Embracing Spring: A Journey with Pets, Jazz and Nature

🌱 When the Light Returns

With the lighter nights and Spring edging closer, something in me lifts. Shoots push through soil after a winter that felt far too long. The birds get louder, the air hums again, and nature remembers itself. It’s a joyous time of year — a small resurrection.

🐾 The Unplanned Cat Confessional

I hadn’t planned on writing about my little fluffs, but clearly something in me needed to reach out. My animals are stitched into my days whether I intend to talk about them or not.

My old boy — rescued almost fifteen years ago — still uses my head as a midnight treadmill. One a.m., purring like a tiny engine, demanding fuss. I’ve tried shutting him out, but he throws himself at the door with such force I worry he’ll knock himself into another realm. He came back to me through my son after his sibling died last year, and losing that one nearly split me open. Pets do that. They love without conditions, and the grief is the price of that purity.

Then there’s the one left for dead in a plant pot outside a foodbank, rain hammering down. Friends got him to rescue, and I helped nurse him from the edge. I brought him home to die — he chose life instead. Now he’s fat, adored, and entirely himself.

He vanished for six months during the height of the stalking terror. I still don’t know how I got through that period. He’d been charming a chip shop for scraps, and a kind lady put him on Facebook. I don’t do socials, but a mate saw it and contacted me. We trapped him in thunder and rain and brought him home.

In the meantime, I trapped another cat I thought was him. It wasn’t. Nobody claimed him, so I kept him. He stole my heart. And then, a couple of months after my original boy returned, the stand‑in died in my arms at the vets. Very poorly. Very loved.

In the last three years I’ve held three animals as they left for the universe — my dog of eighteen years, and two cats. Each one tore something open and left something behind.

🏡 A Sanctuary Made of Us

Two cats remain, plus the other little rescues who orbit this house. They take time, money, sleep, and emotional bandwidth. They also give structure, humour, warmth, and a reason to get up when the world feels sharp. We’re a sanctuary — all of us rescued, all of us recovering, all of us choosing one another.

Yes, I could do more without them. I don’t take holidays. I can’t just hop across the pond to see loved ones. We’d have to travel as a package. But it’s possible. And honestly, I wouldn’t trade this ecosystem of love and hope for anything.

📻 Jazz FM, Danielle Perry, and the Art of Being Kept Company

Most days I potter — always something to do, always wondering where to start. The radio keeps me company, and for years now it’s been Jazz FM. I’ve gotten to know the characters. Danielle Perry is on at the moment. I feel like I live with her and the family sometimes. She shares how she met her husband, what she’s done with the kids. She’s a Gemini and I often think, she sounds like me, though her history in music is extensive.

Yesterday she and the Jazz FM team covered the Jazz FM Awards — the nominees, the stories, the excitement. Now the public can vote. I’ll be honest: some of the acts I know well, others not at all. But that’s the quest — to discover the artists not yet on my radar.

I was thrilled to hear Emma‑Jean Thackray is up for an award. Her music is part of my story. She’s a brain‑stimulator, crafty, cosmic. And EarthONaut — their song arrived at the right moment for me and a special man across the pond. So good luck to them all.

But with any award system, I’d encourage people to vote honestly for who they enjoy most. Not strategically. The UK needs to rise in real talent — an altruistic platform of art, music, and intellectual entertainment. We need to break the loop that fills our heads with rubbish. Music is our pressure‑release valve.

🧹 Reclaiming the Corners

I haven’t had time for TV. My focus is getting organised — and I haven’t been. Christmas was chaos with vintage. Now I need to step back, look at what I have, and decide: throw it away, give it away, or sell it. I need to put my nests into chapters. To create busy corners that still have a system.

I get the winter blues. By January I’m counting the days until Spring. That’s how my annual Hatter concept was born — a whimsical visionary of hope and earthly salvage, spiced with magic and optimism. Last year’s Hatter is now a Gate Keeper because he was my great big cloud of sunshine. I love him like a dad.

