Year: 2012

Letter 10: To My Love Letters

Sandra Love Letters , , , ,

10 February 2012

Dear Love Letters

Well my dear Missives, it has been 10 days and I have written 10 letters so far … You are all out there, in the ether – created and thriving …

My love odyssey, my chaste challenge, has been to write a love letter every day of this month of February 2012 and already this journey has taken me in many different directions. To me that feels so right, for love shows itself in many ways and comes in many forms and as I move through this process, I realise the power of love and of letters and writing – more and more …

I can only sow the seeds and send my letters on their way. With the awesome power of the internet and public publishing, I put them out there, not even sure of the full extent of their reach. Yet I remember before the days of bullet points, texts and the World Wide Web – the absolute thrill, the life line, the love line of receiving a letter to me, for me alone – from family, friends and connections. There was the excitement of seeing the envelope, of recognising the hand writing and checking the wavy franked imprint covering the Queen’s face on the stamp. And STAMPS – I used to collect those too as a child, loving the exotic, far away connections to the world beyond my girlish knowing, to be reached out to and discovered in times to come …

Great things came in envelopes and landed on the mat … news, views, information, pen pals, photographs, my place at University, job offers … I remember too that I have been ‘asked out’ by not one, but two different men, by the medium of a letter! And there was sad news too, falling out, rejections and returns. And I remember friends sharing letters from their lives, a ‘Dear John’, read with a tears or love letters shared with pride. Yes, I guess they were some how slower times, that time of letters … time to consider, time to share, to re-read, to gorge yourself on words.

I used to avidly hoard my letters from lovers and from friends, with their news, emotional drama, falling in and out of love and friendship. They were so full of love and laughter. And then at some point in my life, I threw them all away … feeling that I didn’t have the time or space for them, that I should not be attached to my past. Well what’s done is done, but sometimes, oh sometimes I would love to trace the words again, to feel the temporal pull of the past’s triumphs and turmoils … So now I write again, I recreate, I replace, I redress the balance …

So now letters are a forgotten form, little used, replaced by emails and social media. We go for speed, for neatness, for cheapness instead.

A little while ago I reconnected with an old friend lost through time and she sent me a long, lovely letter, handwritten to perfection – honest, loving and beautiful. When it landed, unbidden on my hall floor, before I even opened it, I felt the thrill again. That day at home I had a visitor who wanted my attention, yet my attention wanted the unopened letter, to devour it and spend time with it. I asked for some time alone with my letter; enough time to read it over and over, to absorb it, understand it and commit to treasuring it …

As I have started this new Odyssey of letters, I have had the obsession of a new lover, wanting to spend time with you – my perfect little creations, feeling over the many facets of love and life, going into the lightness and darkness of love and where it takes you, shapes you and shadows you … You have filled me up, you have sent me spinning into the past and stepping into my future. I feel the force of creativity, of owning myself as a writer; and with all that – the flipping coin of excitement versus fear – my joy at sharing my love, versus the vulnerability laying myself open to who knows what ..?

So that is love for me, today … short and sweet, eternal, beautiful, brutal and obsessive; giving, tender, fierce and gentle. So many things you are and will be … my loves … my love letters to life and to me …

   For ever loving, Sandra xxx

[PS: Dear Reader, if you love letters too, you can buy my love letters in book form by following this link…]

Letter 9: To Sue

Sandra Love Letters , , ,

9 February 2012

Dear Suzy Blue

I’m wondering how to start this letter, as we’ve known each other such a long time, haven’t we – since we were five in fact.  And I’m blessed with two best friends I’ve known since then, how fortunate am I?  So that’s a lot of history, yes many many photos, stories, smiles and sobs.  All part of love and of life.

So Suzy Blue, the story of me and you started at infant school.  There were shared lessons, scandals and whispers.  You were always the model student, with good grades and neat hand writing.  I would get told off for talking in class, sometimes praised for my brilliance, sometimes chided for my lazy ways.  At the end of the school day we would walk home, down the streets of our childhood, where we would reach your house first, say good bye and then I would troop the last few streets alone back to my home and hearth.

