Charlie’s Blog

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Washing up before New Year…

I’m writing this as a final batch of Rum & Raisin truffles are setting in the fridge & there’s a lot of washing up to do from a busy last day of 2025.

Perhaps you relish New Year celebrations, or you may find it overwhelming. Or a bit of both…

If it’s been a tough year, you might be exhausted and hoping for a better 2026, with the optimism of new beginnings.

2025 has been a long year, with a lot going on for those close to me, and I’ve been looking after some particularly heartbreaking services in my work as a Funeral Celebrant. 

It’s not an easy profession, supporting families at the worst time in their lives, but it’s a privilege to listen to the life stories of loved ones, and to be of service. Hopefully I can bring some comfort and honour their love.

I heard the phrase ‘to look with kind eyes’, from Adam Brody’s character in the Netflix TV show Nobody Wants This. it’s a wise way to view the world with a generous heart. I urge you to ‘look with kind eyes’ at yourself as you assess your year, to be proud of how you’ve navigated the difficult challenges alongside the happy times.

I received beautiful flowers from a family to thank me for two services I took for them recently. They wrote such tender words on the card and saw me ‘with kind eyes’ in the midst of their grief. The flowers bring winter colour to my desk, and I hope the New Year brings them peace and strength.

Life is full of many big emotions, and we try to hold space for them all. As a Celebrant I get to tell real life Love Stories – beautiful, messy and sometimes complicated, just like life.

Like most of us, I’m doing my best, I haven’t got everything figured out, but I’m grateful to be here and a part of this messy, complicated and beautiful life stuff!

I stumbled on some words from Rilke, about listening, which I’ll share below. (Apologies but I’ve forgotten who initially shared them.) However you approach the New Year, take a moment to listen. Perhaps listen to those closest to you, to hear what is and isn’t being said? Maybe listen to the symphony of traffic noise or notice morning birdsong, as you put the bins out.

Can you also take five minutes with a cuppa, and listen to yourself? Find that still, quiet spot deep inside, that you might not have noticed lately. What do you really want more or less of in your life? Beyond what advertisers claim you should desire for a New Year, what does your heart truly crave? 

It might be more quiet time to just drink tea, or read or draw, or perhaps you need more dancing in the kitchen, or karaoke in the shower. Maybe you yearn for a good cry in the bath, after all the difficult things you’ve navigated this year? 

Whatever it is you wish for, take a few moments to write it down and see where the pen leads you. Be curious, it may surprise you, and I hope you feel nourished by listening to yourself. Perhaps it will be the beginning of identifying something you’d like to change. We could call this ‘listening with kind ears!’

Maybe in that quiet time you’ll think of a new tradition for 2026, to tell family and friends how much you appreciate them and what you love about them.

Thinking of ‘kind ears’, here’s the Rilke words for you, as the New Year approaches:

“…Now I can hear the tree.

Then all went silent. But even in the silence

was signal, beginning, change.

Out of the stillness of the unbound forest,

animals came forth from dens and nests.

And it was not fear or cunning

that made them be so quiet,

but the desire to listen.”

From Sonnets to Orpheus, by Rilke.

Can you find that instinctive desire to listen to the world around you, and to yourself?

I’m currently hearing early fireworks announcing 2026, so I’ll wish you the best for the New Year, and may we meet it with ‘kind eyes and ears’ for each other.

Time to wash up now, and see if I can hear the bubbles popping above the fireworks…

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Never Love Anyone Tepidly

The words of love I thought of tonight, as thousands lined the streets of Birmingham in a loving farewell to Ozzy Osbourne.

Sharon and Ozzy didn’t love each other in a tepid, lukewarm way. Theirs was a fierce, passionate love. Not an easy love, sometimes it was complicated and messy, just like life is.

They loved each other through 43 years of marriage, navigating countless dramas, addiction, cancer and Parkinson’s diagnoses. 

The Osbournes are a close and loving family, witnessed by many of us on their MTV reality show. They laughed and shouted together in equal measure – they don’t do ‘tepid love.’

Fans of all generations gathered today, with an instinctive need to show their appreciation for the Prince of Darkness and how important his music was to their lives. Friends of mine also grieved for their Dads, who had introduced them to Ozzy’s music. Personal grief often bubbles up at times like this. 

