Fake Intentions, Money and Manipulation in the UK

I suppose my life has always been ‘unusual.’ I would not regard myself a ‘lucky’ person (if luck exists …) And my main descriptive word would be ‘daydreamer.’ When I love I do so fiercely and those people I tell. Because a few kind words can never be too much. I never look for the like minded, I am drawn to the genuine. And I think to have a selection of people to draw inspiration from is imperative. In the real world my way of connecting is to wander about alone and sit quietly, watching, observing, sometimes listening. And then if I do get to chat with folk, I intently churn what they say, their body language. We part ways. I reflect.

Many years ago I would take their numbers, but never call them back. Because life can become too hectic for consistent strings with new connections. I have enough. I am not afraid of loneliness or death but I am afraid of harm coming to me as a result of the obsession or bad intent of another. Who wouldn’t be. A free spirit is a sacred gift and not to be threatened.

I do however, believe we have a handful of people we keep close. It’s a two way connection, where both parties give that permission. Other than that, it can feel intrusive. We should never be forced to pay attention to any person we do not like, or wish to be in the company of. Go away. Leave me alone. Words such as this are clear requests. Our basic human rights. To leave a person alone. For every person to have their freedom from unwanted attention.

Since last November my life has been turned upside down with a combination of fear, disgust and sadness. Emotions I was not prepared for, since already I have had my obstacles. It sort of piled things on harder. The person causing this, waited for an opportunity to see a gap where he could resume what was a horrid few years for me, during a chunk of my time in Leeds.

It was phycological abuse and way back then, I thought ‘my life is over.’ ‘I am never going to get away from this.’ His partner spotted the opportunity to quickly jump on board and still, to this day, I do not understand where it all comes from. He just won’t let go and has pursued my journey and then found the address for which I tried to set up a small health club. I have at times tried to defend myself, but this has made it worse. Any reaction being exactly what they want. I have somehow become a game in their very complexed relationship. One of which I feel as though I am a worm in a jar, with no escape. It’s as though they are trying to crush my spirit.

They are two people who are far removed from who I am. One writes books about revenge and the other focuses on characters who are misfits, drawn to a female role model. From clips scattered around the web, his stories are laced with my original words and her book covers and titles, with aggressive suggestions and themes about my life and business. Neither I have watched or read. So I am no critic. It doesn’t interest me. Yet they relentlessly continue.

It has been the most challenging and draining experience of my life. Though, since it is all presented through a social media platform, I am able to ignore the pestering and wicked situations, where they use targeted formulas to pinpoint specific happenings in my life. You block them. They still find a way. It’s been a witch hunt which would for some people on the receiving end of such hate, be so very overbearing, they could lose the will to live.

I have never wanted to be famous or to gain followers based on lies and agenda. I have never desired recognition because ‘really’ I am a private person. There’s been posts about missing people, referring to family names. Missing pets similar to my own. Death threats and risks to my safety in general. It’s not a possible coincidence. The timings are copulatively put to intimidate me and it’s been happening for over ten years. Day in. Day out. And so very cowardly.

So you think, ‘I will withdraw from social presence.’ Which has been hard for me since, I love to write and I enjoy photography. Perfectly entitled to participate in life and leave my own blueprint. They chisel away. The onslaught quickens. Its pure abuse.

He recently refers to names of work contractors, my pets, artefact around the hotel (a small independent business within a deprived region of Blackpool.) Even walking the dog with my son, during a trip to Warwickshire, who is suffering with his mental disposition. I believe the stalker was offered a menu of services by a money hungry surveillance firm – and he ticked every box. Why not, I guess, he can afford it and clearly, he hasn’t got much else to do in his spare time, so he’s encroached upon mine. Knowing I dislike him and organically would not want to be anywhere near the man, he has used money to force himself upon me. I want him to get away from my world.

And she must see he is distracted elsewhere, by whatever device he has the evidence on. He will have his tracks covered. He is a hugely calculated piece of work. An insecure man, believing women should not have male friends or any type of career. Threatened by most things. A man who thrives on a stage, besotted by the sound of his own tired, warped, racist and bigoted voice of no reason. Utter Crap. Believing ‘Cunt’ to be a regular used swear word, during his hate shows. He demises the vagina. Justifies the right to intimidate and bully. That it’s fine to ‘offend and intimidate.’ Although, he carries a chip on his shoulder and frazzles his mind with relentless grudges. Using his online persona to dictate utter crap. Big news, someone copied a joke. Despite the fact we are on the verge of a cold war and kids are dying of hunger around the globe, but yes. Someone copied a joke. The irony being, most of his works transpire from my life.

