Back With Thin Lizzy

I’ve always loved this band. The sound is unmistakeable.

We all know about Phil Lynott. The face. The voice. The druggy who died too young.

Few know about Gary Moore. Who – in my humble opinion – was one of the best guitarists ever born.

Moore joined and left the band a few times because he hated their incessant use of drugs and the fact that being high as kite ruined their live performances.

Good for him.

Yeh, whatever. Don’t Believe a Word I Say.


Ruy Lopez Opening : My World!

Ah! Compliments.

You’re looking radiant today, darling

WTF? After 3 nights of disjointed sleep.

You could pass for a teenager with those long, luscious legs

Don’t give me that gorgeous smile of yours every time you say something bad

I Know Him So Well!!!!

P.S. I have a headache and it’s not Christmas yet, love.


P.P.S. This song is from CHESS. Much of which was co-written by Benny and Bjorn. The two B’s in Abba.


Nope. Never.

Not when you’ve made a prison of your own words and actions and choices.

Sorry but that’s the truth unless…

…you are willing to take ALL the crap and the punishments and the rollercoaster ride that comes thereafter.

Skipping the groove on the vinyl is very whiskey-in-the- jarring – O.

Takes balls, mon brave.


Nope. Not a German U-boat numbered 40.

In my life this had 2 meanings.

I’d just turned 18, been kidnapped from London by my own father and forced to live back with the parentals – on the condition that I got a job and paid rent!!!!!


Where Did I Go Wrong? (UB40 song)

I got a job and paid rent.

In my day it was called the DHSS. Department of Health & Social Security. AKA THE DOLE OFFICE.

Just off Chip Alley in Skegness.

UB40 was the form that you had to hand over before you got your weekly unemployment/dole cheque.

UB40 was also a band at that time.



I love Aubrey Beardsley prints.

For a long time I was well into the Art Nouveau stuff. I even bought and sold it in my shop.

The pic above is Beardsley drawing Oscar Wilde’s One Act Tragedy Salome.

Which reminds me of Sunset Boulevard. Norma Desmond has written a screenplay about Salome which she “knows” will re-activate her film career via Mr. Cecil. B. Demented.

I’m ready for my close-up.

P.S. Never liked Rod. Fake Scot. Though I love his Handbags and Gladrags song as sung by Stereophonics.


It Was The Best of Times. It Was The Worst of Times.

Great Expectations.

Nah. I know. But I’m having a Dickens of a day.

We have an “antique” shop in town called Great Expectations and I visited it for the first time in about 4 years this morning.

Jeebuth. What a mess. Replace Antique with JUNK.

But I did find the book above. An old accounts book with beautiful marbling, some pages missing but mostly empty.

I rarely go out and about anymore. It’s so hard to socialise and be what my parents taught me to be. Polite and friendly and interested. Though I can say the words and smile the smile whilst inside is silent and still and a hundred thousand miles away.

It’s quite sad to realise that the beauty of an old work book, the binding, the feel of the paper, the real ink page numbers written by someone long ago gave me more pleasure than any person did.

My family know me. They understand but get extremely frustrated at times like this. When “I” disappear and they are left with an automaton.

My thanks to three Wonder Walls :o)

P.S. I still have nightmares about double entry bookkeeping as taught to me when I was 21 and working in a hotel in Amesbury.


Annie Something – As the Boy Called Her

Lennox, son. Lennox.

And the album that I tortured you with was Diva.

Mmmm. We are in need of about £30,000.

The hole in the roof has had babies. They are now Holes – plural. And we’ve run out of buckets.

C’est la vie. Que sera, sera.

I saw Annie and Dave live in a tiny backstreet club in Berlin. They were at the height of their fame but chose that over the Olympic Stadium which was right beside our RMP Unit and had hosted the likes of U2, Michael Jackson, Bowie etc.

As the Jocks say – It’s pishing it down :o(

Slap Me With a Splintered Ruler

Back with the music.

Eldest and I reminiscing about his childhood…..via music.

I really miss our old huge-mungous stereo system. Record player on top. Radio beneath. Cassette player. Equaliser……6 CDs stack CD player. We can pinpoint the year by the music.

Him : That bloody woman called Eddi and a song about Angels. NOT Robbie Williams. You played her all the time. And Annie something. And that bloody Canadian woman too.

