Love in the Time of Corona

‘Love in the Time of Corona’ is a self-promised set of missives to a world which seems to have been turned on its’ very axis. This titular tilting will inform my musings on the global pandemic called COVID-1D, AKA novel Coronavirus, with all its’ complications and implications.

The concept came to me, as all my best ideas do – fully formed, in a flash. I’ve been feeling the keen need to reach out and touch. After mulling over what way, shape or form this touch should take, I woke up this morning with the title. I have to admit though that the original credit for that must go to novelist and Nobel Prize winner Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s tale of unrequited love – ‘Love in the Time of Cholera.’

7 years ago I started a blog of ‘Love Letters to Life’ – charting my musings and maunderings on how, if you look for it, you can find love in everything… So from Marquez’s concept of unrequited love to mine of all-encompassing love… Now ‘Love’ and ‘Corona’ are about to go hand in hand, as I explore the phenomena caused and created by this curious condition.  With these posts I want to go beyond coping with Corona and to learn from it, instead.

Yet ironically, I may just have been heard to say that I’m sick of the illness known as Corona. Never before have I felt so beleaguered by news, views and possible abuse of one seemingly simple subject.

For a while there, I thought it would all blow over or somehow past me. I’ve survived Swine Flu and SARS unscathed, after all…

But over the last few days the scale of the situation that this condition has caused, has dawned on me. So rather than be overwhelmed, negative or to stick my head in the sand, I have decided to do something about it…

I admit that my something is selfish. I want to cope with COVID-19, to rationalise it, and to understand how it impacts on me and the world I occupy. And in doing so, I want to reach out to you and maybe make a connection or a difference. Thank you for being here – I won’t judge the outcome, if you will spend some more time with me on the same page.

So let’s go!

The Matrix of Us

I believe that we are all somehow connected… That every single one of us is inextricably linked. I don’t know each and every one of you out there, but we are from the same deep roots in this planet we inhabit, whatever hue we are…

I know that with so many of us that we do this differently. And so often we define ourselves by our differences. And despite what I’m hippy happily writing, I’m as guilty as anyone of creating schisms with criticisms and crooning my complaints.

That is until I stop and think. Think about how I’m connected to and not divided from the world.

Look – I’m not saying that I spend my time gaily thinking about everything I have in common with, well, everyone, but that in the grand scheme of things (barring despots and demons) I have more things in common with you, than different to you.

Coronavirus is making this argument easy for me, because it is something that connects such a vast percentage of the population – the world over. We’ve all got its’ presence in our lives in common. It is affecting so much of our time, concentration and energy. We’ve experienced a range of extremes including anxiety, cancellations and revelations whilst we face a world which seems very different to what it was even a short month ago.

We all have Corona in common, so let’s remember that. Let’s remember that we are connected by it. That so many of us will be experiencing it or its influence in our lives, and the lives of those around us.

So how about a set of commitments as to how Coronavirus is going to be for me and for you?

Now is the time to:

• stand together – to acknowledge what we have in common and work from there.
• look out for each other – loved ones and strangers. Together we really are stronger.
• be honest about what we are feeling and experiencing – don’t self-isolate in your head.
• think about your role – without judgement or guilting – is it to watch or step up to the plate?

So I’ve started my list of commitments. They will grow and change and flex as the world does the same.

As for you, dear reader:

• Maybe to do this, you just need to do this for you.
• Maybe it’s your destiny to reach out.
• Maybe it’s your time to lead, distract, laugh or change.

And as for me, please help me to commit to keep my word, to keep sharing my words with you.

And that was my first blog on ‘Love in the time of Corona’…

With love to you, whatever you do.
From Sandra – author, blogger and blonde

Your Valentine – Sorted

Love is in the air! Cupid is hiding around the corner, arrow poised and ready for Valentine‘s Day, which is now fast approaching…
Have you got the perfect gift for your partner yet? I can help…
heart feb 15
And if you haven’t met the Mr or Ms Right in your life yet… Where do you find love?
Read my book Peachey Letters and find out…
Book Cover Tiny
I currently have a Valentine special offer… You can buy the paperback on Amazon for £11.99 or as a Valentine’s treat you can get it on my website – here for just £7.99 including P&P… Happy designated Day of Love!
Featured in Psychologies Magazine and The Lady, it is also honoured as a Finalist in the International Book Awards 2015.