Flowers were thrown as the hearse carrying Ozzy’s coffin moved along Broad St, in scenes that echoed the procession of the late Princess Diana. 

Our tender hearts sometimes need to unite and mourn together. ‘Tears are just love with nowhere else to go’, and today, the tears flowed and hugs from strangers were offered in support.

Love that isn’t ‘tepid’ needs to be expressed and honoured. Broad Street in Birmingham was closed to traffic from 7 a.m, when fans began assembling to catch a glimpse of Ozzy’s cortege. 

Sharon looked crumpled by grief, supported by the children as she stopped to lay a purple rose among the tributes left by fans. I hope they felt comforted and strengthened by the force of love from the crowds, ahead of a private family funeral service tomorrow.

We need these collective rituals when someone we love has died. Somewhere to lay our flowers; a place to pour the sadness and grief; a chance to share stories of how much someone meant to us, as we stumble in a world that just isn’t the same without them. 

The famous Funeral Blues poem by W.H.Auden, which featured in the film ‘Four Weddings and a Funeral’ echoed this, ‘Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone…’ Things have changed and the world has lost some if its brightness with the death of Ozzy Osbourne.

We cherish our memories, like his final gig, when he took to the stage sitting on a throne, like a tired Shakespearean King. He still sparkled with a phenomenal performance that was anything but ‘tepid’. Ozzy was still the charismatic frontman of Black Sabbath, despite his physical frailty.

Ozzy loved music, and was able to share that love with fans and raised over £140 million for charities in recent weeks. An incredible legacy for the much loved Brummie.

When you love with all your heart, your grief will not be ‘tepid’. Grief is a continuation of the love you have for someone, and it takes work.

I write a lot about love and grief in my work as a Funeral Celebrant, and I’ve had the privilege of sharing the life stories of hundreds of people. By truly celebrating their lives, and honouring how much they meant to family and friends, we hold them close again, for a gentle farewell.

No one looks forward to a funeral, we often dread going to them – but I’m profoundly moved by how uplifted people feel after a service. 

I receive countless hugs from mourners as they leave a chapel, often saying that they ‘enjoyed the service’, before adding, ‘if that doesn’t sound strange.’ And it’s not strange, as I write a lot about Love, and it brings comfort to hear about the Love you share with someone.

There is often a little laughter alongside tears during a service, and afterwards when we chat among the flower tributes. There is always Love. Rarely is it ‘tepid love.’

Funerals don’t have to be conventional, they can be as Rock & Roll as Ozzy. I delivered a service for a Hell’s Angel, whose coffin arrived in a Motorbike hearse, his widow proudly riding pillion, with a procession of bikes roaring alongside.

Sometimes everyone gathers wearing Football shirts, singing songs from the terraces, or it might be sequins and feather boas, as we dance to Abba. I’ve served shots of Tequila as we closed a service, or handed out Rubik’s cubes, bars of Cadbury’s chocolate, or spritzes of Lush perfume.

As a Celebrant, I work incredibly hard to look after each family, listening to their stories and following the threads of love which makes every service unique. 

The people you love may not be as famous as Ozzy, but they deserve to have their life celebrated and honoured in the best possible way, for all those whose lives they touched.

There has been an increase in ‘Direct Cremations’ in recent years, after millions spent on TV adverts. But this usually means we lose the chance to say a proper Goodbye to our loved one, and the instinctive ritual of coming together to celebrate their story is absent.

I’m hearing that for many families this is something they regret, and it can delay or prolong the natural grieving process. ‘Denial’ is one of the recognised stages of grief, and without a funeral, our subconscious can struggle to comprehend that someone has truly gone. A sense of closure is missing.

Something to consider, after a day when comfort has been found in thousands of people coming together to pay tribute to Ozzy.

Today’s collective show of love and grief for Ozzy is a reminder of how important it is for us to gather and share our tender hearts. His was not an easy life, but it was a life so full of Love.

That’s what stays with us, long after someone has gone. The Love we shared with them.

So I’ll close with those simple words I read years ago, that stayed with me. 

Never Love Anyone Tepidly.

Image of Neon love sign thanks to Shaira Dela Pena at Unsplash

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Maya Angelou, and remembering Live Aid

Maya Angelou once wrote ‘People will forget what you said, and forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.’

I’ve never forgotten how Freddie Mercury made me feel. Me and about 72,000 other people in Wembley Stadium 40 years ago, at the Live Aid concert!

