Archive for October 2013

A Broadcast by MissMiracle’s MIC :-D

October 29, 2013

NB ‘MMus’ is the trading name of MissionMiraculus Ltd.

‘My interpretation of what’s in your head – by MissMiracle’s MIC

 MMus Ltd.  is a community based project group delivering specialist services to mental health users. Initially this will be delivered within the west midlands (December 2013 – June 2014). It will then be rolled out nationally, then internationally.  Specialist services are to be determined on a case-by-case basis.  Money for this purpose will be funded by grants and funds raised  by MMus’ Charity Trust.

The current Mental Health system works for some people and fails others.  By using a catch all process, the MHS delivers its care in a way that’s far too general.  Specific issues that make a huge difference in someone’s treatment are often missed because those issues fall outside of the standard mental health flowchart.  MMus will try and address this imbalance.  By promoting and creating specific life events tailored to a specific user’s needs, their difficulties will be healed. We expect to find exponentially improved recovery rates and to enjoy hearing about the thriving lives which proceed from our healing work.

Here are two hypothetical situations

Paul is a sufferer of depression.  He is currently being treated in the usual pharmacological way.  Psychologists have long reported that Paul’s issues derive from a lack of self-worth; he is a person who lacks self-esteem in a wide range of areas of his life.

What could help Paul ?

Paul needs to feel valued by others to truly value himself.   A 10 min chat with Paul reveals that he likes nature and gardening.  So MMus arrange for the city council to grant a space in the central Park to build a small garden.  Paul is asked to help create this garden with other MMus users who share the same aims.  The garden is created and Paul sees  a triumph.  MMus then gives support to Paul and he eventually finds a job as a park warden.  Moreover – he is so delighted with the success of MMus methods that he joins the organisation and takes on new clients with mental health issues he can relate to and who enjoy gardening…. Thus begins a cascade of ‘self-help’.

Lucy suffers from an aggressive personality, a diagnosed personality disorder.  She is on a low dose of anti-psychotic medication and anti-depressants.  She has been sectioned twice and she now just sits at home worrying and becoming more reclusive.  As far as the Mental health System goes she gets a visit once a week by a support worker.  MMus Gets a grant from the Government to run an art workshop for a week.   Lucy is invited and discovers a love for carving wood.  This then gives Lucy a objective to focus on and MM will then help promote and share her work.

These are two very Happy Ending scenarios and, in the MHS, for every 2 people you will help there will be 8 people you can’t. Our aim is to change these statistics . We believe that we will reverse these statistics.

MMus Is a way of targeting specific care shots to specific people whether it be de-cluttering, helping with a driving licence etc etc.  It’s the little things in life that really make the difference, these lead on to the more remarkable changes and ultimately is a cheaper way of getting people back into society that constantly giving them mind altering drugs.

MMus is trying to break the habit of “managing people” and change this to “inspiring people.”‘

RESPONSE? 🙂

 

 

 

Stuck in a Quandary

October 28, 2013
…in relation to last year. Action needs taking in relation to what happened to Janie Greville between February and April 2011. The mental health services listened to protests and anger from distant members of her family  in relation to a blog she was publishing.

They took notice to the degree that they persecuted her until they had actually broken into her home in the middle of the night where she was in bed, frightened of this invasion, and took her to Worcester Psychiatric Hospital where there was no bed for her to rest on.

THIS REPORT IS AN UPDATED VARIANT OF THE ORIGINAL, PUBLISHED ON ‘SILENCELOL.WORDPRESS.COM’ IN MARCH 2012.

The ‘interview’ that took place in her home was a farce driven by a foregone conclusion.

Cheers - Crisis Over, Champagne Living Beginning

Cheers – Crisis Over, Champagne Living Beginning

Her crimes had been to write the truth about a man where truth didn’t flatter him, and to have treated an uninvited ‘home treatment team’ member as if he was someone she was familiar with (she was – and the treatment was mutual, with one difference. He thought he had the right to decide what should and should not constitute the content of the visit. He decided that his boasting of his music should be concealed, and she did not. He reported this as ‘inappropriate behaviour’ and as a ‘symptom of mental illness.’)

The decision to imprison her had already been made. The ‘assessment’ was a mere formality.

