 Transforming From Caterpillar To Butterfly! Last weekend I completed a Shaman's Doorway course with Northern Drum, which is an introduction course that operates as a stepping stone to all of their teachings.
'Well, what's extraordinary about that Simon?' I hear you say. To be honest, it was actually the second time that I have completed the course with them. Many moons ago, some 9 years and 3 months to be precise, I embarked on somewhat of a baptism of fire onto my shamanic pathway. For in late April 2013 not only did I open myself up to the teachings of Chis Luttichau but that of Mac Macartney too. For some strange reason, that only myself and the Universe truly know, I decided to do Embercombe's Journey Program right on the back of my first Shaman's Doorway experience. I literally drove from the completion of Chris' course in Sancreed, Cornwall to Higher Ashton, Devon on the same afternoon, traversing some 120 miles in total, so as to amalgamate seven days of personal development work together. I had met Mac some five years previously when I approached him about Authentic Leadership, which I had just learnt about through Neil Crofts. I rather naively thought at the time that this was a fairly new and innovative leadership concept. I remember walking into Mac's living room the day that we agreed to meet just thinking that I must be a natural shoe in to life at Embercombe, the fact that I knew about Authentic Leadership and Mac practiced it, both were a natural fit for one another as far as I was concerned and an immediate collaboration together was surely the only course of action ahead! To say that I was a little wet behind the ears was a bit of an understatement I think. Mac tried his best to paint a little more realistic picture of the likely way forward for me given the fact that Authentic Leadership had been around for the best part of two decades as far as he was concerned and he had all the team he needed all around him already. He advised me that a pathway that involved volunteering at Embercombe Friends Weekends from 2008 - 13 was perhaps a better way to start my association with the Valley Of The Fire than what I first envisaged. Gathering together my shattered illusions I set out upon that trail instead, and met a huge number of incredible people connected to Embercombe in the process. In my early training with Neil, he introduced me to a nature based practice that I later found out, is what First Nation people call, a Medicine Walk. A stroll out into nature that is designed to ask a question of the flora and fauna all around us and then to witness the answer that comes back to us through synchronicity and metaphor. It was an exercise that made my heart sing, as if it was given to me as a tool for me to use for the rest of my life for my own sake and that of others too. Having had a taste of this one nature based practice it only whetted my appetite for more. I enquired with all sorts of organisations like Bill Plotkin's Animas Valley Institute and even Embercombe itself to do an apprenticeship in this field. However, it was only through taking a walk with Mac one day on his land that the possibility of engaging with Northern Drum arose. Mac recommended Chris to me as they both shared the same Native American teachers, the Metis people. Having both men as guides, utilising both of their strengths and wisdom in order to help me along my own personal path seemed like the way to go for me and hence when the possibility of engaging in both schools of thought within a week presented itself to me I jumped at the chance to engage with it all. However, a twist in the story lay up ahead that I wasn't wholly prepared for. It was spelled out to me, in no uncertain fashion, upon The Journey Program itself how much I projected in Mac's direction with my own life purpose, vision and dream. Being presented with the mirror that I was given to look at myself through came somewhat of a shock to me. I no longer liked the look of what I was seeing and I immediately became very conscious of how I was being and behaving around Mac. I became fearful of my own positive or 'golden' shadow, my own potential. I wasn't living my own full life. I began to realise that even though I had embarked on two community builds that year to continue to offer support to Embercombe in the building of The Linhay, which I had pledged to do through its match funding application, I was finding it increasingly difficult to be on the land and remain in the company of the founder of the organisation itself. I had lost the ability to communicate with Mac, man to man, brother to brother. I knew I had to step away no matter how much of a wrench it felt like at the time, for how long I was not sure. Part of me wondered if I would ever return. I had to go and find myself as a person in my own way. To really become aware of my own strengths and weaknesses and where I sat on the whole spectrum of masculinity. I had to fully immerse myself within not only a Vision Quest Guardianship Training through Northern Drum but also a longer term Three Year Shamanic Training with them too. It was only through this experience that I began to find out the man I was destined to be. Through that process I would discover a joy of flowers, of all things, the essences of which would become my ultimate teachers and to whom I had to connect with more deeply to be closer to both the feminine and masculine aspects of myself, to bring myself back into a place of wholeness and balance. So that was the way of things for a while, as a fully accredited Shamanic and Flower Essence Practitioner trying to build up the Allies Of Nature brand with all of the experiences that I had accumulated in my own life. That was before I started to hear the land of Embercombe whisper to me again on the wind. Mac, himself, from time to time would pop up on my radar, in one of my dreams perhaps, or there was this course or that program from the Embercombe newsletter that peeked my interest, until that is an opportunity to back row on The Journey Program came in my direction with an unmistakable shout that I just couldn't ignore. My soul