the Wry Writer

Writers verses Editors

2026-04-27T13:30:00Z

What the writer says, and what the editor thinks:

This is just a Beta Release — It's haemorrhaging errors

I fixed chapter 23 — the remaining 72 chapters are, however, crap

I'll just kill off this character — procrastinating, has no idea how to proceed

And a time machine appeared in the middle of the kitchen — is addicted to contrived situations

This is just a temporary solution — she's killed off yet another character

I'll finish the edits by Monday — a decade from now

There's no way I can estimate that — they will finish the first draft possibly this century

What's a run-on sentence? — shoots self in head

20 Random Things

2026-04-21T18:42:00Z

Twenty random things to know about me:

I once met Winston Churchill. I was six years old.
I’m one of six siblings.
I’ve travelled to over 37 countries.
I had afternoon tea with the chimps at London zoo.
I once jumped out of a helicopter.
I also jumped off a cliff … in Norway.
I’ve been on TV, three times.
I was in a movie.
An author named a character after me.
I’m ambidextrous.
I can write backwards with my right hand.
I can whistle.
I’m also partially deaf.
I studied science, then joined the military, then moved into publishing.
I love to swim, but won’t swim in the sea.
Flowers are a passion of mine.
So is photography.
I’ve experienced an earthquake, saw a tidal wave, and lived through a 165 mile an hour typhoon.
I love ice cream but I’m lactose intolerant so can’t eat it.
I consider myself an introverted extrovert.

Wake Up Time

2026-04-16T14:41:00Z

I enjoyed reading Herman’s blog post this morning talking about how he became A Day Person¹. Which, of course, got me thinking about what kind of person I am. I’ve never been a night owl like my OH who, if given a chance, often stays up till 1 or 2 am. Me? I’m ready for bed at around 10 pm and, for the most part, like to be in bed by at least 10:30pm.

Though, as I said, with the OH being a night owl, that can sometimes be awkward. But the reason I love to go to bed early is plain and simple, the fact I usually wake anywhere between 4:30am and 6:30am. More often or not, it’s the birds chirruping outside that’s my alarm clock telling me dawn is fast approaching if not, already dawning.

It’s been this way since the summer of 2016, after my brain fart, when I was housebound for over 4 months, I was sleeping and resting a lot during the day which, of course, meant I was waking early. This cycle, once started, soon became the norm. Not that I wanted to wake at that ungodly hour or even get up. But slowly, realising it was my “secret” time of day, leaving the OH fast asleep (and usually snoring) I could go make myself a brew, maybe read a little snuggled up on the couch, and even, open the curtains part way and watch the day slowly begin along with the noisy sparrows who make no bones about getting up early enough to catch the first worm.

Who am I to say what’s early?

So, ten years into this getting up early lark, it’s my routine. Like Herman say, the morning is ours to do with as we please. To take our time, to focus in on certain tasks or, to just wake up slowly with the day and enjoy being in the moment. I feel I enjoy my waking hours more and certainly get more out of them as well, as a result.

And you, are you a morning person up with the birds, or a night owl prowling the dark hours?

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Herman being Herman Martinus, Bear Blog’s developer.

Beyond the Veil ...

2026-04-13T15:24:00Z

It’s raining. A soft drizzle. Gentle in its insistence. Coming straight down. It’s been raining since the wee small hours. I awoke at around 1:30 am this morning to hear its soft plink plink against the window. There was something rhythmic in its random symphony. So subtle it lulled me quietly back to sleep only to wake me again later, at around 5:30ish.

I think it was lonely, wanted conversation. It had been quietly calling to anyone who would listen, ‘hey there, hey there, hey there…’ I spent a few more minutes listening but again, it lulled me back to sleep. A wonderful, dream-free sleep.

And now? Sitting here, once again, it’s mesmerising me, gently lulling me to drift off into a tumble of random thoughts thinking of the ethereal world just beyond ours. Of fairies and gnomes, pixies and sprites. The curtain of rain a thin gossamer divide between two worlds that, if I look hard enough, I’ll see them, there. Waiting.

