Category Archives: Acts

UK Funeral Director blows whistle on Care Homes Covid deaths — Watford London Herts News UK

In a shocking video interview, a man claiming to be a Funeral Services Director of 15yrs tells his experience of what really happened. He was called every Monday from January 2020 by a Govt Pandemic coordinator who asked about numbers of covid deaths. 127 more words

UK Funeral Director blows whistle on Care Homes Covid deaths — Watford London Herts News UK

Pagan Freedom – Poem

Christian, Muslim, Hindi, Jew

Do I need protection from you?

In trade and morals I am ‘fair game’

This thought is slightly profane

Like white man’s drug prices and black man dues

It has no place in an equal race.

I feel persecuted, neglected and used

And, it’s all because of you!

Religious folks speak daily to me across every medium

Our Earth screams with the strain;

Rages as another of us is shamed

Christian, Muslim, Hindi, Jew

Do I need protection from you?

The End

By Samantha”unextraordinary”Harris

Watford, UK.

Comfortable Pants

In England we have ‘pants’.

These are our undergarments. Affectionately called knickers or grots these slips of material with elastic cover our private parts, and clean ones must be worn daily for good health.

Pants must not be confused with the American term for trousers.

This is about comfy pants for females. I suspect men need comfy undergarments too but I’m not in a position to talk on their behalf so I’ll just deal with fanny coverings…and again, fanny in the united kingdom means vagina and only the vagina. (Unless you have an Aunt called Fanny the root of many a joke here in England.)

Without getting into too much detail females have more down in the lower abdomen than males.

Men have guts and bladders. Women have guts, bladder, womb, fallopian tubes, ovaries and cervix all crammed in the same size space.

As with all things in life, once it’s out of the box, it harder to get it back in.

Meaning…

After childbirth the womb has expanded…the area is larger. Fitting back into the garments she wore before children isn’t always an option. In fact, let’s be honest, it’s rarely an option.

As I get older I find comfortable pants are missing from my drawers completely. It is a constant grind that every pair of pants I own have been cut like those shown in the photo accompanying.

Excuse me, I own ‘special’ pairs for my lover. You know, lovely sexy articles to stimulate our carnal juices but I’m not talking about these that are barely on for half an hour.

It’s my ‘day to day’ pants. My ‘bread and butter’ pants. These are the pants that I hope I don’t get knocked over and taken into hospital with. What would the nurses and doctors say?

Anyhow, I’m going to leave this here today in the hope that some undergarment manufacturer hears my moan and does something about it. Please stop putting such a tiny waist into big knickers. If you are making big knickers…who are you making them for?

We have a saying in England,

“Put your big pants on and deal with it.”

Bet you never imagine our big pants would actually look like this.

Have a nice day.

White Magic is Everywhere – Song.

White magic goes unseen

White magic is in the green

It’s in the trees, in the grass, in the bees

White magic is in the breeze

White magic is everywhere

White magic, I don’t care

White magic floats between

It goes, unseen

White magic lady

White magic, ain’t shady

White magic is everywhere

It floats on every atom on the bright blue air

White magic is where it’s at

White magic, so get on back

White magic is everywhere

It floats on every atom that is in our air

White magic, you don’t have a clue

White magic, what we do

White magic, we spread it everywhere

And it lives in every atom upon our air

White magic is the key

White magic, for you and me

White magic, let’s get on down

And we’ll take down from the air, down to the ground

White magic is everywhere

White magic is in the air

Written today 9th June 2021.

Watford, Hertfordshire, United Kingdom. Europe.

Confusion – Journal Entry Real Life

 

Don’t read any further if upset by injustice, neglect, poverty and perversion.

This be trigger city for some.

This is your last chance, I’m blunt but not coarse, I am going to discuss a terrible subject in the lightest possible manner.

Confusion.

When I was a child I was assaulted by an adult man (in the worst way). The most prominent symptom, apart from the physical pain was that of severe confusion. I became OCD as a result of trying to come to terms.

The whole thing was so completely and utterly at odds with everything I knew then, I was under ten years old and used to dolls, handstands and dresses. I went off dresses, handstands and dolls.

I’m fifty-one years old now. I love dresses now. Sod the handstands. It may surprise people to know that some actions are never forgotten – no matter how many other, lovely, consensual sexual moments one does experience.

If you were to get complacent and fool yourself, a flash back will remind you. Today I had one, it must have been ten years since the last. His face appeared when I was having wink. I decided to have an imaginary wiss on him. He went.