:o) I’ve done my job well.

Two things (for me, personally) can bring back a motion/emotion-filled, technicolour moment in time. A Song. A Smell.

Do I Stress You Out?

Madness : One Step Beyond

Yesterday my eldest and I got to talking about music. I mentioned Travis.

Him : Something about 17.

Me: Bad lyric singing – Is it because I lied when I was 17

Him (when he’d taken his fingers out of his ears) : That was on the radio when we drove in Salisbury before moving up here.

WOW. The lad has a great memory.

Then we got into Bob Marley/Reggae/Ska.

Him : Mother! You like Marley? The Specials? Madness?

Me : Two Tone, son. Two Tone.

The farther/further I run away from the NEO-mainstream BS, the more Madness I embrace.

“Run from what’s comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on I’ll be mad.”

Ska came after punk and before the New Romantics in my life :o)

Blast From the Past : Constant Craving

Even through the darkest phase
Be it thick or thin
Always someone marches brave
Here beneath my skin

And constant craving
Has always been

Maybe a great magnet pulls
All souls towards truth
Or maybe it is life itself
Feeds wisdom
To its youth…..


I’ve always felt this song.

All the World is a Stage is now a stupid cliche.

One of the best and most emotional readings of this scene from As You Like It was given by Scott. It describes the 7 ages of us all. Where we end up sans everything :o(

                                        All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,

Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;

And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel

And shining morning face, creeping like snail

Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad

Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,

Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,

In fair round belly with good capon lin’d,

With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

Full of wise saws and modern instances;

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts

Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,

With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;

His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide

For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,

Turning again toward childish treble, pipes

And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion;

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

We Know Major Tom’s A Junkie

I’m not a huge Bowie fan. But – a couple of others here, in my home are.

We have original Bowie vinyl albums. Somewhere. Quite a few.

Did you know ?

So they say – Bowie made up Major Tom from the Kubrick film Space Oddity…Odyssey…m’eh. Dunno. Never watched.

WHY is Bowie in my head?

They got a message from the Action Man
“I’m happy, hope you’re happy too
I’ve loved all I’ve needed, love
Sordid details following”

Why is he dressed as a clown?

Just the Messenger, Ma’am. Just the Messenger.

Take On Me (?)

I have such vivid memories of the first time that I heard this song. We’d just moved to Chichester. In those 2 years there, on the Roussillon Barracks Training Camp, quite a bit happened.

1986 – Ukraine got GOT by something nuke-you-lar. Oh. Another boring roundabout story.

1987 – BBC Weather ASSURED us that there was NO HURRICANE coming to England. Absolute fact.

Yeah. I’ve never believed a weather person since. We were trapped inside the barracks by huge old trees all over the place.

Boyce doing A-Ha.

Alcohol Warning – NEVER drink Russian Vodka in a Russian Hotel in East Berlin. Been there. Done that. No wonder they call it a SHOT. I was dead the next day!!!

I Left The Circus To Join Peace & Joy

What price would you pay for peace and joy?

Do you even want P & J?

The English series of The Magic Roundabout was written and narrated by Oscar-Winning Emma Thompson’s Dad. It always played at 5.55pm in the UK. Just before the BBC 6 o’clock News.

Every dang thing these days is a carousel. Round and round – same bs followed by same bs.

This is my way of saying that I’m thoroughly, totally, completely, utterly B O R E D.

Himself is home for 8 days now. So to spice things up, I’ve already told him that I’ll have to get rid of him – somehow, someway *evil grin*

He’s been on his best behaviour this past hour but it won’t last long :o)

Sigh. I’ll just spend the afternoon undoing all the sewing done this morning because I now have 2 right fronts to the dress.

When I’m in a bad mood – I Tell EVERYONE


P.S. These two songs were written because – at the height of their fame – ABBA realised that they had become nothing more than puppets, controlled by outside forces.

A lesson to be learned ?

Good Riddance…


Latest from the Home Front. We are getting our 4th wheelie bin. It’ll be black with a purple lid.


I’ve already forgotten why.

At least we have a 2 acre garden. Imagine those with no garden and 4 wheelie bins.


BTW – I’m now an ex-truther. Unsubbed from all the rubbish.

Time of my LIFE :o)

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)

How about A PUNK Romantic?