was ushering me home and I seemingly just had to attend that September, for reasons I could not fathom. It was such a simple way to re-engage too where all other routes to a return had proven to be far more difficult to negotiate. Little did I know on re-entering the gates at the top of the hill as to what the real purpose for my re-engagement was. Apart form bringing a fair degree of peace to my own and Mac's connection I believe, I was soon being presented with an opportunity to have a look at an Embercombe Men's Weekend that was struggling to fill its places. It was an invitation that was being offered to me by our much loved, and now sadly departed, Fiona Barnes. I saw a sign upon the Embercombe land that week, or more accurately in the heavens above, that was calling me like no other thing had done before. I had witnessed the constellation of Orion in the sky when exiting the furthest yurt in the West village at 4.00am to take a stroll into the wood. As I looked up to the mythic character above, so a shooting star flashed through that part of the zodiac. It was an omen for sure I thought, of what was to come next in my life, even if I wasn't fully aware of the significance of it at the time. In the end it wouldn't seemingly matter that I pitched an alternative Men's Weekend idea to the core team and for this notion to seemingly fall on stoney ground compared to what other people's offers were like of a similar ilk. The die had been cast in my own heart, for my own purpose had been discovered, I had found my true love. The Orion Reborn Mens Program had been conceived and although it would still take time to form within the creative womb and be birthed, when it finally came fully out into the light it started to become a project of real gravitas and integrity for me. Operating outside of the confines of Embercombe was liberating, soon a new, more aligned venue for the concept would present itself to me to host the program, along with a chef totally onboard with the ethos and then four women began to appear to hold space with me in what I am now calling 'next level' men's work. That is men's work that is to be witnessed by women and not solely to be conducted within a male only environment. The myth of Orion has been slowly percolating away within me since last autumn when I first really became aware of it. More fervently it began to come forward after serendipitously visiting the Aboriginal Songlines exhibition in Plymouth in February where I synchronistically bumped into Rachel Fleming of Embercombe too, someone who I had given a complimentary Medicine Walk to when she was the editor of Source Magazine that I believe helped light her own path forward back then. Orion, in Greek Mythology, is known as 'The Great Hunter', however he is so good at hunting that he brags that he can hunt any species to extinction. Mother Earth doesn't take very kindly to this notion and hence sends a scorpion to poison and thus kill him and so he is then banished to the heavens seemingly forever. However, a more fuller story according to the Aboriginal Songlines is that Orion was a male figure that pursued 'The Seven Sisters', the seven archetypes of women, across the planet for his own gain, driven by lust and desire, so much so that he ended up taking Merope against her will. Orion is a raper and pillager of the Earth and the deep feminine. This is ultimately a story of toxic masculinity. This myth is played out upon the heavens nightly as Orion pursues The Seven Sisters, The Pleiades, across the night sky through Taurus as a reminder to us all of the toxic masculinity that is still in existence around the globe today. When Orion eventually comes back to Earth however and is reincarnated, or reborn, he attempts to avenge the atrocities he has administered in the past by becoming the protector and guardian of the planet instead. He embodies a more divine way of being, to truly honour the deep feminine. He therefore begins to chart the necessary transformational journey that all men have to face today if wishing to bring more alignment to our way of being and happiness back into our hearts. As part of my second Shaman's Doorway experience this past weekend I took a Medicine Walk around the lanes of Manaton asking nature the question as to whether I was on the right path with the Orion Reborn Mens Program and how to fill the course for the start date in November. I got presented with a whole smorgasbord of inspiration saying that everything I was currently doing was all as it should be. One of the most notable sightings of which was a thrush that had just recently caught a snail and was in the process of eating it. The tap, tap, tap of the snail shell hitting the road had gathered my attention. My teacher Chris had told me that if you see any hunter within nature swoop down and catch its prey whilst you are on a Medicine Walk then that normally means that you are right on track to what you are meant to be doing in life and here was such a sign to back up at least three other signs I had seen of a similar nature in previous weeks, with numerous cats and kestrels catching all sorts of mice and shrews. The Journey ahead now seems set to me and maybe at last I am beginning to fully embody the pledge I made at the end of the Journey program itself 'to live a sacred life and so help create a sacred body for the Earth, giving a voice to all the inhabitants of the Earth that as yet cannot speak for themselves' and this is my joyful vow. And so I must continue upon my joyous way in bringing this program more fully into existence for the benefit of one and all honouring the second sacred law of the First Nation people that 'Everything Is First Born Of Woman'. I now see my two Shaman Doorway experiences as bookending my journey from caterpillar to butterfly. One allowing me to enter into the wilderness of my chrysalis for the transformation to begin the other to complete that passage of my life where I am able to exit more fully into freedom, to truly fly with all the gifts that I have to offer the world and be in a place of true servitude to both humans and the planet alike.
