Look Through Any Window?

So, this is how it went . . .

Me. “Richard, could you look at this booking form that I’ve downloaded because to me it doesn’t make any kind of sense.”

Richard. “Where is it?”

I stayed calm.

“Here, on my laptop.”


Me. “All you have to do is scroll down – once.”

Him. “Do you mean scroll up?”

Me. “No . . . I mean scroll down.”

“Well, can you pass the laptop along the table?”

I slid said laptop along the table and watched as he peered at the screen . . . and peered at the screen. I propped my head up by the palm of my hand, elbow resting on the table and gave him time to evaluate. You see, to be perfectly honest, while Richard falls down in many areas, where ‘forms’ are concerned he is quite good. This is because I read the first line, fill it in and then halfway down realise I’ve done it wrong. HE reads the whole thing three times, digests it, and THEN fills it in. So I waited . . .

Eventually I glanced over. The screen had a weird navy blue box across it and Richard squeaked, “I can’t get rid of this.”

Me. “What is it? All you had to do was scroll down. What have you touched?”

Him. “Nothing.”

I swung the laptop my way and there is was . . . bloody Windows 10 downloading!

‘What the *uc* have you touched? (yes, I used the F word) you only had to scroll down?”

I grabbed the laptop and banged and crashed every button in sight, trying to stop it, whilst screaming (yes, screaming) “It’s asked me a million times to upgrade to this shit and I DON’T WANT IT!”

You see, I’ve seen and heard so many bad things about Windows 10 that I just didn’t want the hassle. I was happy with Windows 8 and even THAT had taken a bit of getting used to.

I couldn’t stop it. It was a runaway train crashing down the track. So I waited . . . for what seemed like a day but was, in fact, probably 45 minutes, for the frigging thing to download. I then proceeded, huffing and puffing and cussing and swearing, to follow the on-screen instructions to set the bloody thing up. Yes, I know that you can uninstall these things but I also understand that it is more often than not that ‘bits’ get left behind. I’m sure there’s a technical term for it but bits will have to do.

At this point Richard wasn’t speaking, in fact, the poor sod was hardly daring to breathe. I’m such a tyrant – obviously. But tell me . . . what idiot scrolls down (or up) and download’s a whole new system?

However – I have to admit to you, and not to Richard, obviously, that I’ve continued using the laptop (with Windows 10) and the bits that I’ve used are not much different so . . . I’ll keep it.

I think it’s a bit like stepping outside of your  ‘what’s familiar zone?’ I’ve done this recently in another area too. I’ve never been drawn to watching ‘blood and guts’ stuff, especially the kind where it is done for effect and has a crap storyline but I can now admit to having stepped away from the normal and having watched Breaking Bad, Dexter, and we are just coming to the end of the sixth Walking Dead season – and I loved them all. Not my genre? Not my thing? In fact they are, so I will adopt the same attitude and give Windows 10 a whack.  Probably literally? But we will see.MB900440679

Take care x

Not So Much A Lonely Little Petunia In An Onion Patch!

As many of you know, I am a creature of simple pleasures. My days, other than those of late (which sadly have been filled with semi blindness and constant migraines) are filled with poo-picking chickens, chatting to myself in the garden and writing – albeit, most days, mainly nonsense.

These simple things please, entertain, and basically keep me happy and grounded. However, I do have to admit that I have recently found these pleasures challenging. All of them . . .

Chea has decided to use the onion bed (beautifully raked and as fine as sand) for a giant litter tray. This doesn’t worry me too much as I don’t really eat onions. I grow them for Richard.

The first morning after planting I wandered out to find two onions dug up, four little saucer-shaped indents and a heap of soil. At least she had the good grace to cover it up. The second morning I wandered out to find three onions dug up, five little saucer-shaped indents and two heaps of soil. On both occasions I swore, threatened to send her back to the RSPCA and re planted the onions.

I took great delight in finding a lovely variety of runner bean in the week. I rushed them home and planted them up into larger pots immediately. Two nights later a frost settled over the garden, crept into the greenhouse and killed them stone dead. It also took out the tomato plants. I was not happy and even breathed warm breath on their little shrivelled leaves in the hope that I could resurrect them. No good. I think they are goners.