For a longest time, I thought along the lines of ‘why me?’ But then it became all about recovery, mainly because I have children. Many different pathways of recovery were tried.

I didn’t recover quickly because I was pushed towards forgiveness. No confrontation, no justice and no reasonable explanation. It took ages, as the confusion became anger, festered and grew  to become depression.

How does forgiveness help? If no one is saying sorry, you can only forgive so much.

Attending lots of therapy – when my children were young, I needed to deal with my anger and more recently, I started writing this online journal and some books to help. It really does help too. Whether it helps you or not is another matter…

These days, I feel that I am better, adjusted as much as humanly possible. I’m able to think about what happened back in Widewell Woods with less emotion and I apologise if I cause any harm or painful memories to those reading this. I understand it’s place in my life story.

It does not define me, but it is part of me, unfortunately, a regret out of my hands.

There are no safe places for children if we don’t fully understand. I feel it is not just a sexual fetish with innocence, even ‘perceived innocence’ is not the full picture. Control plays a part. It is a form of soul capture…making an imprint on a person for life. The man who hurt me was playing god.

Perhaps this is why the church didn’t help me. They couldn’t play god any more with me…I’d worked out he wasn’t really there to protect us at all because anyone could come along and trump him.

Obviously, no assault or abuse is the same. I’m going to come out with something controversial and declare that there was nothing sexually charged about the scene of my sexual assault.

It was a moment of ruination.

He wanted to ruin a female life, he planned to ruin it and he had, but it hadn’t ‘satisfied’ him. I suspect he wouldn’t have been satisfied until he’d taken more but a disturbance didn’t give him time.

He wanted to ruin a girl – in order to ruin a woman.

He did succeed for a while, but something was able to absorb the hatred I had, not the confusion, just the hatred. God was my buffer. I thank the ideology for that much, begrudgingly.

No one else cared enough for it to be effective if I was angry at them. It was only the church who had appeared in my life, made me feel some promise and then let me down, that it was worth getting angry with in my child’s mind.

No one promised life would be another way, ever. Since living with Dad and step mum I knew a life of pain. God had promised happiness if I followed certain rules. I had followed his rules.

I could be justifiably angry with him.

The assault shone a light on other confusions. Things my step mother had said some years before. I’d  started at school but was off sick. We had to go out. I’d upset her by slowing the process down. I was crying and she was pulling me about, putting my shoes on.

I said something to the effect that she was hurting me. The shoes were too small and they’d yet to be cut so that my feet could grow. This was a common thing for British families struggling in the 1970s. I had trouble with the buckles, they were too difficult for me to do up, she was angry.

In her defence, she was not my mother, I was yet to be diagnosed. Labelled stupid and clumsy because of the Elhers Danlos and extremely short sighted, it could not have been easy. I mean, it must have been frustrating for her.

It was horrifying for me, but I knew no different.

She spat her words at me,

“You should think yourself lucky, I could be shoving coat hangers up inside you.”

It was an odd thing to say to a five year old.

I had no idea of a vagina, only the vulva. I only knew the outside of my biological self.

My creative inners, ‘my vagina’, womb or ovaries were not on my radar. Biology is good like this, the female genitalia are not exactly accessible. I assumed she meant put coat hangers inside me via my belly button, that was, until Widewell, the man and the sexual assault.

In emotional health terms this is called ‘sexualization’. Children should not be sexualized early, it’s not healthy mentally, emotionally or physically. This is why we use terms like, the bird and the bees, the stork brought the baby and don’t discuss or do sexual things in front of children. We protect their innocence of creation.

The human act of copulation is not a child’s business. Children are just the result…

The man who assaulted me knew this. He knew he had no business going in my pants. I knew too and tried to stop him. It took him seconds to ruin my life, to change my perspective. In that moment, he set me apart from everything. He distanced me from my peers, my step mother, my father and just about everyone I knew.

How could a weak man gain control over strong, healthy and vibrant women other than to sabotage her as a child? This man is a coward, no more. A terminator of women…going back to a weaker point in their biological past to ruin them.

I know now he lacks the respect for women he should have, and his action is that of a misogynist.

I stayed fascinated with sex for decades, attempting to understand it’s dynamics. I can tell what desire is and what is hatred. I recognise love and respect and can see usage and control.

He was looking at my face when he hurt me. His was not a pretty face.