1 Comment
 What does it take, to make your best ever stand.
To go shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand. Giving back to your brother, support to the land. Spontaneous in the moment, or otherwise planned. Placing arm around comrade, planting ally in heart. No longer to be separate, no longer apart. For together we are leaders, stepping forward as one. No task is too great now, no mission left undone. For now in the decision, one must make one’s own choice. To sacrifice oneself, for the sound of one’s voice. To lend support to a vision, an insight to a dream. An eye for an eye, no more authority meme. A contemporary figurehead, has more compassion to deal. To be true, more authentic, to love and to feel. To be centred and grounded, aligned and stood plumb. Not to be pushed, or prodded, placed under the thumb. For we’re not for turning, conviction runs through. Gauntlets are laid down, swords ready with crew. For now it is opportune, no time left to wince. Where we are at arms, no need to convince. We’re on our mettle, determined in our stance. Passionate for our cause, a campaign filled with romance. We’re the ones we’ve been waiting for, to that we hold dear. Our position is so solid now, we live without fear. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2021 If you care to comment on this poem at all and the emotions that it brings up for you then please feel free to do so below.  I look, into the eyes of the sheep.
She encourages me, to dive down deep. She chews the cud, and stamps her feet. Wanting me to announce myself, with my own rhythm beat. I wake in the night, and stare outside. The rain has gone, but the stars not quite. A veil there is, across the sky. But a twinkle still pierces, my own unique eye. For a portal has opened, and I can clearly see. A clarity through a window, all the constellations and me. All that I am is hear, near and far. If affirmation was needed, there’s a shooting star. I long for the sun, and the warmth to come. So I can honour myself, and all with the drum. To create a spark, and light a fire. In each direction of course, rekindling my desire. Gold and black, the totems are many. Butterfly, hover fly, caterpillar, two a penny. The star birds have come, and my spirits soar. There are crosses upon the sky, my heart begins to roar. Shapes in the cloud, to the East are seen. A crescent, a horn, a stag’s head I would deem. Back to the tent, there are musings a plenty. A standing stone is born, and incense very scenty. I sit, my back upon the tree. Such a beauty from a distance, just thee and me. In twig, in branch, in trunk, I love. Placing my arms around you, I feel supported from above. The daddy long legs is here, a symbol from another quest. Like thistle, foxglove, slug, panther and the rest. But to the golden orb, is where I must look. To a huge swallow on the wing, a herald of the book. I journey to the centre, to birth pleasure from the pain. And yet another message comes, in the lining there again. This time, fast fuelled fighter jet. Not like passenger this morn, that’s another set. There’s a goat-man on the hillside, smiling this way. A buzzard flies South to North, to him I must pray. His screeches, rise upon the upward draught. Where raven’s realm croaks, like a spiritual raft. The next sign that comes, is a bloody big splodge. In humour I laugh, joy in my lodge. Those black birds are at it, continuing with the climb. To the pen I must drop, until another rich time. Ash, rowan, sycamore, willow. Thoughts drift to me, from my altar and pillow. That orange great E, upon the white fleece. Won’t leave me alone, or give me much peace. Calling the shots, they dictate my next plan. A baa from the bracken, walk, stomp or just pan. There’s a rainbow where dawn breaks, and yet it’s still eve. Swifts dart along valley floor, so close I barely believe. A little bird comes, and tweets from the bush. A flaxen gleam upon the hillside, as night starts to hush. Bright satsuma against the blue sky, a chill wind doth blow. Lifting my wings, I fly, and go with the flow. My hairy friend is back, now silver and bronze. I almost stepped on him, bringing down my tonnes. All wriggled up in a spiral, he stopped me in my track. Unfurling form his curl, he’s off to hit the sack. An eerie cry rings out, from a circling bird up high. Not one but there’s two now, of the same flock or herd in sky. Masters of