My teenage friends weren’t fans of his band Queen, we were all busy trying to be ‘New Romantics’, I made my outfit with bargain offcuts of fabric from Birmingham’s Rag Market.

When Queen began their set at Live Aid, we set off to make our way through the Wembley crowds to the toilets. After more than 6 hours of live music, we definitely needed a wee…

But there was something so mesmerising about Freddie Mercury’s performance, that we stopped halfway and stood still, utterly enchanted. 

I remember an acapella section, where Freddie sang and the crowd responded; somehow he connected with 72,000 people. We each felt he was singing to us.

During the songs Queen performed, I doubt there were any queues for the facilities at Wembley, as Freddie had such power over the crowd, nobody wanted to leave while he was on stage.

There’s a documentary to celebrate the 40 year anniversary of Live Aid, and the original gig has been shown on television. 

I’ve not had a chance to watch it yet, but I’m excited to see if everything is as I’d remembered it. The details may be a little different, but the intense feeling of joy that Freddie gave each of us was unforgettable. 

So Maya Angelou was correct, we never forget how someone makes us feel.

I had forgotten that we had no mobile phones back then…

A friend’s sister, M remembered being at Live Aid, and surging to the front with her sisters to relish every bit. Later in the day, she wandered to a row of empty red chairs and had a sleep, waking up to see Phil Collins on stage! 

None of them worried about getting lost, with no phone to contact each other, but somehow in the midst of 72,000 people, they did find each other again. Phew.

Recently there was another giant gig in my home town of Birmingham. Black Sabbath’s final gig, featuring many rock legends who each paid tribute to Ozzy Osbourne and his gang of Brummies, who changed the face of music.

The concert raised a phenomenal £140 million, to be shared between three charities, including the local Acorns children’s hospice. Such a powerful legacy of music helping to positively change the lives of so many people.

Perhaps as you read this, you can think of a transformational gig you were at? It may have been a small intimate gig in a local pub, like when I first saw The Red Hot Chili Peppers and knew they were phenomenal.

I was in a local supermarket at 7 a.m. the other morning, when they played ‘Give it away’, and it brought vivid memories of that early gig flooding back. I remembered exactly how Anthony Kiedis made me feel. (Back then I wouldn’t have imagined being a sensible grown up and shopping so early…)

Maybe you remember a powerful moment when someone showed you kindness or love, and you felt uplifted at the power of that connection?

I hope so, and who knows how many people felt something amazing because of your actions over the years? Either in your work life or with family and friends, you have connected with so many people and hopefully mostly been a force for good.

I used to visit a friend at work and always bought a pineapple from the market nearby. Sometimes her boss would appear, so I’d hide in the stationery cupboard, clutching the pineapple…

I’ve thought of that when I’ve taken pineapple to family in hospital recently, and I’ve shared it on the ward with patients in nearby beds to those I’m visiting.

There’s a tender vulnerability on hospital wards and human connections help to dissolve some of the fear.

I had the biggest hug from one lady, who I’ve got to know well over the last two weeks. I won’t forget her kindness and the lovely chats and little giggles we’ve shared.

Just like Maya said, you never forget how someone made you feel.

If you get a chance, have a look at some of the Live Aid concert footage, see if you feel the incredible charisma of Freddie.

I’m the tall one in the middle of 72,000, I’m wearing turquoise and red! 

Although you’ll probably be mesmerised by Freddie. He’s the one in a white vest, holding 72,000 people in the palm of his hand and making it look easy…

Pineapple photo thanks to Rodion Kutsaiev at Unsplash

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Gratitude for the smallest room in your home

I hope you’ve enjoyed the recent festive days, however they were this year. 

Our plans changed when half the family had flu – so mine was mostly spent looking after others, in between eating cheese…

Maybe yours was busy & noisy, full of joyful chaos, but without a minute to yourself?

Sometimes the only moment of peace you get is by going to the smallest room in your home, and shutting the door on the world. 

In a cafe recently I saw a poster about ‘Toilet Twinning’, which stated that 1 in 3 people around the world do not have access to a safe and hygienic toilet. 

I had to read it again.

1 in 3 people around the world do not have access to a safe and hygienic toilet. 

Something so simple, that we often take for granted, being able to pop to the toilet whenever you need to. 