Maybe it’s not the rain calling me but the Fay world beyond. Beckoning me to come play. I think I can see the sun shining out the corner of my eye … just beyond the veil.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

By Moon Light Lit

2026-04-12T16:04:00Z

As a huge fan of all things space, and as someone who’s followed everything NASA has done since day one (yes, I am that old) I just had to up my game with my desktop image and went with what seems to be a popular choice among aficionados, Earth as shot as seen from the far side of the moon, taken by the Artemis II crew.

Honestly, it’s a stunning shot of our humble planet, our home and tiny blue/green marble, the only home we will ever know or have.

There are other images available from NASA.

Consulting the Stars

2026-04-10T14:15:00Z

Sometime I think that everything I ever learnt about how to write, I learnt from reading Ursula K. Le Guin novels [with humble apologies to my favourite English teacher]. Even now, I still find myself reaching for one of Le Guin's works, not just for that spark of inspiration, but to remind myself on the how. How did she write this scene, capture that character, make it all work?

And just to interject here, Le Guin also wrote some edifying articles and posts. One need only look at her, "On Rules of Writing, or, Riffing on Rechy" to get a taste of her knowledge, wit, and insight. Certainly, you can't do any worse than reading through her articles on writing, especially, and specifically, "What Makes A Story?"

"I define story as a narrative of events (external or psychological) which moves through time or implies the passage of time, and which involves change.

I define plot as a form of story which uses action as its mode usually in the form of conflict, and which closely and intricately connects one act to another, usually through a causal chain, ending in a climax.

Climax is one kind of pleasure; plot is one kind of story. A strong, shapely plot is a pleasure in itself. It can be reused generation after generation. It provides an armature for narrative that beginning writers may find invaluable."

My research isn't just confined to Mme. Le Guin. I also find myself referring to other SF luminaries such as Heinlein, Asimov, Clarke and Herbert. They each have added to my knowledge, and to stretching my horizons well beyond Earth's gravity well, and aided me in building my language of description. While I hope I've learned my lessons, I'm not naive enough to simply think I can stop learning. On the contrary, I know I will never—as a writer never mind as a human being—stop learning.

Not until, that is, they nail the coffin lid down and tell me to shut up already!

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

5 Silly Things About Me

2026-04-03T13:20:00Z

Sylvia has challenged us to write 5 silly things about ourselves and, well, having been commanded by the Queen of the Netherlands herself, how can I refuse? So, here goes nothing.

I will only sleep with two (2) feather pillows. Nothing else and nothing less. Yes, I am the Princess and the damn pea.
I have very specific cups for very specific drinks. My tea must be served in one of my Royal Worcestershire Wrendale designed mugs.
I love eating oranges but someone else must peel or cut them.
I can sleep anywhere at any time of day or night. All hell could be breaking loose and I’d sleep through it.
I love egg salad sandwiches done how my mother did them when I was a child. A soft boiled egg chopped finely in a mug with butter, mayo, and shredded white bread.

And you, dear reader, care to share 5 silly things with us all?

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Quebeckers

2026-04-02T13:30:00Z

Quebeckers love to drive on the wrong side of the road in a perverse game of chicken.

Quebeckers think that the large red hexagonal Arret stop signs are optional.

Quebeckers don't stop at a four-way crossroad, they roll through to the other side in some perverse slo-mo.

Quebeckers think their car indicator lights are just Christmas decorations.

Quebeckers think an orange traffic light means slam your foot on the accelerator.

Quebeckers think it's okay to turn right on a red light, even when the sign say it's illegal.

Quebeckers have forgotten the words for 'please' and 'thank you'.

Quebeckers don't know how to say, excuse me.

Quebeckers like to walk 2, 3 and sometimes, 4 abreast on a pavement.

Quebeckers do not like to give way on a pavement.

Quebeckers love to jay-walk.

Quebeckers live very short lives.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Book Review: Foundryside

2026-04-01T13:21:00Z

Let me just say up front, this is not a book for the faint of heart, and would definitely be PG-13 if not higher given some of the content, themes and descriptions. Including some grisly deaths. But that said, all of it is within context to the world in which this story is set. It’s a dark, definitely bleak story, and yet?

