My friend is alive but ..... there is a part of me that wishes he wasn't. He had a terrible motorcycle accident on Sunday. He's 73 and rides his motorcycle A LOT! He has over 350,000 miles on the bike (named Boomer). This accident caused by another driver, not fault of his own. It happens. Not being seen by motorcyclists is something that is relatively common. This accent has left him very broken and in a state that could be..... vegetative. We don't know yet. His body is broken. Shatter pelvis, shattered wrist. Bleeding and swelling in the brain. So I am grieving. We used to be partners. We dated for 2 years. We did not end our relationship badly, we just wanted different things. We have remained friends. I am grieving someone who is still alive. These pics are from our many cross country road trips in 2012 and 2013.

Why I Created The Lantern Room. 🥰 People often ask me why grief feels so important to me. I think it’s important that I tell some of my story for context 🥰🌱🏮 The truth is, grief has been woven through my life from a very young age. On my thirteenth birthday, my mum married her second husband. Just a month later, he died. None of us knew that years of alcoholism had caused so much damage to his body. Within weeks of their wedding, he was in hospital. His leg had to be amputated, but it was too late. A blood clot travelled to his heart, and he died. Overnight, my mum became a widow. I was just thirteen. What followed shaped me in ways I wouldn’t understand for many years. I found myself carrying responsibilities no child should ever have to carry. I helped organise the funeral and was expected to be the strong one, supporting the adults around me while trying to make sense of my own grief. I was taken to view his body because I was told I was needed. It was an experience that stayed with me long after everyone else had moved on. Just over a year later, my mum remarried and moved to Spain, shortly before my sixteenth birthday. It was another profound loss, and one that left me navigating much of my teenage life on my own. By the time I was sixteen, I was already working in care. Not long afterwards, I was offered a role on a palliative care unit. Looking back now, it feels as though all those difficult experiences had quietly prepared me to sit beside people during the hardest moments of their lives. It became work that I loved deeply. Grief, however, continued to find me. My sister died at just thirty-six from alcoholism, leaving behind her teenage daughter. The grandfather who had always made me feel loved passed away, and I wasn’t told until after he had been cremated. Then, years later, my mum’s third husband died suddenly while they were living in Spain. At eighteen years old, six months pregnant, I flew to another country to organise another funeral. It felt as though I had stepped back into the same role I had been given as a child.

Yesterday I took an unexpected wander around one of England’s most beautiful little seaside villages… and what a surprise it turned out to be.😱 Nestled in South Devon, Noss Mayo is so old it’s mentioned in the Domesday Book, yet it still feels wonderfully timeless. Winding lanes, peaceful waters, old cottages and the kind of views that make you instinctively slow your pace. It reminded me that curiosity doesn’t always need a passport or a grand adventure. Sometimes the most memorable places are the ones you’ve never thought to visit, just a little further down the road. This little wander filled my cup in all the right ways. I hope you’ll come along with me for a few quiet moments by the sea. 🌿🌊 https://youtu.be/Zg9ZChckShQ?is=9zxV6FrwN8-24pfn

There is a small bean living inside you, Crayon clutched in hand, knees grass-stained, pockets full of treasures
 nobody else thought to keep. 💜 They are still building castles
from cardboard boxes,
finding dragons in shadows,
and whole new worlds
in the spaces between. 🫟 They have not forgotten
how to wonder. While the world whispered, “Grow up,”
they quietly waited, holding the door to imagination open.🫶🏻 So today, pick up the brush,
the camera,
the pen,
the thing that makes your soul sit up and smile. Get paint in your hair. Make something beautifully imperfect. And if you listen carefully,
you might hear that small voice saying, “Come on.” “Let’s see what happens.” ✨🙌🏻🌱

I really got into Peru this week! What started as one sketch turned into two sketches and even a poem. 🙈 The colours completely drew me in rich reds, turquoise blues and warm earthy tones everywhere I looked. 🙌🏻 That’s what I love about Around the World in 80 Sketches. Sometimes a place doesn’t just inspire a picture, it sparks a whole page of creativity. ❤️ Colours of Peru ❤️💜💙💛💚 High in the mountains, where colours run deep, The earth tells stories it has chosen to keep. Bands of turquoise, ochre, crimson and gold, Layers of culture, history and folklore untold. Somewhere beyond the clouds, I like to think Paddington began his journey with a hopeful wink. A small bear from Peru, with a suitcase in hand, Carrying kindness from this remarkable land. And as I sit and sketch beneath the vast blue sky, I find that colour speaks when words pass by.