Here is just a small sample of the feedback that ‘Peachey Letters’ has received so far:

Wow! Beyond words, your writing is wonderful, your insights an inspiration, the gift of a Goddess & an honesty that is humbling … Your bravery is bold & simply brilliant. Thank you. ~ Lucie Bradbury

It’s fabulous the way you are able to express your feelings with sensitivity and humour, a real talent … your writing is so wonderfully poetic whilst at the same time being merrily mischievous, …  ~ Liz Ivory

What vivid pictures your words paint. It is never easy to put your feelings into words. Your deep feelings and gut reactions bubble up naturally seemingly beyond translation. Your words have become the sparkle in my eyes and the sun that shines through the window every morning beckoning me to wake, I love your writing. I always have, and I always will. ~ Vaibhav –India:

Rarely have I read such exquisite passion, such positivity, such zest for life has I have in your love letters. You express yourself so well, as you find just the right words for thoughts, feelings and experiences that so many of us find impossible to capture, or even know exist. You have THE GIFT … And you have imagination too. A mind able to fly and to dream. To truly know, to see in your mind’s eye, how beautiful things could be… if only… Yet, even in this imperfect world… a world fall of faults, pain, failings, evil and just plain indifference, you still see and appreciate the beauty. ~ David W

What a gift that is – coming through all your life and coming to this point of deep peace and love. And you’ve had the honesty to share it. I just feel so touched and humbled.  Thank you with all my heart. ~ Lyria Normington

Your letters are touching and inspirational – and so amazingly well written, they made my spine tingle …~ Lis Protherough

Making a perfect Valentine gift, the book takes the best posts from this blog, adds new content in and wraps it all together in a satisfying structure – that will make you feel the love, entertain and enlighten you.

It’s an easy yet satisfying read, which sees love in everything we do, crossing the boundries of the huge themes of life, and the tiny, trivial minutiae of it too.

Buy the paperback on my website – here for just £7.99 including P&P…

Or get it from Amazon for £11.99 and from all great book websites around the world.

You can also buy it in Kindle

Any which way, you and who ever you give it to, will LOVE it!

With love from
Author of Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life
~ Finalist in the International Book Awards 2015
~ Featured in Psychologies Magazine and The Lady


Love Letter to (Emotional) Resilience

Boxing Resilience

Dearest Friend

I’m writing to you today because I want to get in touch with you again and to have more of you in my life – because right now, I miss you…

I see you out in the world and you are quite ‘the thing’ now aren’t you? You are bandied about in corporate circles and trotted out for magazine articles and so you’ve become very fashionable of late and I wonder if you have time for me anymore, so I’ll put my own petty predispositions to one side and unashamedly reach out to you instead.

If I think about what you are, I can chew up a dictionary and spew out a definition of you: Emotional resilience is having the ability and resources to adapt to difficult emotional situations or surprises. When you are emotionally resilient, you are more able to accept such situations and better able to adapt – rolling with the punches of life, rather than being knocked out by them.

Interesting that I should start sprinkling boxing analogies in there… But not surprising, because I have of late, starting feeling that life has been punching me in the stomach a little too often…

I like to think of myself as a strong person, but woman cannot live by thoughts and preferences alone. As an observer of mankind and myself – womankind – the kind of woman who watches and tries to lovingly learn; I have noticed how I am subject to the rhythms of my life. So I am deliberately putting some time aside to analyse the waves of those rhythms and to decide whether to swim, surf or take a boat across them. Frequently you, see, I seem to be drowning in them; so it is time to traverse, rather to tread water. What I wonder is going on with me that seems to weaken my resilience, and what steps can I take to consciously build it up again?

So if I look at myself and where my life has taken me recently – there are both external and internal considerations. I made a big change to my work / life path around 9 months ago and I realise that I am still adjusting and balancing all the options around that. I am, I now realise, missing certain elements of that old life that filled me up emotionally and psychologically, and I want to redress the balance.

The first part of that process is to be really sure of who I am and what I want to bring to the party of life. So here is my Soul Manifesto: I want to earn a good income, doing work that supports others and enervates and pushes me. I want to go beyond existing and paying bills – to a state of feeling fulfilled. That involves putting positive energy into my corporate work, my coaching and my writing.