And yet, the author, Robert Jackson Bennett, does something unique amid all the darkness he gives us hope, he gives us humour and plenty of courage, as his characters fight through the harsh realities of their lives and situations. In the end, despite the tragedies and hardship, friendship, commitment, strength and courage bring a disparate band of diverse characters together to overcome a great deal.

I was blown away with the world building in this one, which was beautifully wrought in all it’s grim darkness. The characters themselves range from the well written protagonist, Sancia Grado, a small time thief, to several secondary characters that support and surround her story and journey, to some wonderfully sketched foes who just wreak of evil intent.

Our heroes hardships unite them in going up against a terrifying foe the likes of which they (and us) have yet to fully understand.

Throughout Bennett teases us with Sancia’s past, and events that formed and shaped her childhood and life. Taking us on a wild ride of revelation after revelation, as he spins us a marvellous fantasy hideous in places, but hopeful in others. And gives us just enough humour, levity, and light to lessen the bleak situation our erstwhile heroine finds herself in when, as a petty thief tasked with stealing what, at first glimpse, is a simple wooden box, turns out to be so much more. Giving us, the reader, one hell of a ride along with Sancia, as she tries to figure it all out without getting herself killed in the process.

This intricate, complex, well defined, tightly woven story is dense, ambitious and, in the end, delivers on a grand scale. Thoughtful, and hopeful, it’s devastating but it’s also a book you won’t be able to put down till you’ve finished and then, you’ll be left wanting more. I know I was.

I can’t wait for book two, Shorefall, to see what happens next.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Life with a Kakapo

2026-03-31T13:00:00Z

It's a fact! I'm living with a Kakapo.

And while it's true this Kakapo is (for the most part) a quiet, unassuming person during the day and prone to freezing when startled—I have come to dread it turning up every night in my bed. It usually slips in beside me quite late, and then?

And then it starts.

The cacophony of little noises.

At first I strain to hear the low frequency hum but just as quickly, it erupts into a sudden loud boom. There's no sleeping through it, I'm awake. And if it's not the infrasound, it's the grunts, crackles, snorts and metallic 'ching' sounds that do their best to keep me awake!

I could, of course, turn over and evict the Kakapo from the bed but for the fact, it's 'our' bed. We share it.

So what's a person to do, smother it? Go sleep on the couch? Try and train it to go against its own natural instincts? And believe me, I've tried … for twenty plus years I've tried.

Putting it out on the balcony is out of the question. They are, after all, an endangered species. Only 126 left alive. And how would that look if it froze to death one long winter's night? Not good, I suspect. And gift it to a Zoo? Oh dear, how do you gift such a sweet, cuddly, loving creature who, well, quite frankly, smells nice.

I would be remiss on my part, as someone living in this alien world to take exception, but even this Keeper of the Kakapo needs their beauty sleep.

I suppose becoming nocturnal would to be the answer!

And you, good people, what do you suggest?

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

AMA #4

2026-03-30T13:30:00Z

Today I thought to answer a few questions asked for the AMA challenge.

What's your comfort movie/show/piece of media, and - if you feel like sharing - why?

This one is easy. My go to comfort movie is The Fifth Element. I have lost count the number of times I have watched this movie, as I watch it at least 2-3 times a year. If I need a pick-me-up for any reason whatsoever, and sometimes, for no reason at all, I slot the DVD in, press play, and escape.

If you were going to be stranded on an island by yourself for 30 days, what are the top three things you would take with you and why? No need to take food, clothes or basic supplies, as those will be provided.

I would have to say:

A wind-up radio so I'd have the news and music whenever I want.
My bed, of course, so I'd get a decent night's sleep every night under the stars.
And, of course, finally, the OH as I'd never hear the end of it otherwise.

Guilty pleasure?

Ha! As anyone who knows me and knows me well will tell you, it's Marmite. Yes, I am one of those people.

If you could have any one superpower, what would it be and why?