Janie has ventured to ask family members how they feel about her going back, now, to complain in formal terms about this appalling incident and series of incidents around it. They are frightened. Every time they hear ‘mental health services’ they picture Janie being bundled into a hospital and then emerging from it in a suicidally depressed state. They just want to forget it.

Will they ever be able to, when Janie can be incarcerated at the call of anyone who doesn’t like what she says because it’s both true and inconvenient to their reputation? Or because they don’t like her un-English open-ness, or her ‘arty’ self presentation on occasion? Or her forthright manner, or her sharp tongue?

Isn’t it time she did stand up for the truth, for justice and to demonstrate the absurdity of psychiatry, at least in relation to her case?

What should she do? Your comments will be most welcome.

Peter Greville 14.7.1930 – 4.10.2012

October 27, 2013

My father, ‘Anthony Pierre Greville’ on birth certificate, was ubiquitously known as ‘Pete’ & ‘Petey’. He was a drummer, photographer and bullshitter of the most delightful variety. He also played the guitar, the piano and the heart strings. I am very much his daughter, though a painter more than a musician and my photography is untutored in the sense that his music was untutored, thus the highest of his achievements. Since his death I’ve felt him closer in my life and he remains the inspiration in my life for self acceptance and self-assertion and expression – it worked for him, I sense that the truer I am to myself the better life will work for/with me..

Beneath the Throne

 

 

The following piece was originally written by Janie Greville as her contribution to the Conference for World Mental Health Day held at Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Birmingham, on 10.10.2012.

“I would like to use this opportunity to say a few words about Hope and Communication in the course of our lives – and in the lives, particularly, of those journeying within the medical health and care services.

In my years of experience as a person suffering a diagnosis of a ‘severe and enduring mental illness’ and suffering distress related to such labelling, I have had reason to focus on the concepts of Hope and Communication in the provision of Mental Health Services. It has only been the experience of accompanying and watching my father suffer and then die, however, that has opened my eyes to the pivotal role that these two dimensions of care play in health care as a…

View original post 454 more words

Dancing in His Grave

October 24, 2013

Dad’s safest where he is just now…

I wrote this entry, originally, in November 2012 last year, shortly after my father died. Of course, as you will see, it’s a ‘parochial’ piece, pertaining to specifics within my own life and family in the extended sense.

Looking back on this, as I approach the first anniversary of my father’s mortal death (don’t think there’s supposed to be another kind, but I felt like my father’s body survived his spirit by several months, really – he’d lost the will to live earlier in the year when he ‘failed’ yet another ‘tribunal’ held at St Andrew’s Hospital), it strikes almost an orchestral chord with me. This time last year I was a mental health patient (and had been one since 1997), I was ‘incapacitated’ beyond all expectations of sustainable recovery and I was alone, without a partner to share my life with. A year on I am an ex-patient; I am constructing the underpinnings of a successful business; and I am delighted to report that I have been reunited with the partner who appeared in my life, for the first time, back in 2006.

This entry should be read to the song ‘What a Wonderful World’ by Louis Armstrong.

My lovely Dad must be dancing in his grave. It’s what he did on top of the soil so presumably he’ll be doing it even more now. He won’t be feeling too hot or too cold, he won’t be feeling too happy or too sad, he won’t be feeling too amused or too enraged – he’ll be as serene as ever he could have felt in this life. That’s a good thought, a good feeling – he’s past pain and past pleasure – a state of utter peace.

Those of us with breath in our lungs and blood running through our veins can’t genuinely imagine this state. After all, our very capacity to experience ourselves as living is dependent on this constant state of flux between various potentially opposite extremes. I can’t offer to throw light onto the matter either, because I don’t remember anything until I was about two so I’m blind and deaf to the eternity I was in before I was conceived and presumably that’s the same space he’s returned to now.

Of course in another sense he hasn’t because a fair few people remember him and hold him in their minds eye and fewer still, in their heart. I hold him in both, and let’s face it, I hold him in the length of my arms and legs, my addictive love of music and my sense of humour. Oh – and in my insistence on personalising anything and everything that comes within my sphere.

I want to check with St Andrews if there are any audio or video recordings of my dad performing to his peers and carers. It would hardly assist me to show the world what a gifted man my father was but it would warm my heart to see anything to keep him alive to me.

For the time being I have his order of service card, young soulful photo at the front, heart warming image of his birthday party in July on the back. To me he’ll never die.

