M.C.C - Motorbikers Cosmetic Company

22/12/2025

(we will be live on Christmas morning though!)

19/12/2025

19/12/2025

Come join the live the perfect place to ask questions about everything MCC

17/12/2025

Hello everyone, it’s Bailey 🐾

I’ve been a very poorly boy lately — the sort of poorly where legs don’t work properly and food doesn’t seem like a good idea at all. So Mummy and Daddy keep taking me to the Dogtors, who gave me some jections (extremely rude) and tablets (also rude, but apparently helpful and it means I get patê). I’m still not right yet, but I am trying very hard.

Because I’ve been so wobbly, Mummy and Daddy have been carrying me everywhere and making sure I’m never on my own. Mummy has been sitting up all night with me, telling me I’m the best boy in the whole wide world — which I already knew, but it’s nice to hear.

Mummy keeps calling me “skinny tinny ribs”, and my Christmas jumper is now way too big. I think this means I’m allowed extra fuss and special treatment, which feels fair.

Today I’m resting in my little chariot by the fire, staying warm and letting my body have a proper rest. I’m still poorly, but my eyes are feeling a bit brighter, and I’m doing all the good boy things I can, one moment at a time.

Thank you for all the love you’ve been sending.
Love,
Bailey 🖤🐾

17/12/2025

Bailey is joining me for a caravan live!

15/12/2025

Happy Monday

13/12/2025

Winter gets such a bad reputation.

But standing here this evening, it felt like winter was doing me a quiet favour.

No heavy leaves.
No full hedges.
No green distraction.

Just bare branches, open skies, and a view that simply doesn’t exist in summer.

In warmer months this is all hidden — wrapped up, overgrown, busy with life doing what life does.
But winter strips things back and says, look again.

The bones of the land.
The shape of the sky.
The space between things.

There’s a kind of honesty to it.
Nothing pretending.
Nothing rushing.

I don’t think winter is empty at all.
I think it’s revealing.

Winter takes the leaves so the sky can be seen.
And some views only exist when things are stripped back.

Maybe that’s what winter is really for — not hibernation, but perspective.

13/12/2025

can’t believe it’s taken this long to notice the apples.

Not because they weren’t there — they clearly were — but because I wasn’t looking. Not properly.

I’ve noticed the elderberries, the rose hips, the hawthorn. They sit at eye level, bright and bold, demanding attention as you pass. Nature’s little exclamation marks, impossible to ignore. And I’ve admired them, pointed them out, photographed them.

But the apples were higher. Quieter. Waiting.

Today the sunlight caught them just right and suddenly the tree revealed itself — old branches, lichen-covered, dotted with fruit glowing like small, precious jewels against a clear winter sky. Out of reach, untouched, left exactly where they’re meant to be.

And it struck me how often that’s how life is.

We notice what sits right in front of us, what calls for our attention, what fits neatly into our line of sight. But the deeper, older things — the ones that take time, patience, and stillness — they wait until we slow down enough to really see them.

This tree isn’t here for harvesting or taking. It’s here for the birds, for the turning of the seasons, for balance. A quiet reminder that not everything in this place is ours to use — some things are simply ours to care for.

This land keeps teaching us that lesson, gently and without fuss.
Slow down. Look up. Pay attention.

And today, I finally did.

12/12/2025

Myth Busting Chronic Pain: “It’s Just in Your Head”?
Living with chronic pain, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard, “But you look fine!” or, “Maybe it’s just stress?”

Let’s be honest—these words can cut deep. They make us feel unseen, as if our daily battles are invisible or, worse, imagined. But if you’re reading this and nodding along, please know: your pain is real, and you are not alone.

For so many of us, chronic pain isn’t something that can be measured by a thermometer or spotted on an X-ray. It’s a constant companion—sometimes loud, sometimes quietly lurking in the background. It impacts our energy, our moods, our plans, and even our relationships.

The truth? Chronic pain is as real as any visible injury. It’s not “all in your head,” and it’s certainly not a sign of weakness or a lack of willpower. Science now understands that pain can be complex, involving nerves, muscles, and even the way our brains process signals. But that doesn’t make it imaginary—it just makes it misunderstood by those who haven’t lived it.

If you’ve ever felt dismissed or doubted, I see you. This community sees you. You deserve support and understanding, not skepticism or shame.

Let’s talk: Have you ever had your pain dismissed or misunderstood? How did it make you feel, and what would you want others to know about living with chronic pain?

You’re welcome to share your story in the comments, or just know that you’re among people who truly get it.

With warmth and understanding, Beki

12/12/2025

Caravan live today!

12/12/2025

This dropped in my inbox yesterday from my cousin, he found it unpacking a box as he has just moved and it stopped me in my tracks.

The boys were little then.
Christmas felt louder, faster — always in motion. Huge tins of Quality Street that were actually tins, shiny wrappers everywhere, and those massive toffee pennies that felt like they’d last forever.

Argos at this time of year was a battlefield, but the catalogue mattered. Pages turned, corners folded, careful circles around what they hoped Santa might bring. No online shopping, no next-day delivery — just hope, planning, and a biro.

There was no Elf on the Shelf.
No matching pyjamas.
No Christmas Eve boxes.

Just a glass of milk and a mince pie for Santa, and a carrot left out for Rudolf — because that will always be the heart of Christmas Eve magic.

The school concert had already been and gone. Proud smiles, wobbly, off key singing, that quiet lump in your throat while life carried on at full speed around you.

I was a single mum then and December was always hectic. Busy, exhausting, magical all at once. The days felt long… but the years passed in a blink.

The boys are in their thirties now. Married. With children of their own.
And here we are again — getting to relive those moments with our grandchildren, this time knowing just how fleeting they are.

That’s why grandparents make the time.
Because once you’ve lived it, you understand how quickly the special moments race by — and how they’re gone before you even realise.

The Haynes may still look like a building site this year, but next year it will be a place of slowing down. A place our adult children can come to breathe and for our grandchildren to quietly build the kind of core memories that only reveal their magic years later.

And that feels like exactly the right thing to be building.

10/12/2025

Not feeling great today so come and keep me company!