Bah humbug! I’m just not feeling it. Does anybody else feel the same? I thought getting our tree and decorating it while drinking a few glasses of Mulled wine and listening to Michael Bublé’s Christmas full deluxe special edition, might do the trick. Well, it did, sort of. SIX REASONS […]
If you are like me, planning your long-awaited 2020 summer holiday in Europe will be a priority, but you can forget about bagging yourself any last-minute deals because, travelling in the wake of Brexit and a pandemic, means you need to allow yourself plenty of time to plan your escape from our sheltered UK shores.
A chick, in my book, is a baby chicken covered in downy, yellow feathers up until the age of 6-weeks. I’ve always bristled when the term is applied to young women, and I have always subconsciously disassociated myself from Chick lit, believing the genre to be driven by scantily clad, sex-driven female main characters. I couldn’t have been more wrong and, although I’m not a fan of categories, it’s time to reassess the genre I think I’ve been writing in.
When It’s time for a change, you instinctively know the time is right. Lockdown concentrated our minds, as dedicated health workers around the world became frontline soldiers in the war against COVID-19, while our lives ground to a halt. I’m not sure how we can ever repay them for their sacrifice.
Right! Cute and beautiful is the last straw. I’m an ageing Baby Boomer for goodness sake, and my social media accounts are my author pages. Read my bio! I’m trying to promote my writing, I don’t want a bloody date, okay?
Dominic Cummings has to go! Some may argue that he shouldn’t be in 10 Downing Street at all. The Conservative Government appear to be closing ranks and defending Cummings’s reckless behaviour. So it would seem they have created one set of rules for the entire UK population and […]
I’ve reached that time of my life when I keep starting off conversations with the words, ‘I remember when,’ which tells me that, involuntarily, I’ve joined the Craft Club. #getting older – 1 minute 51 second read
I am not sure when your dotage officially begins. I suppose it is a gradual decline. You start finding tell-tail signs around the house. #getting older 42 second read
I am relieved I have reached the age when I no longer feel I have to make a fashion statement … my wardrobe consists of what I can get into on any given day … but how I look will always be a reflection of who I am. #beyourself 1 minute 1 second read
I could log these brain farts I’ve been having as senior moments, but my oldest friends will tell you I’ve always been away with the fairies. So there is little hope for me now.
Perhaps, constantly sweating over creating new plotlines, means I am beginning to lose my own?
I think a break will do me good.
I started off 2020 with targets, and have been thrown off course already.
I’ve been knocked for six by some microscopic little bastard that has invaded my body and seems reluctant to leave.
I’ve been stockpiling again, but not in anticipation of a no-deal Brexit, which may, or may not, happen in 10 days’ time. At 7.30p.m last night, a lorry load of our annual supply of perfectly dry logs was offloaded outside our garage.
We have been benefitting from this arrangement for about five years and have always taken a cavalier approach to the storing and stacking of the logs, which we always do as soon as the load arrives and involves a considerable amount of physical exertion.
In Jersey and Guernsey, we are only live a short hop from St. Malo and our Entente has been extremely Cordiale for years, thank you very much. Yet the repercussions of Brexit will affect us just as much as everybody domiciled in the UK mainland, not least when it comes supermarket shopping, as all our supplies are brought in by boat.
And when you reach that woman of a certain age status, you’re body is hijacked by menopausal madness. Suddenly you’re itchy, bitchy, sweaty, sleepy, bloated and psycho as your oestrogen levels plummet.
As for politics…well… I am becoming more incensed on a daily basis. The United Kingdom I grew up in, has never been as divided as it is now.
So how can I call myself a niche-less blogger, if I exclude things that are threatening to disrupt and destroy the way we live. So, my long-term writing modus operandi is about to change and I am ready for the backlash. My Social Media following, such as it is, will no doubt dwindle as a result, but there is something I need to get off my chest.
I am realistic when it comes to travelling. No trip goes without a hitch. Trains, boats and planes rarely run to schedule, they are susceptible to the weather, and they go techie at the slightest provocation. Getting on and off the rock I have chosen to make my home, […]
Disappointment comes in various guises. Bad exam results, the guy you fancy… who doesn’t fancy you and the job you wanted so badly, that you didn’t get.
So how do we cope with disappointment?
Cutting a 20-foot hedge did it for me today… after I had re-booked the flights. It took about 3 hours to cut and clear up.
So, physical exercise may well be the answer to combatting disappointment… not necessarily with a hedge cutter in your hands.
At dawn one morning I found myself talking to the Universe, well nobody else seemed to be listening and begging it to make my shit state of affairs go away.
The mighty Universe must have heard, as shortly after my impassioned plea, I was scrolling through Facebook and found Julianne Palmer, a clairvoyant in Australia. I noticed that one of my friends had liked her page, so I had a look.
In the past, I had never paid too much attention to what the stars had to say about what fate lay in store for me, but I was desperate for an indication from somebody, that my life was going to improve. So I took a leap of faith and picked a card.
Today I was on the same beach I frolicked on almost 30 years ago. Those heady, carefree days I spent topless, chasing a frisbee, unaware that my pert little orbs were flying free. My svelte, flawless, bronzed body, glided across the ochre coloured sands and dived effortlessly into […]
I was unceremoniously woken by a clap of thunder. When I looked out of my bedroom window, Storm Miguel was battering my peonies and the rest of the garden, which was shaping up to be our best horticultural endeavour ever.