Unless you’re stuck on the M6 in stationary traffic for hours. 

Or if your 3 yr old decided their cuddly crocodile wanted to swim along the U bend.

Or if you’re on a crowded train and the toilet door has that dreaded sign saying ‘Out Of Order.’

Whether you’re George Clooney, Madonna or Oprah Winfrey, when you’ve got to go… you’ve got to go!

I now have a new appreciation for access to a toilet. 

Perhaps after staying with family over Christmas, where 19 of you might be queueing for the same loo, it’s a luxury to get home!.

A Gratitude Practice is a good habit for a New Year. Just notice a few simple things you’re grateful for each day. That’s it, pretty much.

As you notice the little things you appreciate in life, the easier it becomes to find more of them to be grateful for. 

You can even try doing an ‘A – Z of Gratitude’, a useful technique when insomnia strikes and your mind gets stuck in endless worry loops. (I’m grateful Armadillos exist, what amazing creatures beginning with A…)

By calmly turning your attention to some positive things, it helps to balance alongside the difficult stuff that we all face in life. 

Try it when you’re brushing your teeth before bed, or when you put the kettle on for a cuppa. Having a regular time or place helps to anchor a habit. Or you may prefer to write them in a notebook by your bed.

January can be a time of New Year Resolutions that are harsh, and hard to maintain. I used to spend 31st December wolfing down all the chocolate, determined that I’d give it up for the next year, and somehow manage 365 days chocolate free.

As if!

Finally I wised up, and instead of dramatic restrictive resolutions, I opt for tiny nudges. Like choosing dark chocolate instead, which has less sugar and usually lasts longer.

And a Gratitude Practice is an old favourite, always worth returning to.

Some people use an empty jar and from 1st January, write down something each day to appreciate, and then stash the scraps of paper in the jar. 

At tough times, you can take a few moments to delve into your Gratitude Jar, and reread some things you’re grateful for.

You could even take the jar into the smallest room in the house, if that’s the only place you have a few moments of peace and quiet. 

Maybe that’s the first thing to note down – gratitude that you have access to a safe and hygienic toilet, so you can wee in peace in 2025!

I’m off to wash up an empty peanut butter jar, to be transformed into a Gratitude Jar… and sending you my best wishes for the New Year.

Thanks to Simon Arthur at Unsplash for the photo of an outdoor toilet with a fabulous view…

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Mince Pie Brownies & ‘Jolabokaflod’. Your 2024 Festive Traditions.

‘Crush leftover mince pies & stir into brownies before cooking,’ I read in a magazine I found on the train today. 

It’s mid November. 

Another page mentioned M & S selling mince pies with chocolate brownie filling… 

This must be a new trend for 2024, chocolate brownies mingling with mince pies.

Some homes already have Christmas decorations up, with shiny baubles and rows of twinkling lights peeking out from curtains to brighten the view as you walk past.

My friend begins early, and this weekend will festoon the house with tinsel & garlands, covering everywhere with sparkly stuff and more lights than there are stars in the Milky Way. It is deliciously over the top.

It’s dark before 5 p.m in the U.K., and her family will be welcomed home by a ‘round of applause’ in fairy light form! My favourite are the brussels sprout ones…

Even Scrooge would smile at them.

They’ll have baubles made by lost generations of the family, clinking next to trinkets from a Disneyland trip last year. Many happy memories on display, for a family that has also known much sadness over recent years.

Some people are critical of anyone who starts early for Christmas, but isn’t it just seeking the light in a time of darkness, in many ways?

And who cares what style gurus think, just follow your heart and continue any festive traditions your family enjoys, or none at all. Perhaps just notice and appreciate seeing more brightly coloured lights from windows on your street, and the good intentions behind them.

I love the Icelandic tradition of ‘Jolabokaflod’, meaning a Christmas Book Flood. The giving and receiving of books on Christmas Eve, and reading them together. That sounds calm and cosy. 

Just don’t smudge your book with sticky fingerprints from the brownie mince pies… warmed in the air fryer this year, of course!

For a cosy gathering before then, I’m running December Mindfulness & Writing Zooms. It’s a mellow way to begin a busy month. We play with ideas & prompts, following our curiosity rather than aiming for perfection. Always with a lightness of heart and a ready sense of humour. Often with cups of tea.