We were two in a group of four girls, who together shared endless childish summers, making mud pies in summer gardens; then hopping on the bus to dance classes or swimming, all mixed in with endless chatter, laughing and boasting.  The other two girls are lost through time, occasionally glimpsed, part of the fabric of our lives.

My quiet weekends were boldened and brightened by the trips out to the countryside, the pair of us in the back of your dad’s car.  On the best trips of all, there was a corned beef sandwich wrapped in wax paper, or the ultimate treat … a glass of lemonade in a pub garden.

The next phase in our lives meant we went to the same senior school, but amongst the 1500 girls there, we found ourselves at different ends of the campus, catching glimpses of each other and now just dipping in and out of each other’s lives.  We had newer friends and walked different paths.

The clock turns again and we found ourselves together in the comfy chairs of the Sixth Form common room.  We rediscovered our friendship and created our kinship.  So then we embarked on Barcardi with Coke, school discos and boys …

The adult world beckoned and changed the ties, my Suzy Blue.   You went out into the world of work, whilst I finished my A Levels.  Then off I went to University and you became a nurse.  Still we kept in touch and that far off time, was probably the last time I wrote you a letter.  Hundreds of miles away at my northern University home, letters were such a life-line and each one was devoured and re-read and savoured, as they chronicled our ascent into adulthood.

After gaining a certificate, cap and gown, I returned home and we picked up where we left off, becoming closer still; pretty much living in each other’s pockets and still having alternative lives with family, friends and men.  I practically lived at the hospital digs in your tiny bedsitter room.  One of my favourite memories of then, is you and me walking home from the night club at 2 in the morning – an endless 3 miles home, taxi not an option … in our bare feet, our high heels dangling from our hands … ah – burning feet, happy days!

And as they loaded us into a car, with our holiday suitcases, our mothers said how they could not imagine the other one not being there … like sisters they said …

Then men happened … then a baby – your first baby, my god daughter Elizabeth; and so the edges of our relationship shimmied and altered.  Then work, more babies, the process of growing up and going through life.

You now a married women with 3 children, nourishing and nurturing the next generation.  An amazing mother, putting in so much love, so much effort and so much time.  The boundaries of our relationship altered again and still we became closer.  I became part of the family.  Me now cool ‘Auntie’ to Elizabeth, Jenny and James.  There were holidays in caravans, soothing baby tears, watching the children grow and along the way a myriad of shared sorrows and joys.  Part and not part of your family, part of the in-crowd of grand parents, in-laws, brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews …

And when my father died, you were there and when your father died much later, I was there and that is how it was.

And time ebbs and it flows and then it took you away from me to live in Africa.  So I grieved for a while and when we phoned each other, we would nearly always be in tears, letting the other know they were missed and loved.  You came back to me though, you always do.

And then a shock – you became a grand mother!  Yes, that makes me a Great Aunt! Look: you know your friends will bring children into your life, but now time and love take on a whole other amazing dimension …

Well Suzy Blue, that is me and that is you.  And there are times when you are gone from me again and yet I don’t grieve now, because after so many years, we are wiser and warmer.  And we know that where ever we are, we love each other, through sharing and friendship and time; and every now and again, we remind each other of that gorgeous big little fact – don’t we?

      Lots of Love n Stuff,

                 Sandra xxx

[PS: Dear Reader, if you liked this letter, you can buy all my letters in book form by following this link…]

You & Me on your Wedding Day …

Letter 8: To Work

Sandra Love Letters , ,

8 February 2012

Dear Work, otherwise known as Labour, Passion or Obsession

I remember years ago when I was a child, my mother buying a postcard with the phrase ‘Work is a Four Letter Word’ printed on it and taking it into her own place of work … I don’t know what response it got or if her boss ever saw it … and the whole ‘four letter word’ thing passed by my childish understanding until later life …

I started off my working life as a baby sitter, passed teenage Saturdays and holidays cleaning and shop assisting and after the high expectations of University, my first foray into the big, adult world of work was selling photocopiers.  God – how I hated plodding round industrial estates asking for compliment slips, knocking on doors, getting rained on and rejected.  And still I sold more than all the men who worked in the office with me … Though eventually I got ‘the sack’ for taking time off ‘sick’, because it made me so miserable …  And that seemed to be the first in a long line of sabotage tactics that would get me out of ‘jail’ fast and supposedly free.

