Ceilidh – Happy St Andrew’s Day….Again

A couple of days ago someone clicked on a post of mine where I got salty about people from The Royal Kingdom of Fife being inter-bred…

I’m related to…

Samuel Greig married Sarah (1752–1793), daughter of Alexander Cook. Their union would give rise to children and grandchildren who later married into the Russian and German nobility.

Mmmn. In the 20th century the Greig’s and the Cook’s married again.

My Dad’s sister, Joy, married Archie Cook. Both of them local.

They had three daughters and the last time I went to a full Scottish Ceilidh was their eldest daughter, Fiona’s, wedding in Kinghorn. We don’t do pompous. FUN and Family are the Name of the Game

OMG. LOTS of men in kilts. Lots of music. Lots of dancing. My Dad even asked me for a dance but I was 8 months pregnant with my first son and felt like a heffalump. I couldn’t even toast the bride with a dram :o(


BFF & I have a cunning plan.

We are both escaping real life, nicking a Campervan and finding a mountain and/or loch to live in the shelter off. Sans husbands, sans kids, sans drudge.

Her ancestry is wonderful. Welsh, White Jamaican, a teensy bit of Scottish and her Dad was born of a German Baron.

Why the Highlands? Nobody knows :o)

I’ve been watching these videos today in preparation for life in the wild mountainsides with a mad woman who has led me into many a madcap adventure since we were kids !!!

BTW : the image above is a Tartan Favour. My wedding cake was decorated with them and all the family was given a piece of MacGregor Tartan as a token of love and fidelity.

This one is MINE.

P.S. She may be half Red, Gold and Green.

I’m ALL Red, White and Green !

THE Bear & Sunset Boulevard

Sunset Boulevard is in my top 3 favourite films.


Whenever I listen to Owen talk about his time in un-Holy-Wood, I think of this film.

He is the opening scene. Dead in the water being watched from above.

I’ve been a fan of Swanson for half of my life. She lived the nightmare/dream.

And I love to call HIM (the director) Cecil B Demented.

Gloria was secure enough in herself to be portrayed on film as a washed-up, deranged, psychotic, stupid, desperate for love, suicidal old woman.

Watch the film. It’s very prescient.



  1. having or showing knowledge of events before they take place.

Ego Death aka A Critique Partner

I have had the great fortune to be critiqued by some amazing writers.

A critique partner is the best friend who tells you that you smell – or your writing is absolute crap.

My writing and real life C.P’s became really good friends and mentors to me. They made me laugh. They made me cry. They MADE me learn.

I used to belong to a critique forum….many moons ago and I went word by word, line by line through someone else’s work and critiqued it. She was fine about everything but I got thrown off the forum for being too Critical and not a smoke-up-the-arse-blower (?!?!)

My BEST ADVICE to anyone is WRITE A BOOK. And get it critiqued. Your entire world/ego will collapse. Fact!


Why The DA VINCI Code?

There are many answers to this question but I’ll stick with the one.

Around 1994 Lynn Picknett and Clive Prince wrote a book together called Turin Shroud: In Whose Image? the Truth Behind the Centuries-Long Conspiracy of Silence.

Whilst I disagree with their conclusions, they made a revelation that is pertinent to today’s researching of AltHist. The subject?


To quote Picknett and Prince :

On a side note and meaning nothing – Lynn Picknett has been a Facebook friend of mine for years. She has even answered some of my annoying questions :o)

AI = Altered Images

Altered Images were a Glasgow band from the ’80’s and their song Happy Birthday was a favourite of mine.

Day After Tomorrow is my late Mum’s birthday.

Next month BFF & I will reach an iconic birthday….though hers is exactly 3 weeks before me :o)

Yeah. She knows. Having been BFF’s since we were both 11, I may have mentioned it once or twice (!)

Bloody Scorpios. Tchss!

One day – when me and she reach 100 – we WILL celebrate like this. Because everyone’ll think we’re old and demented.