There’s never any pressure to share anything you write, but it’s lovely when someone chooses to. We wind down each session with a chill out meditation, to relax & restore, leaving you with a sense of calm & comfort. Well, that’s my intention. 

Last dates for 2024 are Sunday 1st December 10.30am – 12 p.m. (UK time), and Monday 2nd December 7pm – 8.30pm (UK time)

There’s a warm welcome, in a friendly group. Whether you’re already a regular, or someone who dips in and out when other commitments allow, or if you’re reading this and have never tried a session before, contact me from the website to find out more.

I wish you the best for the coming weeks and hope you find plenty of light and cosy warmth amid the darkness & chill of Winter. There’s a light snow forecast for parts of the U.K. next week, so if you’re reading this in Australia, enjoy the sunshine, while we’ll have our thermal vests on, as you get the ice lollies out…

Brownie picture thanks to Fotoweedio at Unsplash

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The antidote to Fear is Curiosity and there’s an added bonus when it’s a Fear of Flying.

Like most of us, I have the odd wobble before getting into a big metal bird that lifts me above the clouds in flight.

Something our distant ancestors would not believe was possible. So it’s O.K. to be apprehensive in an airport. 

Being Curious is the best cure for fear.

I tried it last week by watching and listening to other passengers at 4 a.m. in Birmingham Airport. We were all a bit tired, stifling yawns and smoothing down dishevelled ‘bed hair’ as we queued.

Heading off to Spain for a dose of Autumn sunshine, we were among people of all ages. Some family groups with three generations holidaying together. You could sense the excitement as a lively toddler clutched a luminous green cuddly teddy and their Grandma’s hand. Both equally precious.

There was a senior gentleman on his own who told me this was his first holiday since his wife had died. He was nervous but hoped that she’d be proud that he was doing as she wished. We made sure he found the right departure gate in time and waved him off.

Two women clinked wine glasses in celebration of leaving hospital worries behind for a week, with a jubilant toast, ‘F**k Cancer!’

A shy young couple carefully unwrapped foil parcels of what looked like cheese sandwiches, as they shared a set of ear buds for their holiday soundtrack. 

There were staff with immaculate hair and makeup who worked the night shift with professionalism and warmth, greeting us passengers with genuine smiles.

I felt my heart expand at these tender stories surrounding me. 

“In the end we all become stories” wrote Margaret Atwood, and I find myself wondering about all these people and what their lives might be like. 

Many struggling and coping with the major life challenges and losses that we all face at times, but hoping for a break to explore this planet and perhaps gain a wider perspective on their worries.

I get soppier with age, and as a Funeral Celebrant, I often witness great courage in the families I look after. 

If you watch the news regularly, you’ll be appalled at the worst of humanity. But watching each other stumbling along and doing our best in the airport, you can glimpse hope in our vulnerabilities.

If you have a deep seated fear of flying, perhaps you gaze at your fellow passengers and wonder if these are the last people you’ll see on earth? Which adds a layer of connection to a group of strangers you’re about to share a flight with.

Sitting on the plane before take off, there’s a warm feeling of tenderness for each of the people I’ve noticed and their stories. 

An added bonus and it has taken the edge off any fear of flying. Instead I’m humbled by how us imperfect humans are each just doing our best, hopefully helping each other and being kind. None of us know if we’ll be able to fly again.

Also I packed my favourite chocolate. 

That’s the other antidote to fear.

Curiosity and Chocolate, together they work wonders. 

Photo thanks to Hanson Lu at Unsplash.

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Hello ‘Imposter Syndrome’, my old friend…

There’s a beautiful question to ask yourself regularly, ‘Will this experience enrich or shrink my life?’

I was busy writing a service a few weeks ago, when the phone rang. It was an amazing professional invitation, and completely unexpected. 

I nearly turned it down. 

Why did I consider saying no, when invited to deliver the Keynote speech at the annual AOIC Celebrant Conference?

Partly because I’d forgotten the beautiful question.

And because I still have ‘Imposter Syndrome.’

I imagine that everyone else knows more than me. Or is better than me. Or more confident. That I’m just not as good as everyone else.

Do you know this feeling? It’s very common, practically contagious…

For some of us, it’s how we were brought up. Or maybe it began in school, or at work. Or in your relationships later in life.

Experiencing the foster care system as a child, I’ve got proof that I’m not as good as most people. I was rejected by several families before I was even a year old. I wasn’t good enough for them, and that never leaves you.

