on being me. 

If I could turn back time

*HARRY POTTER AND THE CURSED CHILD SPOILER ALERT*


If I could find a way..

The 1989 Cher song. She had it on an album somewhere and the song reminds me of my early childhood years (perhaps how my children may be reminded of their early childhood through our ritual ‘Friday’ kitchen dance to Coldplay’s Sky Full of Stars).  I thought of the Cher song after having finished reading the latest Harry Potter book, in which Time Tuners are a prominent feature. Would I turn back time and change things if I could? But what effect might that have on my current world? Me trying to get her to get the breast lump re-checked earlier, or insisting she had chemo the first time: would it have changed things? 

My thoughts reminded me of the film About Time (2013 with Bill Nighy) in which a man’s time travelling has massive implications on the future despite his relatively small interferences in the past. The men in the family all have the ability to time travel. His father is dying of terminal cancer but cannot go back to change it but he does have advice for his son: to live each day twice, the second time appreciating the day in a different way to the first. However, when his third child is born, he is no longer able to go into the past as it would mean his third child would not be the same child when he returns. As such, he decides that he should live each day forward as if it were the second time; the time for appreciating the beauty and subtle things that are missed the first time, the rushed time as we go from day to day. Perhaps that’s what we should all do? Seize the day, live for the moment. I am sure that she would want us to. She wouldn’t want us to time travel even if it were possible. But, how nice it would be to see her just one more time!

Kindness Rocks! 

Kindness Rocks! It does indeed! 

LJM2 visited me last weekend and together we collected a few beach rocks and decorated them with the children’s paints and some varnish. 



On Thursday I took the rocks on holiday with me to the highlands of Scotland where we are staying on holiday. This morning we went for a walk around the small loch in the village and my little LJMs helped leave them in places by the water-side footpath. We also left a couple of posters at the entrance points to the Loch to explain what they were.


Our hope is that the rocks end up spread far and wide and that people will take them home or take them and leave them somewhere new for someone else to find. The rocks are designed to bring happiness to the finder and as such they may pass on that happiness in the form of kindness to others. 

If you have found one of our rocks please let us know. Leave a comment on our blog or tweet us! We’d love to know where our rocks end up. 

This Random Act of Kindness is our 50th! How exciting is that! 

Book Rescue #49

I finished work for the holidays last week. The building in which I work is being destroyed and, as a result, we had to empty everything. I came across a lot of teenage literature which was just waiting to be binned. So, I decided to rescue it all! There were two boxes full of books. Today I took them to my local Teesside Hospice charity shop. 

I once accompanied her to an appointment at the hospice. I don’t remember a lot about it other than it was the most peaceful and surprisingly cheerful place. Hopefully the books I rescued will help raise money for the hospice as well as provide a teenager or two with something to read! 

I’m looking to do the Hospice’s colour run in September, too!

Unkindness has no purpose

Today I had a negative thought. I found myself thinking that someone who I have been kind to is being unkind to me. Perhaps they’re not (I do have a tendency for introspection) but nevertheless it prompted my thoughts on everyday kindness. 

I came to the conclusion that society is slowly changing to a more self-centred view.  Perhaps people are so immersed in their own lives that they do not realise that they’re being unkind to others, though I am certain that some unkindness in this world is deliberate. It’s perhaps an unwanted side-effect of doing a kindness project: noticing kindness and thererefore its antithesis everywhere you go. 

Modern society has made huge progressions in many ways but it has also changed in less desirable ways too. Whereas once upon a time, as the saying goes, it took a village to raise a child, now it takes the parent(s) with less and less involvement of others. People are less trusting and less kind. Utilitarianism is now obscure, almost laughable. A sense of entitlement pervades; a sense that we should be self-sufficient, focusing on the individual, on our own needs. We have the apparent need to ‘treat ourselves’, to have ‘me’ time.  We see it everywhere. It’s the parking in a ‘parent and child’ or a disabled space because you’re “only going to be five minutes”. It’s the doing things because “it doesn’t harm anyone”. It’s the “because you’re worth it” mentality.

