Truthbook

Being a creative parent, She Hulk and talking to trees

• Kathryn Smith • Season 1 • Episode 7

Share episode

Here I am chatting to Suzy- a friend and fellow podcaster. Like my audio on this occasion, we talk about how you don’t get it right every time and life is about trial and error.  And I made a promise to Suzy, when we are back in our homeland….

Suzy became a friend when we met on a ski holiday and threw ourselves straight into honest conversations about mental health, as well as down the ski slopes!.  Suzy is an acclaimed writer, speaker, performer, podcaster. She is the women behind Big Juicy Creative Podcast, author of Wondering Woman; a true story of one struggling mum’s search for her inner superhero and wrote her own play ‘Ecoanxiety”.  She is also mum to Torrin 9 and Toby 12, married to Phil (a Muay Thai fighter; not Suzy’s favourite sport to watch, but she’ll take the 6 pack that comes with it!). She is an everything outdoor lover and has the lochs and hills on her doorstep living in the Cairngorms in Scotland.  Meeting Suzy is like opening a big craft box; loads going on and you can’t help but feel excited and inspired.

Suzy was full of fantastic tips, good reads and listens...

And for those that want to read Wordsworth to their children, here we are…

I wondered lonely as a Cloud, by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

 For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.