My First Blog 🦇

Hi there, spooky souls🦇

I’ve decided to start a blog. I thought it would be fun, and give us a chance to connect in a slightly different way. Even though I make YouTube videos and post on Instagram, a blog gives me room to breathe, to wander through thoughts and reflections a little more deeply, like candlelight flickering across old, dusty pages.

Right now, I’m feeling rather burned out. This year has been a whirlwind, and with a house move looming somewhere in the near future, everything feels a bit too much. Video-making, though I adore it, can take time, especially vlogs that involve endless editing, and blogging offers an alternative, a quieter space for my mind to rest.

Lately, I haven’t been feeling quite myself. I spent a week at my sister’s house recently, which was lovely, but for someone like me, who thrives in solitude, a week of constant company is intense. Coming home hasn’t been much gentler. A busy, social week has left me feeling spent. Two weeks of relentless peopleing and the looming reality of packing up my home has made my safe space feel less safe. My current flat doesn’t feel like a home anymore. It’s just a space I rent. The landlord has sent the estate agent round to photograph it for sale, and the thought of strangers in my home makes my chest tighten.

I am anxious, as any typical “WHAT IF?!” Pisces would be. What if the flat sells before I can move? What if the new place falls through, leaving me and my little household of Charlie and Ambrose stranded in limbo? My sister has kindly offered a place to stay if needed, but I’d have to part with most of my belongings, and Ambrose, my tarantula, would not be welcome. Still, I must remind myself these are possibilities, not realities. For now, all is proceeding as it should.

I’m not great with technology, so my blog will likely never be fancy. There will be no glittering layouts or interactive widgets. Instead, it will always be about content, a little corner where thoughts can stretch their limbs and whisper secrets.

On a lighter note, Charlie recently had a scale and polish at the vets. They used anaesthetic, and naturally, I was terrified he wouldn’t wake up. But my brave little boy is fine, three tiny extractions later, his teeth gleaming and breath surprisingly divine. Blood tests all came back saying he’s a very healthy dog, even if he is a touch chonky, much like his mumma.

I am writing this on Bonfire Night, which in the UK means loud fireworks and blazing effigies of Guy Fawkes commemorating the failed Gunpowder Plot of 1605. For those who have ever confused it with V for Vendetta, no, Natalie Portman is not a historical reference, though she looks incredible with a shaved head. As I type, fireworks shriek and rattle across the night, a terror for British wildlife, pets, and autistics alike. Luckily, Charlie has Siouxsie and the Banshees playing loud enough that we can mostly drown them out.

Every year we come to my mum’s house in a little village on the edge of the Cotswolds for Bonfire Night. It’s quieter here than in the town, the bangs more distant, and somehow a little less alarming. Tomorrow, I go home, pick up Ambrose from the pet sitters, and finally, we will all be together in our own home, Charlie, Ambrose, and I, ready to begin the slow unwinding after a hectic October.

Anyway, I’ll leave it there for my first blog post. I hope it finds you well and perhaps offers a little companionship in the quiet hours of your own dark corners.

May your shadows be gentle, your candles eternal, and your nights as sweetly haunted as mine.

With whispered cobwebs and midnight sighs,
TheMotherGoblyn