Yes :o)

Apropos of nothing – I HATE OCTOPUSSIES. Himself used to snorkel off the Rock of Gibraltar and catch the horrible things. Once he brought one home and put it in my freezer. The bastard sea creature squirted black ink everywhere. Calamari? I’d rather eat all four of my car’s tyres, thank you very much.

Oh and btw : Travis are Scottish too & poor wee Greta is still aLive&KicKinG arse.

Next band, next song anyone ?

If The Kids Are United…

It was so lovely last evening.

Knock on the door. Son opens and I hear a manly hug and back slap.

His mates walk into the kitchen, arms wide open for a hug from me.

And it was a proper hug. Held for ages.

When we upgraded the pigsty to a man cave/bar and all these kids would be here every week…it was a place to speak their minds.

Aka – that actual bar was painted white with lots of felt tips in a jug on top.

The drunken messages written were brilliant. One I remember more than the rest. It started at the top with – “My Mum is better than your Mum”

Everyone chipped in.

Kids today would NEVER EVER EVEN think of writing that.

Every morning I was there with sweet hot tea, Alka Seltzers, Anadin or a bacon sandwich. Depending on the level of the hangover.

Some Ties Bind Stronger Than Others.

Thank you, kids. Love you all :o)

Friends Reunited

I almost cried when I saw my youngest walk into the carpark, where I was waiting, after his visit to our tiny market town Arab Barber shop for a hair/beard/ear/eyebrow thingy. He smelled divine.

Bear with me.

Son first went to Dubai aged 20 to work with his Dad and spent a few years there, on and off. So he has a real affinity with Arab Barbers. The eyebrow threading. The nose and ear waxing. The slap of a boiling hot towel on the face. The fragrant oils. So much more sophisticated than the old UK barber with manic scissors and his “something for the weekend, sir?” as he eyes the condom machine.

Tonight my boy is going out for dinner with two of his best mates from school.


It’s 5 or 6 years since I’ve seen these two. Once upon a time they were regulars in our house. From the age of 11 up to their mid/late-20’s.

This child is so much like me. Difficult. Arsey. Out-spoken but with a wide and long-lasting group of school mates.

I’m so excited to see the boys again. Sorry. MEN



All That She Wants Is Another Baby

It’s been almost 2 years since we lost Tsar. He was our 4th GSD and my baby.

I’m just about ready for another dog in my life. The boys would love one too so that’s 3 against one.

Our first GSD was with us when my eldest was born. Doggy came to Ulster with us and him and the little boy had such a wonderful relationship. To this day I can’t figure out how the two of them worked the scam but one or ‘t’other would distract me when my son was in his high chair eating and I’d suddenly find the dog finishing off the kid’s meal, on the floor, amongst loads of baby giggles.

There are NO bad dogs. Only bad owners. And GSD’s will protect their human family from all and everything.

P.S. I filmed this in our kitchen. FACT!

I Use Tagliatelle : My Choice

When traveller-in-crime and I went to Italy – Rome and Venice – I was DETERMINED to eat authentic, made-on-the-spot Italian food. And I did :o)

Apart from the pizza. It was mass-produced and frozen. Said so on the box that we took back to the hotel room for a midnight snack.

The BEST meal I had was a Carbonara. On the street. From a restaurant less than 5 minutes walk from the hotel.


I always use tagliatelle. Dunno why. And bacon……..we don’t have an Italian butcher close by. And parmigiano reggiano. From Tesco.

MY kids love it too. Good job. We have it for tea tonight :o)

Did I just drool again?

To Sleep No More

Dinah Lampitt became a friend of mine. She even did my horoscope reading for free. She is a Virgo and I’m Virgo Rising and complained online about how I get very organised each year around September.

I’ve read all her books – including this one.

England at the time of Edward III — a time when marriageable daughters were welcome currency in the plans of ambitious men.

In the Sussex village of Mayfield, the young and beautiful Oriel de Sharndene has been forced into marriage with the Archbishop of Canterbury’s brother though she loves a handsome Gascon squire.

Yet all is not as it seems, for these are three people who have not only met in another life but are fated to meet again and again.