I could write pages about all this stuff but I won’t. I am just going to try and live like nobody is watching. I have come a long way these last five years. And they continue. He plays her off with his formulas, she reacts by attacking me. It’s so very childish. For about five years it was bearable, as I stopped looking at the taunts. Feeling it must be awful for both of them having such a small minded approach to their personal habits. But when it escapes the web and manifests into actual spyware and an invasion of my own space, you look to see where else he has asked them to put a camera or control a drone.

Whether he and his other criminals can see what you’re wearing (or not.) It’s as though I am living in the land of nowhere. No different to any other prisoner. All I can say to any person out there witnessing such acts of cruelty. If you know any person who is suffering at the hands of abuse and intimidation, don’t be a bystander. Imagine if you lost your basic human rights to an obsessive manipulator, who will become worse with age. A manic depressive with a drink problem. A man who thrives on dishing out misery. God Help Me.

It is worrying to realise that any person with an unhealthy obsession can implement technology to follow a person around their home, outdoors, in the car and also their family and associates, for the rest of their life. To the point of, they must flea their home and business. Hence stealing the soul of another’s livelihood. New material for their work, a sense of freedom at the hands of theft. It’s the most shockingly awful revelation of my entire life.

And this is really happening. It’s like fiction has spiralled out of control, toward their insane mindsets of delusion and monotony. That they chose me to try to destroy. Self declared atheists, they are not. They are walking demons, using the vulnerability of sheep as cloak and dagger. They relish the game of cruelty. They are abusers. And they know what they do. Although their adorning fans do not. Mere shields for their ego. Poor people that would probably be mortified to learn the truth of their intention.

Highly regarded for all they ‘tweet’ about animal welfare. I would love to see them get up at 5.30 am, to muck out rescue pens and take in new pets. He can pat a dogs head for a charity and be deemed a hero. How can a man who terrorises a woman when she is alone endorse a ban on Trophy Hunting, when he himself participates. To claim he wishes to stamp out ‘experimenting on animals’ when he places a woman’s freedom behind bars. He is fake. They both are. And the foolish buy into it. That’s fine, it takes all sorts. I just want rid of their stagnant shit, to wish them well on their road to whatever it is they want to be known best for, in truth. All the energy they put into my own little world, would be best spent addressing the causes they claim to support. To turn their obsession to something far more productive.

The positive aspect of this, it has made me fight harder to keep my own identity and intuition in tact. I have found new ways to find joy. I pray more and I am eternally awake and true to my own self and goals. Realising no person can ever escape obsession and wealth. The tech can follow us anywhere, even to the shower. The pillow and our family homes.

It’s been a tough week. My mom and son joined me in Lytham. We are all very different and it’s part of adjusting and trying to balance. Last night, I went out for a couple of drinks and got chatting to a lovely family. It was the dog that bought me to them. He’s a beauty.

Have a great week folks. Be safe and well. I am not sure whether my blog and website will remain on the web. I hope so but since keylogging gives any person who indulges, unauthorised access etc, fingers crossed for my journey. I have nowhere that is safe now. Nowhere at all.

We must remind ourselves in times of persecution and unnecessary hatred. The world is in a mess and all of our attention should be on the focus of helping those less fortunate. There are better ways for many to spend their time and money. And whilst social media is good for awareness, it is not so productive for communities. Community is with both feet on the pavement. To be constructive in the world as though technology does not exist at all. To become tribes of goodness and make progress with air and compassion. Let no man stop this natural form of light work.

I must wish the good people luck. Stand up, for we are shifting to a new and better dimension. Do not bow to scum. Respect a good leader and see the truth of intention. As though the red bracelet of hope for my friend. Thank You. You’re doing great. You come from The North. And I will, as promised, always pray for your courage. Be wise. I remain a socialist but we can all come together to craft one beautiful big tapestry. We just have to shake off the elitist lizards, for which have no goodwill to help this world. Thick skinned, vulgar tongued and lost.


rainy afternoon – busy

I love it when I can have time with my immediate surroundings. And when I think about it, I don’t need much. Social Media always leaves me feeling detached and frustrated, as apart from sourcing, networking, and staying close to distant mates and family, it can also start to make us less connected with who we really are.

I like to think that if I form a bond with a human, it could be similar to real life, and it’s not just a means to gain front house popularity. It’s not like when we go to heaven then get asked by the door keepers, ‘so, how many Twitter followers did you get? Or, how much money did you stack up?’ Karmically the universe sees everything anyway. So, what will be, simply is. We are only ever our true intention. And living with a free conscience is true wealth.