I have had jobs since then that have made me so miserable I that would groan as soon as I woke up, knowing what I had to face that day … horrible tasks and nasty people, sucking out my soul, all in the cause of work and pay.  I stopped, started and moved around in my 20s, until I fixed on a ‘career’ in human resources and unwittingly became a manager – and that not even by choice.  I was working at the time as a HR officer in a dark little office in a factory some where and thought I might just be there for ever.  Then one day I got a call from a ‘head hunter’ and was chased and flattered into a situation where overnight I doubled my salary, status and stress and became a career girl.

Well dear friend, you changed your name from ‘work’ to ‘career’ and we had a real love / hate thing going didn’t we?  I loved the sense of importance, the drama, the sparks I could create and the difference I made.  I was the object of respect, lust and puzzlement on production lines and in offices.  I adored the company cars and all the other trappings of corporate reward; including working lunches and trips abroad – even when most of my colleagues were men in grey suits.  I loved dressing the part in my own smart little suits.  And there is the camaraderie of work, I have always loved that and made some very close friends as a result.

I climbed higher and higher up the corporate ladder, yet hated taking other people’s flack and working insane hours with no thanks.  Then there was being one boss’s favourite and another boss’s nemesis, and often I would start off as the favourite and some how end up as the nemesis – sabotage unconsciously ‘saving’ me and then pitching me back into a new lion’s mouth.  And more and more I was the agent of the corporate machine, making people redundant and acting like an undercover police woman out to catch them in deceit and wrong doings.  That made me miserable.

I wanted to make the change, but didn’t know to what.  I just couldn’t think outside the treadmill, the responsibilities I had created in this life and any alternatives just seemed unfeasible.  As the years passed I felt more and more jaded, burnt out, broken and incomplete and HAD to start my journey to the light, to living my truth, though I couldn’t see the direction and threw away several torches to it along the way.

So I went on courses to ‘fix’ me and spent time with people who nurtured me and who were walking a path I dared to dream to follow.  Then I realised I wasn’t actually broken and that all this ‘stuff’ I was putting into me, would be an amazing gift to share …

And suddenly an opportunity came to me to combine my years in Human Resources and my coaching skills – my own unique life combination – to help 200 people facing redundancy find new work, change careers and face new futures.  I felt passionate about supporting every single person in my care, even if it meant swimming across raging rivers to get them to where they wanted to be.  Wow – career turned to passion!

Then came my own business, which sometimes succumbs to the name ‘obsession’.  I lead, I coach, I train, I mentor, I make a difference to individuals and companies and all the time speaking my truth, doing it in the only way that I can.  I am my own sum total, a fabulous confluence of skills and experiences that I pour into my life and the lives of others entrusted and entrusting to me.  I love, I give, I challenge, I stretch, I support and I laugh.  And I cry sometimes too …

This isn’t work, this is life and this is love.  And you KNOW how much I love Love!

Happily yours

      Sandie x

[PS: Dear Reader, if you liked this letter, you can buy your own copy of the complete book by following this link…]

Letter 7: To John

Sandra Love Letters , , , ,

7 February 2012

Dear John

‘Dear John’ – that phrase in the world of cliché means the beginning of a ‘good bye’.  Yet this time, for me, this is the beginning of a hello, a getting in touch, a getting to know you, to connect with you and so to deepen the connection with myself and to understand the role you have played in my life.

Do you know me John, your sister, the one that came after you?  You had so little time in this living realm, a tiny baby born early, who breathed this side of the womb for 2 days only.

Your passing was a pain, a grief, a darkness that reached into my time, born as I was, 5 years later.  I always knew about you – and our mother told me that not one day went by when she did not think of you.   And in tears and arguments, your memory would surface and be tossed around by our parents, a turmoil unresolved, unforgiven, never forgotten.

It’s a dark place John, to think of the pain and torment of your passing, so let me pass back to the realms of love and dreams and consequence …

We have a living brother of course, two years older still than you; and in my dreams I have seen you, another version of my family … familiar and yet separate.

So you were a fascination to me, part of my puzzle, a missing strand of DNA.  And as a child I often imagined how you would be, if you walked in this world.

