My coffee story

DO PEOPLE CONSUME TOO MUCH COFFEE? Asked the BBC this week.

'Does UleyGirl consume too much coffee?' replied my coffee-fuelled paranoia. It felt like the whole of Twitter and Facebook was asking me the same question. I think I need to defend myself.

I talk about coffee a lot but that doesn’t mean I’m addicted (I talk about exercise and sex too – see what I mean?)

Sometimes I can’t face coffee so don't drink it. I never get headaches, experience withdrawal symptoms or throw small animals from upstairs windows. Because I’m not addicted. (Or if I am, I'm not admitting it yet)

I may be happier after a coffee, talk a bit more and occasionally burst into song, but that’s no bad thing is it?

I like sharing it, making it for others, smelling it, savouring it.

But I'm not a coffee snob. I know what I like. I don't like tons of hot milk and I don’t like instant. I used to drink plenty of it but stopped really tasting anything. That's the problem with even the best instant coffee, it doesn't compete on taste and it lacks impact.

So instead of drinking ten cups of instant a day, I drink on average one large cup of filtered coffee or espresso (double – with hot water) per day. Sometimes two, three at the very very most. I can’t drink more than that.

I care about coffee and I really enjoy it, therefore I want to drink a cup roasted, blended and prepared by someone who feels the same way. Which is why I spend most of my time in Nom Nom Cupcakery (serving deep and delicious Rave signature blend) and Prema Café (nutty and smooth just like the owners).

So there. My coffee story.  *blows raspberry and puts the coffee on*

 (and I can think of lots of people who agree)

 Me, having me-time at Nom Nom Cupcakery

When you know too much

Your closest friends (and your PR) should know all there is to know about you. As one of my best friends used to say, "On a need-to-know basis, I just need to know."

No secrets, no pretence, no brave fronts. There are some people you should bare all to, otherwise how can they truly act as your friend?

They're also the ones you relax the most with. By relax I mean lose all sense of responsibility, drink too much and do things you normally wouldn't.

Yes those friends. 

You'll be stuck with them forever, and a birthday card I got this week reminded me of why.

Touche LW x

Did you make any new friends today?

Making friends - it's such a ball ache. It's something you spend your whole life doing yet most of it dreading.


This weekend I've been thinking about it a lot. I mean, who doesn't worry about making friends?


From starting a new school, to going to Uni, moving away for your first proper job and then changing job. Buying your first house and meeting the neighbours, buying the next house and wondering if you'll build the same relationships again. Starting a family and fitting in with the mums, finding a life for yourselves that's more than just the kids.


But looking back, every time my life has changed direction (or location) I've met more great people to enjoy the journey with. Turns out there are a lot of friendly people out there, more than happy to let a welsh girl in.


So as I get ready to give up the day job and get the eldest off to school, I should be getting that familiar anxiety of starting all over again. But this time I'm excited, turns out this place I live in is full of crazy people and I think I'm going to have a ball.  


(Besides, if I didn't have any friends, I'd have to spend more time at home with my husband)

Somewhere to run

I’d always dreamt of having a tree house. We had 3 greenhouses and a shed, all packed to the rafters with plants in various stages of growth and tools of every kind.

But there was no room in any of them for me. A tree house would have been perfect because then I’d have had somewhere to run.

When you’re a kid, how important is it to have somewhere to run?

Two conversations I’ve had today with two very different Mums, made me think of the tree house. 

Prolific blogger mum of three world talks about sibling rivalry and her eldest needing to get away from it all. And the other, my big sister, shared her fears for her epileptic son when he starts big school, where will he run when he needs help? Both expressed the same fear that they weren’t the ones they could run to. That not being there or your child choosing to run to someone else was a sign of failure.

But it’s not.



The olden days, but no tree house



I have vivid memories of running away many times; sometimes I’d pack a bag and mean it, other times I was escaping to sort my head out.

I had friends with brilliant parents whom I loved and trusted a great deal. I had my Nan who’d be there with a strong tea and lots of sugar (before phoning my mum and gently sending me home).

I’d run away, calm down, and most importantly, come back.

This wasn’t a bad reflection on my own Mum & Dad. I feel privileged that I had other adults I could turn to and looking back, thankful that my parents let me do that.

At certain points in your life, the last people you want to talk to is your parents, either through shame, embarrassment or more likely a huge fear of disappointing them (and most of the time I was probably running away from my sister!)

Kids get stressed, kids occasionally hate their siblings and kids will often feel alone. But as long as they’ve got a tree house they can bolt to, or a friend to support them, they’ll be fine.

And it certainly doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’ve let them deal with things in their own way and if they’re anything like me, they’ll thank you for it and respect you so much more in the long run.

I still run away, all adults do, to have a beer, a walk, or a chat with someone other than my husband. So why should our kids be any different?

Gather with your females

When faced with extreme stress, apparently women like to ‘tend and befriend’

This is because when under stress we release a hormone that arouses our nurturing instinct, which in turn ‘encourages us to gather with other females’.