When I am clear about what I bring to each of these activities, then that clarity gives me a surety and strength in myself; and means then that I am not so desperately vested in the misaligned words, actions and opinions of the players and partners around me – all with their own agenda; but rather that I understand what these are, and so I dance with rather than deal with other’s demons – doing a do-si-do and a step to the side, rather than an intense one on one tango.

To be honest with you, dealing with my own demons is hard enough work and I cannot serve my soul’s purpose if I am drawing daggers with other people’s devils… But frequently I forget this and find myself out there with them in the boxing ring. So I’m standing there, thinking I’ve got the friendly audience and the outfit just right and that I’ll execute a few nifty and graceful shadow moves, when… Blam!!! Suddenly and without warning I am punched hard in the stomach by my opponent – who I thought was actually my partner. But no. Biff! Duff! Thwack! Now the punches keep raining down on me, even though I am now knocked out and lying on the sawdust strewn floor finding it hard to breathe. And then I realise that I am actually beating myself up. For the love of… Ouch!!! I can’t decide which kind of punch (internal or external) is more painful…

I’m also out in the audience, watching myself from the side lines – shouting encouragement one minute, then counting to ten the next, and I think ominously that this woman on the floor has a physical disadvantage as well as an emotional demon to fight…

And that demon / disadvantage or whatever you may call it is the menopause. I feel that I haven’t weathered it well. My hormones have raged and rampaged over my life for some years now and I feel like the layers of strength and learning that I have built up around my heart have been eroded away. It is as if my emotional resilience has been burnt out – has given up, along with my body, which has been fighting the transition with all the indecorous furore of a bull in a china shop. And I’m left, naked to my emotions and therefore open to the various blows that circumstance and psyche will inevitably rain on my heart.

Out in the audience, as I watch myself sitting up slowly, with the moths of pain and pity flying round my head (instead of cartoon birds and stars), I walk over to myself and whisper in my ear, the same things that I tell my coaching clients…

“You are sitting up, you are breathing – you are safe. Acknowledge the pain – accept it and that you are in it, for now. This too shall pass. See it for what it is and choose what you want from this. Choose to learn and if you feel that you are beyond choice, then ask yourself what you would choose if you could and ruminate on those thoughts – even disassociated choice will heal and change the psyche. Analyse and accept what has happened. Don’t fight it with recriminations, angry self-talk, and victimised surmises. The surmises that equate to you making up tales and stories – ‘but they did X / I always Y, oh why, oh why’ etc.)… This is just your mind creating tall tales, it is not your reality, so change the ending. Fighting (in whatever form it takes) is always painful, so take off the boxing gloves.

It is always tempting at times like these to drug the pain – with tablets, wine, television or whatever our real or psyched pharmacy of choice is. But instead of drugging – how about distracting instead? Take a walk, take a break; breath deep and a get a change of scene and perspective – even if that is just walking into the next room.

Find a supportive friend, colleague or coach who will be a positive sounding board. Get it off your chest. Then listen – to them, and most importantly to your self – that self that goes deeper than those perceived punches in the heart. What is really going on here for you – what is the lesson to be learnt?”

And sometimes at this point I’ve seen myself and clients snap right out of it and of course, at others, it takes a little more energy to be able to get back on your feet.

Out of that imaginary boxing arena now, these are the two vital underpinning elements to bolster emotional resilience:

Firstly – consciously keeping the right company. Not just running to someone to moan and unload, but being part of a group/community where you give and take. Somewhere where you learn and teach. For some this family and friends, others combine this with being part of communities like Broadband Consciousness or Damsels in Success – any number of options are out there and available for you to explore.

Secondly – keep up a routine of self-development practices. Read the right books (and given your situation, the choice of these will change); learn to meditate, and journal. Get a notebook and as a minimum – write out 10 things / reasons / situations / people every day to be grateful for. What can you be grateful for in those emotional punches..? This is training your brain to find positive thoughts and is ultimately building your resilience.

These two practices become even better if you combine them with getting a deeper level of support from a coach or counsellor – work through your stuff – not just in times of crises, but as a matter of course / routine. Please don’t tell me that you cannot afford the time or financial investment that this will involve. There are many forms of support out there – from free to expensive. A lot of what you choose (including doing nothing) will depend upon your concept of value, but where ever there is a will, there is a way, so find the right resources to invest in yourself.