It is the Generation Y effect (those born from the early 80s to mid-90s), those who want better than their parents’ generation and feel a sense of disappointment when their expectations do not reach reality, such is their feeling of entitlement. In the 80s there was a growing sense of needing to improve the lives of the next generation, for it to be better than what the parents had. But the unintentional effect of that has been a generation of young adults who misunderstand the meaning and purpose of work and, dare I say it, the meaning of life. The previous generation of hard workers, who would take a job simply through the need to provide for their family has given rise to a generation of people who need to be fulfilled in their job. Their job serves their own well-being and sense of achievement, not just as a means to provide for themselves and their families. It’s this need for self-satisfaction that contributes to our now self-oriented society: 

a society that loves a good-old egoportrait, as is the Canadian neologism for a selfie (a much more accurate term, don’t you think?); 

a society where we chop and change jobs to please ourselves, to gain more of a work-life balance, because we’re not feeling fulfilled or worthwhile;

a society where a successful career is an expectation and it’s more the case of which path to choose

It is no wonder that this ‘millennium generation’ has landed itself with the epithet “the ME-llenials”. 
I am not going to pretend that this has escaped me completely (after all, I am on the first cusp of Generation Y myself). Nor will I say that job-satisfaction etc. are not important considerations (after all, life is too short, as I know only too well).  Yet, the egocentrism prevalent in society troubles me. Britain is very much in  unstable times. People have lost sight of the big things. And the big things are sometimes the smallest of things.

The point of this post? Let’s rekindle the once-frequent everyday kindness of folk. It’s there, of course (and I’m aware this post is very much a generalisation of generation),  but it is most definitely less prevalent. People are too busy to be kind. Or they’re choosy of who is worthy of their kindness. They have their careers, their families, their errands to run and their because-I’m-worth-it moments. They do not see the bigger picture. Being unkind serves no purpose.

If you have nothing to give, give your time. If not your time, a smile. A kind word. A reply to a message. A returned call. An RSVP. A how are you? asked with the intention of actually wanting to know the answer where the person feels that they can give more than the usual “ok, thanks. You?” 

Let’s not pretend that anyone is any more important than anyone else. Let’s just be kind.

No Australia update…

I’m worried! 34 days since I posted the Australia parcel for this RAK and I’ve not heard anything. Here are possible scenarios:

  1. It’s on its way – I have no idea how long it takes to get to a remote island off the coast of Brisbane!
  2. I got the wrong address (I didn’t ask my cousin as I wanted it to be a surprise)
  3. It’s arrived but they didn’t notice my name in tiny print on the customs sticker and haven’t shared it on social media, for whatever reason
  4. It’s arrived but hasn’t found its way to them (I have emailed their place of work/address to see if it’s arrived but have had no response). 
  5. It arrived but Australian customs have rejected it (tea bags allowed?) and it’s on its way back.

So, M & N, when this project is revealed and you still haven’t got your surprises, I am so sorry! I owe you some chocolate/sweets/cups of tea upon your return, if not before! 

In the meantime, I really hope it arrives!

You didn’t even say ‘hello’

Despite my previous post being about grief and losing her, it’s not something that I talk of often at home. However, I have had chats with my biggest little one about her, about mummy’s mummy.

So it was somewhat out of the blue that, in a brief moment of Sunday-afternoon quiet, Little LoveJoinMe1 piped up, “Please can I go up the big rock (where her ashes are spread) to say goodbye to mummy’s mummy because … because she, what’s it called? Is it died? Because she’s gonna … died?” 

I was so taken aback. I gestured for him to come and sit next to me and I hugged him while I said “She’s already died”. His response was a simple “but I didn’t say goodbye!” I explained how she died before he was born, “was I in your tummy?”, “No, before that”. 

I’m not sure where it came from. But more and more he is showing me his perception, his emotional intelligence and at not even four and a half years old. It’s reflected in the tone he uses, a gentle voice, quietly probing because he knows it makes mummy sad. 

We were telling daddy about our conversation later and as Little LJM1 said “I didn’t say goodbye”, his father said, sadly, “you didn’t even get to say hello”. Neither he nor Little LJM1 have read my previous post on grief yet this is precisely what I had written about. He didn’t get to say hello. Hellos are infinitely happier than goodbyes.  This makes me saddest of all. My little boy: he sees it with a clarity and gentleness beyond his years. He makes me proud and he makes me want to tell her

A little Treat for 47

Sometimes we need a little treat, 

For no reason, just ’cause it’s sweet. 

So here you go, enjoy from us, 

We hope it gives you a little buzz.

This was our message in a Treat Box ordered anonymously for someone. The box was ordered for no other reason than we thought it was a nice thing to do for that person. We hope it will give her a little moment of calm in her busy life. We left it anonymous as we’re not quite ready to reveal Love Join Me yet and she would definitely work out who we are! We know that she, the original LJM, always thought about our treatbox’s recipient. 


Inside we chose to put a bath bomb, a lip balm, a pencil, notebook and pocket mirror. We hope that she shares her surprise on social media (when the parcel arrives in a few days) so that we can update you as to its reception – hopefully with a photo! 

To order or build one of these fab boxes or to subscribe, click here*.

*please note we’re not in any way affiliated.