From medieval England to the witch hunts of the seventeenth century and the smuggling and highwaymen of the eighteenth, TO SLEEP NO MORE is an unforgettable tale of three characters whose souls can not rest until their final destiny has been resolved.


What is it with people today who will not let the dead sleep?

Are the they the modern Resurrection Men?

Oooh. That’s very effed up and creepy.

BTW : Despite what FEB and his mates have taught y’all. The iron grills around graves were not ANTIQUITECH. They were there to stop grave robbers. And called MORTSAFE.


Elephant’s Breath & London Smoke

I spent over an hour in my local fabric shop with a new friend called Lulu.

Long story – a new 1800’s gown in the prep stage. Colour chosen (finally) deep wine red cotton.

Anyhoo and by the by. Through a different source I was recommended a book to read called Elephant’s Breath and London Smoke.

I knew immediately that this was about colour. My youngest and I painted his bedroom Elephant’s Breath.

WAY back in 2009 I wrote a post about 17th century fabric colours.

17th Century Textile Colours

One of my first ever research projects was on 17th century costume.
I got a beautiful old, old costume book from the library and much to my disgust – I can’t remember the name of it.

Anyway – from that book I made a note of the names used for textile colours in that era.
They are so evocative and always set the imagination running.

















And colours to try and get our minds around.

I’ll have a go…

I love the idea of SICK SPANIARD – a yellowy olive.


TEMPS PERDU- I see this as a pale violet.

ANGRY MONKEY- Is red brown too obvious?

APE’S LAUGH- Again, a reddy colour. But only if they were always being pedantic

RESURRECTION – Oh Gawd! A blue-grey????

KISS ME DARLING – Pale pink, maybe.

MORAL SIN – Love this. A deep, vibrant, singing red.

TRISTAMI – Sorry, can only think of pepparami here. Oops.

SCRATCH FACE – Purpley (if there’s such a word)

SMOKED OX HAM COLOUR – Pinky, purpley (if it’s not a word, it should be!)


CHIMNEY SWEEP – Too obvious????

FADING FLOWER – Mmmn. Pastel. Maybe like ashes of roses.

DYING MONKEY – Black, brown….ish

MERRY WIDOW – Deep Purple – nearly black but not quite.


This new recommendation looks wonderful.

Have you ever read about a Victorian dress, and wondered: “What color, exactly, is heliotrope?”Did you ever read an Elizabethan novel and say: “Did anyone really wear Puke?”When Chaucer wrote: “his eyen bright citrin” – did you wonder about what color is citrin?This book will tell you about color in history – the names of colors, when they were used, how they were used, what they looked like, and where they came from. There are dye recipes, paint ingredients, poetic language and general commentary – all in the words of period writers. Along with the glossary of color names, you will learn about mourning colors, the effects of artificial light on color, advice on what colors to wear, the colors found in cosmetics and theatrical make-up, and the names of the colors of horses. You can read about symbolism in colors, heraldic colors, and complaints about the names of colors. I have studied fashion magazines, books of dye recipes, art books, painter’s manuals, mineralogy guides, tomes on color theory, metaphysical texts, poetry and fiction, but especially period dictionaries and encyclopedias. Any resource that might give a hint on what a color looked like or how it may have been used was examined, from Chaucer to Chemistry Journals. Most of the entries were printed in English, American, Canadian and Australian publications from around 1380 to 1922. Because, French was the language of fashion, many of the English terms are French words. I have tried to explain those colors, too.This dictionary endeavors to define color names in the words of the English speaking people who used those colors. It is especially aimed at women’s fashion, but artists will also find it useful. Now in its second edition, “Elephant’s Breath and London Smoke” has more than 600 new and updated entries. If you are curious about color, you will want this book.

BTW. It’s coloUr. Too many letters in the word ? ? ?

The Misfits

No. Not the film with Marilyn Munroe, Eli Wallach and Clark Gable.

Me and BFF.

We were thrown together aged 11 at Qegs and are still BFFs.