And I have realised over time that had you stayed in this world, then I probably would not be here, as I am, in this form, in this living plane of being.  So I thank you John and it’s a complicated thank you, for your part in who I am.  And because of your passing and my safe and happy arrival; my parents were so over-joyed to welcome me when my time came to enter this world.  And separately they have both told me that I was their saviour, angel child, which feels like a beautiful privilege sometimes and at other darker times, an expectation I have felt I simply couldn’t live up to.

You were named John for our grandfather – our mother’s father.  Another John gone before I was born, another John not known by me.  Though for this John I have photographs, stories and a history …  This John stands in line in our parent’s wedding photos and his physical features sometimes reveal themselves in the living descendants that are my familiars.  This John is part of our Scottish heritage and so Grandpa John was known as ‘Jock’.  And I can only guess at what other inheritances we have all got from him.  I would love to explore that part of my past puzzle one day if I can …

And one of the many legends of Grandpa John is that he had another family, one that came after my mother; the fact of which was scandal at the time.  So my mother would say that she is an only child and so she was in fact until her mid 20s.  In recent years she has sought to know her later siblings – a half brother and sister and so I have traced the pieces of paper that would link us to them.

But what comes next?  Do they know of us?  Do they know they have a sister, niece and nephew?  And here’s the thing too, my (half) uncle out there, some where, is also John, named for Grandpa John too – and takes his first name AND his surname.

Another John not known to me, now old enough to be retired … is he still alive, does he have his own family, what did he do with his life?  Could he be a piece of the puzzle that fits, or could he care less?  I stopped the search because my mother, his half sister, became ill and needed our attention and now, further down that line, for many reasons, I’m not sure whether to pick it up again.

What ever the case, I am trusting that this John lives and loves and laughs.  And of my three Johns – brother, grand father and uncle; it is Uncle John who comes into my mind most of all, now I’m at this time in my life.  My father gave us an uncle and two aunts who have all left this world now, so it’s good to know that there is more family out there and maybe, at the end of this letter, that’s all I need to know about them.

We all have our legacies, our legends and live with the consequences of love – our own loves and the love that was created by those who went before us.  In the final analysis I want to connect to the love, live and breath it in every form and on that note I will bid all my Johns, for now, a very fond farewell.

    With love from Sandra xxx

PS: Thanks go to my brother and mother who agreed to let this letter be seen and for reminding me that when I was in my pram, we used to visit my brother John’s tiny grave.  A connection unremembered … and one for which I am grateful.   S x

[PPS: Dear Reader, this letter and more are now published in book form, you can buy your copy by following this link…]

Grandpa John, a face known and unknown …

Letter 6: To Money

Sandra Love Letters , ,

6 February

Dear Money

We’ve been through the merry-go-round together, haven’t we?  There have been dips, there have been peaks and NOW Money, I have changed the status of our relationship again.  It took a little getting used to, didn’t it – changing the rules like we did?  Taking our own path and defying the rules of a whole, conventional, former life, the nay sayers and the non-believers …

You’ve always been there for me, though at times I confess I thought you weren’t really on my side … still, I have to say, that you have always come through.

Because we have an unconventional relationship, not everyone understands how it is with us … yet we have an understanding and I want to you to know how I want things to be between us from now on.  So here are my intentions, this will be our story – the map of our voyage and last, but not least, my love letter to you:

Money be mine …

Money come to me with ease; walk and run and dance with me on my journey through life, and in doing so, be my true and constant companion.

Money reward me for my virtues, for my passion, for my work, for the difference I make.

Money fly to me with wings and soar with me through the stratosphere as we spread our light together, you and I.

Money stay with me, abound with me and befriend me, for I am deserving of your light and I you know that I am a warm, true and loyal friend.

Money be with me and I will take you on journeys near and far, enjoy you, use you well and share your gift.

And in return Money, I ask that you feed me soul and body; that you will protect me, give me security and luxury, clothe me in gorgeous gowns and house me in heaven.

For all this Money, I will honour you, I will take care of you and I will share your energy for the good of human and animal kind.

Money be mine for ever and we will share the glory and celebrate the greatness.

Money be mine.

