After tasting each of the different chocolates I invited comments from these goddesses and they were very forthcoming. They recognised the contents of most of the buttons and we chatted about what they may or may not be doing for their health, their body, for their digestive system and their empowerment. I wish I had a photograph of their faces when they tasted the bitterness of 100% chocolate. Definitely not for the faint hearted and the sugar lovers.
Being the WI, I wanted them to see that they could, with relative ease and appropriate information, actually make their own chocolate. In true Blue Peter style, I produced some I had made earlier. By making their own chocolate, they had the choice as to the actual ingredients they chose to make their own batches of chocolate from. They had control and choice of ingredients, not the food companies. If they could get a feel of what choosing what was right for them as individuals, then what a gift may they be to others who are also looking for change.
I could have been talking about anything, for example, shoes or stamps or something else; the point was to bring into their universe 'awareness of choice' and how to make the best choice for them in that moment. Plus it's ok to make another choice if the one they have already made is no longer working for them.
There were lots of questions about me and my story. I contributed lots of things about me by following the energy of these lovely ladies. I chatted about my own health challenges and talked about lots of the energy modalities I had experienced as a therapist, as a person and as a woman that have helped me to get to where I am today. My absolutely favourite modality, Access Consciousness and Access Bars, generated lots of interest and I had no problem talking about how this had changed my heart, my mind, my body, my energy levels, my world and my own empowerment.
If in any way this talk motivated one, some or all of those Wrexham WI goddesses to make changes, to consider changes or to desire changes that empower them in a small way or a mega way, then the evening is something to celebrate.
I finished the evening with these words ? 'You are never too old, too young, too beautiful, too broken, too selfish or too silly and it is never, ever too late to choose something that helps to create a better, healthier more empowered life for you, your body and your being.'
I am so grateful to all the brilliant goddesses who showed up, listened and contributed to a fun evening of chat, chocolate and empowerment.
Dedicated to the awesome wome of Wrexham WI, League of Extraordinary Women.
With ease, joy and gratitude to one and all.
Denise Oliver, Cheshire
www.devaempowerment.co.uk
@DeniseDevaPower
A Trip to the Rugby
The monstrous mountain of steel taunting your feet,
Seems like trekking Everest to get to your seat,
As the mind fizzling excitement reaches its peak,
Bellowing announcements, unexplainable predictions
and the hotdogs mind numbing reek
The immense cloud like ram on the pitch
ambling and strutting around,
Peaceful sound waves of Welsh carolling
Hymners releasing their soothing sound
The evil fire breathing dragons conquering all cheeks,
Along with luminescent daffodils and dazzling radiant leeks,
The vast glistening roof awakens, it opens its eyes,
Welcoming bright dazzling rays of the skies
The spotless practice ball screaming
as it glides through the air,
As the shrill cheers signal
for the cruel flamethrower's flare,
The blinding light and scalding heat combined,
The flamethrower's deafening burn horrible and unkind
Out shoot the fireworks dancing
and jigging, lighting up the sky,
Samba-ing and flipping with colours clouding high,
The red and white ball from the sky roof
parachuting down to the floor
Just as the colossal Welsh players
jog out with a ground trembling roar,
The booming national anthem
makes the seats all snap shut
Screaming the lyrics from their heart, soul and gut,
Radiant red shirts line up in tactical formation,
Taking their positions depending
on the coin toss situation
The whistle to the players
like ignition on a sports car,
As the ball goes flying through
the posts into the crowd afar
The murky ball sprints out of the ruck
and leaps towards the scrum half,
Then he jumps to the back row and
makes his way through the hand path
The whistle shouts and the ball has a lifelong break,
As the dragons in the stands make the vast ground shake.
Time for the Jumbotron to step in taking
its victims straight from the stands,
The humiliation of those straight off the plane
with their heads in their hands,
The minute emerald trimmed grass
starting a Mexican wave with the wind,
Just before its cut again, before it becomes skinned
The dragons in their glory
with a historical legendary win,
The deafening songs and
almighty chants in their almighty din
Then the dazzling seats are empty
and their mouths remain shut,
The floodlights dim and all that's left
is the radiance from the monstrous players' hut
Now the sun's dazzling rays pass
and they tag in the moon,
With a shimmering wink
to show they'll be back soon,
To shine upon the glistening six nations
and Grand Slam golden trophy
once again
By Kieran Moon, age 13
Flintshire
Inspired by his love of rugby and a trip to see the Welsh National Rugby Union team at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff. Wrexham is home to the North Wales Crusaders, professional Rugby League team who play their home games at the Racecourse Stadium.
Caged Bird
It was a one-Magpie kind of a day. I knew from the moment I opened my eyes it was going to be bad. Yet, what I felt now was more than sorrow. It was terror. Had I been drugged? I had no idea where I was. I wriggled frantically, tried to loosen the bonds, but it was no use, the cords that bound my wrists hurt like hell and seemed to pull tighter the more I struggled. I was face down and tried to dislodge the tape by making tiny mouth nudges against my shoulder. It was no use. I shrank into myself and sobbed. I was so cold. I tried to wipe the snot from my nose on the rough carpet beneath me but I couldn't manoeuvre my head enough without knocking against a cold metal tin, a tool-kit or something. Rags. Oil. Ropes. It stank.
