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Bespoke Jewellery, Artwork and Writing by Sarah Jarman
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I am available to write a range of freelance articles, blogs, stories or poems. Below is a sample of some of my freelance writing. Please be aware I have been commissioned to write poetry for funerals, dedications, special birthdays and retirements however, due to the sensitive, personal nature of these items I am unable to share publicly. If you have a project you wish to discuss please feel free to contact me.

Why not pick up a copy now?

Why not pick up a copy now?

Lela - Ashes of Childhood, the beautiful memoirs of Lela Burbridge, co-written by myself and Lela are available to purchase on Amazon and in bookshops!

Find it here

 

My (slightly tongue in cheek) parenting book is now available to purchase over on Amazon! Available both on Kindle and in paperback.

Poo Poo Parenting- available here

 

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My articles are regularly featured on Selfish Mother! I am so grateful for the love I receive on their page- check out my articles here-

http://www.selfishmother.com/author/sasps/

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Invited by Mama and Belle as a guest blogger

https://mamaandbelle.com/blogs/news/second-child-guilt

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Various architectural news articles for William Green Architects:

http://www.williamgreenarchitects.co.uk/blog-80/

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Bath Mums article on childcare:

https://bathmums.co.uk/posts/view/a-genius-way-to-cut-childcare-costs

Weighing up the decision to return to work while facing high childcare costs is a tough one. Last year local mum Sarah found herself in exactly this situation. Her solution was to become a childminder, this was perfect for her own family and others.

Somewhere in the midst of new baby adrenaline, sleepless nights, colic and generally not knowing if I was coming or going, my husband sat me down to talk about finances and whether or not I had made the decision about a return to work. When I started my maternity leave going back to work was the last thing on my mind, and it felt like I had years before I even had to think about it, yet here I was, my daughter a bouncing five month old, and my maternity pay almost up.

At the time I had no idea whether or not I wanted to return to work. I adored being a stay at home mum but at the same time loved my independence. I particularly did not relish the idea of my husband being the sole breadwinner and me having to ask for money. So I sat down to do the sums. At the time I was employed by a reputable jewellers and had, what was considered, a good job, but when it came down to numbers it turns out, unless it was for a love of the job, there was little point in my returning to work. If I remember correctly after paying for full time childcare I would be left with the grand total of twenty pounds.

Rather than panic I returned to work on Saturdays until I had formulated a plan and it came to me relatively quickly. If I was looking after one child, why not take on a few more. How hard could it be? The training, it turns out, was not to hard at all. Banes council were extremely helpful and so keen to have more childminders in the local area that a lot of the training is subsidised. Within a matter of weeks I had a place on the introduction to childminding course, a twelve week program designed to give you all the ins and outs of the job, including some in depth knowledge of the Early Years Foundation Scheme, formulated by OFSTED. At first childminding seemed like a minefield but by the end of the course I was confident and looking forward to the new venture. This course was followed by a compulsory (and highly useful) paediatric first aid course before the scary part-being registered by OFSTED. But I was prepared and the inspection went well so by September I was signing up the first of my part time children.

The job, admittedly, is far from the glamour I had in the jewellery trade. My days are spent in a whirlwind of changing dirty nappies, wiping runny noses, and cleaning up spills. I am permanently covered in glitter and will often go out with baby sick down my right shoulder. This, perhaps, no different from any stay at home mum. However, then comes the added delight of evening paperwork. My own daughter has never been a fan of sleep, so my nights are spent trying to fit in learning journals, activity plans and accounts books in between settling her. My house is never tidy, I have become OCD about bleaching my floors and I often find myself prepping food for the following day at eleven o'clock at night.

Despite this obvious lack of glamour, and what many will see as negatives, I love my job. I don't doubt this career change in the slightest. I adore the children I look after, they continue to surprise me on a day to day basis with their humour, wit and inventive ideas. I don't have the guilt many working parents have, as my daughter is with me all day, yet she still gets plenty of interaction with other children, without me having to pay for it. On top of all these perks, I am, for the first time ever, my own boss. I choose my own hours and my own holidays and this has allowed me to have one day a week, every week, alone with my daughter. A year ago the impending price of childcare scared me half to death, but looking back it was a blessing in disguise, why pay for childcare when you can be the childcare?

 

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The Great Bin Escape

The Great Bin Escape, started at eight,
On a wintry day like any other,
The bins on Main Street shivered with cold, As they huddled close to one another.

The bitter North Wind, howled round the bins, As they fought against toppling over,
When number seven’s was caught by a gust, Which saw it lose all it’s composure.