Father of Mine

Father of Mine (Photo credit: Just Us 3)

Which is why I’ve only sobbed about his concrete death a few times so far. I feel like he’s still with me somehow, so most of the time I feel he’s actually closer to hand than he’d been for some years.

Oh what a lovely outlet this is. To speak what’s in my heart in an environment stripped of people who intrude to corrupt it.

The corruption is coming from matters of estate. If you have ever been named in a ‘last will and testament’ or have ever read a novel by Jane Austen you’ll immediately know what I mean. At death the vultures appear and hover – where the body disappears they gather to feed on the living grieving.

Makes you shudder doesn’t it? I’d experienced it in Austen’s novels, and I’d seen it over a meal in Dover when my grandfather died when I was eighteen years old. At the time my Uncle Ivor tried to soothe me by sympathising with my feelings while assuring me that I would feel differently when I got older. But Jane Austen’s novels are about large estates, my grandfather was a millionaire over twenty years ago – it doesn’t make the hovering or the lip slapping or the blood dripping claws any nicer but at least you can see why the booty looks so appealing and unmissable to vultures. – Oh – and I am older now, and I haven’t changed my feelings one iota. Nice try Uncle Ivor (now also in the ether) – I love you for doing your best xx.

My Dad’s estate, after costs, will probably be worth £115,000-120,000, Maximum.

Yet, so far, three people have applied to my Dad’s solicitor to find out the contents of his will in advance of his funeral, have sat together and have left several abusive voice mails on my mobile phone and one has informed me that I am personally responsible for some terrible recent misfortune in their family, all on the grounds that I turned out to be named in my father’s will. Most of the abusive phone calls were made at around 11 O’clock at night on the day of my father’s funeral. A funeral to which these people failed to appear on the grounds that they feared they had not been named in my father’s will and needed to have hard evidence about the matter before deciding whether or not to attend.

Have we left earth and headed for terra-ghastly or what? I don’t know. I only know this: ‘there ain’t nout so strange as folk’.

Feel free to comment dear readers – I’m genuinely perplexed.

Empty Soul Smile: Vultures

Empty Soul Smile: Vultures

To vultures if hovering over my blog – my words are backed by evidence so please leave me alone now.

My Dad spent a lot of his life persuaded by the 18-20th Century obsession with Love as a reference to ‘romantic’ attachment. He was fully capable of loving beyond this – he loved his little dogs; he loved music with a passion; he loved photography and colour, pattern and arrangement; he loved ‘the high life’; he loved conversation; he loved fine food; he loved good people; he loved laughing; he loved cups of tea; he loved glasses of wine, sometimes bottles of the stuff. I could go on. My Dad was a loving guy.

My Dad also loved his children, his acquired (by marriage) children and his natural, ie blood, children. This last was a passion of love that showed in letters he wrote to my mother many years ago but which he was discrete about in his day to day existence. He largely accommodated his second wife’s wishes in where to live and what to do, and he did this for a range of reasons, not least that he loved her very much.

There was a strain in him that somehow connected money and possessions with love. I believe that isn’t uncommon although I tend to think that it’s a good idea at times to stand back, notice that the one doesn’t equate with the other, and then take actions in relation to money that make sense and actions in relation to love that make sense – and somehow or another the relationship between the two can stand in a form of conceptual and defensible harmony if not equability.

I think that this paragraph is relevant to my father’s last will and testament. It reflected the passion of his love and it reflected his customary tendency to equate money with feeling. Had he been like me he would have adjusted his will to bring a ‘better’ balance to a wider approach of his loving. But he was not me. He was more impassioned than I am, less ‘dispassionate’ than I’m inclined to be.

Who knows, however, that he didn’t also know in his very bones about this difference in our natures and entrust me – and/or my sister and I, with the responsibility to ensure that peace shall reign in our lifetime? 😉

If the vultures will just shut the f**k up for a while, behind my back as well as by diversionary routes, and turn back into human beings – I shall have some peace in which to think!!!!

English: Back View of Jane Austen, Watercolor

English: Back View of Jane Austen, Watercolor (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

How Janie is experienced….

