Tag: stalking

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

Panorama Special ‘My Online Stalker’ on Catch-Up and a mini rant. Though life’s sweet.

My lovely mum got in touch to let me know, there’s a special on Panorama where a very brave victim of ‘online stalking’ has opened up about the experience.

I get sick of mentioning it, but when it’s tainting your life, it’s impossible to forget. Although my case is more complexed, since I had my Smart devices hacked and a cryptic resume on the sick bloke’s social pages of my life and movements. Dead birds around my doors. My bank card hacked. My solar lights cut in my garden last year. A fuse removed from my freezer in my summerhouse. There’s pages of endless predicaments.

Stand alone ‘online stalking’ is horrific. We are forced to live and work by means of the internet in one way or another. To do our banking, speak with clients etc. But once you’ve been hacked, it changes the way you do things. There are many types of stalking, intimidation and harassment. Though when it comes into our homes, there feels as though there is never any closure.

I had hoped by now, somebody could have got into his devices and stopped the torment. But not. What annoys me equally. are the people out there, who get paid to make our lives a misery. My hotel door was hacked, the garage door wire snapped. The back doors at home here and at work damaged. People ask me, why I have not told the police? Because how can I prove it’s the same person when there’s years of trying to explain the psychology, social baiting and interference! … Then in cases, such a stalker would relish having the upperhand in terms of calculated risks and targeted intimidation. Feeding the fire can often make it worse, where the victim becomes powerless. But then … ignoring the problem does not help either. I think I’ve coped very well, considering the financial and lifestyle loss to me. Losing my data, my right to privacy.

The only way to catch the coward, who uses third parties and the internet, is to hack them out of their own game with legal professionals. As otherwise where is the proof … apart from those who also see the patterns of the psychopath online and habitably. It’s just not worth letting it all destroy my peace. Keeping busy helps. Otherwise it starts to grind away. Over 12 years now. The bloke needs to get a real life and ‘professional’ medical help as opposed to paying ‘professional’ surveillance recruits.

Believe me the last type of man to catch my heart would be an addict with absolutely no adult knowledge in terms of life skills or emotional intelligence, whose physical appearance and character do not appeal in any way.

If someone wants to be around another, it’s a two way agreement. And I let people know. I wear my heart on my sleeve. Not always a good thing, but at least peeps know where they are with me. If I am hitting on someone I want, feel free to send me flowers. I keep it simple. If you need to stalk me, it’s cos my doors are closed, so fuck off. And ladies, if the guy you want doesn’t send you stems, then move on. They will whip up a bunch for the right one. Valentine Day will stay with me for a long while! I was digging around slums trying to help out a community. Last thing I needed was a big slap in the face, metaphorically speaking. But that’s life.

Anyway, watch the show. I hope it’s going to help others. Though sadly the perpetrators who need to watch it probably won’t. And it’s not just women who get stalked. I have a male friend across the pond who had a woman turning up at all his events to grab his attention. And apparently she uses the internet too! It’s caused utter heartache amongst his friends and family. A ‘typical’ Honey Trapper. All you need is one bad penny to upset the apple cart. But hopefully, the addicts of nastiness get to move on. Such unnecessary acts of revenge and spitefulness are never a resolve when people cannot have their own way. Jog On and get your Dignity in Check you Low Life.

I have been sorting out shoddy purchases all week. Really pissed off about it. I work hard for my money. Watch out for websites with AI images where the stuff arrives and it’s not even remotely like the listing. Then you can’t find a return address. I will add to this blog later along with the images of what was sent from China. I am not opposed to all Chinese goods, but I despise corruption. How many other people have used their website?!

I hope you are all having a fabulous day. Speak later. I am cleaning and thinking about new ideas. And remember folks! Most people are lovely.

Tiffy Belle. X

by Tiffany Belle Harper

FAO Hampstead Stalker

Every person handles extreme trauma differently. I don’t know whether I have dealt with the last few months the best way I possibly can. I never saw it coming, and just about every aspect of my life has been invaded.

I do not want to drag this whole thing on. There is irrevocable proof and also witnesses who have observed this distantly for some years. Nobody wants or needs this type of provocation. A person of any substance would accept my offer to leave me alone and move on with life. To enjoy all of the wonderful opportunities of freedom and financial stability.

It is clear that I do not wish to meet the perpetrator. I hope this can all stop with immediate effect, and we can all put this behind us. To include non permissible phone hacking and branches off that. Removing unlawful and intrusive paid presence around my home, whereabouts, and business. Acts of vengefulness and vendettas with the intention of making me fearful. Non permissible hacking of software. Interference with apps and CCTV in and around my private and working life. Spyware, car GPS, drones, and micro cameras, plus any other forward going intentions to cause hardship to me and those around me. This is not ideology. It is terrorism.