2 and a half hours later on the phone we’ve covered the good, the bad and the ugly.

Misfits? Yup. Landed in rural Lincolnshire, daughters of a Royal Marine and an RAF pilot.

Bugger the bad and the ugly – we had so much fun on with the good.

For 3 years our class was relegated to porta-cabins. Outside of the main building. Why….?

Somewhere in the shit would be either me, Karen or Alex. Or worse – all of us. The dark, the blonde and the redhead.

Hey, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

Way back then – fun was NOT #banned. Even the teachers found us quite entertaining. Perfect DETENTION fodder :o)

Write out 500 lines – Stupid is as stupid does.

The four pens sellotaped together worked every time :o)

I Know HIM So Well

It’s OK.

Apparently he has a stalker. So the vid has been cropped at the point where he “actually” thanks me. First time ever….publicly.

But now Hidden History.

But I know him so well that I took a screenshot :o)

Get outta here y’all with dark thoughts.

Once a friend. ALWAYS a friend. Despite the timing being OFF!

No matter how much he annoys/angers/frustrates/makes me want to commit murder most foul. The stinking “expletive deleted.”

Champagne SuperNova Trigger

My traveller-in-crime and I were tasked to get from Lincolnshire (me)/Penarth, South Wales (her) to Dubai to meet up with her brother and her nephew for business.

We STOLE her husband (Dangerous Brian) and made him drive her from there to here and then all of us down to Heathrow.

Emirates to Dubai were not playing so we had to fly Etihad. Landing in Abu Dhabi.

Bye, Dangerous B. We’re off. Thanks. Zooooom.

Us two had already spent time in Abu Dhabi so we didn’t stress. In fact, we were so unstressed that we may have drained the plane of their supply of Bollinger over the 8 hours in the air.

Our driver picked us up and drove us from AD to Dubai. The Sheraton Creek in Old Dubai.

We may have made a phone call to the very stressy family members waiting for us….. Asking how far away Fallujah was from them.



Men Behaving Badly

When this first came on TV I Hated it. No surprise here – HE loved it.

Many times MANY years later, I bought the entire box set and started watching it again.

Guess what?

We are now older, have kids, been through a ton of B.S……HE hates it. I LOVE IT.

What I’d (and he’d) never appreciated in our 20’s was the subtle but absolutely ingenuous strength/knowing/patience/commitment of both Dorothy and Deborah.

Pissed men on your sofa acting like nob-‘eads —- not attractive.

Nor is Uncle Iain and their father wandering round a pitch black 2 acre garden with a huge pond. We found their father head first in the raspberry bushes muttering and my brother sleeping in the rockery!!!


Dhows & The Sheraton Creek, Dubai

We stayed here a few times. It’s in Old Dubai and away from the tourist centre.

After a totally exhausting day doing business, me, he, youngest son and his sister (who also worked for us) would meet in the Chelsea Bar of an evening to mull over everything.

ShhShush. One of the barmaids fell head over heels for son. But he was spoken for.

Side Note : We’d always DESCEND into a Tall Story telling competition. Tut!

Anyway and by the by…..

The Sheraton Creek is right by where Michael Palin caught his dhow from Dubai to Mumbai.

We used to watch the boats on the water, underneath the stars.

School’s Out For Summer

The UK has a long standing (from the Middle Ages) history of the children helping to bring in the harvest.

Here – where I live – the schools are OUT on the 22nd of July. For 6 weeks. Last week of July. All of August. 1st week of September.

The weekend after next we are in for a Welsh invasion. My traveller-in-crime and her husband (Dangerous Brian) are bringing their grandson up here. From Wales. Where schools are out a week later ?

Today youngest and I went shopping and did a detour (long story) that had us driving home via “50 acre” – local name.

50 acre is a one track lane that few outsiders know about. It cuts through 50 acres of wheat fields. WHICH HAVE ALL BEEN HARVESTED. Mid July???

I’m old enough to’ve sung this song on the last day of school before the summer holiday began.