Again - aww!
Again – Aww!

And re the writing? Well, I haven’t done any. I’ve been waiting for the Bucket Head paperback to show up. There was a technical hitch –  and you all know how I am with technology, let alone hitches. It’s available in my shop.  http://readaloudstorybooks.com/books/ I mentioned last time that I was going to tell you how Bucket Head came about.

One Saturday, when the grandchildren were here we decided to make a scarecrow. It all went swimmingly well until we came to his head. We turned the potting shed upside down but we couldn’t find anything suitable . . .and then we found a bucket. So we used that. And Bucket Head the scarecrow was born.

The real Bucket Head
The real Bucket Head

He still stands in the garden now. He’s a tough little guy. The frost didn’t upset him one little bit. I DO mean Bucket Head still stands in the garden now and not my super-duper grandson Jake – just how cruel do you think I am?

Take care x

Happy To Announce . . .

Well, it’s taken a little while to get to this stage (announcing the new book) because basically I messed-up the ordering of the proof and was waiting . . . and waiting . . . and waiting for something that didn’t arrive and was never going to. Initially I blamed it on Easter – you know – being held up for the holidays.

I won’t bore you with the details but if you know me, and many of you do now, you will know that messing-up an order is pretty normal for me. And why shouldn’t it be I cry in my own defence. A few years ago I was a total ‘newbie’ cautiously dipping my big toe in waters new. I’d just about worked my way around Word and how to ‘double space’ and ‘find and replace’ and then I had to apply myself to ‘uploads’ and ‘downloads’ and Twitter and Facebook and losing whole posts and blogs into the ether. The road has been long and the journey fraught but . . . I am still here, on the other side. Admittedly it has driven me to sitting in a darkened room, counting flies and/or taking long walks out into the garden to ‘calm down’ before I threw the laptop and anything else within reach through the window but hey-ho that’s internet/self-publishing life!

I now have a lovely lady in my life – Gaile Griffin Peers. Gaile is a publisher and many other things. Our journey has, at times, been fraught, mainly because I’m an ‘if it can’t be done yesterday, today will have to do’ kinda gal and Gaile has a publishing business to run and cannot always do everything yesterday. When I say I have a lovely lady in my life I mean that Gaile helps me with all things formatting (obviously I can’t do that crap) and spends hours forwarding helpful links and answering my endless questions on chat. I have not replaced Richard – though the thought does sometimes sneak across my mind. Yesterday I shouted him, ‘Richard! Can you turn the vacuum off?’ No answer. ‘Richard! Can you turn the vacuum off?’ No answer. ‘RICHARD!’

‘What?’ he shouted back.

‘Did you hear me,’ I also shouted back.

‘No, not until the third time.’

‘So how did you know I’d shouted you three times if you didn’t hear me?’

This is what I have to put up with.

Anyway I have digressed massively. What I meant to say is . . . my new children’s book, “Bucket Head,” is now trickling into outlets everywhere. It isn’t on Amazon yet because I also messed that up, but it will be shortly.

It’s here at   http://readaloudstorybooks.com/books/

I’d love for you to take a quick look.  I’m a tad nervous about this one because it’s the first time I’ve attempted my own illustrations. It was something that I enjoyed immensely, which surprised me somewhat, and if my retinal migraine allows it I’d like to ‘do’ a second Bucket Head book, but as I said before, baby steps and all things in moderation, which, frankly, means that I should bugger off now and stop peering at this screen . . . so I will, and next time I’ll tell you how Bucket Head came to be.

Take care x


Hopefully I’m Back?

Well, it’s been a while. In fact, a long, long while.

I haven’t blogged/posted/or pretty much anything else since middle January.

For those of you who read this blog, or vaguely keep up with my antics, you will know that back in January I was over taken, or taken over, by serious sessions of vision loss and migraines. These resulted in medication and arguments with the entire medical profession, which, in turn, resulted with me being whisked into A and E, where we spent 13 hours one Saturday morning in February.

Richard was his usual helpful self. After being instructed to call an ambulance immediately after I almost nosed-dived onto the kitchen floor, he said, ‘Do you really want an ambulance pulling up at the front of the house?’