Love

    Sandra xx

[PS: Dear Reader, if you liked this letter, you can buy your own copy of the complete set in book form, by following this link…]

Letter 5: To Snow

Sandra Love Letters , ,

5 February 2012

Dear Snow

Saying ‘dear snow’ feels sort of un-natural, but then why should it?  Snow is one of the most natural things in this corner of the world; a force of nature … a simple weather feature … mere frozen water transformed into magic or … a sheer pain in the arse?

So, how do I love snow?  Well, there is what snow brings – a gorgeous luminescent sky, the magic of white cold flakes falling from heaven – filling the horizon with the promise and excitement of transformation.

For snow IS transformative: the landscape is altered, filtered and changed in so many dimensions.  There is the sight – a cool, white blanket covering the horizon; purifying, electrifying, cleansing and sculpting the landscape to wind blown topiary peaks or a smooth unifying pure concrete.

And look closely into snow and you discover that it is woven from crystalline magic, being formed of diamonds and stars into a myriad of patterning that gives you a tiny glimpse of god.

Then there is the sound: Of an electric silence, of feet crunching and compacting the pureness to footprint; shrieking happy children pelting snowballs and creating future be-wintered memories of sledging and snowmen.

And people tell me that they can smell snow coming. I don’t sense snow that way, it’s appeal for me is the lack of that sense … another cleansing apparition, another altered state of being.  A deprivation to add to the sensation.

The feel is multiple – the shiver of the anticipated shock of freezing cold; the sudden solidity transformed by warmth to water.  Snow can be the solid force that is shaped into missiles and carrot be-nosed, old scarf dressed snow people – that jocular cousin to the scare crow.  It can be sticky and clingy, grabbing onto the fibres of your protective clothes.  And snow can be white dust skimming the wintery land – powdery and ephemeral and formless.

As it fades, it melts and disappears, changing from its’ pure white form to the half way house of sludge – snow now blackened, dimmed and dirtied by the environment underneath and around – reasserting it self and infecting the cool whiteness with a creeping blackness.  And then there is snow melted and re-frozen … that smooth form of treacherous ice that brings bruises, breaks bones and slows us to protective caution.

The emotion is child-like and primordial.  There is a heightened sense of homeliness, of being safe inside, peering out of the window; knowing there is a warm security, a cosy certaincy enhanced by comfort food, extra warmth and other winter indulgences.

So snow, this is your love letter and love is many splendored thing.  Yet it can be a complicated, contradictory thing too.  For the light, white stuff has a dark side too and I tried not to think of this before I headed out into your path last night.

I hedged my bets … I would be safe because you were starting to fall and had not yet formed yourself into solid danger; it was a Sunday, so you would not have caused too much crazy world stopping chaos and I decided I would respect your power and be careful, mindful and remember all the snow wisdom I have ever been taught.

Combined with darkness snow, your power turns darker; and add in side-winding wind and you become an even fiercer force to be reckoned with.  Even on the motor way where the cavalier speed merchants usually ride my bumper or flash by me in the fast lane, everyone respected you and slowed to snow pace.  I so wanted to be home and warm and out of your way, yet joined the convoy of caution until the time came to branch off to my local little motorway.

I was all alone in the dark until I reached thickening slush and the next convoy of caution – feeling its way down towards Coventry at 30 miles per hour.  I kept my calm and joined the crawl and still the adrenaline quickened in my blood, to flash out when I braked and my brakes fought and ignored me and then slowly acquiesced and slowed my car down; unlike my heart, which was beating faster and faster.  I kept my nerve and whispered loving comfort to myself to see me through the ever shortening distance home.

Then turning the corner to my final descent, the car slid and skidded – just for a second and then was in my control again, facing forward, heading home, cautiously maintaining momentum as I drove through your thickening layers along country lanes, where I had to guess the lines of the road from the hedge rows and my local land lore.

More careful twists and turns and finally came my home strait, my street, my relief.

So snow, your power is mutable, variable, a kiss on the landscape, a potential kiss of death.  And that too adds to your thrill.  Friend and foe snow. Love and loathe snow.

Snow – you are an infinite force to be reckoned with and isn’t that, after all is said and done, so very like love itself?

With much love, regards and respect.