P.S. In case y’all don’t know Almaboobies (boobies are Aussies birds) came here from Oz in about 2006. When we (me and their parents) became good friends. They are Brits who got sick of Oz and bought a local pub. A hop from my shop. Ross- the Dad – is a master builder. He helped me far too much. And all for free.


I’m a Suicide Survivor. Here’s What I Learned. (It’s uplifting, I promise.)

I’ve had so much respect for Cathy Hay for a long time. Her videos have both helped and bamboozled me over the years.

She is best known as a seamstress/sewer/tailor/creator of garments/clothing historian.

Why did she connect with me so well? How did I understand or even recognise that innate sadness deep inside?

BTW – I never saw any bright lights or welcoming faces. I saw only a darkness too deep and too terrifying ever to give in to it. My place was HERE. Despite my inability to cope with the pain of living. Dying is easy….living is hard.

God’s Honest Truth.

HIT ME : Weed

He, to this day, still can’t remember us in London at New Year going to a cinema just off Trafalgar Square to watch this film.

I remember. Clearly. Behind us was an entire family and as the film started one of them dropped their mobile phone. Under my seat. Lights down, film rolling. ME standing up as about 10 people searched for the stupid phone.

He doesn’t even remember afterwards when we went to a tiny Italian restaurant for dinner and he ordered fishy linguine and/or how much crap I spat at him for ruining my own meal with a very fishy smell.

A few years later….time travel via Paul…and after a weekend he’d spent with his bezzie mate in Amsterdam (!?!) – his sister’s daughter had bought her mother two big spliffs from Cardiff via her best mate’s Dad.

Stay with me here, please ?

So. One weekend my traveller-in-crime came to stay with us for a few days (without her husband – father of said daughter )- who was then a serving South Wales Policeperson.

Neither she nor me had EVER done the Ganji thing. But Himself warned us.

You get the giggles. Then the munchies. Then fall asleep.

We larfed at him and said No Way, Pedro.

The three of us didn’t even finish one whole W.H. Spliffs.

To this day a bag of Tesco pretzels (the munchies vibe) are called Strepsils :o)

Why? Why? Why? Mummy….!

I remember (vividly) the exact time that I had no answer for my children’s constant questioning.

Up to a certain age you have a perfectly valid and sane answer to their unending questions.

And THEN………

Comes THE question that blows your brain.

No. Not sex. It can be any question about anything that you are forced to answer with – I DON’T KNOW. If you are an honest, loving caring parent.

I remember VIVIDLY the day my eldest son said to me – “Mummy. Why can’t you answer my question? I thought you knew everything.”

Me. Being ME replied. “My lovely boy, some things are not answerable by me. YOU have to find your own answer.”

That’s why I went through years of distance from the grandparents for not having either of my boys “christened” in church.

Thankfully their father agreed with the total hypocrisy of it all (church christening with all the trimmings and BS) and let me let THEM choose their own faith.

They are both grown men now and I can still threaten to slap their bums. Even though they are much taller and wider than me :o)


And it makes for great, far-ranging, uncontrolled and immensely enlightening discussions!!!!!!

The video below is about teaching his son how to TELL TIME and the difference between Hour and Our.

Jeebuth. I love a person who loves words and how to dissect them :o)

P.S. I was told this morning that I have a mannerism for when I “angry” speak. I always preface with the word ERRRR.

As in Errr – not a hope in hell. Or Errr- Of course, my darling.


I STILL pick them up on words that have 2 T’s in but neither are enunciated.


The THEY Call Me Midas

but…But…BUTT…I’m not the person in year 3/4 still demanding a MEELYON$ from a certain yt channel.

What he’s done to bring that on him is not my business. But something WAS done that PROVOKED a blackmail.

If you don’t do xyz, I WILL DO ZYX.

Nowt to do with me. I’m a giver not a taker. And I’ve NEVER BLACKMAILED anyone in my life.

Some have tried it on me. I came back with the good old – PROVE IT.

And they Ran AWAY. Like a flock of seagulls denied a free meal


We have Love-Joy-Midas-Music-Seagulls-COWARDS here.