I would hope this person seeks self-help and better ways to enjoy life. Maybe I should accept a tougher stance on this, but I am a good person. I simply want it all to stop, and no further reference to this will be made if all of the above is removed and the recruited mercenaries return home and the job is closed.

Regards. Tiffany.

by Tiffany Belle Harper

Why Independent Sex Workers help women by Tiffany Belle Harper.

If you don’t get out and need a good book idea, here’s some food for thought. True story by the way. Here goes! I wrote this very quickly.

I applaud sex workers. It never should be a taboo subject. Since the beginning of mankind women have been brave enough to offer services to keep everyone else safe. And in view of recent events for which have taken place in my life since the end of November 2022, this just reaffirms my opinion. That said, such a profession should be one of free will. Since no person should be exploited, groomed or forced into the industry.

For instance, there are women who choose to share their home and day to day lives to voyeurs, who pay to watch the cameras set around their homes or studios. These wonderful women make a good living and why shouldn’t they. They have undertaken the task to share their lives to those who require such a service.

And this is a double edged sword, because say for instance, a man is feeling lonely within his relationship. Yearning for more. Is intrigued by the risqué nature of peeping into the world of another. Then he must dig deep and pay for such a service. His wife knows not of this but in turn his relationship with his significant other improves. As he discovers that now his life has more depth, with his newfound vice. And what he lacks at home is paid for by means of a service. The woman he chooses to stalk with consent, makes a living from his nosiness.

And I know these workers can make as much as four to five hundred quid an hour. Leeds taught me well. I knew great people. I admire any woman who turns her skills to feed her children. And it’s not money laundering. Punters pay online by debit or credit card, marked discretely for the benefit of a shared bank statement. The salary for the woman is taxable and she registers as self employed. As a therapist or model. It’s all legal. Good luck to them! Everyone is happy. Perhaps not his wife, if she was to discover this sudden happiness given to her, comes from the life of paid access to working girls spaces.

But then I assume it is better for his wife to live in denial, since after all, her man is a less hungry person for his other (secret) fetish and perverted desire. He now wanks more regularly and grins like a cat. In belief his life is more wholesome. While the working girl buys herself nice things. Takes the kids to the cinema or chills out with her girlfriend. For probably she is glad to be out of the daze of males. A lot of working girls are gay, I have found.

On the other hand you can have a man who does not have permission to invade the space of a woman. A woman who is not a sex worker, who has not opened her world to strangers. Who chooses to be as she lives, while sharing only her secrets with her true and one love, for which they thrive together quite happily. This man, the Peeping Tom (a millionaire – a hoarder) a phycological rapist bombards himself into their secrets, looking for ways to find out who she speaks with, what she is planning and how her private world is. He takes without conscience, he feeds his depression with the lives of those who embody a contentment within their true tribes. Raping her of any form of solitude or space. Taking what does not belong to him. A repulsive, vulgar scum bag, living in a sea of lies. Relishing that swift opportunity to see her naked. Unbeknown to her, the times she walked from the shower to find her clothes for the day or pyjamas for bed. This vulgar man living in a delusional world of a forced relationship, had repeatedly raped the law of humanity and the right to privacy.

And I would say to any person if you want to expand your cravings, pay a specialist and don’t be a rapist.

Tiffany Belle Harper.

by Tiffany Belle Harper

Two Real Examples of Most Recent Invasive Rape and Abuse in the UK

A thirty six year old woman in Blackpool, living and rearing her children, in what is regarded to be one of the most deprived regions of the town, is strip searched at 12.30am. whilst her children cry in another room in her home, having had their phones taken by the police.

She has been at work all day with one of her three jobs, raising money to feed her family. She hasn’t had time to shower. She is asked to remove her top, then bra. She is examined. Even her hair must be unleashed from the clasp. She is told to put the items back on, then remove her pants and trousers. To stand with her legs apart. She is told if she resists she will be restrained and her clothes cut off her. a woman of dignity. A mother.

The Abuses of the Law, Plate 7 by Hendrick Goltzius is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0

A multi-millionaire in an affluent part of London has paid a third party to stalk a fifty eight year old woman, with no motive other than obsession. Cameras, drones and unauthorised access to public CCTV cameras. Keyloggers in her phone and laptop. He watches her come and go from the shower. Reads her messages and makes anonymous attacks of blackmail, harm and misery to her friends and family using targeted formulas behind the façade of his social media account.

He continues to build wealth.

We live in a world like this.

May God Help Us.

Tiffany. X

by Tiffany Belle Harper