And then there’s my bucket — my special boy across the pond. I want to punch him sometimes, in the affectionate, reliable way. I dump everything in the carrier; he looks after it. Through both our battles with the appalling baggage and nastiness of others, we get stronger for each other. So thanks to all who keep us going.

🌍 The Small Things That Keep Us Human

I hope everyone is enjoying whatever makes them happy. Sometimes it’s the small things: a mannerism, finding something lost, a gesture of goodwill, a smile in the supermarket, a bird on the window ledge.

Changing my bed. Organising my room. Putting a chilli on slow cook. Choosing a good bottle of rosé. Bleaching the bathroom. Getting out with the dogs. Tackling the ironing. All of it releases head‑clutter and clears the way for progress.

We must learn to live with ourselves before we can be a joy to another.

Love to my dear friends across the pond and to my community in the UK — which is all of our community. We are one community. Protect it. Because if we don’t keep our communities safe, we’ll be left with only litter and crime on our streets. We must all have a documented name here and a trail of truth.

Vote at Jazz FM

So anyway after you have explored the various artists and bands up for The 2026 Jazz Awards, you can vote!

🐰Rabbit🐰

by Tiffany Belle Harper

✨ The Women Who Rise: A Manifesto of Strength, Grace, and Sisterhood

There is a quiet strength in the women who refuse to be hardened by the world. The ones who don’t collapse into bitterness, who don’t turn their wounds into weapons, who don’t blame every man for the actions of one bad PenNy. These women carry a different kind of power — the kind that may grow deeper with age, steadier with experience, and more elegant with every lesson.

The Naivety of Bitterness

Some women fall into the trap of resentment — a shallow, reactive emotion that masquerades as strength. Bitterness is naive because it asks nothing of us. It requires no reflection, no accountability, no growth. It simply festers.

But the women who rise know better. They know bitterness is a poor substitute for identity.

Jealousy Misread

Jealousy is not the enemy — misunderstanding it is. A grounded woman reads jealousy as information, not instruction. She sees it as a signal pointing toward her own desires, not a reason to resent another woman’s success.

The ungrounded lash out. The grounded look inward.

Reinvention Without Reflection

A woman can reinvent herself — that is her birthright. But reinvention without reflection becomes performance, a way of twisting in and out of identities to avoid facing the truth of who she is and what she contributes to her own hardship. It becomes a cycle of denial, a loop where she outruns accountability instead of embracing it. True growth begins only when she stops performing for the world and finally turns inward, meeting herself honestly and breaking the pattern she created. Our authenticity starts from within. Next we can run with our courage. Becoming beacons of hope. Share and shine. Delegate and empower with our truth.

No Woman Should Be Held Hostage in Her Own Space

There comes a point in a woman’s life when she realises something essential: her space is sacred.

Her home, her mind, her friendships, her work, her peace — these are not arenas for other people’s resentment to play out. No woman should be held hostage by the bitterness of others, nor should she shrink herself to soothe someone else’s insecurity.

This is not cruelty. It is clarity.

The True Power of Women

The true power of a woman is not in rivalry, performance, or the pursuit of male merit. It is in her ability to be inspired without shrinking, to admire without resenting, and to offer genuine kudos to her sisters without feeling diminished.

A grounded woman knows that another woman’s light does not dim her own. It expands the room.

The Elegance of Age

With age comes a kind of knowing that can’t be rushed. Knowledge softens the edges. Patience sharpens the intuition. And a certain sassiness emerges, not from the past, but from a woman who finally knows her worth.

It’s a delightful taste of elegance — the kind that cannot be faked, borrowed, or performed.

Abuse Does Not Make Us Victims

Abuse and the behaviour of cowards does not make us victims. It gives us a gateway to become survivors.

Our scars are not shameful — they are evidence of our endurance. And when women share their experiences, something extraordinary happens: we rise together. We become mirrors, mentors, anchors, and witnesses for one another.