******
I thought of Lauren. I'd dropped her off at school on time, at ten to nine this morning. She'd started her second term on a bad note, having barely recovered from a nasty bug. Hopefully she'd managed but at least mum was picking her up today - she'd be back at mum's, safe and sound.
I couldn't stop the involuntary trembling. I wouldn't be able to answer the phone if it rang. He had it. He'd taken it from me. I remember that much. I remember his hands searching my pockets. Big, rough hands pushing and shoving. Fragments were now coming back to me. Bits were floating back into memory.
I'd gone shopping after work. I was back about four. No one on the estate was home. I was going back to the car for another bag. I panicked, kicked out and banged my head on the metal box, then cursed. I struggled again. Tried to make some noise. I had my legs free but there wasn't enough room to kick out. I heard footsteps. I moaned as loudly as I could. The footsteps were close. I couldn't breathe. It was him. He was standing outside.
The lid of the boot yawned. A blast of cold air chilled me further
and I shrank into the space, wanting it to encase me, suck me in and save me. My blind-fold slipped a little but there was nothing to see. Everywhere was black. I guessed it was around 5pm. It was pitch black. I always hated November.
'Out!'
I couldn't respond with the tape over my mouth.
'Move!'
He waited while I struggled to get into an upright position and on to my knees. It was impossible to clamber out with my wrists firmly behind my back! I wasn't moving fast enough. He growled his impatience, grabbed my jacket and hauled me out. I fell sideways, awkwardly, one knee hitting the ground. I moaned as loudly as I could. I sensed rubble. Uneven ground. Brick.
He adjusted my blind-fold, but the glimpse gave me no clues. All I knew was he had a torch, and periodic flashes swept across my face. A hand pushed me in the small of my back and I stumbled along with his rough guidance. I heard cars but they were distant. At least 300 yards away, maybe it was the A483. I heard nothing other than the sound of people going home. Hurrying back to the warmth and comfort of their Wrexham homes. If indeed we were still in Wrexham!
He shoved me into some sort of room. It echoed and I smelled dust. A metal door banged shut and I heard the snap of something like a padlock. I turned towards the noise with my ears pricked. A bolt screeched across. He was dragging me; first a left turn and then another left. Then a right. My heart was hammering. I couldn't breathe. He spoke. The voice told me to shut up. I thought he had thrown the torch down because I could see a little light at my feet.
He warned me not to scream, laughing to himself, and muttering something like, no one will hear you anyway and the gag is torn off, along with half my skin.
'Stay still!' is the command, with amusement in his voice. I cringed, thinking he was about to hit me but he grabbed the blindfold, pulling half my hair with it. I tossed my hair backwards; it was quite long, due for the hairdresser. I flicked it again. My fringe was in my eyes, but I use it to hide behind.
He stepped close, with his nose an inch from mine before pressing the light switch. The balaclava was terrifying. Fluorescent tubes flickered and pinged into life, one after the other; a long row stretched to infinity. I thought of The Shining. But there was nothing soft and pretty in this movie, no carpets, no pictures. Just a terrified woman and a madman. Hopefully, no axe. Breeze blocks without plaster skim stretched before me. We passed doorways without doors and walked and walked and walked down a long corridor to where work was further along. Now there were metal doors with hatches. All shut. All grey. He pushed me on and when I dug in my heels, he dragged me.
'Go on scream. Scream all you want, love.'
I tried it out and screamed until I was sick. I couldn't hear him laughing through the buzzing in my ears but he found it hilarious. He rocked backwards and forwards. His eyes were like slits. Mocking me. I tried hard to imagine a face behind the mask. His frame was slight. The hands were rough and too big for the body. He's probably young. But I knew what he sounds like. He's a scouser.
One to me.
I took a deep breath. I needed to think. To calm. To get him to talk. I'd watched enough tv rubbish to work that out.
'Gerrin!' He grabbed my arm and swung me into a room.
I was propelled forward. It was obvious now; I'm in the new prison, HMP Berwyn, still under construction. We were still in Wrexham after all. He must work here. He had keys. The gaoler. I'm the first inmate. I snort. I won't be the last. Someone will know him.
A point to me.
'What's so funny?' He doesn't expect an answer.
'Undo my wrists.' I stood strong. Looked him in the eye. 'Go on. I'm not exactly going anywhere, am I?'
He stared back. Unblinking. Didn't move.
'Go on!' I turned my back to him, presenting my wrists. It worked. The bond comes off. He throws the cord on the newly-screed floor.
'Don't get bossy with me girl.' he warns. 'I don't like bossy women.' He circled me. Appraising?
I stayed still in the centre of the room. He was dressed in a black parka and black jeans. A clich?. Adidas trainers.
Three to me.
Four! I noted a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist. A swirl? No a small bird! I could talk birds.
'Did you hear the owl hoot on the way here?' He ignored me. It was a long-shot.