I read this today and it made me laugh out loud. The thought that a moment of stress (usually an annoying email) sends a hormone surge through my body, forces me up and out of my office chair, walking hands in front of me,  zombie like towards the nearest gathering of females. Where I’ll gabble inanely until the hormone rush is satisfied and I can return to my work.

It turns out that the more we nurture and join with our friends, the calmer we become. Common sense really. A phone call, a coffee or a long walk with a female friend is all I need.  Moan over, smile back on, normality resumes. And it’s scientifically proven to work.

My husband prefers to use bad words and kick things. But that’s life.

The day that changed my life - guest post

I am honoured to publish a guest blog from a friend with an inspiring story to tell. Please take time to read it all. You can follow Rich on twitter @biddyrich

Wednesday 19^th April 2000 was the day that changed my life – it was the day

that my mischievous, troublesome 16 year old brother had an accident at college, leaving him paralysed from the neck down and confined to a wheelchair. I remember it as if it were yesterday.

I remember receiving the phone call at work and I rushed to the hospital in a blur, I don’t remember much of the journey in. I had no change for parking and couldn’t contact my mum and dad.

When I arrived at A & E the nurses told me not to panic but he would be arriving by air ambulance. Of course, the moment I heard that, my heart started beating really fast and I started to panic! I wanted my mum to be there but she was stuck at work. I was alone, scared and wondering what the hell I was going to say to him when I saw him.

Seeing the helicopter land, I raced over to him and asked him if he was alright. I can’t repeat his answer, but for those who know my brother I can tell you it contained a few swear words.



Steve and Rich



The seriousness of the accident dawned on me when the doctors were pinching his hands and feet asking if he could feel anything. When he replied ‘no’ I knew it was bad news.

Steve was transferred to the Heath Hospital in Cardiff for further tests and we went to Cardiff that evening to be told the horrible news that Steve had a spinal injury and it was almost certain that he would never walk again. I don’t remember how I felt at that particular moment, but I do remember crying when we got home. A lot. I can’t imagine what must have been going through his mind.

He was very down and depressed for the first few years after the accident, and this is where the Spinal Injuries Association proved invaluable to us. They are the leading national charity for spinal cord injured people and they helped Steve, myself and my parents come to terms with his injuries and how to deal with our changed lives.

When he first had the accident, Steve suffered from pressure sores because he was in bed all the time and some were so bad that he had to have a skin graft.

With Steve in a specialist spinal injuries unit at Rookwood Hospital, Cardiff for the next 13 months, we spent every evening travelling to Cardiff to see him. I was 19 and studying for my accountancy exams as well as holding down a full time job. It was tiring and hard work, but I had to do it, for him.

During his stay in hospital he had a number of problems including a Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT) and had to be transferred back to another hospital for treatment.

When he came home for good, first on weekend visits, I used to sleep on the sofa downstairs with him. My mum worked in a care home and taught me how to turn him at night time to stop him getting pressure sores. Now I do this without thinking and it is part of everyday life.

Steve managed to get the movement in his left arm while he was in hospital – which has proven to be a real lifeline for him now. He can operate a computer and he has enough movement to steer his motorised wheelchair – giving him some of his independence back. This was a major achievement.

After he came home for good, the trips to hospital weren’t over. A few years after his accident he was very thin and prone to pneumonia. He underwent surgery after suffering a collapsed lung for the third time and spent some time in intensive care after the operation. It was terrifying and a few times we thought the worst.

But if there’s one thing Steve is, he’s stubborn and he’s a fighter. He wasn’t going anywhere.

He came out of hospital and put all of his time into studying at college – he did a business studies course and an AAT accountancy course. My parents and Steve moved to a different house and I think this set him on the road to recovery.

I have nothing but admiration for my parents. They hold down full time jobs as carers in homes and being caring is in their nature. They are on full time caring duty at home looking after Steve and do pretty much everything for him – all unpaid. They never moan about it and I understand this more now I have my own child, they don’t do it because they have to, but because he is their child.



Steve with his biggest fan



Life got better. Steve became his own boss and now employs his own carers to look after him while mum and dad are at work.

He was best man at my wedding – and no better man for the job in mine and my wife’s opinion. He is a fantastic brother and brother in law and is an even better Uncle to our three year old daughter, Ella.

She thinks the world of Steve, and the feeling is most definitely mutual. She doesn’t treat him any differently, climbs all over his wheelchair and they are always up to trouble together.

My relationship with Steve is stronger now than it’s ever been. We are typical brothers, we always wind each other up but I am still very protective over him which is why I take my responsibility of caring for him so seriously. He needs me and I will always be there for him any time of day or night.

He is my best friend.

If there’s one thing I would like my daughter to remember when she is older is not to treat people with disabilities differently; she doesn’t now and I hope she won’t in the future.  I see lots of kids staring at Steve when we’re out but they don’t know him. To me, he’s just the same as he was before his accident, maybe not physically but certainly personality wise. I guess some people are scared by people in wheelchairs but I am glad that Ella isn’t. She loves him for who he is and I have no doubt that will continue.

My wife says that Ella asks her other Nan why Uncle Stevie is in a wheelchair, I know there’s going to be a time when I have to sit down and go through the detail with her, but I think the answer of ‘Uncle Stevie had an accident and his legs don’t work’ is fine for the time being.

