I actually tried to write this post in my last post, BUT I somehow ended up talking about Squigeon and Goose for over 1,000 words and didn’t have room for the rest of the good things that have happened lately.

Even though one of them involves crying over a pillowcase, and another involves almost going to war with Boots over my medication, there have actually been some really lovely moments hidden amongst the stress.

And yes…

EVEN MORE PIGEONS.

---

I FINALLY GOT MY MEDS.

After way more stress than it ever needed to be, and with some heavy insistence at the Boots counter, I FINALLY GOT MY MEDS.

I was so relieved to get them. I had zero tablets left, and these are the kind of mental health meds you really don’t want to miss, even for a single dose. That was the most infuriating part of the whole situation. No one seemed to understand why I was so worried about running out.

I’ve skipped medication before, and let me tell you, because of what happened afterwards, it’s a mistake I have never made again. It’s been YEARS since I’ve missed a dose.

The relief of finally having them in my hand was immense. So immense, in fact, that my son and I decided this clearly called for Starbucks.

As I ordered my usual Iced Americano, I spotted a Starbucks bear cup. You know the ones that went absolutely viral? The cups people queued for and somehow managed to resell for hundreds of pounds on eBay? There it was, just sitting on the counter, looking perfectly content and apparently waiting for me to take it home.

I did indeed take it home.

I’d actually wanted a bear cup for ages. Years ago I even bought some bear mugs from Amazon, but they were rubbish. They didn’t even hold a small coffee.

When the completely RIDICULOUS Starbucks bear cup hype happened, I refused to get involved. If obtaining a novelty cup requires Stanley Cup levels of public chaos, I’m out. It is, at the end of the day, just a cup. Besides, I’ve played far too much Cyberpunk 2077. Every time I encounter that sort of marketing frenzy, I can practically hear Johnny Silverhand yelling, “Don’t fall for the corporate bullshit, V”. 

The barista told me they still had loads of them and seemed genuinely surprised. Then again, Wales has never really embraced the Black Friday style of corporate chaos. We’ve always preferred Home Bargains. In the old days we had Hyper Value, and frankly, we were all perfectly happy with that.

On the way home, with my bear cup safely tucked inside my bag, my son and I actually enjoyed the weather. It was still too hot, but the wind had picked up. Around 24mph according to the weather app. Cold enough to batter us all the way home.

It made me unexpectedly nostalgic for the summers I grew up with. The ones where I’d ride my bike straight into the wind making a sunny day even cooler. The ones where you still needed a cardigan on Barry Island beach because your little arms would get cold if you sat there too long.

That was before Wales collectively decided to cosplay as southern Spain every summer and started giving me heat exhaustion instead.

I still haven’t actually used my bear cup. He’s too precious.

Instead, he’s sitting next to the coffee machine where I can admire him every morning. He’s exactly the sort of object I used to love drawing back when I was making art. Glass was always one of my favourite things to draw.

The relief of finally getting my medication will probably turn into anxiety again next month when it’s time to order the next prescription. But that’s next month’s problem.

For now, I’m just really glad I have my meds… and an unnecessarily adorable bear cup.

---

I Bought a New Duvet and It Made Me Cry

I have become completely obsessed with Bold “First Day of Spring” washing powder. I even bought the matching fabric softener and scent beads. I washed a different duvet cover than usual, fully expecting to climb into bed surrounded by the glorious smell of the First Day of Spring wafting around my bedroom all night. Instead, it felt like I’d wrapped myself in printer paper. I barely slept because every time I moved, it scratched me.

I’d swapped out my old faithful brushed cotton star duvet cover because, after years of washing it and immediately putting it straight back on the bed, it had finally reached retirement. It had holes, loose threads everywhere, and looked like it had survived several wars.

Apparently using my fancy Next duvet cover – the Epson Printer Paper Collection™ – made me realise something. I can only sleep under brushed cotton now.