the hunt, when looking for their prey. It’s time to snuggle up, and bring an end to this day. Yet still there’s a heron now, rising form the river.. A full moon is on the up, all bar a sliver Winking at me from the canopy, inviting me into the mystery. Less questions in my mind, of my own forgotten history. In the last throws of the light. A moth bursts forth a-flight. Dancing upon the thistle spike. To a melodic thump of might. My paper now, is all a glow. Luminescent, to the backward throw. A distant torch, is seen a part. Of the heavenly body, tugging with my hart. The wild wind has come, disturbing me with hurt. Like the Hayoka at work, down in the yurt. I dream of a horse race, where the leader is well clear. But there is trouble on the course, he is thwarted, oh dear! The buffeting of the tent poles, entices me outside. Where Orion and King Cepheus rule, no-one else beside. They call upon the warrior, the mighty king himself. Guardian, protector, hunter, chief of animal health. More visions come of Great Dane, and a flighty Jacob flock. On rising in the morning, the ovine have run amok. Sheep have come and eaten, my centre and my South. Scoffing all the berries, bar 1 or 2 escaping mouth. It is clear where the work is needed, for the freedom to come. In flexibility of emotion, curiosity, adventure, awe-some. Immediately there is a Lepidoptera, basking next to my chair. An opportunity for me to look a while, and just simply stare. For there he sits, wings open, soaking the warmth of the sun. I can park right next to him, and energise all for fun. Adorned he is in umber, burnt sienna, sunshine yellow. For me it is just a pleasure, to be with this little fellow. And then there is this tiny fly, of similar colour and nature. Pitching upon my written prose, aware of the bigger picture. In sunlight too is where he finds his natural home. Crouched small and humble, a new place to come and roam. Sat looking East we are together, like much of this journey’s core. Praying for the clouds to break, to be bathed again once more. And in a moment he is gone, one spring, one jump, one leap. To another place he’s alighted, but his memory I will keep. And so it is to all fours, down amongst the shit. Just like my woollen friend, who dumped at night, one hit. But now my attention’s drawn, to every blade of grass there is. To every barb and seed I see, every insect in green mist. For here there is an unnoticed sight, minuscule red eggs. Lined out across a very fine leaf, as if attached with pegs. And then there is this blue-bell, or lilac to be true. Ever the beauty in my space, adding yet another hue. Raven comes to call me, from the place of North and West. So near he is this time, I honour him with my best. Then settles wasp and fly, emblazoned with the noir et jaune. Colours that are ever coming to me, midnight, noon or dawn. I meditate upon my shield, my monarch of the glen. Images come to me of royalty, of women and of men. My flowers rock and sway, to a wind that blasts with might. But I stand tall with trust, for now I have more fight. Now to whittle a few hours away, upon the fallen wood. Twirl the talking stick, walk reverse, do you think I should? There’s freedom in this other way, something quite contrary. And there within the stalks, lies black and scarlet fairy. I watch her use the stems as roads, alternative tiny highways. I realise now I must tread this path, as my own soul bi-way. For here I am the man I wish to be, to do what I flippin want. This is my space, my life, my water from the open font. But here there is a thunder crack, the rain begins to lash. Have I upset the code, taboo, behaving rather rash? There’s a leak now in my lodge, a splish, a splash or two. I decide to take a leak myself, and hope no need to poo. But if I were to do so, I’m sure the fly of horse would come. As he has done this alvo, when pitched upon my tum. The underworld is opening up to me, down amongst the mirth. My spirit begins to speak with me, not heard since kin or birth. A shepherd gathers flock together, one man and faithful dog. I spot a sign upon the mountain, lifting all the fog. Tonight I heard a fable, of hunter, king and queen. And there within the gorse lies Cassiopaea, clearly to be seen. The unmistakeable W, courts marriage of boy and girl. Sheep upon the landscape, giving me the very pearl. And now the lunar skyline, is ablaze with peachy globe. Whispers