    Sandra

[PS: Dear Reader, if you liked this letter, you can buy your own hard copy of the complete book of letters by following this link… ] or you can buy it on Amazon in either paperback or Kindle format too…

Letter 4: To The Rocket Man and The Bonny Wee Lass

Sandra Love Letters , , , ,

4 February 2012

Dear Richard and Liz

Well perhaps it’s not quite the done thing to write a letter to someone on the very day that you see them, but then these are MY love letters and I get to make the rules!

Thing is that I’ll be seeing you today along with at least a hundred or so other people and having said that I know that I will get a hug from each of you and some words and some love, so I’m more than good with that and those things alone would make my day worthwhile, but then there will be so much more being given and shared too.

Mr Rocket Man it has to be said that you have created something that is so fundamentally simple and yet so profound, that it has changed the lives and hearts of hundreds of people.  Your ‘Broadband Consciousness’ is the most all inclusive school of thought that I have known in the world of self development … in your company I have met people from every walk of life, every social strata and people who wouldn’t know what the phrase ‘self development’ meant, only that they are living, freer and happier lives.

So how do I love thee?  You are an uncle, a sage, a brilliant orator; there is a child like glint of glee in those eyes, an amazing energy, a genuine desire to make a difference.  Then there is the brilliant non conformist conformity of the hair and the outfits … the Sergeant Pepper Jacket is my personal favourite : – ) You also happen to be the life and business partner of My Bonny Wee Lass, the gorgeous Glasgow scrap, my lovely Liz.

When I met you Liz I realised that I could very happily earn a living making Liz-a-Like dolls – I reckon I know at least 200 people who would buy them and want to carry your image around and keep it with them too …

It all starts with the hugs, bone crushing, loving and reviving.  I have compared notes with others in the field and it has been universally agreed – you give of the very best there is!

You are beautiful in every sense of the word.  You give of your love and your wisdom and your tears freely.  And when I found out that you were going to teach people how to coach (and there were no boundaries – life coach / business coach / mentor), I pounced on the opportunity – it was so the right thing at the right time for me, as I started my own business and my journey as a coach in turn.

I’ve had the pleasure and privilege to call you my own life coach AND my coaching mentor and to shine a light on the way forward and trusting me too to do it my way.  And I’ve sat on your coach-ey sofa with the tissues, working through my stuff.  And you have gone beyond what any one else I know in that situation would have … in many ways, ways which are ours to know, behind our confidential client closed doors, because you give a special kind of unconditional love, one that I recognise and respond to, because I now realise I am capable of that too, and you put your trust in me and so it was.

You are an amazing judge of character and can see into someone’s head and heart so easily and speak their thoughts.  I’ve seen you meet someone new, many times and ‘get’ them – just like that, it’s a gift.

And the love comes too from a shared loved of coaching.  You know how much I love it and I LOVE working with my clients – it is the most gloriously selfish, selfless thing I could ever do in my life and with my life.  It just feels like I was born to it.  It is energy, contentment, wisdom, electrical sparks, love and magic.  In that room, with that person, all the things learned and unlearned come to me …‘cosmic faxes’ as Richard so wonderfully describes them …

Now to me, what you have both created is magical and I have translated it to my own philosophy of ‘know yourself, love yourself, be yourself’ and I will continue to sing that from the rafters … or from the stage of your Christmas Party (again) … or where ever some one will listen, for that matter.

And that’s my love for now.  There’ll be more. Can’t wait for my hugs,

S xxx

[PS: Dear Reader, if you liked this letter, you can buy your own hard copy of the book of letters by following this link…]

The Rocket Man and My Bonny Wee Lassie

Letter 3: To My Clown

Sandra Love Letters , , , ,

3 February 2012

Dear Martrucio

You may wonder why I’m writing to you when I haven’t even been aware of you for very long – well not dressed in your circus suit any way.  Yet you always seem to have been with me and now I know your name, it all seems to make sense …

So now we’ve been formally introduced, I have decided to write you a love letter and make sense of you, because otherwise I’m likely to blame you for a lot of things or else curse you for being part of my life.