Punk and the New Romantics span my informative music years.


Boy George. Appeared in public wearing a wedding dress and a policeman’s helmet?


I’m not a Bowie fan but Himself has Vinyl Bowie. Originals.

Words on Stream is now the Neo Duran Duran.

P.S. My Dad saw Boy George on Top of the Pops singing Karma Chameleon and said – WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?

Fast forward to recent footballers advertising hair and beauty products.

Nothing New.

I’m going to have to do a Spandau Ballet song. Tony Hadley…..what a voice!

All or Nothing : The Patron Saints of Imperfection

This is where Eddi Reader entered my life. This album. She’s stayed ever since.

I whistled a tune called ‘lazy’ and I tiptoed a very tight line
All of the time walking backwards, all of the time I was blind
And the only voice I was hearing was yours inside my head
Saying “Get yourself back to the kitchen, girl, one true move and you’re dead”

But I found out it’s all or nothing

That’s me in a nutshell.

Give me ALL – you get the same.

Give me NOTHING – ditto.

I do NOT do small, superfluous, half-hearted, easy, instant gratification.


Jeux Sans Frontières

Of all the awful stunts that’ve been pulled on us in the last two years – this one hurt me most.

Not only was international travel Banned but travel from here to our next door neighbour. From mother/father to child. Between siblings and friends and the local surgery/hospital/cemetery/shop/pub/church et al.

Games Without Frontiers?

War without tears?

OMG. In my dreams of my past lives….. I WAS married to Peter Gabriel.

Shit. Did I type that out loud?


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.


Love Is a Stranger & Kelvin Kyte

Annie and Dave are fabby famous. So this song is Known by many.

Kelvin Kyte? And why bring him into it?

PAY ATTENTION to the music video. Read the below. And work IT OUT yo’self. FFS.


Nah :o)

Just words.

T characters are real people with real issues and the mysteries are dissected and solved in ways that make sense for a crime fiction story. However, the books are also heavily steeped in the supernatural.

Rickman, the author, understands religions and lore and folktales, and whatever he doesn’t know he researches thoroughly. This shows in The Cold Calling.

The series revolves around the experiences of Bobby Maiden, Marcus Bacton, Sister Anderson, and Cindy.

Cindy is a cross-dressing Shaman. When readers encounter him in the first novel (The Cold Calling), Cindy is certain that a landlady’s daughter was killed by the same person who took the life of William Rufus a long time ago.

Because of a lack of concrete evidence, no one gives Cindy’s ramblings any consideration and that, in turn, drives Cindy to undertake his own investigation.

Bobby Maiden is one of the police officers that choose to ignore Cindy’s claims, and for good reason. Bobby’s life is unraveling. Not only did his marriage implode but he discovered evidence pinning his boss to a corruption case.

When the boss in question retaliates, Bobby actually dies, only to revive a little while later. For Sister Anderson, death is nothing new. And as far as she knows, most people that return to the world of the living typically report visions of a bright light.

But for Bobby, the afterlife was a nightmare, and even after he revives, he cannot find peace. Terrible dreams torment him. If that wasn’t enough, Bobby knows that his boss will orchestrate another accident the first chance he gets.

So when Sister Anderson, a nurse that was miraculously healed and whose own healing powers brought him back to life, offers him sanctuary, Bobby accepts.

It is through Anderson that Bobby meets Marcus, a student of the supernatural, and Grayle Underhill, an American journalist who writes a New Age column in the New Yorker.

Grayle, Cindy, Bobby, Anderson, and Marcus must band together to overcome the mystical source of their respective challenges.

The Cold Calling series tells their story. Each novel follows the distinct journeys of the individual characters as they pull away from one another and then snap back together, forced to reconnect by unexpected circumstances.


These novels are most commonly commended for their magnetic characters and grounded exploration of incredible paranormal occurrences, with some of the best books in the series including:

The Cold Calling: Marcus lives in the ruin of an ancient castle. His life is hardly ordinary. After all, his housekeeper saw the Virgin Mary at a prehistoric burial mound.

When a television archaeologist buys the burial mound and then attempts to acquire the ancient castle, Marcus wants to fight back.