So off to Asda I went. They only had one brushed cotton duvet cover in the size I wanted. Grey. My room is already grey, so I did wonder if it might be a bit… aggressively millennial. I brought it home, washed it in EVERY First Day of Spring product I own, then hung it over the curtain poles to dry. Thanks to the way my windows work, that’s basically an outdoor washing line. I was genuinely excited to put it on the bed the next day.

As it turns out, I absolutely love it. Grey duvet. Grey walls. It works. There was just one tiny problem. I was missing a pillowcase.

OH NO.

I looked everywhere. In the pile of bedding I’d taken off the bed. Around the bedroom. Around the flat. I practically turned the place upside down. Nothing.

At this point I became convinced the wind had blown it straight out of the window. I got ridiculously upset about it and started crying. Perimenopause is such a ride. Five minutes earlier I’d been perfectly happy and now I’m sobbing over a missing pillowcase.

Eventually I became so annoyed at my own crying that I essentially started parenting myself like I was an unruly toddler.

“Fine. You win. I’ll go back to Asda and buy more pillowcases. But PLEASE stop crying.”

Thankfully, because I’d chosen the most boring grey duvet cover imaginable, Asda also sold boring grey pillowcases separately, so I didn’t have to buy the whole set again. While I was there I spotted some side sleeper pillows that were half price. Well… losing a pillowcase had accidentally become quite an expensive outing, but at least now I had new pillows too.

I paid, left the shop, got my phone out to change the music in my noise cancelling headphones and saw a text from my son.

“I found the pillowcase.”

Attached was a photo.

“WHAT? Lmao” I replied.

“It was in the sheets you took off your bed.”

“I wasn’t sure if this was a phone call situation.”

It probably was. That said, my son and I NEVER call each other. If my phone had suddenly started ringing, I wouldn’t have thought, “Oh, he must have found my pillowcase.” I’d have assumed he’d accidentally set the flat on fire, or some other equally dramatic emergency. Instead, he’d simply solved the Great Pillowcase Mystery of 2026.

I was mostly amused by how quickly my emotional breakdown had escalated into an unnecessary trip to Asda. Does perimenopause also cause temporary pillowcase blindness? I keep laughing thinking of the whole situation from my sons perspective.

Anyway, I finally got my bed made, and that night I had one of the best sleeps I’d had in ages. Apparently brushed cotton is the only duvet cover I’ll accept now, and I’ll happily embark on an emotional side quest to obtain one. I keep walking past my room and smiling because I actually love the grey duvet against the grey walls. 

The new pillows are amazing too. They’re soft, supportive, and hopefully they’ll do something about my permanently offended neck and shoulder from sleeping on my side. All in all, not a bad outcome for someone who cried over a pillowcase.

---

The Trees, the Sunrises and the Universe

I have been absolutely loving having the scaffolding gone.

Not just because my friends Squigeon and Goose, the wood pigeons, have returned like I mentioned in my last post. I’ve caught myself more than once just sitting by the window, watching the trees sway in the wind. It’s so soothing.

It helps regulate me, and now that it’s back, I’ve realised just how much that little daily ritual mattered. I genuinely think it’s improved my mood.

Every night, before I go to bed, I’ve been able to look up at the stars again. The moon as it moves through its phases. The occasional bright planet. Just… the Universe.

Then there are the mornings when I’m still awake at 4am and the sun begins to rise. Watching the sky slowly change colour is one of my favourite things. No two sunrises are ever the same.

While the scaffolding was up, I couldn’t see any of it.

No trees.
No stars.
No moon.
No sunrise.

Mental illness often feels like the walls are closing in around you. Your entire world shrinks until all you can see is what’s happening inside your own head and inside your own four walls. The trees, the stars, the sunrises and, yes, even the pigeons have always reminded me that there’s a whole world carrying on outside of mine.

When I became mentally ill while my building was wrapped in metal, wood and netting, I don’t think I appreciated at the time how much losing that daily connection to the outside world affected me. I do now. And, well, I’m kind of a melancholic little bean. I missed crying by rainy windows. I’m just really glad I can see outside again.