October 18, 2013

Please fill in our ‘Polldaddy’ survey re Bipolar/Manic Depression and Anxiety/Depression levels of experience. There will be prizes for the  respondent who provides contact details, completes the survey questionnaire and offers the best idea for a short, catchy slogan to be attached to the relaunched identity of MissionMiraculus and Miss Miracle’s MIC

….by her loved ones…

Zainy Jainey Take a Chill Pill!

Zainy Jainey Take a Chill Pill!ound all their alarm bells.

It’s a bipolar relevant matter. My bf (boyfriend) and bf (best friend), my elder daughter and, to be fair, no one else who has expressed concern, have jointly and separately provided a wake-up call for me during the last three weeks. It hasn’t been that I have performed the constant nightmare role in their lives but that I was slipping into something that reminds them of trips to the nuthouse and this has been quite sufficient to unnerve them.

There are, of course, reasons for this instability. Last night I opened up my floodgates of grief re my Dad’s departure for unknown territory a year ago and this has been grounding for both me and my sister and, moving forwards, for those in my world who I love and who love me.

It’s all about ‘early warning signs’ of course – but unless you have an accurate map based on an accurate understanding of causes and pathways then the ‘EWS’ work will be entirely futile. As it has been over and again during years gone by.

This time the medication routine is nailed into the strategy (not necessarily forever but certainly til we get to safe ground) and I am continuing to listen to trusted others.

I am also mindful of anxiety levels around me and mindful to examine the flow of fear that moves across the networks of my friends and families in relation to my social conduct and expressive behaviour.

Just as laughter is poised on the interface of pleasure and pain, so hypomania is poised on the interface of psychic-emotional pain and pleasure – it is that critical point of meeting where fear in the form of anxiety enters the system as adrenalin and begins to flood the body. The body doesn’t have a clear ‘knowledge’ of the meaning of this tidal wave and it moves obediently in accordance with the instructions of the conscious and subconscious mind.

To come to rest the body needs to discharge this adrenalin in a manner that does not merely excite further outflows from the adrenals.

Consequently the ill-advised approaches are:- 1. enter a state of conflict or anger; 2. To be controlled by the adrenalin fuelled state as distinct from remaining mindful of the fact of this flooded condition; 3. To allow the adrenalin flow to go unimpeded.

Due to the pleasurable experience of high adrenalin flow in the body providing that it is linked with excitement rather than fear, the experiencer can be or become inclined to indulge in the flow and to resist external attempts to bring it under control.

Due to the body state – flooded with adrenalin – the very worst move by friends, relatives or mental health services would be to attempt to intervene abruptly and from ‘above’ to bring this condition to a halt. In the vast majority of cases this would be experienced as threatening and frightening by the possessor of the condition and the overwhelmingly likely reaction/response will be resistance. THE RESISTANCE WILL BE IN PROPORTION TO THE FORCE BROUGHT TO THE CONDITION.

[contact-field label='Name' type='name' required='1'/][contact-field label='Email' type='email' required='1'/]

Remember always: adrenalin, at an evolutionary level, is the body’s device for commanding extraordinary levels of emergency mental, emotional and physical energy. The ‘sufferer’ will be in an ‘enhanced state of consciousness’ and an ’emergency-alert body state’.

Where the discharge of the adrenalin is directed toward creative or academic pursuits the results may be surprising in their levels of achievement. Where the discharge is directed toward sporting expressions, similarly, the achievements may be untypical of what would be predictable by the person in their ‘normal’ state. Sport is an excellent vehicle for discharging adrenalin since it clears the body of those poisonous chemicals associated with adrenalin which will collect in the body and harm it whenever it is simply left to fester undischarged.

This of course, is a level of understanding that remains light years away in any NHS psychiatric hospital. It is also why MissionMiraculus has a strategic interest in creating a service that will compete with the NHS for such patients and holds high hopes that it’s bench marked and staticised and published results of the first 2 years of business in this regard will demonstrate that its ‘shared humanness’ ethos and its translated from theory treatment plans outstrip the NHS success stories hands down.

Which is why, if you take an interest in bi-polar/manic depression and/or depression & anxiety, you should link across to Facebook MissionMiraculus page right now and ‘like’ our page there. While you’re at it track the life of Arrabbella Faith on Facebook and sign up to see the ‘Laughing for a Change’. Its Headline act is the well known ‘Barbara Nice’ – well known in Birmingham and the West Midlands. Less well known are a group of ‘new and developing comic artists’ amongst which will be Arrabbella. Only £5 a ticket from the Box Office at the Birmingham Rep and on a Sunday night beginning at 7pm – so it won’t be a late one.