in the breeze come to me, caressing me at the lobe. For here there is a peace within, of sun replaced by moon. Both apparent in the East and South, giving me of their boon. Tis the masculine and the feminine, where I seek balance at my core. The physical and the spiritual, to which I both must enter door. At night I dream again of marriage, 25 years to be exact. Hardly seeming credible, for partners 21 and 22, a fact. Written in silver bubble, upon the greying cloud. The message is barely visible, let alone to be read out loud. I ask the man called Beckham, a celebrity in his own right. If he knows the meaning of this invitation, this very night. There is a celebration to be had, as there’s an 18th birthday too. Two events at the same time, it could be a hell of a do. I also dream of three women, involved in a marathon race. Two out in front and one behind, but she’s got the devastating pace. Tis the third girl that is the winner, to ring the homeward bell. To scorch up the opposition, and give out triumphant yell. The night is framed with calling, of feral fox and chorus crow. Let alone the bloody sheep, getting ever closer now. Tis time to rise and see what’s next, upon the coming day. To once more go to well, and see what nature’s got to say. In morn I have this question, of what reverse C means to me. Evident in threaded bag, and pube upon my pee. Tis an emblem that has been here, from very origin and start. From sunshine in the sky, of ear, amulet or looping part. And so the answers come, with horseshoe on the tree. And the sheep that are ever present, not one or two but three. There’s a star within the crescent moon, upon my beloved ash. And a sea of flowers apparent, upon the hide I have as sash. Thoughts rise upon the Turkish flag, of dream centres I have seen. Of Islam, Appaloosian, and all the spirit plants it seems. For rose, and foxglove and thistle too, they create this very shape. To compliment my stag and sun, to be worn upon my cape. I delve upon the deer, I can see he starts to eat. All the medicinal plants, he stumbles on to meet. To the flowers I must go, and learn of this very art. As a buzzing bee insists, injecting ear with potent dart. And then amid dew drop belles, where thistle seed is strewn. I’m reminded of my fertility, and my own authentic tune. There’s magenta in the knapweed, and sandy coloured flies to find. There’s a boat upon my East, and happy times to mind. On back I sink to ground, and to whispy clouds I look. I see hoof prints in the cumulus, and ideas begin to cook. Another horn is there now, and face of billy goat. And then the copter comes, a great dragonfly of note. He disturbs me in my reading, visiting time and time again. The shamanic way being made known to me, upon the dale and fen. I wonder what can possibly, bring this story to a close. A thought constantly with me, one the universe does pose. Once more round the circle, where black slug is met and seen. Patience is the message, before a great stag has come and been. And then there is this gigantic cross, made up of trails of vapour. And perhaps another sheep or goat, just adding to this caper. When finally the clarity comes, it hits me in the iris. Stood upon a shoulder bag, of a fellow seeker and aspirist. There it is the stag I seek, stood amongst the flowers. Of pink and gold in crescent shape, a man at the height of his powers. And yet there’s still one more, awesome, mesmeric sight. Of swallow and that of house martin, swirling in full flight. Dance and dance and dance they do, in spectacular display. Round and round and round they go, at frolic and of play. And then the heron flies back in, landing plumb South West. What a quest I’ve had, surely its been the best. And if my name weren’t Running Deer, I’d have to have a think. It could be that of Swallowtail, I’d better have a drink. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2021 If you care to comment on this poem at all and the emotions that it brings up for you then please feel free to do so below.  The Verbena Flower Essence & Eclipse Solar And Lunar Blend Well the last pieces of the jigsaw seem to be slotting into place now thankfully. It has been on my mind for a while to include my own personal essence that I collected on the final module of my Accredited Flower Essence Practitioner Course, in September 2019, into the Allies Of Nature range of flower essences itself.