You were introduced to me a couple of weeks ago by a very wise Celt called Gill.  One of her gifts is to help people identify and work with their ‘archetypes’ … these for me being facets of my self and hence my destiny.  Getting to know my archetypes has provided me with some new revelations about my life, character and actions – and I thought I knew me!  As it happens, I DID know me and now I know me differently 🙂 and I can never know enough.

But I digress – this is YOUR letter Martrucio, so let’s get back to you …  Gill told me about my Clown and I knew somehow that your name was Martrucio. Yes, you’ve always been around in some way shape or form; and way back when – the first name I gave to you, was ‘accident prone’.  For ‘name’ you can substitute ‘label’, a reason, an excuse, a hook to hang happenings on.  You’ve gone by many names and at other times, people have called you ditzy, klutz, blonde or stupid.  And because of you, I have been shouted at, cursed and you have been the cause of much embarrassment, apologies and use of cleaning fluids …

Why oh why Martrucio, even yesterday, when I had been getting acquainted with you, did you sit me next to the speaker at the event, the very event where I wanted to impress people, to sell them my services, be entertaining and respected and – well, all sorts of things really.  So Martrucio, when the speaker tried in vain to get every one’s attention by tapping on a coffee cup with a spoon, did you prompt me to bash the wine glass full of orange squash with a heavy knife?  Why Martrucio, why!?  Well it DID get everyone’s attention and may be the sight of orange squash gushing out of the glass, onto the speaker’s paperwork, her cream coloured jacket and the crisp white table cloth was entertaining, but really Martrucio, it was not quite the effect I wanted!  I wanted to feel elated, but instead felt mortified – what on earth?!

So in that moment, the clown had a sad face.  Yet fortunately the speaker survived and we’re laughing about it now, so you are smiling again Martrucio – that big, red, grotesque, exaggerated mouth of a smile.

As time has gone on, I forget most of the time that you are in my life and then you re-surface – some times in mild form, sometimes extreme – so I crack a joke, which goes down well, then I crack a plate or bash my car – drat and curses!  In some sense do I need you in my life Martrucio – I like to perform, to entertain, to detract, to bewitch; but then I would rather that what actually manifests is more glossy and impressive than the breaking and mucking up of things.

I was so relieved when years ago I saw a doctor who told me your name was ‘inner ear balance problem’ – at last I was vindicated, I had a REASON to do all this stuff – something beyond my control – hurrah – a ‘condition’!  Other people have called you ‘dyspraxia’ – apparently all the signs are there …

There is a sense too, that often people see YOU Martrucio and not ME, as I want to be seen.  But it’s time to let all that go.

You see now I know what your name is and that you are part of my being, my very infrastructure.  I now wish to make my peace with you Martrucio and live with you in harmony – instead of the very up and down thing we’ve had going together for such a long time.  The accidents are just a small part of what we do together.  And get this Martrucio, I would now love to take our relationship to the next stage, though I’m not sure yet what that stage is.  Let’s just agree, lovingly, that I will allow you your time in the spotlight, and in return can you love me back and change where the spotlight shines please?

Thank you so much for listening Martrucio and I really want to thank you for making me smile and for showing me that it’s OK not to be perfect and for giving me the gift of laughter and yes, maybe the ability to occasionally squirt people in the eye with a well aimed jet of flowery water …

   With love, from Sandra x

PS: Dear Reader, if you liked this letter, you can buy your own hard copy of the book of letters by following this link…

Letter 2: To My Father

Sandra Family, Love Letters, Loved Ones , , ,

2 February 2012

Dear Dad

How strange to be writing to you again.  I can’t have done that since 1984!  And then you departed this life only 2 years later – after a traumatic 3 months, when I watched you slide down from life to death.  It seemed to be a horrible case of mind over matter.  Did your mind or your body end you?  It seems that they both conspired.  I can trace the day it started and remember so clearly the day it ended.

I tried to save you with love.  I remember sitting with you in your bedroom and telling you that I loved you and you told me that while I sat there and held your hand, you felt OK.  Yet that moment in time did not save you and you left us that Easter.

There I go, off at a tangent, starting at the end … still it’s MY love letter and I know that you will love it any way.  One thing you never left me in any doubt about, was the fact that you loved me, that you were proud of me and that I was wanted and appreciated.