'Spooky creatures of the night, but I like birds.' He listened as he leaned against the wall. 'My granddad used to have an aviary. Sometimes he would let me go inside with him. Feed them. If I was a good girl.'
'Shut up!' I kept stchum whilst he skirted round me once more. He chewed the sleeve of his anorak. I knew he was out of his depth. Hadn't done this before and clearly hadn't thought it through. He was shaking and fidgeted in his pockets before he turned angrily towards me, thrusting his face in mine.
'Just keep quiet will yous!' His breath was hot on my face. Teeth not brushed for a week. Were birds his thing? Should I try softening him further or would I make him angrier? It was worth a flutter. I had nothing to lose.
'I remember wobbling as a kid. Trying to hold out my arm with a little plastic dish of seed and dropping the stuff everywhere. The finches were lovely. Goldfinches. Really pretty little birds. Thankfully no one keeps them anymore.'
He stopped pacing, leaned against the wall and watched. I carried on.
'They were so pretty with their little red and black and yellow markings. Granddad had a real way with them. He was so calm, patient. You need patience with birds don't you?' He closed his eyes for longer than a blink; a shift so slight it was almost imperceptible. Five to me. He nodded.
I continued, 'He must have had about fifteen at one time...'
'Stop it! I know what you are doing. It won't work. Look, just shut up and you'll get out of here. Carry on and I won't be responsible for me actions.' His right eye twitched.
That shut me up, but softly, I asked, 'Can I sit down? Please?' He nodded and I slumped to the floor. At least he was talking. Sort of. He did say I might get out and I gave him five minutes before adding, 'My grandmother hated seeing birds in a cage. She said birds should always be able to stretch their wings. To fly.'
He flew at me, 'You think you are clever don't you? You think all this talk of birds and being free is going to get you out of here don't you?' He spewed a tormented torrent of vile, frustrated words before dropping to his knees. He held his head like he was about to pull off the balaclava. He yelled to the ceiling, hollered and kicked at the wall. He reminded me of Lauren having a tantrum. The wall would need re-plastering. He faced me before sliding down the wall into a crumpled heap. He tried to slow his breathing, took a few deep breaths, closed his eyes and pulled his legs into a cross-legged position before reaching into his pocket for a joint.
I stayed still, and tried to gauge whether dope calmed or made him excitable. I sensed the former. Sensed none of this had been thought through sufficiently. I made a stab at asserting myself and stood, hands on hips.
'What's this about? Sex? You want sex? Have it! Take it! Then let me go. I've got nothing to lose. Let's get it over with.' I pulled off my jacket, threw it down. The gauntlet.
He jumped to his feet, 'Whoah! Just a minute! I'm not into that!' He held his arms outstretched, palms patting the air, putting distance between us.
I guessed he was younger than me by ten years, probably about 21 or 22.
Six to me. I felt further emboldened. 'What is it you want? Come on tell me. Either rape me, kill me or set me free!'
'Will you just shut up! Let me think! I'm not here to do that!'
'Well, what the hell is this about? Why am I here?' We eye-balled each other. Neither spoke but he blinked first.
Seven. 'Come on man. Tell me!'
'Your ex.'
'I knew it!' I stopped myself from whooping. 'Tom's behind this? The bastard.'
'He said to scare yous.'
'Well you've done that all right. Now what?' This wasn't the time for me to be too clever. Senses were in ov
erdrive. One false move...one wrong word...
'He wants to see more of the girl. Said if he doesn't, he will create problems for yous. Said there's a court hearing coming up that will stop him seeing her or something. Look I'm not a killer or a rapist. I owed him and I said I'd put the frighteners on yous.' This guy wanted out.
I took a deep breath. 'This is typical him, going about things the wrong way. You owe him?'
'Yeah.'
'Is he dealing again? Come on! I know all about it. Look you don't know me but Tom is bad news. He can drag anyone into anything and before you know it, you are in a mess.'
He held his hand up. Took another drag and watched. 'I owed him. Big time. I didn't know what to do.' He scratched the back of his hands. Those large hands that were too big for his body.
'Let me guess? You couldn't pay? He was threatening you?'
'Something like that.'
'That's his style.' I got up and paced. He watched. 'This is why he doesn't get to see my daughter! This is why!'
He wouldn't meet my eye but I knelt close to his face, leaned in. 'Tom is dangerous! Can't you see? You could walk away from here but it's going to get a hell-of-a-lot-worse if you do something to me!'
He took a drag. Scanned my face. His blue eyes watered.
'Go on. See that door? Open it. Keep walking. I'll follow. I don't know who you are. Where you're from. I haven't seen your face. I haven't a clue who you are. Let's leave this where it is and we both walk free. If I report this he will get banged up but you can go into hiding. What do you say? Come on man! I've got a little girl. She needs her mum. Hey? What do you say?'
He stood. His eyes were large. Frightened. He bolted. I ran after him as fast as I could. I was not going to be left inside. I wouldn't be anyone's prisoner. I watched the red lights of his car disappear, heard the squeal of rubber and then I walked away.
By J M Moore
Cheshire
@fellexplorer
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