We all make mistakes but taking account for our own destiny and purpose is nobody else’s responsibility. Everyone has stuff going on, both good and bad. But some are much worse off than others. It is not so much luck, but who we have around us. Our Tribe. The people who really do help each other through the mess. Sometimes, just by being a listening ear or a hug. Sharing a fag or grabbing a bag of chips to scoff in the park.

With mental illness there is a thin line between being prepared and reaching out for a frame network. And the internet can become a fine line of confusion, since, as much as being a means to share great things, it can equally become a bow and arrow for keyboard warrior’s and those who know how to inflict a precise and calculated hate campaign. Often targeting a seemingly lone person, with the intention and purpose to make that target feel as vulnerable and detached as possible. Various means to this route could range from a desire for fame, money and an/or an ample amount of free time to plan such acts of spite. Either way such calculations derive from the perpetrators own sense of worth and often they turn to the web to push that onto those they envy most. Often a person who lives quite happily without the need of validation from strangers, all day, every day. A vicious cycle.

Either way, the older I get, the more it all jumps out at me. Saddened by the fact there are those that seek drama by means of (cowardly and indirect) disruption when it is so unnecessary. I myself have at times become very low, but after counselling or just speaking with a friend, it becomes apparent I am simply processing how life events have made me feel. Mentally I would describe myself as strong. I know this, as when I am under enormous pressure my adrenalin kicks in. Especially if someone I love is being hurt or bullied. Worse still, if someone I love is being a bully.

I have however, gone on to make real life friends as a result of the internet. And have sourced crafts and trades this way too. But then there are a small majority that offset the positive by creating a simultaneously ‘fake existence’ online. One of which takes residence over their own ‘real life’ world. The broad term ‘stalking’ covers much of above. And can overspill to the target’s friends and family also being scrutinized. And in some cases, books and scripts are created using the base line of the stalker’s often misguided assumptions. Financial wealth is awarded to the prowler. But guess what. The target remains richer in terms of balance and abundance.

That’s why, it is imperative to think above and beyond small minded cycles that serve no purpose to our origin and purpose. That said mental health is a huge factor towards using the internet to seek revenge and reap havoc. Especially during a psychotic outrage of another. This in turn is ‘so far’ completely unvetted by social media hierarchy. I know, I have been on the receiving end. The web being a cry for any means of ‘often the wrong of’ attention. Where the mentally meek will use any means of falsehood to be heard in a sea of sharks. Then, when they get well, everything is back to the real perspective.

But when this happens, a portal opens for the prowlers to become almost ecstatic at discovering such seemingly potential drama, that could not possibly happen in their own ‘white supremacist’ bubble of bullshit. The web makes tribes very vulnerable. Isn’t life so very wicked at times. We just have to know we can turn it off and find happiness all around us. In my case, alleyways, and my my kitchen, where I just cooked myself and Danielle (my housekeeper at the hotel) fajitas with spinach and peppers. Going to have another in a mo, with a skinny coffee fix. Then my time warp of a girl cave (bedroom), where I find absolute inner tranquility. A space that is full of worthlessly sentimental treasures, to include my crystal ball, rocks, shells, driftwood, tarot and pets. It’s indescribably connected to core.

I gave up regular drinking a few years ago. when I realised I was in a cycle of addiction to the internet and booze, due to ill health and grim living conditions. Wine being my ‘then’ poison and a means to numb my constant sense of no confidence. I went on an all out soul-searching, learning curve and during this time set up Pet Service Directories and Animal welfare groups. Through my unstoppable determination, I was subsequently bullied to fuck by an established ‘designer pet group’ and a couple of seemingly do good ‘social influencers,’ who use their money (millions) to tick heads. I hate snobbery.

This all went on for years. A systematic battle for which my faith would not be deterred. But on reflection the feedback and updates I still get to this day, regarding the progress I made for the animals, make it all worthwhile. And my tech skills vastly improved, due to the long haul out of physical service.

As we get older, we look back at life and wonder how we could have done things differently. But what we must remember, we cannot change the past. Only learn and grow away from it.

tiffany belle harper

We must remember there are those that confuse ‘love and admiration’ with ‘jealousy and resentment’. People who do not know how to feel empowered by any other, than themselves. The greatest people alive, are often ‘seemingly’ the most hated at a social glance. Maybe because they are truly loved within their own tribes in the real world. Where this in turn creates rivalry. Popularity indeed walks alleyways and does not need or wish to fill stadiums or win prizes. Wisdom has always been free for us all. Never forget that. Dew glistens brighter than diamonds and we can all afford nature.