Jim Leonard, Lovejoy’s old mentor, asks for his help in a plot to sting greedy Dutch art dealer Hans Koopman, who once cheated Jim’s wife’s Judy’s late father. At a weekend house party where Tinker poses as a lord and Eric as a gentleman farmer, they persuade Koopman to buy a fake Klimt painting in exchange for a parcel of diamonds, but on Monday morning Lovejoy discovers that Koopman is not the only person whom the Leonards have deceived.

Look & learn. Or not. YOUR CHOICE, mes not-so-braves.

I-RAN. Our Iranian friends are back in touch. The father and the daughter. Constant comms. FACT!

Writing The Hero’s Journey

I am first and foremost a writer.

I’ve studied both the art and the craft of writing for decades but everything I’ve read and/or written boils down to one single Universal Truth.


This is the meaning of life. To live that journey.

Joseph Campbell was a great mentor via his books. Robert Graves too. And Myth & Legend. And the Tarot.

Everything in our lives is predicated on The Journey and how we choose to travel.

This journey ALWAYS starts with THE FOOL. The blithe young soul wearing the motley, with a bindle on his shoulder, the rose of love in his hand and a faithful dog at his heels as he steps over the cliff into the unknown.

The Journey always ends with The World. A circle. A Naked Woman and the Tetramorph (the four elements or the Four Evangelists or…)

It is a completed cycle.

Within this journey we face so much. So many trials. The Magic. The Spirit. The Love. The Strength. The Forward. The Backward. The Death. The Rebirth. The Devil. The Angel. The Destruction. The Rebuilding. Justice. Judgement. Light. Dark. Hope. Failure. Loss. Gain.


George Lucas wrote Star Wars based on Joseph Campbell’s Hero With a Thousand Faces.

Luke is the fool. The little man with a strange voice (Obi wan?) is the Magician. Leia is the High Priestess. Darth is just one letter away from DEATH. And Vader is an anagram of RAVED.


I see this within my own life. Though – I just keep going back to The Sacred Fool (Heyoka) and Death is a given.

Don’t Bring Me Down…….

Thanks :o)

Aonach Eagach Ridge

OMG & Jeebus. I felt sick and dizzy just watching this.

Way back in the 80’s we (our platoon from Londonderry) travelled to Stirling for a week of anti-glamping.

Somehow – I talked myself into climbing in Glencoe. Good idea at the time, yes?

NO, you twit.

If it was not this exact ridge we walked, it was one very similar. In our army boots, issue denim trousers and dinky t-shirts.

Half way across, I froze in absolute terror. The ground beneath my size 5 boots was only wide enough to walk by putting one foot in front of t’other.

Never been fond of heights since that day. FACT!

We survived. Though Carol, the only other girl with me, decided to do her descent through the scree, on her back. Ouch.

Poor lass was in agony for weeks after :o(

And All the Roads We Have to Walk are Winding

And all the lights that lead us there are blinding.

I’m walking down an extremely winding road with signposts taking me from Sufism to Gurdjieff to Morris Dancers to Tumuli to The Old Straight Track.

I’ve been all these places before.

I seem to’ve missed something that needs to be re-researched

Meanwhile – I’m in an Oasis Rumi-nating :o)

RUMI – a Sufi mystic poet?

Run from what’s Comfortable……Oh. Never mind.

Jolly Girls Outing

THIS SONG. Brings back memories :o)

Traveller-in-crime and I were given a stop-over in Abu Dhabi. No work. No meetings. No BS.

The drive from Dubai to Abu Dhabi is around 2 hours. We had my fave employee as our driver. He comes from Gilgit. A wonderful man. Who played a cd of 80’s music throughout the drive.

THIS song I remember so well from that journey. Sun. Desert. Air-conditioned car. Adventures ahead :o)

The Romance of The Rose : Brain Killer

Image above of MY IRL bookshelf?

Yes. Not photo-shopped or fake or mandela or…!

This book has killed my brian (!) for years.

It’s dense and tangled and thorny. Fact!