This year I am going to do something I’ve never done before - I am in training for the biggest challenge of my life. In June this year, I will take part in a 300 mile cycling challenge, from London to Paris in four days.

Do you think I’m crazy? My wife does, and if I’m honest, I think I am too! But I’ve got the cycling bug and I’ve been inspired by my little brother to raise money for a great charity – the Spinal Injuries Association (SIA).  I wanted to share my reasoning’s with you if you don’t think I’m crazy after reading it, I’m hoping that you might be tempted to dig deep and sponsor me.

Steve was so supportive of me when I told him what I was planning and I hope it shows him how much I care about him.

You can sponsor me at: www.justgiving.com/biddy-sia.

Courage in a cupcake

Courage - noun

:the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, without fear; 

Courage? What is it? Something you rarely see. Or you see on the tele, once a year (on Noel’s Christmas presents.)

It’s not always about saving lives or doing something worthy of a Pride of Britain award from Carol Vorderman. To me it is so much simpler. Yes it’s about bravery, but not necessarily about being a hero.

Courage is really pushing yourself to do something you don’t feel comfortable doing, but for the right reasons. There’s an element of being a daredevil about it. It’s being out of your comfort zone (and all those other clichés), taking risks that others wouldn’t take, putting yourself in a place you’ve never been before.

In the last 6 months I’ve been taught all about courage from an old work colleague. I doubt she even realises how brave she is.

Like many people in the last 2 years she was offered redundancy. She wasn’t out of a job, her job was relocating. She could have taken what I consider to be the ‘safe’ option and kept her job, but travelled further. But she decided to run the risk. She chose redundancy and crazier still, decided to invest that redundancy in a shop.

So with the support of her partner and family, she opened a Cupcakery. She works 14 hours a day 5 days a week, getting up when it’s dark, going to bed when it’s almost the next day. On her 6^th day she works for someone else. And finally, on her 7^th day, she rests (rather like someone else we all know).

I doubt it’s a roaring success 6 months after opening and although she has many loyal customers (me for one), I don’t think she’s ‘rolling in it’. It takes 3-5 years to build a solid business (so she tells me) and she seems to be in it for the long haul. She turns up for work every day with a smile, as do her family, and it’s a pleasure to go into her shop.

To me, she epitomises courage, bravery and determination. She is living proof of grabbing life by the scruff of the neck and living it to the full. She makes me ashamed to be in my (not-so-safe) local government job.

Emily from Nom Nom Cupcakery in Nailsworth (cupcakes and gifts to order, and amazing coffee) shows what it is to have courage. It’s a mental attitude, an approach to life and a determined spirit. It’s about responding positively to negative situations and living life the way you want to – not the way someone says you should.

Courage – a quality of mind and spirit, without fear, to set up your own shop in a recession. 

Congratulations Emily on making 6 months. Keep calm and eat a cupcake.

Tourist Eyes

There’s nothing like having a visitor to make you rediscover where you live. Simply because you are never a tourist in your home town, but having a visitor forces you to behave like one.

One of my oldest friends from University came to visit at the weekend with his partner. He’s been before, his partner hasn’t. They’re from East London, as far removed as you can be from my sleepy, middle-aged, Cotswold village. 

We didn’t do anything special. We walked in the woods as I do most days but it felt different, I saw more, heard more, felt more.

We walked into the village but took a slightly different route to allow for us to take better pictures. It was beautiful.  They noticed things I’d never noticed and asked questions I’d never thought to ask.

I had a brilliant weekend and I hope they did too.

Invite someone to stay and rediscover where you live.

The Gallery - Inspirational People

A tough subject this week on The Gallery from the inspiring (see what I did there?) Sticky Fingers blog……it’s Inspirational People.

It’s tough because I’ve already written about Nanna Peg, already told you about my very strong and slightly mad Big Sister and her beautiful and brave son. My mad welsh family with their positive outlook and crazy happy zest for life, could inspire anyone. My husband, kids, his family.....the list is endless.

Meningitis Trust Staff

I’ve worked in some great places and none more inspiring than the Meningitis Trust, a charity led by one of the most inspiring women I have ever met. In just 4 years there I met the most incredible characters. People who’ve been through the horror of meningitis. Some survived, some suffered huge loss, but all amazing.

But wherever I work, wherever I live, whoever is in my life at any given time, there is a group of people who never fail to inspire me. They are always on my mind and I miss being with them, every single day. It’s a strange collective, made up of school, sixth form and university friends, but now all bound together in one hilarious, beautiful, amazing, loving group. Some are mums, some career women, some both. Some are creative, some are tough, some sporty, some great at fashion. All are very good at bossing me around – and I love it.

Inspirational People - My very best friends

There are many inspirational people you will meet in life. But the ones who inspire me most are the ones who know me the best. I look at the way they live their lives, the different opportunities and challenges they’ve all faced and I’m inspired. Just an emali, phonecall or skype chat with any one of them, brings a huge fat smile to my face and makes me feel like I can achieve anything.

My best friends. Inspirational People.