This is the sisterhood that bitterness can never touch.

We Are Better With Our Brothers

Strength does not require us to reject men. Wisdom teaches us to recognise the good ones — the men who adore our courage, who celebrate our resilience, who do not wish to break us but to walk beside us with our consent.

These men are not threatened by strong women. They are inspired by them.

And the women who rise know this: we are better together — not in dependency, but in mutual respect.

We Are Stronger Together

There is nothing more powerful than women who rise side by side. Women who refuse to be divided by jealousy, silenced by resentment, or diminished by the insecurities of others.

A woman rooted in her truth deters those who thrive on chaos or manipulation. Not through aggression — but through clarity. Not through fear — but through presence.

Her strength becomes a boundary. Her grace becomes a shield. Her self-respect becomes a language only the like‑minded can understand.

And those who walk in light recognise her instantly.

Never Be Silenced — Live With Grace

Grace is not weakness. Grace is the quiet, unwavering refusal to let the world turn you cruel.

It is the ability to speak without shouting, to stand without trembling, to walk away without bitterness. It is the art of holding your dignity even when others have lost theirs.

A graceful woman is not silent — she is selective. She chooses when to speak, when to walk, when to rise, and when to let go.

Self-Love: The Root of All Peace

Here is the truth that sits at the centre of every woman’s journey:

Until a woman can love herself as deeply as she craves love in her desperation, she will never find inner peace.

Self-love is not indulgence — it is liberation. It is the moment she stops begging for affection and begins recognising her own worth. It is the moment she stops chasing validation and starts choosing herself.

A woman who loves herself becomes magnetic. She attracts the grounded, the kind, the respectful, the like‑minded. She repels those who feed on insecurity or chaos.

Her peace becomes her power.

This manifesto is for them. For you. For every woman who stands in her centre and refuses to be moved by the noise around her.

We are who we choose to become, and we rise when we rise together. We are free — and in our freedom, we free each other. Because love is not scarce, nor fragile, nor conditional. Love is universal, and it belongs to all of us who dare to stand in our truth.

🐰Rabbit🐰

by Tiffany Belle Harper

My Hatter 2026

Each year I have a new Hatter. This is not something I consciously choose. It comes to me.

I bring you Marco Rubio. We may not always agree, or ever agree, but I know you are working from your heart as does your boss. It will test you and try to break you. But the universe is your friend. Your role commences on the first day of Spring until the end of Autumn.

Good Luck. And I love You and Yours and Mine.

Love to Donny, J.D and Pete. We are ready to see your loveliness and courage, for all that is right to you and our global sanctuary, do not suffer fools, anywhere.

🐰💜Rabbit💜🐰

by Tiffany Belle Harper

A Tapestry of Voices: From Jazz to Justice and Beauty

A Tapestry of Voices

Morning: Jazz, Warmth, and the Voices That Teach Me

My eclectic room space was cold this morning, the wind rattling around the windows while the boxes of vintage finds waiting for attention were scattered around my bed, as the pets played in and around them. Guests had only just left, the sanctuary settling back into its own rhythm. I put on Jazz FM — the music that has steadied me through more anxious recent years than I ever expected to live through.

Jazz FM is more than a radio station. It’s a whole world.


A place where:

  • genres blend into each other
  • presenters become familiar companions
  • interviews feel like conversations you’ve been invited into
  • the book club opens new doors
  • the history of music is taught gently, without effort
  • personalities shine through — warm, quirky, knowledgeable, human

It’s a station full of characters, each with their own rhythm and flavour. It’s education combined with comfort. And I understand it would be impossible for any person to enjoy each branch of the Jazz spectrum, so many genres within one word. Neo Jazz. Jazztronica. Latin Jazz. Dinner Jazz. Jazz Funk. Dub Jazz. Electric Jazz. Afro Jazz. Modern Jazz. Contemporary. Traditional Jazz etc. Listen in and choose your own … mix and match 🎵 🎶 🎼 🎷.