When I was a kid and read way too many comics (DC and Marvel, I wasn't picky) I loved Wonder Woman and wanted to be her when I grew up, but also wanted to be Superman (well, I suppose, Supergirl) because he could fly. The idea of being able to just leap up and fly off somewhere, anywhere (and not freeze to death or suffocate at altitude) appealed to me big time.

If you happen to win the lottery, what would be the first transaction you would do with the new wealth?

Easy. Buy a house big enough for me and mine, that would have enough room to house friends as well.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Being Certified ‘Cool’

2026-03-29T13:30:00Z

I swear I need to go back to night school to take a certificate in Fridge Operating procedures as, even after 40 plus years, I still have problems. Despite having a temperature gauge inside the fridge, I never know if the interior is cold enough or not. As by the time I manage to wrangle the damn thing from its hiding place—middle shelf, back—the marker has moved from the green safe zone, into the red danger zone.

Do I have hot hands? Am I doing something wrong?

The consequence is, I turn the fiddly little dial from cold to colder. Which, of course, isn't necessarily the right thing to do—just the knee-jerk reaction to seeing the gauge in the red. And while it seems like a good idea at the time, later, when I take out the steak that's been sat the top shelf in the fridge, to cook for dinner. I realise it's still frozen. And no among of staring at it, angrily, will defrost it.

Which then results in my taking out the temperature gauge, again, to check how cold the fridge is only to see the gauge has moved from to the other end, closer to that zone called ‘permafrost.’

My vegetables and fruit are about to become frozen, as the tea in the jug at the back, on the middle shelf, is creating its own ice crystals.

Tell me, what’s a girl to do to figure this fridge lark out? Because, clearly, I’m missing a key and essential life skill here. Is there some secret knowledge passed down from parent to child at some point, that I was away for?

This is definitely one of life’s great mysteries and I obviously didn’t get the memo!

By Candle Light

2026-03-28T13:30:00Z

Can someone please explain to me what happened to lightbulbs. When did we go from having cheap incandescent bulbs that fuelled our winter-nights with light to read by, to mercury-filled, evil planet-polluting $6 spotlights which, while they are supposed to last several times longer, don't?

I ask because yet another bulb plinked out of existence in the bathroom and plunged me into semi-darkness as I … eh, well, you don't need to know what I was doing.

That's the third bulb this month, which seems a little excessive to me for supposedly super bulbs. Seriously, this is getting out of hand. I might have to take out a Bank Draft just to keep up with the exorbitant cost of buying the damn things.

I think I need to write a letter of disgruntled complaint to our Prime Minister.

Dear Mister Carney … no, wait, he's the PM, I have to get the opening salutation right. Dear Expletive …

Okay, forget the disgruntled letter.

Even if I could find a shop selling good old fashioned lightbulbs that have long since been discontinued. I have nowhere and no way in which to use them, given I live in a rental apartment—It's spotlight madness in here—every room is fitted out as if I'm living in a Car Dealership showroom. I think they can see me from the Space Station at night!

What's a person to do?

Please, send candles … lots of candles! Yeah, candles, that'll work … won't it?

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Time is what you make of it.

2026-03-27T13:30:00Z

Time, and indeed, life is what you make of it, as Lou Plummer states in his post, Time Is What You Make Of It. And, like Lou, after having to retire early because of a traumatic event in my life, I found myself on the precipice of a dark place. But even then, faced with a dilemma, I had a choice. So many things happened one after the other that year I could easily have slipped into a long depression. But didn't.

I decided to get organised and, for the most part, I haven't looked back since. I've done my best to stay positive, upbeat and forward thinking. I've tried not to dwell on the past. Or dwell on events I had no control over. Or people whose choices still baffle me to this very day. I try not to fret about things I cannot change and, instead, think about the things I can change, and for the better. That work for me, and my situation and circumstance.

And in doing so, I've found myself a niche and a routine where I'm able to be productive, feel enriched, and that allows me time to do the things I want to do. And even, experiment with new projects and pastimes.