Two nights a week I may enjoy a drink. It’s a 9% rose fusion made with strawberries and summer fruits. I thoroughly enjoy it on ice with a splash of tonic. I also have a takeaway and make wax melts, soap and bath fizz. I listen to jazz. I know it sounds boring, but I get off on it. I have a load of rescue pets too.

I was a young mum to two boys. I hardly had a social life. In fact, I cannot remember having one at all. I had an open house for all their mates. Three jobs. I would spend all my spare income on food for the kids. I drove them everywhere. I recall taking them to see Eminen in Milton Keynes. The town was rammed. There was absolutely nowhere to park up to wait for them. So, I rather stupidly drove all the way home, walked the dogs. Put a wash on then drove back. Due to it being so busy it took me 3 hours to get there. It was pouring with rain and my phone battery was dead. So, I got out my old banger of a car and ran around the arena circuit looking for the group I had to take home.

I was so worried, not only that I had lost my own kids, but also the two boys with them. I think they were about 12 and 14 at the time. I had given them strict instructions how to stay safe. And where to meet me. But the place we had arranged, which is where I had dropped them off, was now closed off to divert all traffic. The entire system was mayhem. Eventually finding the boys, I was by now almost wetting myself. I had an old washing up bowl in the boot so hid my best and went for a pee in there. Not one of them thanked me for my efforts to transport them to and from the concert. But we don’t do it for praise. It was their first gig. We do it to fill their lives with good memories. But as they turn to adults, they can all too often forget the things we did in favour of what we did not.

I love my boys, but it has not been easy. I am similar to both of them, but in different ways. I am proud. Our children, no matter what age can break our hearts, repeatedly. And we have to allow them to do that. I want James to move to Blackpool as I think he could nail this town. And I want Ashley to release his confidence with balance and harmony.

I still miss Dad. He was my best friend. I never really knew Mum. But I am trying. Our lives have been so different.

I want to retire before I die. But then work keeps me from over thinking. I sometimes miss blogging so much, now I am living in a goldfish bowl. Not everyone wants to be clapped by strangers. Life is much bigger than that. We are all on the same journey and it’s how we feel with our own space that counts most. Nothing to prove here. Am fine with me. I do good. Best I can.

Finally here is a video by a really good mate of mine, Seca One. Speaking quite openly about his history on the streets, together with his mind and how he turned it into being a successful artist. I hope it can help at least one person. Men tend to suffer in ways that are harder to detect. Often becoming hostile and aggresive. This makes me worry. Men need to be heard in a way that takes away a sense of delusion and guilt shifting.

Tiffany. X

My Beautiful Adopted Planter by Tiffany Belle Harper

June 15th 2021, I was given the go ahead to leave the rental bed and breakfast I had managed for 3 years and 2 days. I moved there on my birthday 2018. Thing is, I had to be out by the 17th June. Just two days to pack an entire hotel up and transfer the piles of bedding, furniture, tableware and ornaments across the road. Danielle ‘my friend and housekeeper’ was a rock. It was blistering heat, but we did it.

I had a call from Mum on the 16th June, saying I had to get to Warwickshire. I had promised Dad I would hold him when he died. He went on the 20th June (Father’s Day) early hours of the morning. The garden came alive with nature and the sky shone amber amidst pale skies and descending white clouds. Two resident ducks on the pond and a glimpse of a fox in the copse. All so very much alive but as for Dad and his barrow, there would be no more. The clouds took him home. I recall driving down the motorway, with the dogs, knocking back black coffee whilst feeling totally stunned and shattered, hoping I could catch him in time. Job done. I drove back to Blackpool on the 22nd June 2021. Belleva opened during Augusts 2021 – after what I can only describe as 2.5 years of total chaos and unnecessary drama.

Unfortunately, I contracted Covid and could not attend the funeral. But I was there and in Blackpool with Dad, in spirit. So instead when I got on the mend, I bought some bedding plants for the tub I had inherited outside of Belleva. I watered the plants each morning religiously whilst the street was quiet. I hope they are just as beautiful this year, for everyone everywhere who has the privilege of soil.

That said, my neighbour Steve, kindly removed a plant for me, from the drainpipe at Belleva this week that had embedded itself in the gutter so deeply, he had to use brut force to get it out by the roots. Made me laugh. And Tracy another lovely friend and neighbour informing us, a woman over the street from her (a previous neighbour) had let seeds dropped by the seagulls, take over so much, she had lupins growing on her flat roof so high they obscured the front windows. When others raised the matter, the woman replied, ‘so fucking what.’ It did make us smile. It really does take all sorts to make a world. As long as we are kind, that’s all the matters.

