Questions

 It seems that I can write a new post, but, mysteriously, have to sign in to reply to comments, but with no indication as to how. Anyway, I suppose this is a start! Does anyone have ideas as to how to reply to comments without signing in? A lot has changed since my blogging days. In the meantime, many thanks to Meike and Dawntreader for your kind comments, and I await your (or somebody’s) advice! 

Happy Mew Year!

 I’ve had endless trouble trying to get back into blogland, and it never seems to last for more than one post, but if there are any of my old followers still around, have a wonderful year! I’ll not clock off, but sadly I may be gone for some time….😢

Hi again!

 Spurred on by my granddaughters (thank you, Phoebe) I decided  to revisit my blog, and after much faffing about, changing passwords and grappling with the wrong email address (which appeared from nowhere and wouldn’t go away) I’m back again. A lot of my followers seem to have disappeared (goodbye, and thank you) but I’d love to hear from any survivors? 

In the last two years, I’ve settled into Surrey life (lovely but expensive), struggled with living on my own, but got used to it, loved being near my kids (all four are quite near), made new friends, experimented with online dating (of which more later), acquired a new grandchild,  and written….nothing at all. This last is sad, but I thought perhaps this might get me back into it. Sort of.

If you read this, old or new followers, please leave a message. I promise to reply. If I can remember how…

I’m back...sort of

 I know I haven’t posted in ages, but I’ve  just revisited other people’s, and decided to write something....

This past year has been the worst of my life (did you need to know that?. Probably not...). John had a bad fall in June of last year, and  I became a (willing, of course) carer. But he never recovered his strength, and after a gradual deterioration, he died at home, with me beside him, on 26th April. 

Then of course there was Covid, affecting us all, and we were in the middle of a house move. I’m now in a small but very nice Victorian cottage in Surrey, much nearer my kids, who are all within 40 mins drive,which is much better. I’ve done no writing for at least a year, but who knows...I need to get my mojo back first.

If any of my former followers have news, I’d love to know how you are, how you’re coping with the current plague etc.  Comments very welcome 😀

Of clothes moths

This is (was) my son’s coat. I have posted before about clothes moths, and their greedy habit of taking a bite from each garment and never making, as it were, a clean plate by finishing anything off. Well, these are doing their best with this coat, (which has now been binned). The moths have also taken bites out of most of his wardrobe, and he is despairing as to what to do. He says he’s tried everything.

I feel great sympathy for him, but can’t help being fascinated, as our clothes moths conduct their business when we aren’t looking. I have never seen their larvae; only the holes they leave behind.

That’s all.

Room 101

We are fans of the BBC programme Room 101, in which participants jettison things or people they don’t like. These are my top two:

1. Lol. I can’t bear it. It’s the equivalent of an exclamation mark. If something is funny, please leave it to speak for itself.

2. Ironing. Hours spent flattening clothes. Does anyone, anywhere, like ironing?

That’s all. What would you put in your Room 101?

My perfect dog

I’ve seen a labradoodle and a
Dachysdoodle too,
But what I really, really wants’s
A peke-a-pug-a-poo.

I’d like to get three little dogs and
This is what I’d do -
I’d mix and match them til I got
A peke-a-pug-a-poo.

People would stop in wonderment,
And then they’d  ask me: “who
On earth have you got there?”
I’d say: “my peek-a-pug-a-poo.”

You’ll never find one in the street
Or park or beach or zoo,
So mine would be unique, the only
Peke-a-pug-a-poo.

So if I fail at writing, or
The other things I do,
At least I’d own the one and only
Peke-a-pug-a-poo.


(Except that I bet someone’s already done it...)

Ode to Writerr's Block

I've discovered a (another) wonderful way of wasting time: the Sonnet Generator. You feed in certain words, and bingo! A sonnet appears! This is mine, written entirely by the generator (with a few choice words supplied by me).

   ODE TO WRITER'S BLOCK     

My writers block, you inspire me to write.
I hate the way you pounce, surprise and creep,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the block short sleep.

Let me compare you to a library?
You are more frustrate and more disable.
Snow chills the berries of January,
And wintertime has the lead pier table.

How do I hate you? Let me count the ways.
I hate your frustrating and unhappy.
How your infuriating fills my days!
My hate for you is the pop white crappie.

Now I must away with an impede heart,
Remember my top words whilst we're apart


Ps. I'm actually writing quite happily today, but thought I deserved a break...

Daffodils (Especially for Graham)

On Seeing the First Daffodils in Sainsbury's

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once, in Sainsbury's, lo!
Bunches of golden daffodils!
Behind the meat, beyond the peas,
(Not fluttering, there was no breeze.)

When often on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
I often dream of daffodils
(I very rarely dream of food).
The first bright sign spring's on the way -
I have to buy some now! Today!

Out go the sausages and bread
The cleaning products, oh, so dull.
I must buy daffodils instead
Until my shopping trolley's full.
I only came in for my lunch,
But daffodils! A pound a bunch!

And oh, my heart with pleasure fills
And dances, as I reach the tills.


(With apologies to Wordsworth, but I know he'd understand.)

My 2019....I hope...

I’m not making any resolutions this year: I’m just going to try to stick to this very wise mantra I read recently: “you are what you do today, not what you say you’ll do tomorrow”.