You probably have your own reasons for ‘Imposter syndrome.’

But sometimes, we need to have a little conversation with ourselves. The way we might give a friend a pep talk, when they need their confidence boosting.

Remind yourself that you are a good person. You might be a loving parent, a loyal and caring best friend, and a professional with years of experience and knowledge to share with others.

Consider that it might be rude to say no to the next invitation to step outside your comfort zone. If you need a gentle nudge, sometimes you have to provide it for yourself.

It’s O.K. if you don’t know everything. Only someone with an enlarged sense of their own importance might think that they know absolutely everything. (Several politicians spring to mind…)

But it’s good to pass on the knowledge, skills and understanding that life has taught you.That’s what we’re here for, to give our best away, and hope that it helps someone else.

I’m honoured that AOIC invited me to deliver the Keynote speech. (That sounds so grown up, just typing it!) They asked me to share my Celebrant experience from recent years, along with the communication and presentation skills I learned from decades in radio.

They also asked me to run a writing workshop at the conference. I’ve loved running these creative sessions for over 15 years, so I can help support this side of Celebrant work.

I look forward to meeting new and established Celebrants, where we’ll all share our experiences. I’ll learn as much in conversations over coffee and lunch, as I will in official sessions.

None of us knows everything, but those of us who strive for excellence in our professional practice will be keen to listen as much as we speak. Together we’ll help each other. 

And there should be cake…

Since I nervously said yes to the invitation, I’ve made notes on so many things to share at the conference, I could probably speak for 24 hrs straight! Not that anyone would want that…

Next time you receive an invitation, why not challenge your inner ‘Imposter Syndrome’, to be of service to others. If you have a human wobble of confidence, it’s probably a good sign that you’re not an egomaniac.

Don’t forget that beautiful question.“Will this experience enrich or diminish my life?” It’s useful for so many decisions. Like volunteering for something – yes, it probably will enrich your life. 

There may also be cake.

Thanks to Ananth Pai at Unsplash for delicious looking cake photo.

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Did you know this amazing thing about dogs?

It feels good to be able to help someone else, especially when you get to sit down and relax while doing the helping bit. Afterwards they give you chocolate biscuits and tell you to chill out for the evening.

Brilliant!

After donating blood at the weekend, I noticed a leaflet tucked behind the stash of treats they offer us. Fascinating to learn about a Pet Blood Bank charity that invites dogs to donate blood, to help other animals.

It says that dogs will get a tummy rub as they donate, something they have yet to offer humans… but maybe in the future!

Dogs will even get a goody bag, which will make them feel like they’ve been to a Birthday party…

Just like humans, dogs have different blood types, and one type ‘DEA negative’ is always in demand for emergencies. A bit like with humans, where it’s 0 negative.

That’s my blood type, which means I keep up my regular donations as soon as I’m eligible, earning free Club biscuits & KitKats every 4 months.

A few days after donating, they send a message to let me know which hospital, and sometimes which department has received my blood, ready for use.

Last time it was sent to Great Ormond St. It’s like a ‘Thank you’ note’ for me sitting down for a bit. The easiest way to help, I reckon! You probably know someone who is alive today because they received a blood transfusion, and perhaps your family pet has also had that little miracle.

I took a few photos of the leaflet, you’ll see below, if you’d like to know more about the Pet Blood Bank.

Meantime, with all the difficult things going on in the world each day, isn’t it good to be able to do a tiny thing to help. Whether you get a KitKat or a tummy rub…

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How to be less of a ‘sweaty beetroot’ in the heat, and feel as cool as a cucumber…

Another sweltering hot day in the Midlands. Some people are cool, calm & collected…

Some of us turn into a radish on legs, at anything above 21c. Today it’s been 29c, and I have definitely been part beetroot/part human!

Working as a Celebrant for the last few years, means sometimes working outdoors. I’ve learned a few tips that might help you avoid looking like any bright red fruit or vegetable. Instead let’s shuffle towards being cool as a cucumber.

So what helps?

*If we’re aiming to be more cucumber than radish, let’s start with cucumber itself. Add a few slices to your water bottle. Tuck a few sprigs of mint in there as well, or maybe a lemon slice, and chill it in the fridge overnight. It’s cheap, delicious and genuinely feels cooling to drink. 