Tiffany. X

Mess and Mood by Tiffany Belle Harper – February 2021

Sunday always has such a personal vibe about it. And I decided to let go of all that has no value to me. Unfortunately, most things that did, have since been stolen from my flat in Blackpool. For months it broke my heart how anyone could do this to me – but you either get on with it, or fester on the bad intent. Either way it is in the past and that is where it stays. I am over it and I only have me to blame for being too busy to realise it was happening over a long period of time. I have learned a tough lesson and it will not happen again in a hurry.

Blackpool is like anywhere else in that you move to a new area and you do not know anybody. Blank pages – and it takes time to fill those pages. The chapters begin and you live through your own book. However, I don’t have time to write that much, so my book is the colourful things that really do happen to us each day. We live. We learn. We teach. We give thanks. We grow. 

I am hugely sensitive; particularly if someone faults my parenting or my pets welfare. That is a big no for me. So, watch it! Cos I will have you in a court room before you know it. Apart from that, I can deal with most stuff. I am an adult and if something offends me it is probably because I glanced at it or gave that person or people too much of my precious time. So, dealing with how my hours pass is a big obstacle for me that I am doing well at these days. Because recent events have shown us we have support and love around us from people who have been about for many years. And as we expand our circles we can often overlook the most ‘significant others’ in our hearts who really do want the best. Less is More.

Getting back to letting go of mess. I am transitional once more. I have stockpiled a lot of personal junk – deciding my money works better not to buy nice things for ‘me’ in favour of cheaper stuff as when you were repeatedly robbed, you pause before you spend. I wear my clothes hard. I am on my knees scrubbing. Bleaching. Washing, baking, cooking, and having the pets jumping on us. Therefore, I do need to remind myself more than often to throw things away when they are tatty … despite … loving ragged.

I have opened the doors to guests here, the place is spotless, checked them into their rooms, felt a sense of accomplishment. That is until, I happen to look in a mirror (I do not have one in the flat). I see a woman who is covered in bits of food, sometimes seaweed and sand, wax, paint, cleaning supplies and pet fluff, with un-brushed hair and sometimes dirty teeth. Yes. You work seven days a week during high season. You fall into bed and you get out of it again. And that dirty bitch is no less than ME! Ha! Your time is service. I see other hoteliers looking pristine. I used to wonder how they did it, then decided not to give a shit as I am what I am. That was until I made the decision to put out my clothes the night before. Got a towel by the shower, with my toiletries ready to wash and set the alarm an hour earlier. Remember, I have the pets to feed and care for before we start to cook breakfast for sometimes 25 plus people.

I do have help. I am blessed. But still, I am constantly at logger heads with my own routine. So today I am not holding what I like. I am keeping what I plan to wear in the next six months, which covers most weather. I am letting go of what holds me back. Fabric makes dust. I don’t have a wardrobe here. Instead, two clothes rails and they do make dust! Where I am going has a gorgeous big bespoke hand-crafted triple pine wardrobe that’s painted in a creamy colour. My two rails of clothes won’t fit in it. I have visions of this stunning piece of sustainable furniture being accompanied by a clothes rail rammed into a convenient gap in the apartment and it spoils our new bedroom completely. Then I will be flustering about where to put everything that I don’t really use or need but have become attached towards. Back to square one. So, I am being ruthless with me today and letting much of it go to allow for ‘the new’ with less baggage.

I have spent much of my live living in small spaces. And when I visit people with big spaces, I don’t envy them because all I see is more work. More clutter. More responsibility.

Travel light and live for adventure. If you are not going to use the rooms then why buy space. It is just a statement. That said my darlings, Belleva House is a hotel. A place that will go to work with us. Somewhere that yes we will run around at night and the pets will explore, but the apartment is where we snuggle and slumber.

But then, there is our arty stuff, the crafting. Wax, mica powders, mannequins, pans and brushes. Sigh … they shall have to stay. Where would our lives be without our toys for progress in our heart journeys.

Photo with this blog is my big boy Ashley. Our kids never grow up they just get bigger. Every person needs a Mum type person in their life. This photo is about 5 years old. I since lost my doggy in it. He was 21 and died in my arms. Never got over it and never want to. I love you Foley.

Now am going to tackle a huge clean washing pile in the bathroom that I have walked past so often I forgot it wasn’t a permanent fixture.


Tiff. X