No, no I'm not going skiing in the mountains, or anything as dramatic as snorkelling on a coral reef let alone deep sea diving. But, given my own limitations, and not letting them define me, I've tried to stretch myself in a number of ways while still staying somewhat within my safety zone (for physical reasons) because, at my age, there are things I will never be able to do anymore. And that's okay. I'm okay with that. I never had a desire to bungie jump from anything, or skydive tandem or otherwise. They were never my thing.

But the things I do want to do? I will give them a go. After all, time is no longer on my side, and I have to make sure that I try to do as much or as little as I want each and every day. Because, when it comes down to it, I have no idea just how many days, like any of us, I have left.

So I do what brings me pleasure, what brings me joy, what gives me a sense of calm, or peace, or makes me smile, or happy, or comforted. Even if that's sitting on the balcony, drinking a cup of early morning tea watching the cloud drift lazily across the sky, listening to the sparrows chirrup, as the sun comes up.

That's fine by me too.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Spider, Spider

2026-03-26T13:30:00Z

“Incy wincy spider crawled across the wall
Incy wincy spider doesn’t care at all
As incy wincy spider know I won’t squash him
Or squish him with a tissue and throw him in the bin.”

Despite being terrified of spiders as a child — and for good reason, living abroad meant we were in contact with monsters that grew to a seemingly unnatural size — as an adult, I have become more tolerant and even, dare I say it, almost best friends with one particular variety of spider.

The dashing and rather well named Zebra Spider. This tiny little fellow is a voracious hunter whose territory is large and all encompassing. They patrol day and night all over the floor, walls, and yes, ceiling, looking for pray and, I am reliably informed, will eat just about anything that moves. Thankfully, that doesn’t include me or mine, otherwise … well, it would be all out war.

I got over my fear of spiders years ago, no thanks to two older brothers who did their best to terrify me almost constantly by capturing and letting lose the biggest spiders they could find, into my bedroom. Usually at night, when I was sleeping.

Why? Well, other than terrifying me and the thrill, I guess the fact I could literally scream the house down for several minutes in a crazed hysteria, till all the offending culprits were squished, or captured and released. And, no matter what punishment was doled out to my brothers, they continued for a number of years.

I got my own revenge when I found out that both were equally terrified of snakes. Over a several month period I captured the odd snake, here and there, and put them in their beds. (Yes, I did make sure they were not poisonous. Of course I did, I didn’t want to kill myself over revenge!)

It was an epic battle of wits between siblings!

Détente eventually followed, I’m not sure why or when. But I’m sure my parents were happy when it did.

Funny thing is, these days I actively encourage Zebra spiders to roam the apartment as champions feasting on all the unwanted insects prone to bringing nasty diseases into our lives.

All hail the Zebra!

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Camera in Hand

2026-03-25T18:39:00Z

More and more, I've found myself abandoning taking one or other of my cameras out with me this last year, when going anywhere. Especially if there's a photo op involved. Why? Because of the annoying battery situation and the weight.

While I can cope with the battery situation, when I remember to charge the damn Olympus ahead of time, it's annoying when I've forgotten and, when out, the camera gives up the ghost after a couple of dozen clicks. It's frustrating to say the least. At least with the Pentax ist, not only is it one of the lightest cameras I've ever owned, but the company went with good old fashioned AA batteries instead of rechargeable lithium batteries that need charging every five minutes!

But even so, it still means I have to carry at least two lenses with me if I take the Pentax out, one wide angle the other the telephoto. Which means a bag. Usually a heavy bag.

So that, at the end of the day, I’ll be opting to just take my Merrill messenger bag (which is comfortable and light) and my iPhone 16 pro. And relying on a steady hand, apps, and good weather to take the shot.

That is, unless someone can recommend a very, and I mean, very light, handy digital camera that doesn't need rechargeable batteries?

Suggestions on a postcard to ...

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

In & Out

2026-03-23T15:31:00Z

Following on from Sylvia, who herself was following in Carl and Steve’s footsteps, I thought to write up my own version of In & Out, as in, what’s In and what’s Out.