But it is HUGE part of my literature/history/hidden journey.

Allegory can be as confusing as eff.

The Romance of the Rose was written in two stages by two authors. In the first stage of composition, circa 1230, Guillaume de Lorris wrote 4,058 verses describing a courtier’s attempts at wooing his beloved woman. The first part of the poem’s story is set in a walled garden, an example of a locus amoenus, a traditional literary topos in epic poetry and chivalric romance. Forty-five years later, circa 1275, in the second stage of composition, Jean de Meun or Jehan Clopinel wrote 17,724 additional lines, in which he expanded the roles of his predecessor’s allegorical personages, such as Reason and Friend, and added new ones, such as Nature and Genius. They, in encyclopedic breadth, discuss the philosophy of love.

I’m a rose grower. I have about 20 rose bushes in my garden. All but 2 planted by me.

A ROSE by any other name etc…….

Oh. And. DO NOT get onto the book to the left of Romance of the Rose. Delta of Venus by Anaïs Nin.

I’m feeling feisty and tigerish today.

Dangerous Brian & The NC 500

I’ve known DB since 1984. He’s married to a crazy woman whom he lets travel with me across Europe and the Middle East! Despite knowing how totally stupid she and me are when we get together.

In all that time, he and I have NEVER had anything even approaching a bad word to say to each other. Until he told me that he’d just come back from the NC500.

I pouted quite a bit and demanded why he didn’t take me with him.

Something about motorbikes, slashing rain, freezing cold and very uncomfortable accommodation.

That made me feel a whole lot better….LOL :o)

One day. I will. But in a van with a roof and a comfy bed with about 14 duvets and cooking facilities and a proper loo, a shower with hot water, an open fire. Fact!

But then I’d still need a DB who is an amazing mechanic and can make anything work. He’s only allowed here to stay if he brings his tool box, chainsaw, ropes and pulleys, electrical kit, spanners, hammers and nuts. And his wife – who will be as guilty as me of doing something totally unexpected.

Use Somebody

This song has a very special place in my heart.

It was sung live by a guitarist, a long-known and loved friend, in front of me who, days later, walked out on my international/multinational business and left me to pick up the total mess he’d left behind.

He literally packed up his desk in front of my eyes and silently said EffU.


The last time I earned a living wage.

HE literally packed up his desk in front of my eyes and silently said EffU.

Yeah. Nice friends.

Use Somebody.

Last I heard, he’d lost all his hair and eyebrows and eyelashes. Full blown alopecia. And he was so proud of good looks :o(

Sad as….

P.S. I adore this voice !


All his mates and Fellows and collaborators?

Has a single one posted a video in support of a man clearly in pain and anger and disillusionment?

When the money and the subs were rolling in, they were happy to be seen with him.


Who has failed whom?

I believe in Jade. I was skewered at the sharp end of this person’s (these men’s, including JL) dicky ego. But – c’mon. You’d’ve thought his mates would supported him. Yes? No?

BTW – they all failed me too.

Some men just can’t take on a Sagittarian Woman :o)


Ravens of Dinefwr- my W.I.P. – followed the lives of some REAL historical (?!) people. The Kings and Princes and families of Wales in the early 1100’s. But they were joined by purely fictional characters. Who helped fill in the academic historical lacunae. When you have over a decade missing from the sources/ records, you have to get imaginative.

The Main Character was a “fictional” cousin of Gruffydd ap Rhys. I had trouble picturing a face to fit this fierce, flawed, flighty man.

Then I saw the image above. Bingo!

Don’t know the actor’s name but he appeared in The Last Kingdom TV series. Which was based on Bernard Cornwell’s book. Mr Cornwell has been a decade long FB “friend” of mine. He used to contact me. Sometimes. Which made my brother very jealous because he likes Cornwell’s books!

Once Upon a Time….Sigh.

So who was Uhtred?

Dunno. But BFF lives a hop and a spit away from Bamburgh Castle and the Holy Island of Lindisfarne. Deep mid-winter is not a good time to visit both. We looked from afar.