I was a planned and wanted baby, born after a difficult period in a difficult marriage; the little girl that both parents hoped for.  You told me one day that you had a vision of me long before I was even thought of … the one female in your life that you would connect to like no other.

You told me too that I came out of the womb completely in charge and as soon as I could speak, I started ordering you around, which made you laugh and you were always amazed at my mature precociousness.

Thanks to you and the cosy nightly ritual of reading to me at bed time, I have always loved books and the beauty of the written word, and now have a creative imagination that can quickly take me to the realms of dream and wonder.

I remember that you would sit in the kitchen of an evening, with your legs crossed and as a tiny child I would sit in the crook of your foot and swing on your leg – my very own daddy swing, as I chattered away to you.  I love the memories of us then, of being my daddy’s girl.  A gift to you in your middle age.

From you I get my sense of humour – we love puns and word plays.  You have a definite sentimental streak and would cry at a sad film.  You would drive me and my teenage friends around in one of your old cars, singing away at the top of your voice completely unselfconscious; and I remember at the time thinking it wasn’t socially ideal, but it was funny and deciding not to be embarrassed.  My friends would have to accept that that’s how it was, along with the ride, that it was all part of being with me and in my life.

And so we grew older, both of us.  You always wanted me to be happy and never pushed me, though some how at the end, when I came home to roost for a while, I became a little disenchanted with you.  Maybe that just has to happen, we children have to move away psychologically, to live our own lives.

I always loved you though and what I am left with, a quarter of a century after you left this life, still, is that love.  I have so many inheritances from you, both natured and nurtured and can sometimes see your handsome face in the mirror … and then it goes again and it’s just my reflection, your unique angel, partly of your creation.  And so there we are and now it’s time to end this letter.

I loved getting in touch with you again dad.  Let’s do it again 🙂

Love you loads,

             Sandie Annie xxx

PS: Dear Dad – who knew this letter would touch so many hearts and be the start of my first published book… Thank you for your love and belief and the for the gift of my book, which I know you would be so proud of… Dear Reader, if you liked this letter and the letters which followed it, which became  published as ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’, you can buy your own copy of the book in paperback and in Kindle

Me n Dad
You, Me and Our Snowman

Letter 1: To the World

Sandra Damsels in Success, Family, Friends, Love Letters, Loved Ones , , , ,

1 February 2012

Dear World

It’s February 2012 and already it’s been a funny old year.  I’ve been a single girl for 12 months, during which time I also started my own business, moved house, wrote a book, forgot who I was, remembered who I was and that was just the tip of the iceberg!

As a woman I’m a creature of many facets: I have a family, a past, a company, friends, hobbies, thoughts, feelings, talents and am made up of umpteen influences, inheritances, joys, sorrows and impulses.

With the approach of February, the Valentine month of ‘love’, I have decided to write a love letter, every day of the month, to the special people in my life.  Well, actually ‘people’ doesn’t really cover it … I know that God is going to get at least one letter, as are friends, family and other crucial players in my life – be they alive, departed or indeed, imagined …

My love letters are intended to entertain me, to give me the forum to be creative and be a writer; I want them to exorcise demons, to celebrate and give me the space to analyse, enjoy, and give thanks for my life. They are a loving challenge set to myself and to share with the world, so I commit to completing them and facing my destiny … Well, it’s going to be an interesting 29 days … who knows where it will start, end or go from here …

In this age of reality TV and soap opera, so much is shared, so often.  I’m not usually a fan of being a fictional or real fly on the wall when I know there is a director and cameraman on hand.  Often I find real life so much more fascinating and of course, my OWN life to be the most fascinating of all!  So in the spirit of secrecy of you may not see ALL my letters here, as some may be TOO personal or share information that is the rightful possession of others, yet (at least) 29 there will be, out there in the ether and my gifts to their receivers.

Well dear world, on that note, I’m tired and light headed and it’s time to wind down to sleep now, so here endeth the first letter.

Lovingly yours

Sandra x

PS: It’s 12 months later and who knew that this Blog would become a book… Thank you Dear World for the amazing feedback and the opportunity to publish. S xx

PPS: Buy your own hard copy of the book Peachey ‘Peachey Letters’ by clicking this link…

Sandra Peachey