So to all procrastinating writers - and everyone else who reads this blog -  have a very happy and productive new year. Cheers 🥂

(The photo is of my wonderful family on Boxing Day. It’s the first time ever that we’ve all been in a photo together, with no-one missing 😀)

Happy Christmas encore

Happy Christmas again (because I just had to use this photo of my youngest grandson)!

I am a bald, impotent, randy man

Oh, the downside of having a name which (spelled differently) could be that of a man.

For some time, I’ve  been inundated with emails from comapanies offering to increase the size of my penis (or improve the performance of the one I’ve apparently got) and to introduce me to voluptuous young women from the East. Now, these people have decided that I’m bald, as well, and are offering me a variety of hair restoring products (my hair is actually quite thick). 

In vain do I send messages to say that I AM A WOMAN, but these are always ignored. So I’ll just have to put up with it.

Next time around, I’ve decided I shall simply be called Mary 🙂

HappyChristmas!

These final verses of a beautiful poem by John Betjeman say all that I feel about Christmas. Whether you agree or not, I hope that you all have a wonderful Christmas and (especially the writers among you) an inspirational and successful new year.

 And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me?

And is it true? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,

,
No love that in a family dwells,

No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.

(Apologies to Graham, who kindly replied to a line of this poem which escaped and made a post all on its own.)

Kindle boxset

I have to say that I didn't know there was any such thing as a kindle boxset, but apparently there is, and here's mine! Quite attractive, I thought...?

Sorry about the advertising, but I haven't mentioned the price (I can't remember what it is, anyway), and it's really for interest rather than with any hopes of commercial gain.

Now off to make the red cabbage (my Christmas job). In a couple of hours, I, the kitchen, and every available appliance and surface will be purple. Hey ho (or hey ho-ho-ho?) - it's Christmas 😊

A cautionary tale

I buy a lot of things on line, and frequently send them back. This is not least because I am (as wonderful Chris, who runs a lovely gift shop in Devizes, and is incredibly helpful, says)  “trying to find the perfect present”.  When I receive it, it’s no longer so perfect, so quite often, back it goes.

But there are pitfalls, and this morning I have fallen into  every single one.

1. Forgetting to fill in the form properly; the one that has to go INSDE the parcel.
2. Forgetting to copy the order number from that form onto the return label (which is now inside the parcel).
3. Forgetting to include the form at all. Having packed everything else up, and congratulated myself on doing it so well, I look round, only to see the form still sitting smugly OUTSIDE the parcel.
4. Wondering whether I’ve filled in the form properly after all. This involves opening up the parcel again, just to make sure.

I had to reopen one parcel FOUR times this morning.....I’m still wondering whether I got it right 🤔

(And before anyone tells me that I should buy from proper shops, I do whenever I can.)

A small boast...

I hate people who boast, but today, I’m going to do it myself (I rarely have cause, so don’t worry; it won’t happen often). My novel Ruth Robinson’s Year of Miracles has been overall no. 71 in Australian Amazon kindle sales, and no.1 in all three of its categories.

That’s all. 😀

Visit to a medium

Last week, my daughter  visited a fairly prestigious medium. She wanted some answers, and she also wanted to hear from her father.

I know, I know. It’s not an especially wise thing to do, and I wouldn’t do it myself, but I have to confess to being quite excited to think that she might hear from my late husband (a close friend of hers had visited the same man about her sister, who’d died of cancer, and she was much comforted by what he said).

Anyway, the meeting was not a success. Part of it went a bit like this:
Medium: I think your mum is very anxious about Christmas, and where she’s going  to go.
Daughter: no.
Medium: I’m getting a William  - he’s a William - or perhaps a Bill? Does that mean anything to you?
Daughter: no
Medium: there’s a Sanders, or possibly Sanderson. Did you know anyone with that name?
Daughter: no.
Medium: when you were a child, did your father bring you back a teddy, or perhaps a doll?
Daughter: no.

This man aso told her that she and I were going to “cross swords” within the next fortnight. Well, we have never, ever had a row (well, not since the one occasion when she played knock and run in the village where we lived, and that was a very very long time ago.

We’ve got a week to go before that fortnight  is up, and we’re watching what we say very carefully.

(Btw, her father sent his love, but didn’t want to talk to us. Make of that what you will!)

My funeral

Travelling to a friend's funeral this week set me thinking.

We haven't seen this friend for a year or two, and yet we travelled to her funeral. It was less than two and a half hours' journey; why had we left it so long? And then I thought of all the other people I love but whom I haven't seen for a while. A couple of days ago,  I was speaking to a close friend I haven't seen for about two years, and we both agreed that we would certainly go to each other's funerals.
So why leave it until then? I have resolved to see more of my friends as soon as possible. While we're all still alive.

 As for my own funeral, I'd like to hold it now. While I'm still around to enjoy it. A kind of pre-funeral; putting the fun back into funerals. Why not? I could even start a business....

Remembrance

This music by Mark Blatchly is the very moving piece which St. Paul’s Cathedral Choir used to sing in the Royal Albert Hall on Remembrance Day. My son is the boy on the right in the first row of four, tho it’s hard to recognise him at all, never mind nearly forty years on. I love this piece, and it’s my rather late tribute to the very special day that was last Sunday.

Gone visiting...

Rosemary Gemmell has very kindly hosted me on her blog this Week. I’m sure you’ve all heard quite enough about me already on my blog, but I’m very grateful to Rosemary for inviting me 🙂

Thank you, Rosemary!