In

Writing
Creating
Walking
Reading
Self care
Daydreaming
Naps
Early nights

Out

Worrying
TV news
Snacking
Late nights
Time wasters

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Blog Challenge - Music Edition

2026-03-20T13:00:00Z

I was originally challenged to do this by Annie, last year, but have moved my blog to Pika since then so, I’m reposting it here. Enjoy!

What are five of your favourite albums?

Folklore, Taylor Swift (2020)
Abraxas, Santana (1970)
Madman Across the Water, Elton John (1971)
The Dreaming, Kate Bush (1982)
Hunky Dory, David Bowie, (1971)

Honourable Mentions

Tubular Bells, Mike Oldfield (1973)
Close to the Edge, Yes (1972)
Emerson, Lake & Palmer, Emerson, Lake & Palmer (1970)
Days of Future Passed, Moody Blues (1967)
The Kick Inside, Kate Bush (1978)
Hounds of Love, Kate Bush (1985)

What are five of your favourite songs?

Running up that Hill, Kate Bush
The Man Who Sold The World, David Bowie
Sorry Seems to Be The Hardest Word, Elton John
Exile, Taylor Swift
Sanctuary, Serena Ryder

Favourite instrument(s)?

Violin and Piano

What song or album are you currently listening to?

Pvris by Pvris

Do you listen to the radio? If so, how often?

Three or 4 times a week depending on my mood.

How often do you listen to music?

Every day!

How often do you discover music? And how do you discover music?

Weekly, I would say. Online, through people I know on Social Media, and through partaking in challenges like this one.

What’s a song or album have you enjoy that you wish had more recognition?

Probably loads but, right now, off the top of my head, I can’t think of a single one.

What’s your favourite song of all time?

This has to be the dumbest question anyone has ever asked me and impossible to answer.

Has your taste in music evolved over the years?

Yes, of course it has. But I still have a preference for female singers and vocals and big belting ballads. But I’ll pretty much listen to anything, and give it a go. Point in fact, I just discovered Anthony Vincent doing a cover of Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus in the style of Linkin Park. It’s brilliant!

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Get To Know Me Better

2026-03-19T13:30:00Z

Colbert asked the questions and I’m giving the answers.

Best sandwich? — Croque Maman.
What’s one thing you own that you really should throw out? — Hoodie.
What is the scariest animal? — Humans.
Apples or oranges? — Neither, bananas.
Have you ever asked someone for their autograph? — Yes.
What do you think happens when we die? — Nothing.
Favourite action movie? — The Fifth Element.
Favourite smell? — Fresh coffee.
Least favourite smell? — Vomit.
Exercise: worth it? — In small doses.
Flat or sparkling — Sparkling.
Most used app on your phone? — Messages.
You get one song to listen to for the rest of your life: what is it? — You’re joking, right?
What number am I thinking of? — 12.
Describe the rest of your life in 5 words? — Photo clicking tea drinking wanderer.

And, of course, now it’s your turn.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Where are you?

2026-03-18T13:30:00Z

Following on from Sebastian’s excellent post, Where is your digital home, which itself was a response to Patrick Rhone’s interview on Manu’s People & Blog series. I thought to add my 2 cents worth about where you would find my ethereal digital home.

I would live in a rambling, rose covered cottage on the edge of a forgotten English village, lost in the mists of time, that only a descendent of the ancient Queen Mab might find if they knew how to call the boat to cross the river, where Avalon is still bathed in a Golden light that lingers as the sun sets in the west of a place bordering between here and there. A place that smells of violets and honey, where spring waters run fresh and clear, and apple trees buzz with activity and pale pink blossom covers verdant grass, next to poppies that gently sway to the rhythm of a wind who whispers long forgotten secrets.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Why I Write

2026-03-17T15:42:55Z

I’ve been writing for as long as I’ve been reading. All thanks to both parents who were both avid readers, though very different kind of books. My mother mostly read romances and historical family sagas — think, the Thorn Birds. My father, on the other hand, who use to take us weekly to the library, would go to the new section of recent arrivals and pick 6 of the biggest books he could find. I’m not kidding. It didn’t matter what they were. Non-fiction, fiction, historical, or sci-fi. He’d read it all. It was his passion and love of reading that also spilled over in to us being taught at very early ages how to form our letters.