It will, however, be a fun one.  Please fill in the poll questionnaire and take note of the contact details for this site, below. The 1st, 10th, 25th, and 100th person to fill in the questionnaire will win a gift from the Company ‘Miss Miracle’s MIC’ upon providing your email address or mobile telephone number and name. Candidates for a prize should nominate their preference for a gift leaning into the following fields of preference: a book; a gift leaning to nature; a gift from the domain of ‘art and culture’; ‘surprise me’.  The 1st and 1000th respondent will receive a special invitation to the first formal meeting of MissionMiraculus re-launched, a three-course meal with its core team members and the chance to take the stage on the day if they so wish.  The RRP of the gifts are range from £50 to £500 in today’s values. They are forecast to rise in value over the next five years to an exponential degree, ie way out of proportion to the UK annual inflation rate. These gifts, therefore, are recommended for investment purposes as well as for pleasure.

[contact-field label='Comment' type='textarea' required='1'/]

ALL INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY RIGHTS ACROSS THIS SITE AND RELATED SITES BELONG TO JANIE GREVILLE. ALL COPYRIGHTS RESERVED.

Good Night Out?

October 13, 2013

Mine was. My friend Julia who usually lives on the south coast on a state of the art house boat is spending a few days with me – so that’s already heaven in the making; her bloke has joined in with us via skype the last couple of nights, which enhances the pleasure; this afternoon was spent in charity shops and primark (for me) which resulted in a few purchases at very little expense; bf is being challenging but then a whole janie-community conference took place today and found that I am almost impossible to tolerate when I am ‘hypomanic’ because I’m not ill enough to shovel in the nuthouse and not sensible enough to put up with if im at large lol – what can I say?

“Sorry” suggested Julia. So I did. She gave me a stern talking to and I have been the picture of obedience all day long until I bubbled over on the phone to bf. He clearly agrees with Julia cos first he put down the phone and switched the device to ‘don’t respond to janie’ and then on fb went to bed. I think I’m in disgrace….

He’ll come round… I realise that I’m something of a nightmare just now and I’m doing my very best. Julia is teaching me but she’s such a strict teacher that I end up with constricted bubbles from presing myself down so hard in order to win praise from her. It simply meant that I mistook bf for a softer taskmaster and got it all wrong lmao….

Where on earth am I to go to be tolerated when I am in this state?

I’ll tell you: Work. Work is going swimmingly lol

Everyone is trained in some way or another to be kind to nutters there. So there I’m able to be myself without fear of offence 🙂

When will my friends and family catch up? :-S

Hello, Good Evening and Welcome! (‘taking tips from walter benjamin’)

October 3, 2013

It’s just a few days since I blogged this one – and yet, its resonance is such as to move me still and to long to find significant others reading me and responding to me by commenting on this blog. I’m told by Gordon Parsons that it is difficult if not impossible to comment on this blog – spammers have no problem lol – what’s the prob? Write to me on Janie Greville fb page, or MissionMiraculus fb page and tell me what the problem is if it’s other than ‘can’t be arsed’ ….. but then if that’s the block… you can’t be arsed to move to fb either can you? lmao 😉

Beneath the Throne

…deary me, am I being possessed by David Frost? Please, no, his jacket’s wouldn’t fit me… my shoulders are straight, straight like my mother’s, they look wide and also strong… no there I’m wrong – she looks strong, I’m fragile to gaze at…  lucky me, full of vulnerability – I couldn’t be more pleased… tragedy lies in the line of solid strength, storms will break the impermeable oak; while the willow bends its face beneath the water then,….. sways up again as healthy as before…

What happens when I let my mind wander… (‘loosening of association’)

so – not Seamus Heaney either….
Who else has died this week?
Who’s been born?
Who’s lurking in the shadows,
Scared to be seen?
Who’s losing hope and tiptoe-ing out of the room?
Who’s timidly hiding and slightly showing,
And wishing, someone would lift her to the light?