A constant positive self-analysis along with supportive guidance, is a powerful combination. The external support means that you have a wealth of resources to draw on. The inner practices – that you can be more simultaneously wise and resilient, because you keep up a constant and conscious practice – meaning that you become humble enough to keep learning, and quiet enough to let the answers come to you, all in in their own good time.

How you do all this is part of this process, you will inevitably experiment with what works best for you and don’t think that you will find one easy source for all this support. By varying what you do, you will strengthen what you do – as with most things in life – don’t put all your eggs in to one basket.

So, my friend Resilience – of course in clichéd fashion, I find that you have been with me all along – I had just forgotten you, but knew secretly too that you were always there within me. And if I have been stripped back, and emotionally laid bare, then all to the good – it is time to build myself up again – to be better, and to be more. Always of course, with a little help from my (internal and external) friends.

So now, my emotional vulnerability becomes my learning and of course my ultimate strength and turns back in to my emotional resilience.

Thank you my friend, for all that you give me: the love, the learning and the strength to serve – myself and so too then, the world.

Yours, with dancing feet and dry eyes…

S xXx

PS: Did you know that a collection of my ‘Peachey Letters’ have been gathered together in to a beautiful book, exploring all the facets of loss, love and life in all their gore and glory? This is love seen in every aspect of the life that I live.  In it you will find the dark and the light of love, in a way that will make you think, entertain you and let you know that you are not alone in life, what ever it holds for you… You can buy ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’ by Sandra Peachey, from book websites any where in the world, including on Amazon (in both Paperback and Kindle)

Letter to Mum… One Year On…

Dear Mum

There I was, rushing from one transient transaction to another – caught up in doing and being, and filling out and filling in the long hot hours; and eventually, in the middle of it all, I paused… and then the realisation racked and rocked me… You died a year ago, this very week…

A year… time and tide marked by the passing of days – of suns, moons and of tears. And laughter and anger too and all the other inner panoply of life, along with the external chaotic, diametric business of the outer life…  Then the crazy cliché of ‘how can that be’, how can this time have passed, have changed, have thrown me forward one whole year of existence – moving on from that one day..?

A day with a telephone call, a dazed evening journey to the hospital, a dark evening with a strange doctor explaining, wandering all around the verbal houses before he would say… when inside I was screaming – ‘just tell me!!!‘. And finally he told me… And so that was the beginning of this particular end…

And so my destination on that day changed, for that was the end of my mother’s earthly journey, and the start of renegotiating my own as a result. My sense of identity subtly shifting as my concepts of self, of connection, of reason, of pattern and of pace and place, all change and re-form and reinvent, and then connect back up, to a new whole, yet wholly recognisable me.

That it is what it is, with me – Sandra – newly orphaned child of this parish and currently good with where the journey has taken me, and yet I find that the relationship with my mother still lives and grows, and indeed ebbs and flows…

And as life is, I have thought of her and not, off and on, splinking on and away from the radar of my consciousness, and I know too, without doubt, that she is always with me, part of the DNA of my sub-consciousness.  I have lived my life to be so different from her and yet, so often, am so very much the same.

My mother was certainly feisty and often fiery and frequently noisy (her silences were, some how especially loud…).  At times, being with her felt like a constant drone of negativity, of bile and bitterness, of blaming and wailing and ranting. That is not the complete picture of course, but that is what I carried with me, for so so long, down trails of tears and disaster; till I found and released my own light, and then shone it back at her and then I could see her burning more beautiful and brighter in the glow…

Or so I think or thought… I’ve had a long tough period where my health has been difficult, dogged by headache and exhaustion, and this illness has been constant and chilling and it has changed the game of my life, taken me frequently to the doctor and to the hospital, and I have read and meditated and shared… and yet instead of healing, it has escalated to a recent point in time, through body and mind, onwards to the hated signs of menopause.

I remember well my mother’s menopause years, and I shared with her too my fizzing female teenage hormonal hours, as we were spitting and spatting through the transitions of our respective walking womanhood journeys.

And so here am I, now going through that second transition myself and not, I have to say wearing it well…  My body creates chemicals and has suffered them into my blood stream, changing the body that I thought I controlled; and then those horrible hormonal spheres infiltrated me deeper and deeper and then the mind bubbles, burns and bends with evil thoughts, hates and intentions.