As it built up momentum, bin seven couldn’t help but
Let out a ginormous ‘weeeeeee’,
The others looked on with a type of envy,
To see this bin roam free.

The gust blew once more, this time taking bin four,
Much to this wheelie’s delight,
Who shouted, ‘hey all, what fun, look at me!’
As down the hill it took flight.

This was the final straw, the bins wanted more,
Than a life on the side of the road,
Then gust number three, took the remaining twenty,
For the adventure they were finally owed.

Traffic stopped in horror, with all the dustbin explorers,
Whizzing past red traffic lights,
They took to the High Street, in lines so neat,
To explore all the historical sights.

Bins one and two checked out local statues, Whilst three fancied the library,
Four, five and six, needed their Weetabix,
So rolled into the local Sainsbury’s.

The police were called, and some bins were stalled,
By the copper’s quick traffic blocks,
But they couldn’t stop bins twelve and thirteen,
From colliding triumphantly in the stream.

It took several days, for the remaining few strays,
To be returned to their usual abodes,
On Sunday Mrs Lynn found the final two bins, Delving into her roasting potatoes!

Now when the wind blows, when the gusts threaten snow,
The residents take to the street,
Each armed with rocks, or bricks in a box,
To weigh down the dustbin fleet.

It’s been some months, since that wintry stunt,
Yet the bins can’t help but smile,
When they endeavour to remember,
That day in December, when that gust launched bin number seven.
 

 

Remembrance Day Tribute Poem

'If I should die think only this of me,'

Those famous words not meant to hurt,

But each one shoots through me.

You did die on those war torn fields,

And only a widow was left to grieve.

They read your name, as thousands of names

were read,

But only my ears heard yours.

 

No medals, No honours, No thanks for the bravery,

Barely a mention on the day.

You, just a number, on a page, in a book,

But a face that will haunt my heart.

For you shall not grow old, no,

As those that live grow old,

But your picture's now worn and grey.

Perhaps so many moved on,

Perhaps so many forgot,

But your kiss still imprinted on my soul.

 

Only today, almost a century on,

Can my grieving now dismiss,

For I was left alone to live.

Now it's my turn to draw a close.

My love, this life a blank canvas,

A life just in the dark.

On the day you died it broke my heart.

Thank god it's my turn to depart.

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June 2018 featured on Selfish Mother's Instagram 'Blogzine'

 

https://www.instagram.com/p/Bkih4KKACBp/?taken-by=selfishmother

 

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The Nativity Play

 

The time has come,

Mrs Jones’ nerves fray,

Takes a moment to breathe,

It’s the annual Nativity play.

 

Reception are in their class room,

Timothy in floods of tears,

‘I don’t want to be a sheep miss’,

Making eyes at the reindeers.

 

The shepherds wear their tea towels,

All very well and good,

But Bobby’s bought his dad’s,

Printed with an homage to ‘The Hood’.

 

Its almost time to start,

But Mary’s a no show,

Patsy saw her heading to Rainbows…

…No intentions to go.

 

‘Miss, I feel sick’

Tilly’s face is green,

‘It’s just a few nerves Dear’

Throws up all over Irene.

 

Donkey’s back end needs a poo,

The front end needs one too,

Angel Gabriel’s snagged his tights,

And his halo’s all askew.

 

3…2…1… doors are opened,

The procession makes their way,

Joseph’s finger up his nose,

Wipes it in the hay.

 

The angels forget their lines,

The wise men miss their cue,

Stand-in Mary drops Jesus,

Donkey decides on ‘moo’.

 

‘Away in a manger’

Mrs Jones sings solo,

Below her class are yawning,

And looking at the snow.

 

The final note, the hall erupts,

All the mums, weep,

Granny’s waving madly,

Tommy’s dad, asleep.

 

‘Best part of Christmas!’

Mrs Jones would agree,

But her head is splitting sideways

And she needs a G&T.

 

She’ll be there till nine,

Clearing up the hall,

But as the class wave goodnight,

She smiles,’ A Merry Christmas all!’

Press release/introduction written for James Boyle Founder of Paradice clothing:

Paradice clothing was born in the February of 2012, the brainchild of James Boyle, fresh out of an Art foundation course and planning a degree in law as his future, he found himself with time to kill, but no money to burn. Returning home to Newcastle he knew that this time had to be put to good use, and not waste his weekends on the drink.

Equipt with skills in printmaking, a love of adventure and a thirst for fun the logical direction for James to follow appeared to be one in fashion for like-minded people and after some careful research into shopping platforms, fabrics, themes and the resurrected tie-dye phenomenon a launch date of June 2012 was formed.