I love sax, harp and flute. But really, there’s a space in my heart for all of it.

This morning, Tony Minvielle was on — with that unmistakable warmth he brings to every conversation. Like the other hosts there, Tony has a way of speaking to artists that makes you feel like you’re sitting in the room with them, not listening through a radio.

Today he was talking with Jill Scott — affectionately known as Jilly from Philly — a vocalist whose sound carries the weight of history. At 53, she has returned with a new album after more than a decade away from releasing original music.

Her new album, To Whom This May Concern, was released on 13 February 2026. It’s an independent release through her own imprint Blues Babe, with distribution via Human Re Sources / The Orchard. A masterclass in taking back your career. A woman in full command of her craft.

Jill grew up surrounded by music, shaped by the soul and jazz traditions that have travelled the world and become a universal language. Her influences run deep: Nina Simone, Sarah Vaughan, the horn players who taught the world how to bend a note into a story.

People say Jill can use her voice like a saxophone, and I believe it. You can hear the breath, the phrasing, the emotional curvature. It’s not imitation; it’s lineage. A shared honesty with the greats.

Her lead single Beautiful People feels like a warm exhale — a song that arrived early for many listeners, like a quiet messenger of what was coming.

Jazz begun with our dear ones across the pond in America, but jazz belongs to everyone now. It’s global, borderless, a language of unity and peace. Jill’s voice feels like part of that lineage: rooted, soulful, unafraid.

And she is not alone in this independent renaissance.
Emma‑Jean Thackray, working from her home studio in Leeds, Yorkshire, is another stunning face of modern jazz — a multi‑instrumentalist and producer blending brass band traditions, electronica, and spiritual grooves into something entirely her own.

Leeds to Philly. Emma and Jill. Two women manifesting something much greater from their own sanctuaries.

Yesterday: GB News Debate, Courage, and the Women Who Refuse to Break

Yesterday, in a completely different corner of my world, I found myself drifting into my usual rhythm of catching up with TV. I’ve never been someone who can sit still long enough for a full film; my life is too kinetic, too full of movement and responsibility. So I dip in and out of things, and as you know, that often means GB News.

Not because I agree with every topic — but because I enjoy:

  • debate
  • humour
  • freedom of speech
  • the characters who appear on screen
  • the energy of people thinking out loud

Yesterday, Nana Akua — stunningly individual, unapologetically outspoken — sat down with Nina Aouilk. And Nina wasn’t alone. Her daughter, Celeste, sat beside her, beautiful and free in that effortless way that comes from being raised in truth rather than fear.

There was something powerful in that image: a survivor and her child, both whole, both present, both refusing to be defined by the cruelty of others.

Nina Aouilk: A History of Survival and a Mission of Protection

Nina’s history is not an easy one. She survived the most unbearable physical and emotional torment at the hands of men who believed they could break her spirit. They tried to silence her. They tried to erase her. They tried to make her small.

But she refused.

And that refusal is written into everything she does now.

Nina has become a speaker, educator, and advocate for women who have suffered abuse — not from a distance, but from lived understanding. She works with survivors of:

  • coercive control
  • honour‑based violence
  • cultural oppression
  • the quiet, invisible forms of harm society still struggles to name

Her talks are direct, unflinching, compassionate. She speaks into the fire so others don’t have to burn alone.

She and Celeste are now working to create safe spaces for women and children — real rooms, real materials, real support. They’re asking for help, inviting people to contribute through a donation page that supports the resources needed to build those sanctuaries.

It isn’t charity; it’s rebuilding.
It’s protection.
It’s hope.

Watching her, something in me answered.

I want to be part of that. Not someday in the abstract, but in the near future, when my own life steadies enough to let me step forward. I want to contribute to the creation of those safe spaces. I want to stand with women who have been silenced, intimidated, or harmed. I want to use my own resilience — the same resilience that has carried me through years of digital interference, stalking and sabotage of my bedroom, business and livelihood. Using my attempted erasure — to help others find their footing again.