I had resisted this notion at first because the Verbena is a cultivated flower, rather than a wild flower and I initially had wanted to keep the range pure with only wild flowers within it. However, as with the ceremonies I have been involved with in my three year shamanic training, it is important not to get too idealistic about the offering you are putting together, to be humble, act with humility and go with the flow in the way that you are being directed by spirit. After any vision quest that we encountered with Chris Luttichau and Northern Drum, on Chris' directive we used to drink Coca Cola as part of our ceremonial feast. A beverage belonging to a company whose ethics in the past have been slightly debatable shall we say, and that was the purpose of drinking it, after such a pure spiritual experience, so as not to be deemed too pure, or above life itself, in what we had just undertaken together. We are as much in the mire as in the ecstasy too, and thus the transformational journey that we are all negotiating in our own particular way remains a part of us wherever we are on that route. These are all qualities needed in the role of leadership and this is the essence of Verbena. It is a flower that stands tall, above a great many of its counterparts within the borders of our gardens, most notably in the Chalice Well Garden itself in Glastonbury where I ended up collecting this essence from. It is so tall that it can more or less stand shoulder to shoulder with us. It wants us to 'Make A Stand' with it, as if we are brother to brother or sister to sister. The Verbena will guide us as to what is required to be able to overcome a critical, controlled, conditioned existence as a caterpillar in order to start to lead and control our own lives as butterflies. With the Eclipse Essence too, this was a Lunar and Solar Blend that was sitting on the periphery of the range of flower essences also, it just kept calling me to be included within the rest of the offering and I am now beginning to see why. By adding these two essences into the mix I now have 24 flower essences or blends that can be utilised to assist people in their emotional wellbeing whilst they journey back to a place of wholeness and balance. I believe that all the essences are here to help us to 'awaken to a life beyond bullying to claim our true power'. Now with the addition of these two extra essences, my mandala of essences now looks balanced. It looks a thing of beauty in its own right as I will illustrate more fully in coming days. It is now possible to take two essences per month, chronologically, and gain support the whole year through from the flowers regardless of whether you engage in a fuller transformational personal development program with me or not. The Eclipse Essence initially came about fairly fortuitously, I had no idea when I set out to capture the Ox-Eye Daisy Essence on 2nd July 2019 that I was so doing on the day of the solar eclipse, until I read about it the following day. In this amazing synchronicity I then realised that I simply must collect the lunar eclipse essence too the following fortnight, on the 16th as I had a 13th Moon Essence to tie in for my range and what better than a full moon on a lunar eclipse in order to do so. That essence was one of the Red Valarian, carrying with it the quality of truth and message therefore of 'To Thyself Be True'. When combined with the Ox-Eye Daisy and its quality of vision and message 'Bright Eyes' it encourages us to go forward and be true to a vision that we have for our life, and therefore, to begin to 'Live The Dream', the one thing that we are truly meant to be doing within our lifetime. Here we set our course to the ultimate desired destination that we wish to reach in life. Both of these essences and blends hark to us to pay attention to our leadership qualities and what it takes to come into alignment with ourselves in the same way that the Eclipse itself indicates when the Earth, sun and moon all come into direct alignment with one another, heralding an auspicious time astrologically for us all. To find out more about these respective flower essences why not visit my newly organised shop where it is possible to purchase either of the new essences from. If you care to comment on this blog with regards to any issues or feelings it brings up for you please feel free to do so below.  The shaman stands a warrior, bandana on his head.
Knowing just what’s needed, no words are to be said. His drum now does his talking, a beat that echoes voice. Hide stretched taut with sinew, red stag pelt of choice. Air quite thick and smudge filled, pungent from the sage. Gratitude placed in abundance, tobacco off the gauge. Ground is splashed with water, holy from the well. Sacred space is granted, healing awaits the bell. Body draped in blanket, turned to face the altar. Sprit guide and panther, strain upon the halter. Feathers from the condor quiver, soar round wounded being. Sifting life from death, bad energy gone a-fleeing. Persistent blocks and leakages, require needle and the thread. Plus deft touch of a surgeon, bringing addict off the med. Cock pheasant and rabbit paw, grace wand of shining gleam. The shake and shake of rattle, brings patient back from dream. Chief rises proud completed, hand gripped upon his staff. A crook of finest heritage, adorned with peacock laugh. His shield of sun and swallows, of pink and purple flowers. The essence that of which, just heighten all his powers. These skills of his fine tuned, to that of soul intention. All fuel to the fire of his, too many tools to mention. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below. |
AuthorSimon Blackler Archives
April 2023
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed