The gardens really started to bloom with all this rain, here’s a few snaps of the action from the garden over the last seven days.
Narnia in Bloom
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Author Archives: Bob W Christian
The Company We Keep
Who do you spend the most time with?
I’ve noticed that the older I get, the smaller my circle becomes.
During the working day, I spend most of my time with two other people. We’re a close-knit team and, after enough hours together, you end up knowing each other’s habits, quirks, and coffee requirements better than you probably should.
Outside of work, it’s mostly Mrs Bob and our cat Tiddles (which, for legal reasons and feline dignity, is not actually her name).
Truthfully, I’m not a particularly social creature.
I don’t go out much unless it’s lodge night, Saturday coffee morning, or I’ve wandered off somewhere with a camera looking for birds that refuse to sit still long enough to be photographed.
And I’m perfectly content with that.
So, who do I spend the most time with?
The people who matter.
Because if I’m choosing to spend lots of time with you when nobody is paying either of us to be there, then you’re probably someone rather special to me.
And these days, that feels like time well spent.
Stay safe,
Bc.
How I Became Bob W Christian
If you had to change your name, what would your new name be?
This is actually a very easy question for me to answer.
In fact, you’re looking at it.
Well, sort of.
You see, I unofficially changed my name years ago when I started writing under a pen name. What began as a practical decision slowly became the name most people know me by.
The full version is Robert Walter Christian, although most people know me professionally as Bob W Christian. I’ve been using that name for the best part of twenty years now, so it feels just as natural as any name possibly could.
Now, before anyone starts digging through birth records and old school registers, no, it isn’t my real name.
That remains a closely guarded secret. Not because it’s particularly exciting, but because when I first started sharing my scribbles, much of what I wrote was deeply personal.
Using a pen name allowed me to create a little distance between the writer and the man behind the curtain.
It gave me the freedom to write honestly.
As for where the name came from, that’s the easy part.
Walter Christian was a man I loved dearly and admired greatly. The kind of man who leaves footprints on your life long after he’s gone. Choosing to carry part of his name felt right.
The “Bob” part is far less dramatic.
I’ve always thought Bob is one of those wonderfully ordinary names. No grand expectations. No airs and graces. Just Bob. A simple, everyday sort of name for a simple, everyday sort of bloke.
So, if I had to change my name, I suppose the answer is that I already have.
Not officially.
Not on any important paperwork.
But in the world of poetry, photography, and the occasional ramblings on the internet, Bob W Christian has been me for a very long time.
And honestly, I think I’ll stick with him.
Stay safe
Bc
Frozen Chocolate and Other Questionable Life Choices
Describe your dream chocolate bar.
My dream chocolate bar already exists.
In fact, it exists twice.
One is chilli chocolate. The other is sea salt chocolate. Both are handmade by the Benedictine monks at the local abbey, and both are absolutely delicious. If you’ve never tried proper handmade chocolate, you’re missing out.
But let’s pretend they don’t exist and we’re all auditioning for a role in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
In that case, I’d invent a liquorice-infused chocolate bar that’s permanently frozen at room temperature.
I know.
It’s a bit odd.
Then again, anyone who knows me will tell you that “a bit odd” is pretty much my default setting.
You see, I like my chocolate frozen. Not just chocolate bars either. Creme Eggs, pretty much anything chocolate-based tastes better after a stint in the freezer. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll happily eat it at room temperature, but chilled chocolate just hits differently.
Maybe it’s the texture. Maybe it’s the extra crunch. Maybe I’m simply strange.
Actually, scratch that last one. We already know I’m strange.
So yes, if Willy Wonka ever phones and asks for ideas, frozen liquorice chocolate is what I’m bringing to the table.
The world may not be ready for it.
But I certainly am.
Stay safe,
Bc
How to Build a Coffin Out of Silence
They keep saying “Man Up”
Like silence is some kind of sacrament.
Like swallowing your grief whole
Is how you earn your stripes.
But I’ve seen what that silence does.
I’ve seen it wrap around a neck,
Like a necktie turned noose.
I’ve seen boys hide their hearts, and call it manhood.
“Boys don’t cry.”
Nah. They just punch walls.
Break their own knuckles.
Drink, hoping for a solution
Until it’s someone else’s problem.
Until it’s their funeral.
And we call that strength?
Eighty percent. That’s not a number.
That’s a mass grave. A choir of voices
That were only echoes.
Just statistics.
Just “He was such a good guy.
He was always laughing…
Even after the desert stopped being a location
And started being an emotional state.”
We’re told to be tough,
But we’re never taught to be whole.
Told to carry the weight,
Yet we’re never told how to put it down.
They call it manhood. I call it emotional malpractice.
And I’m done treating tenderness like a threat.
Done pretending that depression wears a hoodie.
And not a three-piece suit or a uniform.
Because mental health is not a solo act.
It’s a group text at 2am…
It’s “You good?”
It’s “Nah, but thanks for asking.”
It’s therapy without shame.
It’s community without competition.
It’s crying in the open, but not being called broken.
So yeah… Man down is not a defeat.
It’s a signal flare.
A Mayday call.
A prayer we are finally brave enough to say out loud.
And if you’ve made it this far; your heart is still beating
Under all that armour (real or remembered),
And this is your permission…
To rest. To rage. To reach.
This is your poem. This is your mirror.
This is your reason to stay.
Because feeling isn’t failing.
It’s fighting back.
The Most Dangerous Words Men Still Hear.
I’ve been thinking about two words recently.
Two tiny words.
Two words that have probably done more damage to men than we would ever care to admit.
Man up.
Simple, right?
Harmless, even.
Just a phrase.
Except it isn’t.
It’s a command.
An order.
A warning.
A lesson many of us were taught long before we were old enough to understand what it meant.
You fell over and hurt yourself?
Man up.
Heart broken?
Man up.
Scared?
Man up.
Depressed?
Man up.
Anxious?
Man up.
Struggling to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders?
You guessed it.
Man up.
Somewhere along the way, many of us learned that being a man meant being silent.
We learned that tears were weakness.
That vulnerability was dangerous.
That asking for help was somehow failure.
So we became experts at hiding.
We hid behind humour.
Behind work.
Behind alcohol.
Behind anger.
Behind “I’m fine.”
Especially behind “I’m fine.”
Because that’s the magic trick, isn’t it?
The greatest performance most men ever give.
Standing there with a smile on their face while their world burns quietly behind their eyes.
The trouble is, pain doesn’t disappear just because you refuse to acknowledge it.
It doesn’t pack its bags and leave.
It moves in.
Unpacks.
Makes itself comfortable.
What starts as sadness becomes exhaustion.
Exhaustion becomes frustration.
Frustration becomes anger.
Anger becomes isolation.
And isolation becomes a place far darker than most people realise.
I’ve known men who could rebuild engines.
Men who could run businesses.
Men who could walk into burning buildings.
Men who would give the shirt off their back to help a stranger.
Yet those same men couldn’t say three simple words.
“I need help.”
Not because they were weak.
Because they’d spent decades being taught that strength meant suffering in silence.
What a cruel lie that is.
Real strength isn’t pretending you’re invincible.
Real strength isn’t bottling everything up until the pressure becomes unbearable.
Real strength is honesty.
It’s having the courage to say:
“I’m struggling.”
“I’m tired.”
“I’m not okay.”
And perhaps most importantly:
“I can’t do this alone.”
The strongest men I’ve ever met weren’t fearless.
They weren’t emotionless.
They weren’t made of stone.
They were human.
Beautifully, imperfectly human.
They cried when life hurt.
They talked when things became too heavy.
They reached out when they needed support.
And because of that, they survived storms that silence would never have allowed them to survive.
The reality is that men’s mental health isn’t a men’s issue.
It’s everyone’s issue.
Every husband.
Every father.
Every brother.
Every son.
Every friend sitting quietly at the end of the table laughing at the jokes while fighting battles nobody can see.
We lose far too many good men because they believed they had to carry everything alone.
Because they believed asking for help made them less of a man.
Because somebody, somewhere, taught them that “man up” was the answer.
Maybe it’s time we retired the phrase.
Maybe instead of telling men to man up, we should tell them to speak up.
To open up.
To reach out.
To show up exactly as they are.
Not as society expects them to be.
Not as some impossible version of masculinity demands.
Just as themselves.
Because there is nothing brave about suffering in silence.
And there is nothing weak about asking for help.
If you’re reading this and things feel heavy right now, I want you to know something.
You don’t have to carry it all today.
You don’t have to win every battle before breakfast.
You don’t have to have all the answers.
And you certainly don’t have to pretend.
Talk to someone.
A friend.
A partner.
A family member.
A professional.
Anyone.
Just don’t sit alone in the darkness convincing yourself that silence is strength.
It isn’t.
Never was.
The bravest thing some men will ever do is speak.
And maybe that’s what being a man should have meant all along.
Stay safe.
BC
One Book to Start Them all
List three books that have had an impact on you. Why?
Books have always been more than entertainment for me. The right book arrives at the right time and leaves a mark that lasts far beyond the final page. Looking back, there are three that fundamentally changed the way I see the world and myself.
So in no particular order, here we go.
The first is The Lord of the Rings. My mother shared these stories with me when I was very young, and they’ve been part of my life ever since. What began as a childhood love of adventure grew into a lifelong fascination with Tolkien’s world. Over the years I’ve even learned a little Sindarin, the language of the Elves, and collected several Tolkien-inspired tattoos, including Tolkien’s monogram. The stories taught me about courage, friendship, sacrifice, and the quiet strength found in ordinary people.
The second is String Theory for Dummies.While scrolling through Twitter, I spotted a stranger holding a copy of String Theory for Dummies and left a comment. That simple exchange sparked a conversation that never really ended. The stranger became Mrs Bob, my best friend, my partner, and the love of my life. Looking back, it’s incredible that a book about understanding the universe ended up changing mine completely. String Theory for Dummies didn’t just expand my mind—it led me to the woman who made my life better in every possible way.
The third is Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner by Scott Cunningham. A girl I was dating gave me a copy, and at the time I had no idea how influential that gift would become. The book sparked a journey of self-discovery that led me to explore spirituality, personal practice, and different ways of understanding the world. That path eventually evolved into a blend of witchcraft and Buddhist philosophy that continues to inform my life today.
Each of these books entered my life during a different chapter, but all three helped shape the person I became. They’re reminders that sometimes a book isn’t just something you read—it’s something that changes the direction of your story.
Stay safe
Bc
One Submission at a Time
What fears have you overcome and how?
For a long time, the biggest obstacle I faced wasn’t a lack of ability—it was believing I belonged. Like many writers, I wrestled with imposter syndrome and the fear of rejection, convinced my scribbles weren’t quite good enough to share.
Thankfully, Mrs Bob saw something in them that I couldn’t see in myself and encouraged me to start submitting my work.
Slowly, publication by publication, award by award, that little voice of doubt has begun to lose its grip.
It still whispers from time to time, but these days I’ve learned to answer it with evidence.
Sometimes overcoming fear isn’t about becoming fearless; it’s about having the courage to take the next step anyway.
Stay safe,
Bc.
Heroic Teamwork
Describe one simple thing you do that brings joy to your life.
There’s something quietly brilliant about sitting beside Mrs Bob, controller in hand, trying to save Gotham on Lego Batman. Now, I’ll be honest… gaming skill isn’t exactly her superpower.
Precision jumps become accidental swan dives, and half the time she’s merrily smashing the scenery while I’m attempting the mission. But what she lacks in gaming ability, she more than makes up for in heart.
The laughter, the teamwork, and those little moments where neither of us really cares if we win or lose — that’s the joy.
Sometimes happiness isn’t found in doing something perfectly. Sometimes it’s just found on the sofa, saving Gotham with the person you love.
Stay safe,
Bc
Do not Disturb
How do you know when it’s time to unplug? What do you do to make it happen?
Truth be told, I’m not always very good at knowing when it’s time to unplug from the matrix. Being autistic, I can get so focused on what I’m doing that I don’t always notice the signs until my batteries are already running low. By the time I realise I need a break, I’m usually feeling drained, overwhelmed, or struggling to process the constant noise that modern life seems determined to throw at us.
When that happens, I keep things simple. I’ll put my phone in another room, switch it to Do Not Disturb, or if I really need some peace and quiet, I’ll turn it off completely. It’s the same thing I do at night when I need to sleep. There’s something reassuring about that silence, knowing that for a little while the messages, notifications, and endless demands can wait.
The world will still be there when I switch it back on. Sometimes, giving yourself permission to step away is exactly what you need to recharge and find a little calm again.
Stay safe,
BC
The Ramblings of Bob Christian 