L’addition, sil vous plais

Picture this. Me and three other gals in a restaurant just off the Place Vendôme, Paris.

We had finished an amazing meal (restaurant is upstairs) and needed the bill. The waiter came over and chatted in English. One of them asked out loud how to ask for the bill in French. I mumbled something about an addition.

The waiter was wonderful. He said – I love the English accent speaking French. Absolute truth.

So I said…..

I love the French accent speaking English.

BTW: Castiglione is the restaurant. Amazing food. Been there about 4 times. OK. 3 times. One time me and partner in crime were waiting outside, sat at a table when an older man hoved into view and started his chattychit. The waiter whispered in my ear… come back later – when the letch had gone. We didn’t go back. Creepy vibes.

So Much To Do : So Little Time To Bother with Trivials

I’ve done this Biryani before and it took half a day. Even with the hijacking of several males to finish off grinding the spices!!!

I’m planning to do it tomorrow so I’m prepping.

The Hairy Biker’s Curry book is fabulous. But first…

No Time For Wasters :o)

P.S. I have a beautiful, huge, old pestle and mortar. Grinding those spices by hand makes one strong in the biceps and high/giddy on the smell.

The Welsh Viking & The Mad Clothing Historians

After a long and very painful journey – I have found MY soul tribe.

These women are amazing. ALL of them.

And the Welsh Viking is a fan of them and they are a fan of him and I’m a fan of them all.

Deep Breath. Feeling Giddy.

Ah Like Wha’ah Like an’ I Schneeze On Wha’ah Dinna.



What they all have in common is deep knowledge and a less than serious approach to it. AKA – they are fun to be around :o)

POETS DAY : The Lady of Tartary

I did this one three years ago. But I’ll self-ref without shame.

In the little back bedroom of my Nan’s house, my room, there was space enough for a single bed and a bookcase. On the bookcase were all of my Mum’s childhood books. Blyton, Kingsley, A.A. Milne, Ransome, Walter Scott and Walter de la Mare.

I once sent a snarky reply to The Tartarian Princess on yt. She exclaimed that she was waiting for her Tartarian Prince.

I said that a Tartarian Princess didn’t need a prince. She could rule all on her. Like Tamar of Georgia.

No wonder I keep getting banned. LMFAO :o)

Forget the word LORD and inject the word LADY (?)

Well, I Never

I often watch this channel.

I’ve a sneaking suspicion that Paul is Scottish. Some words betray a brogue.

Watching this one brought back a few personal experiences.

Our last, and also our first house, before this, was a three storey hodgepodge of levels and rooms built in 1830 ish. And I know so much about it because one of my shop customers was a local man in his 90’s who’d been born there in the early 1900’s and who I took around the house one day for a tour, 50 years after he’d last set foot. He told me so much of the history – not least that the bungalows now on the left of the property were once the main Forge/Blacksmith for the town. He remembered it vividly and how all the incoming horses for the annual town Horse Fair were shoed and tarted up there before sale to the likes of the Prussian Army.

Now we live here in a tiny village and our historian still lives in the thatched cottage that once belonged to her parents and grandparents.

I was contacted by snail mail about 6 years ago by a man who’d been born and had lived here(in our current house) his entire childhood. That was when the Rectory still belonged to the Diocese of Lincoln and his father was the parish vicar. He brought his son and grandson and was in tears when he recalled the day his father came home from WWII, after serving as Padre out in France.

These kinds of historical stories always fascinate and really move me.


Three Dotty Historians & a Welsh Viking

Strange how sometimes irrational things collide into one glorious whole.

These three girls are wonderful. Reminds me of Karen, Alex and I, let loose at school. Not pissed but not quite “sober” as in starchy as in perfect students!!!

We got an entire class of 30 of us all into the classroom cupboard one day. TRUE.

I adore and have posted several Comedy Central Drunk History Shows.

And I watch the Welsh Viking too.

That’ll be all three darts in the bullseye :o)

If you don’t sew you won’t get the DART ref!