I couldn’t follow his reasoning, but then what’s new. Not being able to stand, or see clearly, I didn’t argue against this comment. See? That’s how ill I was! ‘I’d much rather take you in the car,’ he said. So he did.

I had bloods taken – normal. I had a brain scan – normal. I know, bloody amazing hey? We left around 11.00 pm that night. They gave me a choice of staying in overnight or coming back the following day to see a neurologist. I went home.

Mustering up a fair degree of excitement we toddled back to A and E the following morning to see the neurologist. Great. Now something would be done. Wrong.

I was grilled by a first year doctor. She then scuttled off to report back to the registrar. He then scuttled off to report back to the neurologist. God was not prepared to speak face to face to a mere mortal. Probably scared to leave his throne?

Well, my dears, I might have been half-blind, with a pain to my eye socket like someone had plunged a knife into it, but I wasn’t having that. If I could turn up so could he. Without the likes of me he wouldn’t even have a job!

I’ll cut to the chase. He DID turn up (with a hugely grumpy expression on his face, clutching his stethoscope like a comfort blanket) and said something along the lines of, ‘I’m sure you have migraine, I don’t need to examine you, but I will.’

I said something along the lines of, ‘Well don’t bother then!’

He said, ‘I have to now that I’m here.’

Perish the thought that he should earn his keep. Perhaps I’m being hard but bear in mind I was very ill and we had spent almost 20 hours in A and E over the two days. Where, by the way, it transpired that we both picked up a dreadful virus that flattened us both for a fortnight!

Grumpy’s decision? Migraine. Normal migraine and retinal migraine. Lucky me –  two for the price of one. It’s the retinal migraine that causes me to lose my vision in my right eye up to four times a day – 5 days out of 7.

This continued (for 10 weeks) until recently. I have JUST managed 21 days without visual disturbance. I know it hasn’t miraculously gone away and I am sure it will return, but 21 days is terrific . . . truly.

I couldn’t look at the PC or the TV. Or go from one room into the other where light patterns changed. I still can’t cope with the sun without shades, or drive the car, or watch too much TV, or scroll on the PC. My eyes can’t keep up with the movement.

So, I’m being good, reminding myself constantly that small measures and short moments doing these things that I love will have to do – for now. I’m still half brain-dead from the medication but this is one of the crosses that I have to bear.

I’m going to end now because, believe it or not, I shy away from  posts/blogs etc. where they bleat on about pain in the big toe and boils on the bum but I merely wanted to put in an appearance and let you know that, hopefully, I’m back.

I do have a couple of things to tell you next time but for now it’s enough . . . for both of us!

Take care xMP900446574

OK, So I Was A Tad Rude . . .Whatever!


Yesterday I sank to an all-time low – even for me. I’d like to state my case here and have you all say that my actions were well justified but I doubt that you will.

I have been suffering from migraine and visual disturbances since last Friday. Migraine is nothing new to me – I have suffered with it for a large part of my life, but the pattern with this latest attack was different. It hung on . . .  and hung on, one hour lessening . . . the next returning. Intermittently my right eye lost clarity, with flashing silver and black triangles, dancing like manic witches, on the periphery. This has happened 7 times, the seventh time being yesterday morning when I attempted to go to Morrison’s to buy cat food for Chea. Between the ‘chicken with gravy’ and the ‘chicken with jelly,’ my right eye vision started its familiar flashing.

Now, I have my own theory on the cause of all these migraines but no bugger will take me seriously. I truly believe that they are triggered by my 3 degenerative neck discs that have very little of that ‘spongy’ bit separating them now and are aggravating this condition.

So, I decided to call in at the doctors on my way home – that is if I could find my way home with only perfect vision in one eye – and explain this to the doctor and ask to be referred for another neck scan etc. I mean, less face it, no better time than when I’m in the throes of pain and semi blindness, hey?

The receptionist announced that there were no more appointments for that day and if I wanted to see my doctor of choice (brilliant, caring, and wonderful all round, by the way) I could come back next year. Yes, that is a slight exaggeration, but only slight. Had I been able to see the stupid woman I might have been tempted to stick her Biro up her prominent snout, but I was feeling less than confrontational, all things considered.

I felt my way home having settled for a phone call from the doctor – basically to see if I was worthy of being squeezed into his precious day.

After tending the chucks and cleaning the loo, with my mobile strapped to my person so that I didn’t miss the call, I waited . . . and waited.

Eventually the call arrived. It was a nurse. Now, I have nothing against nurses, not at all but . . .

She questioned me, listened, tapped away on the PC (I could hear it distinctly and it hurt my head) and then said, ‘Can you come down now?’

Well, yeah. I could have ‘come down’ two hours ago . . . in fact wasn’t I already there two hours ago, or had I imagined it?

Long story short now. Saw the doctor I had sworn I would never see (by choice) ever again and he insisted it was migraine – nothing to do with my neck – didn’t matter that the ‘pattern’ was totally different – no he couldn’t ‘do’ a referral, not unless ‘he’ thought there was a problem with my neck – no my neck would not cause this.

He struggled to realise that I’ve tried every medication on this planet over the years and nothing works. Medication makes me worse. I’m sensitive. Side affects almost kill me. However, he decided in his infinite wisdom that I should try a different ‘variation’ of a drug previously taken and printed off a prescription. He said, ‘Take one of these – see if they work.’

‘And if they don’t?’ I said.

‘Come back because it isn’t migraine.’


For the first time in my life I was rude, snatching up the damn thing and stropping off to the door.

‘Well, bye then,’ he said.

I didn’t answer.

As you can see this is very unlike me. Usually I’m charming, cheerful and hugely polite. I blame it on my brain. But there was more to come.

I walked into the pharmacy next door and the lovely assistant, who always seems to remember my name, said, ‘Hello, are you alright?’

She really should not have asked.

‘NO!’ I said, snatching her pen and filling in my name on the back of the prescription. ‘That lot are useless.’ I nodded in the direction of the surgery, next door. And then I said it . . . ‘Fucking useless!’

She didn’t look too distressed . . . or surprised and said, ‘Yes, we do hear that from time to time.’

‘Bastard!’ I said. ‘Useless bastards.’

We chatted for a bit and then I released her and took a seat . . . for 20 seconds. The other assistant called my name and I navigated my way to the counter. She fluttered the prescription in her hand and said, ‘Sorry, we don’t have these. We can get them for tomorrow?’

My first assistant screeched, ‘Oh, God, no, don’t tell her that!’

I simply held up my palms to the heavens and said calmly and with a bit of a snort, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll just drop down dead and save everyone any further trouble.’ I can do drama when required.

She looked worried . . . but then I laughed – well, snorted really. My vision had returned, some of my good humour – though I did hurl out mumbled curses into the ether as I walked back to the car, determined to fondle my voodoo doll on my return and twist a leg or two. Maybe even bang its head against the wall?  My imagination had no limit.

Someone once asked me if ‘they’ were in my novel. I replied, ‘Why would you be? I only write about interesting characters.’ In fact, I have never fashioned a fictional character on a real character but this may change.

I may include this ‘doctor’ in my next novel. He will be the character that dies a slow and painful death after having his ‘bits’ stung by a thousand bees. There will be a life-saving prescription on hand but, sadly, the pharmacy will have to order it in. Alas too late to save him. Oh, and perhaps a slight sting to his right eye?

Hell hath no fury like a migraine victim scorned . . . trust me on this one.

I’m off. Shouldn’t be looking at this bright screen!

And besides, I have to pick up the prescription that I won’t be taking.

Take care my lovelies x

PS A huge welcome to new blog followers! Thank you x




Doing Something Very Naughty?


I’m doing something very naughty right now.

I’m looking for two more chucks to add to my existing flock of two.

Little has decided never to lay another egg again and Flight, easily led, and frankly a bit feather-brained, has come out in sympathy and decided much the same thing.

We have been void of eggs for some months. First they moulted, then Little had the trots, and now she is casting off feathers fasting than poo off a shovel. And, as I say, they have decided that they are now pretty pets and not prepared to push another egg from their little feathered bums.

Not to worry. I can happily live with that. However, I am using it as an excuse to pop out and bring in a couple more. You see, I love the things. I think they are beautiful AND they give me good reason to get off my backside and go into the garden with them while they have a session free-ranging and murdering small critters.

I’d never wrap up against the storms and cold and venture out if it wasn’t for them. Because of them my garden is tidy and shipshape beyond words because each day, when I am out there with them, I find something to do for an hour or two – even in the winter months.

And I hardly need to mention the pleasure of summertime chuck watching. Scratching around under the blackcurrant bushes, releasing the wonderful smell of sunshine-warmed fruits. Rolling upside down in the dry, dusty areas beneath the shrubs. Chasing Chea through the undergrowth. (I’m talking about the chucks, by the way, not me) I gave up chasing Chea through the undergrowth some time ago.

They have their pecking order, I guess, but they are such good friends, and as close as paint on a wall, that I really don’t know who the top chuck is. Little swings between thinking she is Flight’s mother and/or lover. She clucks and goes mental when she spies a treat and brings Flight running to scoff it. She’s a strange creature – but then aren’t we all in our own barmy ways? I fear she is changing gender and will start to crow any day now.

If I go ahead and introduce two more chucks I will have to keep them separate from Little and Flight for a while but that won’t be too difficult. They have a large summer-house and it’s already divided down the centre with a large pop hole in the middle, so it would just be a matter of temporarily netting the hole. That way they could see each other and issue threats and warnings but never be in the position to carry them out. And the radio could still be heard from both sides . . . I kid you not. Well, it gets boring for them when it’s raining and they don’t want to come out. A bit of Radio 2 and Ken Bruce in the morning cheers them up no end. Although, I do have to admit that only the chucks on the left hand side of the divide would see the clock. Those on the right wouldn’t have a clue what time it was!

I’ll think about it a tad more.

12200518_10153638931713808_774235460_nTake care my lovelies x


A Tough Old Bird For Christmas Lunch?



I’d like to wish all readers of this blog a Merry Christmas.

And not only that.

I’d also like to wish you peace, health, and the company – or precious memories – of loved ones.

We will be having a gentle and quiet Christmas Day. There won’t be mass excitement and the sound of ripping wrapping as dozens of gifts are exposed. As usual we can’t think of a thing to buy each other – though Richard did sneak in with red roses and a Christmas card for me last night. Sweet, but I think he was trying to regain lost ground from the weekend when we had a blazing row about precious nothing.

Many of our ‘rows’ take place in the car, usually on the way to the supermarket. Normally, he doesn’t have to suffer food shopping but since that pile of crap that sits on the drive, spewing oil everywhere, has given up the ghost, I have no car until he comes home from work.

At least we kept the argument festive, bawling at each other over the sounds of We Wish You a Merry Christmas and Silent Night Holy Night playing on the radio. But, I digress.

We will have Richard’s mother, Betty, for Christmas lunch – not literally, obviously, she’s far too tough for that and besides, I’m a vegetarian.

Richard will take her home late afternoon and I’ll have the chucks out for a bit and give them their Christmas treat – access to the vegetable plot so that they can murder a few bugs and things and Chea will join me, no doubt. Flight (grey chuck) has decided that she is in no way afraid of Chea and now attempts to spear her with her beak at every possible occasion. Have you ever smacked a chicken for being bossy?

After this we will watch TV and eat stuff and I’ll try to stay awake long enough to watch Downton Abbey in the evening.

If I make this sound sad, or boring, or nothing special then forgive me. Of course it’s special. It just isn’t going to be rip-roaring. I’m not going to look round and see Mum basting the turkey, or Dad throwing another log on the fire. I won’t see my son, excited and giggling, opening his presents. Mum and Dad are Christmassing with the angels and Matt will be with his own children watching them opening their presents.

All things pass.

I know this – now.

I just wish I’d been more aware of it at the time.

But we aren’t, are we? We think these things will go on for ever. They don’t.

Sod it . . . I’m drifting into morbidity here and I truly don’t mean to. In fact . . .

Our rip-roaring Christmas Day will be delayed by one day until Boxing Day when Matt will bring the kiddies over and the walls of the house will shake and vibrate with the sounds of excited grandchildren opening their gifts.

Chea will flee for the quiet sanctuary of garden and not return until they have left. They hurt her eardrums.

They will leave after lunch. Chea will return. Richard will vac the house and fill the bins with discarded wrapping paper and then we will er . . . settle in front of the TV, eat stuff and possibly find some small thing to argue about. We really like to keep things normal – even at Christmas. Actually, thinking about it, Richard will be zonked-out after the grandchildren so it may well be a silent night?

And for those of you who think I’m horrid to him I’ll just say that I am secretly negotiating for a Land Rover expert to pop round and put the pile of crap back together for him at great expense. He, Richard, has done his normal trick and given up – though he swears he hasn’t and ‘will have another go at it when the weather is drier,’ so I figure that would be a nice Christmas present. It’s the only thing he needs, and let’s face it, the sooner the heap is back on the road the sooner I can have the car back and the sooner I can shop alone, and that will reduce the arguments to the house only? So a win win situation?

Right, I’m off to do something.santa

Take care, stay safe, and a Merry Christmas my friends. xxx

Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot . . . Should it?


I’m not a great one for looking back or for making resolutions come January 1st. I suppose a big part of the ‘no resolutions’ thing is due to the fact that now, at the age I am at, I have just about sorted out the shape and weight of my own skin and I’m happy to say that I am comfortable in it.

I’m not saying that I’m perfect . . . although?

No, of course I’m not perfect. I’m a nightmare.

I rant and rave. I’m hugely opinionated. I ride Richard way too hard most of the time. I fail to have long-term friendships because I expect too much of people. I never forget and rarely forgive a hurt.  I have principles and standards that are way too high for the average human being to accept. I expect trust and honesty.

These things, and more, stain my character.

But, this is my character and no matter what, it isn’t going to change now.

In my defence I could say that although I ride family and friends almost into the ground I will defend them to the end. I may exhaust them but I will never let anyone else do the same. I would kill and take a bullet for my son and grandchildren. I may have to consider the situation regarding Richard?

I’m joking.

So, no, I’m not a great one for looking back –  and the forward bit will come of its own accord –  God willing –  but these next few months will bring changes. Of this I am pretty sure.

Come the new year Richard will be redundant and out of a job. I don’t know where this will lead. In the past he has always said that we couldn’t leave this area because the job was ‘just up the road’ and it paid well. With the job gone we no longer have that restriction. I only returned to this town, twenty-four years ago, to be near to my ageing parents, should they need me, but they are both now long gone and resting with the angels. We could now find that little two-up two-down cottage and paddock in the country. OK, so it would have to be in deepest rural Scotland or Wales but it is a possibility.

And come the new year I have to find the answer to a very big question – do I want to continue writing?

The urge I guess will always be there, and of late I have dabbled with illustrations for my next children’s book, but it is so hard trying to promote and sell books – especially for someone like me who is utterly hopeless at selling herself.  I enjoy the time spent on social media – mostly – but when I try to justify the hours and energy spent in attempting to sell my books I truly have to ask myself – is it worth it? Is too much life passing me by?

I am in the fortunate position of being able to do pretty much as I like with my days so it isn’t that ‘promoting’ is taking me away from other things  – but just the same, it does come as pretty soul-destroying when hours and hours of time and effort produce little or nothing. I know, for a fact, that I am not alone with this ‘feeling.’ I know of other authors who swear they will never type another word and question is it worth it. Perhaps it all comes down to – do we write because we have to –  or do we write because we want to sell books and entertain readers with our imaginings?

I have ‘met’ some lovely people, helpful and encouraging to a fault, but I have also met some pricks. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to type that word because I’m trying to be serious here but it’s true.

These, then, are my next two big ‘unknowns.’

The unknown should probably frighten me but it doesn’t.

My base is strong. The towers may crack. They may even fall. My castle may be nothing more than dust on the ground? But the base will still be there and if you have a base you have the ability to rebuild, change things around a little.

There may well be things that I cannot change and rearranging as the years flash past but for now I will sit-a-spell and think.

Whoa! How serious was this?240_F_82362366_08xDmEeULu0A5RAodKLKnlmgCuPmanuQ

See, I can be serious.

All for now.

Take care my lovelies x


It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas . . .Really?


Believe it or believe it not – the Christmas cards went into the post yesterday! I know, weird hey? And especially more so from my point of view. I’ve surprised even myself with such pre-Christmas efficiency.

Christmas presents bought, wrapped and hidden away.

Cards scrawled on, sealed and posted. Although, to be honest, I did have a major meltdown over the Christmas cards. You see, I know for a fact that I bought the ‘special’ cards some time ago. You know, the ones for brothers, grandchildren, son etc. and I stored them somewhere safe. So sodding safe that despite turning every drawer and cupboard inside out they remained safe – and hidden/lost. So, I did what anyone would do in this situation – swear and then go out and buy some more. Then, having bought the ‘special’ cards again, I wrote the wrong thing in Jake’s card and had to rip it up. Now I need to buy him another.

Even the house is trimmed.

What next? Santa Claus driving his reindeer across the sky, narrowly avoiding the neighbour’s horrendously high conifers? OK, so now I’m being silly. Rudolph wouldn’t guide the sleigh anywhere near to trees – he’s an expert leader-of-the-reindeer team when all is said and done.

What am I talking about?

OK, I’m going to go all ‘bookish’ on you now. Well, I never do – do I? I told you last time – or the time before – that the man of the house is being made redundant in the New Year? Well, it’s been moved forward to New Year’s Eve now so I figure that it’s time I put my ‘shyness’ and stupidity behind me and attempted to sell some books.

Actually, I have done 3 little craft fairs in the last few weeks. I used to do these before – but not with books – no, I used to make those little imitation baskets of fruits and vegetables, when they were all the rage, so I am well used to craft fairs. This is not always the terminology I used, depending on the footfall and the willingness to buy by the attendees. Often they were termed as Crap Fairs and an accompanying bottle of sherry was required to get through the day.  But I digress.

I did three craft fairs with my books and it was OK. Possibly attempting to sell books in a library was a bit off the scale? Coals to Newcastle and all that. But whatever . . .

So, this is it . . . I have recently had a lovely review for Witch Ever Way You Look At It from Lisl Zlitni at https://beforethesecondsleep.wordpress.com/2015/12/04/book-review-witch-ever-way-you-look-at-it/ and, because I like the book, well, we like some more than others, don’t we, I am putting it on promo’ this Thursday through to Sunday. It will be available for 99p to download. I’m also offering a signed paperback copy of the book, see below.

If I can squeeze in another promo’ before Christmas I will offer my children’s book, Prince Regal and the Forgotten Friends, for the same download price, 99p. However, you may also buy a signed copy of this, and if you get your skates on I’ll be sure to post it in time for Christmas. So . . .

If you have a PayPal account and would like a signed/unsigned copy of either book please email me;  jenngor@hotmail.co.uk and I’ll pop one in the post – as long as I haven’t lost all copies in the house somewhere.

Witch Ever £8.99 (includes pp to mainland UK)

Prince Regal £6.50 (includes pp to mainland UK)

(Non mainland posting please enquire)

That’s it – my attempts at being bookish. Did I succeed – or do you have to be a toothless parrot to do that?

I know, I’m acting very weird today, aren’t I? Even my left eye has started twitching!

Better go

joint picture

Take care my lovelies x




Book Review: Witch Ever Way You Look At It

before the second sleep

Witch Ever Way You Look At It

By Jennie Orbell

Sometimes books appear in your midst as if by magic. Or, maybe not magic, though there do seem to be other forces whispering into your ear even when you’d decided you were just window shopping.

witchIn my case recently the voices within had been beckoning to me, because once I’d seen it initially, I never really could forget about it. Aye, I admit it, the cover was the first draw, but why not? It’s a great visual: it’s fun, and sassy and well done. And, of course, the play on words gives a little more insight into the plot.

Ah, no wonder the magic.

Witch Ever Way You Look At It centers on Annie and Lizzie, best friends who are there for each other through thick and thin. One year earlier Lizzie had lost her husband, the love of…

View original post 1,288 more words