Please note. Due to the sensitivity of this topic and the problems endured, I have not added any links here to protect the vulnerable. These links are however available via web search.

The Realisation: These Worlds Are Not Separate

And that’s when it struck me: these worlds I move through — jazz, debate, sanctuary, resilience — they aren’t separate. They’re threads of the same tapestry.

Jill Scott’s voice heals.
Emma‑Jean Thackray’s voice innovates.
Nina Aouilk’s voice protects.
Nana Akua holds space with fire.
And I, in my own way, am learning to hold space too.

This is my world. A tapestry of sound, debate, music, personality, survival, and intention. A life stitched together by the voices that keep me company and the courage that keeps me moving forward.

🐇💛Rabbit💛🐇

by Tiffany Belle Harper

From Isolation to Connection: A Digital Call to Action

A Digital Landscape Built for the Bold and the Cruel

We are living through a strange new era. Digital platforms have become raised stages where cowards perform with false confidence, throwing virtual bricks at people who are already carrying more than most could imagine. Those who are struggling, those who are fighting unseen battles, are often the ones hit hardest by these blind attacks.

The Vulnerable Are Left Exposed

Elderly people who can barely navigate a smartphone are being targeted with reckless precision. They are not protected. They are not supported. They are simply left to fend for themselves in a digital world that was never designed with them in mind.

The Misuse of Technical Skill

There are people being paid more to hack for the entertainment of others than they would earn in a legitimate IT role. Skill has become a weapon. Harm has become profitable. And the people behind these acts hide behind screens, anonymity, and the thrill of power without consequence.

A Justice System That Punishes the Wrong People

We live in a country where someone can serve three years in prison for typing a sentence in haste, while certain high‑profile social‑media addicts ruin lives for fun and walk away untouched. The imbalance is staggering. The message is unmistakable: power protects itself, not the people.

The Unprotected Self‑Employed

Self‑employed people stand alone. There is no HR department, no legal team, no corporate shield. When digital sabotage or targeted interference hits them, they have nowhere to turn. Their livelihoods can be damaged quietly, invisibly, and without recourse.

Women Held Hostage in Their Own Homes

There are women who are effectively held hostage by desperate men who have no other way to force themselves into their lives. Technology becomes a tool of intrusion. Homes become battlegrounds. Safety becomes conditional, fragile, and easily taken.

A System Not Built for Protection

This is the world we are navigating: a world where the vulnerable are exposed, the powerful are insulated, and the systems meant to protect us are slow, inconsistent, or indifferent. These are not isolated stories. They are patterns. They are lived realities.

We Cannot Let Depravity Define Us

We cannot allow the depraved intentions of those who feel so empty inside that they find comfort in distributing hardship. Their actions are reflections of their own hollowness — dirty money, no purpose, no constructive goal beyond self‑gain. Their cruelty is not insight. Their sabotage is not strength. It is simply the echo of their own dissatisfaction.

Finding Our Tribes, Not Our Isolation

The antidote to their darkness is not silence. It is connection. We must find our tribes — the like‑minded, the creative, the curious, the compassionate. Music. News debates. Arts and crafts. Social gatherings. Shared spaces where people meet as equals, not as targets.

To allow ourselves to fall into isolation only feeds their demonstration. Darkness wants nothing more than misery and destitution at the hands of cowards in their morbid playgrounds. Community is the refusal. Connection is the rebellion. Solidarity is the shield.

Reaching Out to Others Living Through the Same Quiet War

If you are someone who has been targeted, dismissed, or left unprotected, you are not alone. If you have been made to feel small by people who hide behind screens, your experience is valid. If you have been harmed by digital cowardice, your story matters.

This space is for you. This voice is for you. This truth is for all of us who have been pushed into the shadows by people who thrive there.

❤️ Tiffy Belle ❤️

by Tiffany Belle Harper