---

More Pigeons

As I mentioned in my last post, I’ve been so happy to have Squigeon and Goose back in my life that I’ve been taking far too many photos and videos of them. I decided to post one of the videos on Instagram and, for reasons known only to the pigeon-loving corner of the internet, it completely took off.

In it, Squigeon and Goose are simply preening each other. I also uploaded it to YouTube Shorts so I could embed it here:-

At the time of writing, it has around 13,000 views, over 1,100 likes and, perhaps my favourite statistic of all, more than 200 shares. That absolutely made me laugh. Over two hundred people watched two pigeons grooming each other and immediately thought, “I know someone who needs to see this.”

Even funnier, my blog’s Instagram only had about 40 followers when I posted it.

What surprised me most, though, was how differently this felt compared to every other time something I’ve made has done well online.

Years ago my art account grew far bigger than I ever expected, but I found it incredibly anxiety inducing. People were there because of something I’d made, and eventually the pressure became too much. I stopped posting altogether and just did art for myself instead.

This felt completely different. People weren’t watching me. They weren’t judging what I could create. They were just enjoying a tiny moment between two pigeons that happened to be captured on my phone. I wasn’t really the creator. I was just another person lucky enough to witness it.

I think that little bit of distance made social media more enjoyable than it’s ever been for me. I’ve always had a habit of running away when something becomes successful. Years ago I uploaded a single YouTube video that somehow ended up with over 250,000 views.

My reaction was:

“Well… that was fun.” *Leaves*

That remains the only video on that channel.

Blogging has always felt much safer to me. Even when an individual post does well, I can just carry on writing about whatever random chaos happens next. No expectations. No performance. Just life. Also the blogging community is less bitey.

Anyway, I’m still ridiculously happy about my unexpectedly famous pigeons, and I’m spending as much time with Squigeon and Goose as they’ll allow before deciding they’d rather eat walnuts than pose for my camera.

I did tell them about their Instagram success. Squigeon just tilted his head and asked for another walnut.

---

EVEN MORE Pigeons

As I’ve been completely IN LOVE with my pigeons, I decided to celebrate Squigeon and Goose’s return by buying a wood pigeon pin badge, along with a matching necklace and earrings from Etsy.

I absolutely fell in LOVE with them. They’re so adorable.

I especially love that the pigeon is perched on a little twig with flowers. It’s exactly the sort of thing that makes my brain go, “Yes. This. More of this.”

The artist, Anna from WolfySilver on Etsy, absolutely nailed them. She somehow captured both the perfect roundness of a wood pigeon and that tiny hint of chaos behind their eyes. It definitely feels very… Squigeon.

I was so happy with them that I uploaded an Instagram Story of me showing the pin badge to Squigeon and tagged WolfySilver’s Instagram.

She seemed to really enjoy it and she liked Squigeon of course.

It was surprisingly difficult to photograph the jewellery in a way that showed just how lovely it is. In real life, the detail is incredible and they’re even prettier than they look in the photos.

The only problem is that I like them so much I might have to buy another set. Not because I really *need* another set. Because I’m worried I’ll lose them if I actually wear them.

The pin badge, however, is definitely going on my bag to join the rest of my growing pigeon pin badge collection. Anyway, I’ve apparently discovered that pigeons are the easiest way to make me happy.

I’m completely okay with that.

---

All the Small Things.

I think that’s almost everything. Well, everything I could fit without this blog post ending up at 3,000 words again.

It turns out that even when life is ridiculously stressful, and you end up crying over a lost-but-not-actually-lost pillowcase (a Schrodingers pillowcase if you will), it can also contain a new Bold washing powder you become weirdly obsessed with, seeing the trees again, watching the sunrises and remembering just how incredible the Universe is, and, well…

EVEN MORE PIGEONS.

Click the image to see EVEN more pigeon chaos on Instagram :-

Pigeons are my friends. You’re my best friends! :-