Also someone will ask you why you have half the garden in your water bottle… then you can pass the tip along.

*More water. Use an old spray bottle, filled with tap water and a little rose water. You’ll find cheap rose water in many grocery stores, and it lasts for ages. Liberally spritz yourself all over with this home made spray, under and over your clothes, several times a day if you’re working outdoors. It’s so refreshing and helps you to cool down.

*Soak a thin cotton scarf in cold water, and drape it around the back of your neck. I then cover this with a larger patterned scarf that looks smart for a service, whilst concealing my boy scout technique for cooling the body’s core. As I type this, I have one on… blissfully cool.

*Those gel headache strips are a great thing to have just in case. When it’s truly sweltering in a 38c forecast, I stick a couple of these on my back, hidden by smart dresses. They definitely keep you a little cooler for a few hours. But keep an eye on where exactly they are, as they can move around – I’ve often been asked why I’ve got a blue rectangle stuck to my leg! 

*Finally, it’s always a good idea to have a clean handkerchief tucked somewhere, to discretely dab away the ‘sweat moustache’ that may appear when you really don’t want it to!

*Oh, and if you’re working from home, put cold water in a bowl and stick your feet in it. Deliciously cooling, and just blame any splashing sounds on ‘the mermaids’ to baffle your colleagues…

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Don’t Know Mind, forget everything you think you know…

The older we get, it’s easy to think we know it all. Or that we know more about most things.

These wrinkles are proof of my learning and wisdom, surely?

But sometimes it’s best to practice ‘Don’t Know Mind’, or ‘Beginner’s Mind’.

It’s refreshing, and it might be the best way to really see or hear what’s right in front of you. To drop everything you think you already know, and to be open to a situation. As if it’s for the first time.

To see the one you’ve loved for decades, standing here in the kitchen, as they make toast. To experience it as it truly is in this moment, bathed in rare afternoon sunlight that highlights their silver beard.

Or to notice the way your teenager guides you through a new mobile phone layout, with a confident swagger that’s new this Summer.

Or to marvel at how calmly your dog negotiates a noisy group in a cafe, despite the reactive behaviour the shelter warned you about, when you first rescued them.

Don’t Know Mind allows a tiny gap for wonder, or appreciation.

It’s also an incredibly powerful thing to help you really listen to someone, and what they’re actually telling you. It might also help you to pick up on what they’re not telling you.

As a Celebrant, I practice ‘Don’t Know Mind’ every time I meet a new couple or family. Before I knock on their door, for our first meeting, I consciously drop everything I think I know about the perfect Wedding, or Funeral. I let go of any expectations that I may have, of what they will need from me or the service I’m taking for them.

I am passionate about my work in this profession and have the reassurance of several years caring for hundreds of families, and creating beautiful ceremonies for them. 

But before I meet someone new, I put that to one side, and prepare to listen openly, with my full attention.

It’s important for me to understand everything I can about the life stories and Love Stories of everyone I meet. 

Whether I’m crafting a Wedding to celebrate a deep and abiding love, or preparing a funeral to truly honour all that a person has meant to their loved ones; each story is different.

Working like this enables me to listen deeply to the details that matter, to understand how best I can help and support the amazing human beings who are trusting me with this most important ritual in their lives.

Then I can offer my best work, drawing on the many things I do know, and all the experiences I have. Including those life stories of my own, that have earned my wrinkles… 

But I’m responding to what is needed in each individual case. I never assume I already know what is best for any couple or family.

It’s been a huge privilege to work as a Celebrant in recent years, and I continue to hone and polish my craft with each family that I care for. and learn from. That always begins with ‘Don’t Know Mind’. 

Try it for yourself, at home or at work, or if you’re watching the England Football game tonight. Just because the last game was a bit dull, don’t assume it will be the same tonight. They might be spectacular! 

Jude Bellingham could make our hearts full of joy… Let’s practice ‘Beginner’s Mind’, and watch the game as if it was the first time we’d ever seen a football game. Although that might make the Offside rule even trickier to understand…

(*Frank Ostaseski is a wonderful teacher and writer, whose book ‘The Five Invitations’ I reread every year. One of the Invitations focuses on ‘Don’t Know Mind’, so you can read more about this idea in his compassionate, wise words.)

Photo thanks to Ádám Berkecz on Unsplash

©2026 Charlie Jordan