My News – Women’s Work

On November 8th 2024, Tiffy’s Place exchanged ownership. I wish the new owners ‘Claire and Richard’ all the best with the building. St Chads Road was an interesting street to occupy for over six years, alongside the other proprietors. A mixed bunch (to say the least). And I let the place go for less than I spent on the purchase and renovation. That aside, the memories, experience in all aspects of life and the entirety of the journey will remain priceless. Not to mention hand rearing a seagull. Adopting a Ginger Tom left for dead in a plant pot (my Billy). For whom has gone on to have some pretty edgy experiences around Lytham too. And then Buddy who belonged to neighbours and is now the little bloke who is our pack leader. He’s six next year.

I had three things to accomplish in a matter of days. Move out of the hotel, tend to the suffering of my beloved dog ‘Angel’ for whom would have been 18 on Xmas Day. And release the top floor of Windmill House that is currently occupied by a series of events that have left me somewhat drained for words.

More seems to be advancing in terms of positive progress for women and abuse. I am pleased. Not just pleased for the victims, but delighted for the men who stand by the women. Because we need to name and shame such acts of intimidation with less fear. For a long while men are increasingly becoming demonised because of a small percentage that do not represent the male species. The cowards of the male populous should be isolated, held accountable and removed from society in the name of ‘the good guys’ who often get tarred with the same brush.

Though, sole traders do not have as much protection as women who work within organisations, offering some kind of structure against harassment, terrorisation, baiting and stalking. In my case the perpetrator managed to get spyware inside of the building, to include my bedroom, recruiting clearly a team of criminals trained in targeting the victim, with slim chance of being caught. It’s not a common thing and due to the fact the Hampstead Comedian is not a multiple terrorist. That it’s me he is focused toward, puts my case in a tough situation as with all acts of cowardice and well thought acts of victimisation, his tracks are well covered. What a tragic way to go about life whilst simultaneously misleading the public. Ten years of social stalking and two further years of damage and interference of my property, garden, car and workplace, with the hacking of my personal devices thrown in for good measure.

But you can’t let a low life stop the natural transition of the worth of another. You just have to hope for a miracle of truth and change that can put the bloke where he belongs. That someone, somewhere will take the time to get the justice deserved for a trail of absolute horror for his own entertainment, where the need to create worry and hardship toward the lives of others (far removed) become a substitute for all that is lacking in his own (not very interesting) world.

When I read about what is happening to the women in Afghanistan, my recent experiences feel more acceptable by comparison. Yet, I am left with a daily feeling of frustration that I do not currently have the tools to find the rightful salvation for the women and girls whose lives currently exist of nothing other than vague hope and total despair. To be covered from head to foot with involuntary robes, no education. Not even allowed to listen to music or express creative skills. It’s barbaric. A repugnant sense of financial deprivation and control of human life. We are all born with our rights to freedom. No man is big enough to break the spirit of the sisterhood. And there’s nothing more depraved than the male who wishes to do so. It’s the work of Satan. And Satan hides within fools who would not cope under the same environments they so readily rejoice with acts of abuse toward women and girls.

And there is no woman more corrupt than she who justifies the abuse of her sisters. Who allows lies and phycological acts of sordid deeds to go without her defense. We the sisterhood, we nurture. We are abundant in our cyclical nature. We give life and we take the burden of our soul source, the universe. We need to awaken and rise because the world is our only home. Everything is life. That said, each living thing has the right to die with dignity. But nature can be cruel.

There is no glory in suffering that can be avoided. Shame on war. Shame on the money machines that create it. Homes, families, environments torn down at the click of a button, whilst the smug dictators feast in bunkers made of fools gold.

Tiffy Belle.

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

It will all be alright – I am here. Keep it personal. Keep it together. Go and rest.

Losing a friend is heart-breaking. We realise we can no longer hug them or look into their eyes – smell their perfume or aftershave. We can no longer do what we were so familiar with. But we must know, life to the soul journey is purely transitional – love never dies. In fact – it becomes stronger as we adjust to trust and hold our faith – it is infinite. Life is short we need to be at one in our circles of love – There’s no time for worry and fear. As we get older we concern ourselves less with the restrictions of walls and barriers. It will all be okay. I promise.

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For there is love in abundance right here – now with you – and you are never alone. I wrap my arms and soul around your entirety – giving you protection like no other. So sleep, rest. You are loved. A quiet day – in the light. Look no longer where there is no service to Angels. Look above. Buy flowers – memories are treasures from heaven. Hold it close. Solace cannot be found amongst strangers today. Be with comfort.

Tiffany. X

Little Dog on a Window Ledge. We’re missing Foley #Diary

This is not a good day. I’m writing my book and reliving parts of the past I’d forgot. I’m preparing to drive back to Leeds. I arrived in Warwickshire with Foley who was well. He had a wet nose, healthy appetite and could still run around in the park.

I’m driving home without him. I know ‘especially taking the horrid happenings in the world to account’ it may seem dramatic. But I loved him so much. He was a daily part of all that I did. Driving back to Yorkshire without my best friend is going to hurt. He was innocent, harmless, so pure and forgiving. An unconditional friend that loved me no matter what.

Today, I’ve just felt down in the dumps. I tell myself how must the family feel of the lady who was killed in London by senseless murderers. She’d just taken her two children to school. How must that family feel as they prepare for their first weekend without the heart of their family. This just makes it all worse.

There is kindness and unity everywhere. Yet, we must not forget the suffering. I really do wish people would value all aspects of life. Non of us are here to kill or harm through acts of malice and resentment.

I just wish I could have another day with Foley. Just to stroke him and tell him how things are. But, writing this book is a release. It’s funny, emotional and very frankful. I do love to write. I equally miss Foley. Just not knowing he’s lying by my feet or sitting in the back of the car. Waiting at the door for me to come home. Sitting by me as I cook. Running ahead of me through woodlands and fields.

It’s just not the same anymore and I can’t cheer myself up today. I’ve always tried to inspire and it often meets brick walls. Yet I suppose some days there’s nothing wrong to admitting it’s fine to not feel happy.

Angel hasn’t got off the window ledge since he passed. I’m sure she’s waiting for him to come back. Her last memory was him being taken away wrapped in his blanket to be cremated. She doesn’t understand. Yet, I do know that a part of him is very much with us. It’s only human to feel this pain I suppose. Most days are fine, then I get one like this when my heart just breaks open. 21 years is going to take time to recover. He was so beautiful in all ways. Sigh.

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Tiffany. X