The man who assaulted me did not fancy me. He wasn’t attracted to me…he isn’t attracted to children. I’ll be very clear, he was into ruination, he wanted to destroy, to take my soul – his intention was only to hurt and cause pain.

He knew I was confused, he hoped it’d be hurting me forever, but it didn’t appear to make him happy. His brown, watery eyes were sad and angry as they looked into mine.

Gaining only sour gratification of his bitter hatred for women, he assaulted me, and then walked away. For all I know, back to his wife and children. Sorry, but it could be true – it’s all too late to do anything now and I didn’t do anything then.

The last human bone fuses for adulthood around thirty years old. I’m still confused at how females can be safely ready for child birth or penetrative sex beforehand.

Perhaps a doctor could explain it to me? Vets protect the youngsters from grown adult males in zoos.

Paedophiles are nothing more than human time travelling terminators, murderers of souls. They should not be given an audience at any level other than disgust. They should be kept away from society and not housed near families. I’d go as far to say that they should all be rounded up and put in Chinese style re-education camps until they change their views.


The End.

By Samantha “unextraordinarybint” Harris.

A small part of my own life story.

 

 

 

Ancestors Race – Poem

Ancestors tell me

In voices clear

Be close, but not near.

For centuries they took us

Never seen again

Ancient bones remain hidden

Under greed, envy and pain.

Wrath settles in dust.

Waken state they wake

Soldiers shoulders wide

Enemies show their scales

Poking the bear on the line.

Snakes rattle and spit

Ancestors remind me of it

Pirates of Barbary

Fair freedoms fought

Hold children safe

Whilst history is untaught

As we move into darkness

I hold to brotherly faith

I remember the contest but

Never the race.

The end.

By Samantha Harris

Still Here – Song

I’m still here.

Waiting around

for you to come round 

if you’re near

I’m still here

Division around

I’m listening for sounds

That you hear

I’m still here. The weakness keep coming and I keep driving it away

I’m still loving you every day

I’m feeling you getting weaker but I keep pulling you my way

I’m still here, I’m still here, I’m still here

I’m still here

Divison around

I’m listening for sounds

That you hear

I’m still here

Waiting around

For you to stop acting

Like a clown

I’m still here

I’m still here

I’m still here

I’m still here

I’m still here

I’m still here

Stlll Here By Samantha Harris written 7th November 2020 Watford, UK.

https://soundcloud.com/samantha-harris-33/still-here-by-samanthaharrissoundcloud if you have an account.

Thanks folks.

Stop Discrimination in Medicine

Over and over again we are told only some people can get certain diseases and other races cannot. Even if results come back indicating a blood disorder, sickle cell will not be tested for…maybe even rickets would not be picked up because of your childs genetic makeup…although they don’t know your child’s genetic makeup…they do that on sight, by name or nationality. They = Doctors.

Rickets is a disease where monitoring and treatment is being targeted towards non whites when every child is at equal risk. Here is a medical paper saying it isn’t just non whites who suffer from it…attempting to make racist doctors understand that white children get ill too.

https://www.thelancet.com/journals/lancet/article/PIIS0140-6736(14)60211-7/fulltexthttps://www.thelancet.com/journals/lancet/article/PIIS0140-6736(14)60211-7/fulltext

We’ve accepted racism and allowed it to enter our health professions. As a result Rickets is on the rise and many of our sick children go undiagnosed with painful diseases for lengthy periods.

We must call out racist papers and medical trials. If a drug is to be safe or a treatment, it must be safe for everyone. As genetically we are all different – not all white people are the same, not all black people are the same and there are billions of people inbetween.

Allopurinol – known to have vicious side effects in non whites is not usually prescribed to black folks in England, or shouldn’t be. It was given to me though and caused major rash and major gout attack.

But, much worse than that, I found this video. It doesn’t even warn against giving it to black people…

So, we are all at the mercy of this distrust and it is caused by the Pharma companies.

Please be cautious about any medication given to you and read the small print carefully.

Stay safe.

Thanks for reading.

I wonder how many other drugs are known to cause harm depending on your genetics?

5 Common myths about Pelvic Organ Prolapse

“I was just showering and reached down and suddenly noticed a bulge” “I had no idea something was wrong until my doctor examined me and told me I have a stage 2 cystocele” “I started feeling heaviness in my pelvis, then was wiping after I went to the bathroom, and noticed something was there!” Pelvic […]

5 Common myths about Pelvic Organ Prolapse

Reblogged from this amazing site for women.