However, distractions keep pushing their way into his life. Chief amongst them is Bobby Maiden. The DI was killed by his corrupt boss. But then sister Anderson, a nurse, and alternative healer brought him back.

Now he is plagued by frightening dreams. Anderson brings Bobby to Marcus because she thinks he can help the police officer.

Meanwhile, Cindy, a ventriloquist, is certain that a serial killer is on the loose. However, he has no proof and no one will listen to him.



I have not counted the number of times that Phil/Will has had a pop at Richard Dawkins in his many novels.

But enough to tell us what he thinks of this #famous person/darwinian/atheist.

Back to Annie and Dave AND Stranger Danger. Gotta love past insults :o)

Alles Klar : The Hurting

Suffer the Children

This is why so many of us SUFFER from CHILDHOOD WOUNDS.

The very worst thing that a “mother” once said to me was – “God gave us two hands. WHY have more than two children?”

Well. A man and a woman make those children and together they have four hands.

I was physically unable to give birth to more than two.

On the 6th of May 2019 I posted the post below – DON’T GIVE UP.

And ANYONE who insists on telling the masses that MUSIC is EVIL and an invention of the TAVISTOCK INSTITUTE should book a room in Broadmoor.

If Music be the food of love…..PLAY ON.


My post from May 2019. And I’ll NEVER retract or redact a single word. EVER.



I’m having a strange day. WTF?

Years ago this song was used in an advert for the NSPCC.

National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.

The words apply just as much – no, even more – today.

Two beautiful voices with a message that resonates.

Love From a Stranger : Lost in Translation

Being a restless and busy person, I have little time to sit and read nowadays. But I love books.

The PERFECT solution for me is audiobooks. I still have a little original ipod that’s easy to carry around in a pocket as I whizz back and forth.

I’ve been listening to many free Agatha Christie short stories on youtube. Philomel Cottage is one that I really liked.

The story became a play. The play became several films. I like the version below because it has Basil Rathbone in (a great Sherlock) and Joan Hickson – whom Mrs Christie herself saw as a perfect Miss Marple…when she was old enough.

Plot Twist coming. After a few minutes from about 48 mins to 52 mins in the film below.

I KNOW that music quite well. And I’ve always hated it when my name was spelled Grieg. Even though I knew the connection. From childhood……or before. 36% Scottish, 29% Scandinavian :o)

Edvard Hagerup Grieg was born in Bergen, Norway (then part of Sweden–Norway). His parents were Alexander Grieg (1806–1875), a merchant and the British Vice-Consul in Bergen; and Gesine Judithe Hagerup (1814–1875), a music teacher and daughter of solicitor and politician Edvard Hagerup.[6][7] The family name, originally spelled Greig, is associated with the ScottishClann Ghriogair (Clan Gregor).[8] After the Battle of Culloden in Scotland in 1746, Grieg’s great-grandfather, Alexander Greig (1739-1803),[9] originally of Aberdeenshire,[10] travelled widely before settling in Norway about 1770 and establishing business interests in Bergen. Grieg’s paternal great-great-grandparents, John (1702-1774) and Anne (1704-1784),[11] are buried in the churchyard of the abandoned Church of St Ethernan in Rathen, Aberdeenshire, Scotland.[12]

My thanks to a Wonderwall who showed the very worst of man’s ability to cause pain and anguish.

Dancing in the Moonlight

The “mad, bad, dangerous to know” girl (my favourite traveller-in-crime) & I danced in the moonlight a few times. Paris. Rome. Dubai. Venice. On a plane. In a car in the Chunnel. In wales. On my kitchen table…………

The most memorable was about 2am. In Dubai. Walking from the bar to our rooms. Via the swimming pool.

Our feet were hot so we danced in the shallow end. Kicking water at each other.

Aaah. The crazy things we do.

Happy Birthday – my gorgeous girl :o)

3 Minutes MAX

JL got 1:30 today. Then I bailed and heard the song below.

Oh YEs I’M tHe GREAT……


Freddie will tell y’all from whence I cometh.

? ! ?

Oh-oh, yes, I’m the great pretender
Pretending that I’m doing well
My need is such I pretend too much
I’m lonely, but no one can tell

P.S. I so far from lonely – this is not about ME but t’others. Those who have never, ever produced a woman that they love/live with/for.

aka SAD SACKS who get their kicks from Route 666 (!)