Nothing would stop this vile onset – not doctor drugs, not change of diet, not chatting it all out with my female friends, neither incanting affirmations, or seeking alternative therapies. I was just not ready to accept and heal.  And so it all escalated and exploded and I started to speak out, to let my untamed thoughts and feelings free, like misty grey moths flying to a dark moon.

From this loosened version of me, I’ve said some really real and sometimes harsh things to those in my orbit… “Oh my god – I am my mother!!!”  Suddenly from my body being lassoed by horrendous hormones, I was actually possessed by my mad mother and it felt so intense that I was her, wrapped simply in my own outer skin…  Her disappointment, her bile, her anger and frustration were me and it was hell.  Hot, hurting, tearful, bloated and menacing hell.

And going through this, I have thought and said aloud, again and again, I can now understand more why she acted in those loud ways of hers, and have so much more empathy for what she said, did and felt…

The thing is, I could hate that my mother was so outspoken, so I always chose, in the past, to be the opposite.  Yet despite the hell, through the twisting agonies of hardened emotions turning to spoken word, I would remember that I secretly envied that chiding freedom of voice she had, and her complete ‘take it or leave it’ attitude.  And so everything I have said through that demonic time, I do not regret.  It was all my truth, and it was time to burn its’ way out and to face and feel the heat of its’ consequences.

With heaving, seething hormones – decisions and doings became heavy and difficult as I crawled this satanic pathway.  I wonder would the world who shared my surface swannings about have guessed?   The proud white swan was gliding in sweet sight on still waters and yet paddling furiously and drowning under water and out of subtle sight…

And that has been the year of my body and mind… and yet too, what an absolutely awesome year…  Mum would be so very proud (and I like to think, IS proud…). ‘Her’ Sandra has published a book, appeared in famous places – in print and on airwaves.  And her Sandra won an Award and received it in a gorgeous dress, with fabulous shoes and applause and dancing.  She was always proud when I did good and she was proud when I looked good.  And her Sandra has coached and spoken and supported and laughed and written and achieved so much and had the most wonderful time; going along and giving her gratitude for a crazy and amazing existence both in time and in head space.

Yet there it all was, the worse of me, inside of me, frothing and flailing; and I had to come, eventually to my own stubborn resolution, not overtly sought, for I could not see the way out.

It happened as I was leading my group of gorgeous ‘Damsels in Success’ to their own conclusions, resolutions and light… then suddenly for me too, the light bulb snapped on and there it was… sweet and blessed relief and resolution.  Here was my delicious clarity – to embrace this transition, these lessons in life and to joyfully receive my healing.  This is my selfish / selfless reason for supporting, for I constantly crave the same succulent thing too…

Well that was one balmy evening, and the next morning there I was chatting on a radio show in a strange city, and she would so love that… And then, later, my footsteps took me towards a cathedral I had never passed the portals of before – and I was drawn in, inexorably and naturally.  It was time to absorb, time to reflect, to celebrate and to make my peace.  I lit a candle and breathed the sacred atmosphere in, feeling my mother comfortable and close.

I wandered on through this sacred space and there were just two stained glass windows.  They were installed in the year I was born – so my attention was piqued and caught, as was my heart as the light streamed through the glowing arches above me.  I read that they represented the journey from darkness to light… and they were of course, there just for me – my sign, my message, my seal on healing.

And I walked out of that perfect place into intense July sunlight… A year ago, on another such beautiful July day – we said farewell to the physical mother and celebrated her life… That whole day, with its’ sun and singing; family and friending; remembrance and reconciliation, was a gorgeous gift from God for me.  Now, four seasons later, I needed this day too: to remember my mother in every way, and to heal and to reconcile – both me and her…

So now I have turned my cathedral corner and am again walking in the glorious sunlight…

A whole year ago, at my mother’s final church service, I stood up to speak my piece and this came to me: “mother has a message for you all – she has had a word with God and arranged this gorgeous sunny weather as a special thank you for being here today…”

And that is how that ending began, and then how this ending ends…

With love from


Doubter and Daughter xx

There are more letters to my mother, along with more ‘Love Letters to Life’ to the people, phenomena and happenings that make up my Peachey Life. You can get hold of your copy here…  or else from Amazon (in both Kindle and Paperback formats) and from all good book shops!


The Journey into Light

Letter 10: To My 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 4: To The Rocket Man and The Bonny Wee Lass

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

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

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

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