Despite focusing all his attention into his new found passion, before Paradice clothing reached it’s launch date another mad opportunity arose and James decided to take a chance, a chance that launched James into a mental social media frenzy, earning him 14.5k votes and the chance to appear as the male face of a successful modelling campaign. With this opportunity in mind Paradice clothing’s slogan was born ‘ROLL THE DICE’, take that chance in life, you never know where it’s going to get you.

The campaign couldn’t have come at a better time, things were buzzing, James was very much in the public eye and with an internet following of 10,000 people before Paradice even launched James knew things were going well, but how well came as a huge shock. Paradice’s first range of clothing launched as planned and sold out in minutes. Based entirely from home, James and his mum worked tirelessly in an attempt to keep up with the demand of self tie dying, ironing, packing boxes and dispatching and it was beyond crazy.  James mum Linda is the first to admit life was hectic, clothes covered every spare surface of the house and the hallway remained jam packed with boxes.

It was through his dad that James next opportunity arose, realising Paradice clothing was in demand he felt it was time it expanded professionally, he approached the Prince’s trust and arranged for James to attend a meeting where they were more than happy to support James through the course and earn him the Princes Trust certificate and the ability to build Paradice to new levels.

18 months down the line and Paradice has a world-wide following, no longer tie dying on the kitchen table Paradice has its own office, a following of 200000 people across various media networks and growing interest from celebrities, DJs, sports enthusiasts, musicians, skaters and festival goers, Paradice t-shirts can be spotted from European beaches to all night rave sessions and fans are loving it.

James himself admits that he couldn’t have done it without the continued support from his family. Having been born profoundly deaf James has had to break boundaries other’s wouldn’t dare face. It hasn’t always been easy but having his father, Jimmy Boyle, mother, Linda Boyle, sister Nicki and boyfriend Jordan Robson behind him and the courage to take the risks he has gone from strength to strength, learning to speak fluently, passing exams, excelling at school, and now turning a simple hobby into a thriving, vibrant business with a passionate team behind it. The hard work has definitely been worth it and as Paradice becomes a successful business Linda feels they have all been part of something really special, turning a dream into a reality and she knows more than anyone how much James deserves it for all his hard work, sheer determination and love of Paradice.

James best friend, and sister Nicki, now stands by James side in all the major decisions and day-to-day running of the business. From seeing the mental success Paradice gained from day one she knew she had to be there to help build the Paradice dream and encourage the transition of a hobby to, one day, an empire. Being able to wake up each morning and know she is part of building this future means everything to her, and watching her brother achieve things in his life people never thought possible is her inspiration. To Nicki, Paradice is more than just another brand, it has meaning, taking that chance and making something of your life no matter what and James is that role model, the boy turned man who has proved it is all possible.

Together they will endeavour to continue to push those boundaries, take those chances and work through the risks. ROLL THE DICE.

 

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Nobody saw the Girl on the Stairs

Nobody saw the girl on the stairs,
Unwashed hair tied in pigtails,
Countless freckles from days in the sun, Eyes, searching for a friend.

But nobody saw the girl on the stairs.

Nobody saw her kiss the ground,
The day she landed here,
Nobody saw the tears in her eyes,
To be finally free of fear.

And nobody saw the girl on the stairs.

Nobody saw her, rummage for food,
Next to the dogs at the tip,
Nobody saw her hands turn blue,
Her toes numb, lack of shoes.

And nobody saw the girl on the stairs.

Nobody saw her, trek desert alone,
Her hands clutching a dress,
Her only souvenir of a childhood,
A childhood left for dead.

And nobody saw the girl on the stairs.

Nobody saw her clutching the boat,
As it swirled uncontrollably,
Nobody held her as the boat went down,
As she cried, alone, for her family.

And nobody saw the girl on the stairs.

Nobody saw her hide from the bombs,
The smoke blinding her eyes,
Nobody saw her hold her sister,
As her home tumbled to the ground.

And nobody saw the girl on the stairs.

Nobody saw the girl on the stairs,
Beginning her new life here,
Armed with new books, new pens, new rules, Armed with a stomach of nerves.

Still nobody saw the girl on the stairs.

 

 

Father's Day card poem 

To my dearest friend,

My knight in shining armour,

The arms I always look for,

When I'm feeling blue,

Each year you shall grow older,

One day I'll be your shoulder,

To catch my hero,

Should he fall,

To catch you,

My father.