Who’s visibly playing, playfully dancing,
in…

View original post 645 more words

Hello, Good Evening and Welcome once again ;-)

October 1, 2013
Oasis at the University of Birmingham -

Oasis at the University of Birmingham –

NB ALL NAMES IN THIS OR ANY OTHER ENTRY ON THIS SITE ARE INNOCENT OF ANY CONTENTS HEREIN. GLORY SHOULD BE DIRECTED TOWARD THEM, ANY RAGE PLEASE SEND MY WAY (VIRTUALLY ONLY. IF YOU HAVE ANY PHYSICALLY ENRAGED REACTIONS PLEASE SIT QUIETLY IN YOUR BEDROOM TIL IT PASSES. A VALIUM MIGHT HELP.)

Yes: after a detour into the world of F(ine)Art, its heroes and demons, we return to the sunny climes of the Midlands, focus on the University of Birmingham (though I’ve never actually run a group in or at the clock itself it remains a handy focal point) and the topic of ‘Mental Distress’.I say ‘Mental Distress’ in preference to the normative heading of ‘Mental Health’… After all – does one go to work in a department titled ‘Blood Health’ when one is researching causes of Diabetes? Wouldn’t that be kind of… weird….?

Or would it? In fact maybe such projects SHOULD be called ‘Blood Health’ to assist the focus into how to bring bodies into alignment with healthful balance? I suspect that with Diabetes there are some unsurprising ‘discoveries’ in that direction, though not in the official language, which remains driven by DISease and INbalance and ILL health.

Be that as it may, I am primarily addressing the delightful students I met yesterday and today in one of the science blocks, working with Maureen Smojkis in delivering learning around families and solutions focussed approaches within Social Work practice.

Those of you who have seen us working together know that we have developed our act over the last three or four years (or more) and have now got to the stage where we accidentally lead the way in adult (and child) learning, since we are a ‘force to be reckoned with’…. we don’t talk at people, if we can manage it we don’t talk too much at all; when we do talk Maureen is the straight guy, I am the fall guy and everyone ends up having the minimum of a chuckle.

Is this naughty I hear you asking… Is this something the chancellor in his huge office; his vast piles of paperwork; his ambiance set, doubtless, by paintings, portraits of ex-chancellors etc, and luxury wallpapers with a vast and imposing work table (better known as an executive desk); with his secretary in her own outer office gatekeeping on his behalf and a further office of administrators busily ensuring that the central core of the university is all run according to ‘high academic and social standards’, ‘appropriate protocols’ and ‘unwritten rules’ – would be likely to welcome or abhor?

I couldn’t tell you. I’ve never had a tete a tete with the Chancellor of the University of Birmingham, although I’d love to have a coffee and chat with him, for some reason best known only to himself, he’s never rung to invite me.

To be utterly frank, I think I do know the answer to this mystery. It’s less a mystery than an entirely predictable state of affairs. He has never heard of me. He doesn’t know my name; he doesn’t know I work at the University; he doesn’t know what I look like, sound like, or teach like. He doesn’t know my history, my ‘track record’ or my ambitions. He doesn’t know my age, my gender or my height.

I tend to doubt that I am a detail he has ever needed to take any cognizance of.

I may leave it like that.

Then again…. I may alter that… it depends on what I find out about him. So far nothing. He could be a her or a pekingese dog for all I know, though to be fair if he proves to be a small dog I shall be asking serious questions – like – who put him in there? does anyone take him out for poos? does anyone make sure he doesn’t wee on the paperwork – it may sound unlikely, but my benjii frequently sits on a kitchen chair before I get home so I can admire how humanoid he’s becoming…

And – if the top dog of the University of Birmingham is reading this now and is thinking ‘what a delightful person this appears to be, I must contact him/her and invite h for a coffee: please don’t act yet. I need to find out what kind of animal you are first.

Anyhoo… I’ve written this in the hope that the students: Alix, Paul, Dave, Lucy, (I’m running out of remembered names guys, sorry), will get onto this blog and get commenting and opening conversations.. I’m so keen to shift this ‘blog’ from a ‘broadcast’ to a ‘conversation’ (albeit with me having the editor’s pen in my hand at all times and pushing out long monologues when the fancy takes me) –

And I ‘should’ write tons more ‘scintillating’ and ‘profound’ text to send you to sleep with…but I’m almost asleep already…so….

What kind of prize would tempt you to help me out? 🙂 ??

Love and Hugs,

Janie

%d bloggers like this: