I’ve Stopped The Obsession!

Hi All

Standing at the checkout in Morrison’s this morning, I came to a decision. Bear in mind it was pretty deserted. They open at 7 am and I wasn’t much later than that. For once I decided not to drift down the biscuit/crisps/cake/anything bad aisle, and so I wasn’t in there for long. Back to the decision at the checkout… I decided to cut back on watching and re watching Sherlock… and here’s why.

In front of me was a little man. When I say a little man I mean that he was short and fat. His hair was tidy though and his clothes were clean. He wore flat, plimsoll type shoes and he needed the cashier to pack his groceries. Unbeknown to me I was staring at him and doing a ‘Sherlock.’ “Lives alone…wife dead…no one to talk to…needs to hold a long conversation with the cashier…stays tidy though. Huge stomach…eats crap and Morrison’s buy-one-get-two-free doughnuts…flat shoes…slightly creased at the back where a shoe-horn is used…shoe-horn used because of huge stomach and inability to bend over…” (If you have never watched Sherlock this will mean nothing to you and you have probably already tuned out!)

As the dear soul toddled off and the cashier turned to me with a, ‘Good morning,’ I jolted from my deductions and realised that I hadn’t loaded the conveyor belt thingy. I just hope someone wasn’t standing in the shadows of the cat food aisle deducing me.

So, I’m stopping all of this now before someone really does think that I’m a freak…or a stalker. Not sure what my next obsession will be, but I’m sure I’ll think of something.

Actually, it won’t be long before I’m turning my thoughts and energy towards the garden. It had a bit of a makeover towards the end of last year. I removed several small areas of cottagy-type flowery things and made the area into a larger veggie plot. I’m going to be very precise regarding what I grow this year. I have a battle every year with snails, although, I saw a gardening programme on the TV the other week and they had used old snail shells on the top of garden canes as a preventative against taking out your eyes when bending down. I thought this was an excellent use of snail shells. And if the snails are lucky I’ll wait until they vacate the shells before using them! If not? C’est la vie.

I don’t wage war on many creatures. The list is rather short…slugs, snails, greenfly and blackfly. Everything else can have a place in my garden, although, having said that, I’m not enamoured with cabbage white butterflies. And there’s a special, discreet little shit, that lays its eggs on the gooseberry bush and the caterpillars hatch out and eat every available leaf! Strangely, they don’t touch the fruit. It’s a kind of ‘share and share alike’ thing.

Those of you who regularly read this blog will know that my house is a semi-detached, and that the neighbour’s house has been up for sale for quite some time (probably due to me as a neighbour?) but the other night, my neighbour, Tracey, announced that it has sold. Apparently the new neighbours are a young couple and Mr Neighbour is a gardener. I figure anyone who likes gardening can’t be all bad, and although I hate change and people moving out of my life, (there are exceptions, obviously, some I’d buy a one-way ticket to a dung heap), I have already begun to visualise the forthcoming summer scenario. Me and Mr New Neighbour chatting over a cup of tea, discussing ground conditions to prevent forking carrots (that was forking) and the right time to bed-out your little gems. Yes I can see it all. I know masses about gardening (?)so I’ll be an instant hit. There’s only one fly in the proverbial ointment…we erected a six-foot fence last year and can’t see a bloody thing over it. Maybe I’ll just continue my reclusive ways and keep my gardening secrets to myself? I certainly won’t be divulging my ‘snails on sticks’ to anyone!

The greatest sadness in all of this is that Chea and Bobby’s relationship will be severed. They probably have a fortnight-ish left of each other’s company. I have never known such a friendship among cats. They really do like and respect each other. I only have to mention that Bobby is at the door and Chea ‘trills’ and trots off to greet him. On days when Bobby is nowhere in sight I’ll let Chea out and within minutes she’s back with him in tow and then, without jealousy or argument, they share a treat. Other cats come into the garden Chea and Bobbyand they frighten the life out of Chea. She is a kind, loving little individual, without a nasty hair on her body, and because of her ‘relationship’ with Bobby I think she finds it confusing when other cats are vindictive and spiteful. To date, we have never known Chea to hiss, spit or scratch. She just isn’t wired that way. She loves going into Bobby’s wilderness-garden, and I’m thinking that if the new neighbours have a dog, that will also have to stop. Perhaps I can encourage them to have chucks? Maybe a cockerel? And then I can borrow him and let him fertilise my chucks’ eggs? Then I can hatch-out some chicks? Cool. Yes I’m sure, if I try, I can find a positive in these changes that are about to come?

Take care my lovelies x

Not Exactly Laptop Dancing…

Hi All

I think I must be missing something when it comes to computers…or in my case laptops. I have this sneaky feeling that my laptop holds out on me. Only provides me with the barest and briefest of information. I ask, ‘Benedict Cumberbatch’s home address?’ and it puts up, ‘Benedict Cumberbatch nuzzling some girl.’

Yes, shut up, I’m joking. Crikey, do you think I’m a stalker or something? What I mean is, you see these people on the TV tapping away on their keypads faster than mating rabbits and they never get a typo and they always get enough information to go and split the atom. How do they do that? Is there an app somewhere? Do you have to download something? And then you merely tap in, ‘How to break into Lloyd’s Bank,’ and it flashes up twelve suggestions on the screen. Be hilarious if some computer somewhere picks up on that, ‘How to break into Lloyd’s Bank,’ wouldn’t it? A flashing light has just gone past the house but I think it was a fire engine! Probably racing off to pump-out water from some poor sod’s house. The weather here is atrocious just now, rain, rain and more rain. My lawn looks like a paddy field and it wouldn’t surprise me one little bit if we get a crop of rice springing up shortly. The chucks have just about got used to having to splash through water each day to reach the garden – which, by the way, is nothing much more than a mud bath for them. Little has changed from a white Light Sussex to a brown Light Sussex and looks unloved and uncared for. I digress. Back to computers…

I change my laptop very frequently. I always choose one with massive storage and one that is really fast. I probably have 140 songs stored and a few stories and such like, and I still think and type slowly, so the aforementioned attributes are completely unnecessary. But I still like walking down the line of laptops and comparing specs. Specs! See, I know the lingo. No idea what most of them mean, mind.  I hide that little fact so well don’t I?

Regardless of the ‘specs’ and the cost, every laptop goes through the same abuse. It still gets bawled at. It seems to rebound obscenities like The Starship Enterprise’s shields – or whatever they are called, and they have no effect whatsoever.

Sometimes, as an act of love and devotion to it, I Mr Sheen it, making it all new and shiny. This, naturally makes it very slippy and difficult to transport from room to room and I have now realised that I must transport said laptop into the lounge first and then go back for my mug of tea and sticky bun. Failure to comply leaves a soggy fireside rug and a sticky bun that has rolled under the sofa and adhered every cat hair to its form. These are the things that we all learn in time – the hard way!

At least I have found the right holes to plug-in accessories. There’s a little designated orifice for my memory stick, headphones, power cable, external speaker, camera adapter, a big saucer thingy for my CD/DVD, etc. etc. etc, and most times I get everything in the right place. I did get the headphones stuck once because I’d forced them into the wrong hole.

Anyway, enough. I have learnt the following five points about my laptop (computer – not the flesh one) and they might help you to avoid trouble.

1. The cable to the laptop has to actually be turned on at the plug or the laptop won’t charge.

2. The laptop fingerprint access won’t let you in if your designated fingertip is smeared with cholesterol-reducing butter after attempting to eat a crumpet and blog at the same time.

3. If you use the laptop as a form of heat to your knees, in a freezing cold house, the laptop will overheat and cut out.

4. The laptop should not be used for internet banking when the cat is around. Little paws walk across the top numeral keys and you will be transferring £5,000 into the ether, instead of £50 to your ISA.

5. The laptop NEVER replies no matter how much you scream at it and demand, “What?!!!”

Take care my lovelies xcropped-2013-07-30-19-17-101.jpg

Off to enter the Cumberbatch question into the search box again!

Oh! Go On Then…Inspire me!

Hi All

Yes I’m still Sher-locked, which frankly is pretty amazing, because I have a foolproof method of destroying these ‘passions.’ My method? I push everything to its limit until I expose faults and failings. Then having exposed ‘things’ that I don’t like I leave the subject behind. This could be a part of my character that needs further examination – someday – when I find the time or inclination? I blame it on my star sign – Scorpio. We are relentless creatures at best and at the worst? Doesn’t bear thinking about.

I qualify this by retaining the attitude that life is too short to waste time on dilly-dallying, soft shoe shuffling, taking time to know people and things, imitating a dried-out summer stream, trickling and meandering. No, let’s  bomb the dam and dive in. Let’s push everything to its limits and then assess.

Sometimes, what my brain produces, seemingly from nowhere and unasked for, surprises even me. People ask where I find inspiration for my writing? And the truth is I don’t – it finds me – always. And I never know when an idea or inspirational thought will hit.

One Sunday I was watching Fairytale – A True Story, a story about…yep, you guessed it, fairies. In one scene a fairy jumps into the air from a picture frame and the frame tilts. From that one action came my short story, Promises, and not only that – if I dare to blow my own trumpet briefly – Promises went on to win a short story competition. All that from a one second scene.

Most of my ‘inspiration,’ especially for the short stories, comes from country music. Country is my first passion on the music front. Having said that I go from Def Leppard to Andrea Bocelli. I love music. LOVE it! My short story, ‘Obediently Yours,’ was inspired by the country singer Alan Jackson. This my come as a surprise if you have read this story?

Country music is a bit wrist-slitting at times but if you filter out the depressing stuff you are left with wonderful stories and visions. I truly believe that there is a country song for every mood and emotion. Sometimes, (reasonably rarely now thank goodness), when I’m really fed up, I’ll whack on the old headphones and blast my brain with the most depressing stuff I have and sit and cry my heart out. Surprising it helps. No point keeping all those emotions locked-up inside, and when you are a self-professed control freak it’s sometimes hard to let go, even of your own feelings.

When I was in Spain recently, being driven somewhere, and taking a rare moment from talking, the whole plot for a novel came into my head. Unfortunately the plot was so depressing that I don’t think I would survive the writing of it.

Not sure where this is going now. So, maybe the train has hit the buffers? Is it called a buffer? Sounds right…but it may not be.

I’m off to give the chucks their little treat of bread and lettuce. They have an extra special little delicacy today – a Brussels sprout each. Cooked of course!41hcH7JV1+L._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA278_PIkin4,BottomRight,-78,22_AA300_SH20_OU02_

Take care my lovelies x

PS Oh, if you want to read any of those short stories here’s the link. There are ten in the compilation and they cost next to nothing. Your choice. Oh! and don’t be mislead by the whimsical cover, some of the stories are a bit grim! http://www.amazon.co.uk/Eternal-ebook/dp/B0094J03B4

Sherlock Has Ruined My Life…

Hi All

Once upon a time (roughly a fortnight ago) I used to have my life, and my days, pretty much planned out  – and then the third series of Sherlock hit our TV screens …and that, as they say, was that. Now I am glued to the darn thing, and I’m talking Hard As Nails here, not wallpaper paste! And the trouble is, each episode is so fast-paced, visually so mind-blowing, that the average mind can’t keep up, and I have to watch the episode again and again, each time picking up on something that I missed the first (fourth/fifth/sixth) time around.

Don’t get me wrong, Benedict Cumberbatch as Benedict Cumberbatch isn’t hard on the eye and I’d definitely pass the time of day with him over a coffee in my lounge… with the blinds down… and the doors locked… and the key hidden on my person… but it isn’t exactly him that I’m totally taken with…it’s his character, Sherlock Holmes.

I have always been drawn by characterisation and compatibility of characters and whether they work together or not, and in my opinion the characters of Holmes and Watson are brilliantly drawn and work almost beyond belief.

These are the types of characters that, when you find them in a book, you just can’t put it down, and when you finish the book you actually feel like you have lost dear friends. You miss the world that you have been in for the last so many pages and chapters. I have read books where I literally went into utter depression because the story had ended and therefore the world that I had been living in for the duration of the book no longer existed. I realise that this must say quite a lot about my world!?

I watched Elysium the other day, with Matt Damon, again, a massive favourite of mine, mainly down to his characterisation of Jason Bourne, and although it was quite fast-paced, visually kind of faultless, I couldn’t get involved with his character. He didn’t (or the writer didn’t) impregnate the character with that vital spark. I didn’t really care about him, or any of the other characters to be honest, and so for me Elysium didn’t score that highly. Oh, and he (SPOILER ALERT!) died in the end. This is always a no-no with me. Can’t be bothered to watch something where my bloody hero pops his lot! And especially if the dead dude is Matt Damon! Noooo!

The only downside to all of this is that Sherlock Holmes has been portrayed as a high functioning sociopath and I have been made quietly aware, as I’ve blissed my way through these episodes and got to know him, that I also have some of these traits and tendencies.  Obviously I shall try to play them down and not alarm you all too much with my weirdness, although, in reality, I fear it may be a little too late in the day for that? Oh well! As I’ve said before…whatever gets you through the night.

So yes, I’ve fallen in awe of Sherlock Holmes and all mundane things will simply have to wait. Chucks stand on perches, abandoned, hanging their heads in misery. Chea hasn’t been fed for days and has slimmed down to kitten-size. Pots tower to the ceiling, food coagulated and no longer smelly. Bed bugs threaten to move into the unmade bed. Richard hasn’t been shouted at or picked on… well what can I say?

And just when iPlayer was about to take off series 3 and I would be left bereft, without my fix, what happened? We were trotting round Tesco yesterday morning and there, straight off the press was Sherlock, series 1 – 3, winking and waving at me from the shelf. Series 1 – 3!! RESULT!!!! Now I have all episodes on DVD and I can play them on my computer, with headphones attached, and no one will break into or disturb my world. Good hey? I’m now considering buying some posh Bose headphones that block out all exterior noise, because, frankly, there is the odd occasion when Richard’s dulcet tone breaks through. Might need to sell a few more books first though? (wink wink).

And before you send the RSPCA round, obviously I have fed the chucks and Chea. And Sherlockwashed the dishes, blah, blah, blah. I’m not a complete sociopath…probably.

Anyway, I can’t sit here all morning chatting, I have to go and unfreeze the chuck’s beak from the water drinker thingy – darn chilly night here last night. Not that I noticed at the time, as Chea has now decided that she will sleep on the bed with me and keep me warm, after the first half hour of attacking my feet! Richard was working and didn’t enter the equation …besides, he’s been sleeping on the couch for the last month or so because of the pain in his shoulder. He says the bed is too soft. Thank God for Ikea’s soft mattress range, that’s what I say!

Take care my lovelies …Go and do whatever makes you happy! x

 

It Remains In My Mind…

Hi All

I’m not 100% sure about writing this following post. You see, I think the subject matter is dreadful.

Wednesday afternoon I went with Richard to the hospital to see his mum, Betty. I hadn’t been to see her since she flipped out her hip, (again), on Christmas morning, so I thought it was time that I put in an appearance. As soon as she saw me,  walking slightly behind Richard, she burst into tears and sobbed, ‘Oh Gail! Is it really you? You are here aren’t you? I thought you’d forgotten me!’ I guess I should have squeezed out a different reaction, but laughter was my first response and so I went with it. You see, I have learnt that if you let Betty get into her silly stride she becomes impossible and is her own worst enemy. So we had a jolly couple of hours with Betty flipping from semi sensible to semi silly and then she dismissed us.

The work traffic was awful, and we got held up in Nottingham for an hour, as we tried to get back to the motorway. The motorway was also a nightmare, but then it was nothing to what was waiting at home.

Richard dropped me off at the house and popped off to get some milk from the garage. Meanwhile I made the fire, fed Chea, changed into my dressing gown (I’m a slob, I admit it!) blah blah blah and had the house opened up for when Richard got back. He came in looking a bit puzzled and said, ‘A car bumped-up the verge, opposite the house, as I drove off after dropping you off and it’s still there. I don’t know if the guy is on the phone or if he’s ill.’

‘If you think he’s ill you should go over,’ I said.

Now, this comment in a ‘normal’ world is a fair, caring and considerate comment but…in this crazy world of ours, frankly it could be asking for trouble. The balance is very delicate. We live on a busy road within quick access to the motorway and the airport. Anyone could be passing. I started on the supper and Richard went out the back door. I heard him bringing in the bin and then, when, five minutes later he hadn’t returned, the thought hit me…he’d gone to the person in the car.

I looked out of the front window and sure enough Richard was out there. The neighbour from two doors up was on her hands and knees working at the man’s chest and Richard was on his phone to the paramedics. Other people had stopped in the downpour and the dark and were organizing the heavy traffic as it squeezed by the man lying in the road. Within ten minutes the paramedics arrived and took over. Richard’s concern and my neighbours super efforts had been to no avail. They put the man in the ambulance, still working on him, but fifteen minutes later declared him dead. Dead after everyone’s efforts.

So many emotions and realisations have surfaced through this. Obviously I’m going to sound very clichéd and say, we all have to live for today because you never know when you are going to be called, but that isn’t uppermost in my mind by any means. No.

This man,who had suffered a massive heart attack, apparently, had actually pulled his car off the road to be out of the work traffic!

Richard had faced his concerns regarding what might happen by opening the door of a stranger’s car.

My neighbour, who Richard had spotted at her door waving off someone, had run immediately across the road through the traffic and dragged, with Richard’s help, the man from his car. She had then kneeled on the wet road, with the rain lashing down, inches from the passing lorries and cars, and attempted to save this stranger’s life.

The police came and took a statement from Richard. I kept out-of-the-way, watching Richard from the lounge. He looked drained, bless him. I did go into the kitchen, dressing gown and all, at one point, and ask the officer how much longer he was going to be. Richard was beating himself up about not going to the man sooner but the police and paramedics said that the man would have died instantly, and I have also said and believe this.

I can’t get over the picture in my head of the police going to the man’s home and announcing to his nearest and dearest that their husband/father had died in his car, on a random road, on his way home from work. That a life should end so unceremoniously I guess. This is life I know. And I know that I should dismiss all this now, but for some reason I can’t. The traffic still trundles past. There is nothing to say, or to show, that a man, a stranger, died outside my lounge window. How delicate and fragile we are.

I guess each day is a gift. We should unwrap it carefully, and even if sometimes the gift isn’t quite to our liking …or what we would have chosen for ourselves, delight in it, value it for what it is…the most precious of things.

Take extra special care my lovelies xMB900410833

PS For some reason, which I haven’t figured out yet, each time I add a picture to this post it ignores it and posts a picture of Starfish! If the same thing happens today when I press publish please forgive me. As I say, I can’t figure out yet how to stop it doing it xx

Fancy A Freebie?

Hi All

Right-e-o here I go as promised, or threatened, on my last post (I’m sure I can hear a trumpet as I write that?) the reason/reasons why I won’t give freebies. Freebies meaning books, you understand?

If I go back to the beginning – sometime last year – when I put my first book on Amazon, I have to confess to being ignorant to the workings and wonders of self-publishing.  Mulligan’s Reach was kindly formatted and uploaded to Amazon for me by a newly acquired writer friend. I then hid for a week or two, terrified of someone actually buying it. Don’t ask me why, I’m just weird that way. It turned out to be a pointless worry because no one bought it anyway. Why would they? No one knew it was there.

So, the next plan was suggested to me. Get another book published. This I did, and again I was lucky to have the same lovely person format and upload to Amazon, Starfish. I hope you are still with me? Simply, I now had two books on Amazon, neither of which were selling because no one knew that either of them existed.

Just to give the nail a final wallop into the coffin, my friend uploaded a third book for me, Eternal, a collection of short stories.

So there I was, three books on Amazon. Three books that no one knew, or cared, existed.

This is where the dastardly plan rears its pretty head. All that was required was ‘to be seen.’ Make Starfish visible and people would see it, buy it, like it (?) and look for other works by the same enchanting author. Simples! And the way to be seen? Freebies! Lots and lots and lots of freebies. My magic fingers and my stupid brain joined forces long enough for me to go through the Amazon system and put Starfish ‘up for free,’ for the weekend. I had received all my instructions and apparently all I had to do was to sit at the computer from Friday to Sunday night and spam, spam, spam. This I did.

Because I was a newbie to the scene, and pretty stupid to boot, I think my twitter friends took me to their generous bosoms and they retweeted like their little hearts depended on it. As I reluctantly, half dying from key pad fatigue, dragged myself away from the computer on the Sunday evening, around midnight, Starfish was sitting at no 2 on Amazon!

Monday morning, 5am, and Starfish was on the no 1 spot, with Miranda Hart’s book at no 2. It had received 7,500 downloads. It didn’t stay there long and afterwards it probably ‘sold’ another 250 copies before once again dropping from sight.

Sometime later I put Eternal up as a freebie. Around 100 copies were downloaded – short stories never, in my opinion, do very well. This did nothing for sales.

Now the autopsy… I will never put a book of mine up as a freebie again because, well, frankly, why should I? Why should I give my book away? Do readers actually have any idea how much time and effort goes into writing a novel? Is it to be expected that all that effort should cost nothing? Would they seriously expect to walk into a supermarket and fall over a display with a sign saying, ‘Tuna in brine – FREE today?’ Would they take their poodle to the vet and be told at reception, ‘No charge. Today all consultations and treatments are FREE!’ Bugger off. No they would not.

My books may not be War and Peace and they may never be best sellers (well, actually Starfish was), but I have read (until approximately page 4 or 5 – I have a very short crap-level tolerance) far more boring books than mine and if I don’t value my work why should anyone else?

Often, the giving away of books is to produce reviews. Reviews help to sell books. Do they? Consider this, of those 7,500 books given away I probably received a handful of reviews. This is because most people (often other writers/authors) download your book to be helpful (which is lovely) but they never read the book. It will sit on their kindle, along with the other hundreds of helpful downloads. Even I have to confess to having downloaded books that I haven’t yet glanced at.

In a way, in my opinion, Amazon self-publishing has fallen on its own sword. Thousands, it could be millions, of authors (myself included) have jumped on the Amazon self-publishing band wagon and now the wheel has fallen off.  A massive tsunami of books have swamped the market and it’s any wonder that anyone’s book can be seen. But, like the agent/trad’ publishing market, something will have to give, somewhere, sometime.

I now have little desire to chase sales. I have a life outside of this. Don’t get me wrong, EVERY single book sale is valued, cherished and appreciated. If you knew HOW much you would actually feel sorry for me! But, for as long as books are free, and web sites, giving away free books are springing up everywhere, we may as well whistle in the wind, because there’s little chance of being heard.

I’m sure there will be many who disagree with my comments – and you know you are perfectly free to do that, (bugger! There’s that other f word again!), but these are my opinions based on facts and experiences over the last year. I’m thinking that a year is a mere blink, in the eye of time, and that self-publishing is a long haul? I’m not disillusioned at all and I shall stay for the long haul – until the time comes, if it does, when it no longer suits me to do so. After all, we are all in this by choice.

So, later I shall be spamming like a demented monkey and yelling from the tree tops, ‘Oi, go and buy my book!’ JOKE!! I won’t. Well I might? NO I won’t.

Having said all this, I am intending to lower the price of my books, sometime soon. Why? Because I can. I have the power and the control (mwahhhh!!) and it really isn’t about the money. I also like to think that I am annoying Amazon by constantly changing things! Yes, I know, petty, petty, petty. But whatever gets you through the night, hey?

Take care my lovelies xno 4

Virtual Friends…Or Not!

Hi All

Well, that’s it. It came and it went! Christmas. New Year. Gone, gone, gone… And what are we left with? Personally I’m left with a tidy house (decorations rarely get any further than Boxing Day) and a cupboard full of crap that is going to put up my cholesterol level to a dangerously high number if I succumb to another fat-filled morsel.

Besides the remnants of chocolates, biscuits, cakes and sweets, is the remnant of the Christmas tree. Such a lovely tree… or so I thought when I bought it. Each branch tipped with silver glitter and a frost-like shimmer. Now silver glitter and the frost-like shimmer fills every crack in the lounge floorboards and despite extensive use of the vacuum refuses to budge. Even Chea trots around twinkling, but then she would, seeing how she spent most of Christmas sitting under the tree patting at the baubles and removing the felt robin!

If I ask myself the question seriously…”what are we left with?” I would have to say that I am left with memories of a year that wasn’t spectacular, but it wasn’t a bad year either. I tend not to measure good luck/bad luck in years. To a certain extent we make our own good luck. It doesn’t matter what “spooky numbers” the year holds, if shit is going to happen it will happen. I think the problem arises in our own minds.

Let me riddle you this. It’s the first of January, a brand new year, and you fall over and break your leg. Are you going to jump up and down (hardly, with a broken leg!) and scream, “Well that’s it! It’s a new year, I’ve broken my leg! This is going to be a crap year!” Yes, you probably are…but don’t! It isn’t going to be a bad year, you just need to be more careful and look where you are going! Bad things happen to nice people. It’s a fact. But of one thing I am sure, if you allow yourself to imagine that it’s going to continue to be a bad year just because you’ve broken your leg already, then it will be. I truly do believe that all these things are sent to try us and it is through these trials that we do, eventually, become stronger and subsequently able to take on what life chooses to throw at us.

No, pull up your boots and trot into this year with optimism and the knowledge that whatever life hurls, you will either side-step it, or catch it…and deal with it.

I think my greatest joy and also my greatest sorrow of last year involves something rather silly…virtual friends. I have made a lot of virtual friends over the last year and it has been truly eye-opening. I am, by nature, an extremely suspicious person, and not many people “pull the wool over this old coots eyeballs,” so it comes as a disappointment to realise that over the past year one or two friends have, indeed, not been truly genuine. Making promises that they had no intention of keeping. Pretending to be an authority on something which they were not. But that’s fine. I’ve sussed you out. I fell for it. Once. I take the experience and trot on because on the other side of the scale we have the lovely, genuine, “what you see, is what you get,” people. And I think you know who you are? And I hope you also know that if I can help you in any small way (or large way) you only have to ask. 

Ha ha, you watch, someone will now ask for my help and I’ll say, ‘Bugger off, you are one of the ones who have pissed me off all year, so go and do one.” Blinder! 

I’m joking. You know me now, don’t you? Yes you do. That’s why you know I’m NOT joking. Actually, I don’t know why anyone follows this blog because I’m such a stroppy little thing. Ah! Yes! I am! But I’m honest!

Whatever. I’ve bored myself now, so I’m off to have another go at that bloody glitter. And tomorrow I shall tell you why I will never be giving my books away as freebies…so there!

Happy New Year…break a leg! Oh no…don’t!13499529867dnQN2

Take care my lovelies x