The Cats Pyjamas Kindness Co. Ltd

One week to go until our Summer Forest Alchemy Workshop 🍃

And we’re thrilled to say that we’re fully booked 🌳

Thank you to all that have booked a place on our first workshop as Coed Danu CIC, and we’re really looking forward to meeting you ✨

You should be receiving an email from us over the weekend with further details 💌

Thank you again, Tracy & Elise 🌳

Twenty-four years ago today, we said goodbye to our son, Oliver.

He was just nine weeks old.

Those nine weeks were filled with hope, fear, uncertainty, heartbreak and a sadness so deep that, at times, I wasn’t sure how I would ever find my way through it. The world kept turning, but mine (and my family) had changed forever.

Over time, I found myself drawn to the places that asked nothing of me. Forest paths. Quiet water. Open skies.

Nature taught me what nobody else could.

That seasons change.
That broken things can still be beautiful.
That growth can emerge from places that once felt barren.

The work I do today is, in many ways, a continuation of that lesson.

Every story shared, every walk taken, every invitation to pause, notice and reconnect has its roots in a journey I never would have chosen, but one that has shaped who I am.

My son was here for only nine weeks.

Yet the love he left behind has travelled with me for twenty-four years.

And perhaps that is what love does.

It continues.

For many years, I thought I needed to keep going, keep striving, keep proving I was coping. But grief has a way of teaching different lessons.

These days, I live by a simple philosophy:

On the days that I can, I do.
On the days that I can’t, I don’t.

Not because I’ve given up.
Not because I lack resilience.
But because I’ve learned to listen.

To my body.
To my heart.
To what I need.

And I want others to know that this is okay too.

It is okay to rest.
It is okay to stop.
It is okay to sit one out.
It is okay to not participate when you simply don’t have the capacity.

The world will tell you to push through.

Life has taught me something gentler.

Sometimes the most courageous thing we can do is honour where we are.

And so today, as I remember my son, I offer this gentle reminder to anyone who needs it:

On the days that you can, do.

On the days that you can’t, don’t.

🍃🌳❤️

Our Forest Alchemy Summer Workshop is the first workshop we are running as the new Coed Danu CIC - we’d love you to join us on this new venture 🍃

Free to attend 🌳

If you’d like to come along, please get in touch. We’ve still got a few places left 🍃

Hello on this sunny Monday morning 😊

I hope you had a lovely weekend!

I visited Duffryn Gardens National Trust Saturday to experience the wisteria at dusk, it didn’t disappoint 🍃

It also provided me with lots of storytelling ideas. Here are just a few of the photos I took. I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to, or if these photos prompt a story for you, please let us know 🌳

Today, Sir David Attenborough turns 100 🎂

I took this photograph yesterday while doing a bit of gardening.

And it made me think…
An ant colony.
Tiny pathways.
A hidden world that I had no idea about until I moved the stone.

And I thought… this is exactly what David Attenborough has spent a lifetime teaching us to do.

To pause.
To look closer.
To notice that wonder does not only exist in grand landscapes or rare creatures, but also in the small, intricate worlds beneath our feet.

Before I ever understood storytelling, I understood wonder.

I think that’s why nature and stories have always belonged together for me.
Both ask us to pay attention.
Both invite curiosity.
Both remind us that there is more to the world than rushing through it.

Much of the work I create now, encouraging children and families to reconnect with imagination, creativity, and the natural world comes from that same quiet invitation:

Look closer.

Because when we do, the world changes.

Thank you, David, for helping generations of us see the beauty in even the smallest things. For as long as I can remember, Sir David’s calming voice has been a presence in my life. Inspiring, creating interest, and showing us how amazing our world is, and just how wonderful he is ❤️

Good morning all. Story Keepers, Story Tellers & Story Finders 🍃

Bertie will be showing up a bit more. He’ll be bringing stories, creativity & nature based inspiration to you. I hope you enjoy this next chapter for us, and more importantly, for you 🌳

Good morning all, it’s been a little quiet here at The Cat’s Pyjamas. There are a few changes happening. A natural evolution, we might say. A line in the sand, metaphorically 🍃

But, not all lines are drawn in haste.
Some arrive quietly…
carried in on the tide,
shaped by time,
and placed, gently, but deliberately, where they are meant to be.

This week, I find myself standing here. On the beach, drawing that line.

The Cat’s Pyjamas isn’t ending, it’s becoming what it was always meant to be. Stretching into something wider, softer, more rooted in purpose than ever before. More family focused.

And beside it, something new begins to take shape.

COED DANU CIC

A space for stories, connection, and quiet transformation.
A return, in many ways… to what has always been calling.

This isn’t a bold line carved in anger or urgency.
It’s a natural one.
Like driftwood finding its place on the shore. Just like this piece I found 💙

A line that says:
from here, we begin again.

The Cat’s Pyjamas Kindness Co. will be a place for children’s stories, resources for storytelling, and more family focused. I hope you stay for this new chapter 🌳

Thank you ❤️

This time of year can be challenging for me, and my family. And many others. I always find peace when I go to the forest. But it’s also seeing bluebells, as I did yesterday. And during my walk, I wrote a story (in my head at first). I also came upon a letter we received 24 years ago when we were at Great Ormond Street. It holds many memories ❤️

I’ve named the story - Nimue - the name means water, balance, and reflection 💙

🍃

Nimue 🍃

Every April, she returned to the forest.

Not because she had to. Not because anyone asked her to.

But because something in her life had quietly rooted itself in this place.

Every year, the forest met her the same way.

Soft edges. Unhurried. Welcoming.

She had walked these forest paths many times. Not every day, but often enough. And on days that mattered to her.

That morning, the forest was just beginning to wake. Broken sunlight shone through cracks in the branches. Ahead of her, she saw a familiar sight. Bluebells had just started to bloom. Their time here short.

She paused to take it all in, as she always did, because this was where it lived.

•

The story continues below. I hope you like it. And I’d love to know if you ever come up with story ideas when out walking, or any other time.