Of course, I was smitten. From the minute I realised I could make words with these strange looking letters and make sentences, like: the cat sat on the mat. I was creating my own stories and, when old enough, making them into little booklets with teeny tiny illustration in crayon, of course.

From that point on, I always wrote, at least that is when I wasn’t reading. And, despite my early choice of leaving home at 17 to join the military, I still managed to do not one, but 2 degrees (you know, because I loved writing) and, by a strange twist of fate, ended up working for over 25+ years in the print and publishing trade after leaving the military. A trade that fed my need to both read and to write.

All the while I worked in these trades, I wrote articles, create publications and e-zines, and even created full-size magazines, till print become difficult due to costs. At which point, I went online like so many. And the rest, they say, is history.

I ran two different websites curating fiction for both the sci-fi lover and for the discerning lesbian who wanted to read both good fiction, but also read reviews and interviews with the authors and publishers. I also curated two on-demand print quarterly magazines for both websites, which turned out to be an awful lot of work, but also, great fun to do at the time.

I haven’t stopped writing and have never looked back from that very early age after being encouraged by my parents to just do it.

Footnote: At once point back in 2012, I calculated just how many words (roughly) I might have written over those intervening years, and shocked myself when it came out at over 2 million. A conservative estimate. Don’t ask me how many words I’ve written since then it’s probably a lot.

AMA #3

2026-03-15T17:53:41Z

Today I thought to answer another of the #AMA questions I was asked last year.

“What’s the best music-related experience of your life so far?”

Narrowing my answer down to just one person or act is impossible given the sheer number of concerts I’ve been to over the course of a long life (so far). I could say the best was meeting, inadvertently, the Rolling Stones when I was about 7-8 years old, and getting my photo taken with them. Though it’s true I didn’t, at that age, get to go to their concert or see them live on stage. Though decades later, I did get to see them from afar on the Plains of Abraham here, in Quebec City.

Fast forward to my teenage years at high school, and as a bunch of pimply teens, my co-conspirators and I where just at the right age, at the right time, to be around just as a number of emerging and rising stars where still doing small venues in cities across the north of England. And so, I was lucky enough to go see, Elton John (1976), David Bowie (1973), and Kate Bush (1978) all doing concerts at the Liverpool Empire theatre back in the day.

Not only that, we got front row seats thanks to Janet Griffiths’ father who knew someone who worked in the box office. So that our little group of four were there, right up close and personal with our musical heroes of the day!

I mean, come on, how do you choose between those three stars? Each was amazing in their musical performance, and sent shivers down my spine. David Bowie doing his Ziggy Stardust tour, Elton John playing songs from his Captain Fantastic & The Brown Dirt Cowboy album, and Kate Bush ending her concert with Wuthering Heights.

I, of course, went on to see so many more great concerts, I remember an outstanding performance, in Germany, by Emerson, Lake and Palmer during the late 70s and another with the Moody Blues. So many great bands, so many great singers, so many great performances.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Movies: War Machine (2026) ★★½

2026-03-15T14:01:00Z

This movie was one long testosterone fuelled promo advert for the US Army Rangers, what with all the machismo and chest thumping, gruff voices, and lone-wolf attitudes I felt like I needed a shower afterwards. Over baked and undercooked, this one lacked enough ingredients to make it thoughtful, or even, interesting.

Lots of big bangs and explosions and not much else.

Mindful March: Day 14

2026-03-14T18:08:56Z

Today’s reminder from the Mindful March initiative is:

‘Find ways to enjoy any chore or tasks that you do.’

I learned early on in life that chores came whatever your age. My mother, having two daughters, saw she could utilise two extra pairs of hands to do laundry, ironing, cleaning and any other household chore she thought to delegate. And thus, to make cleaning the toilet more palatable (given I had four brothers who’s aim was never accurate) I embraced music loudly, and cheerfully.

One, by loudly by playing music on the radio singing along, and later, when older and could afford it, on my own cheap record player. My sister and I would dance and take turns doing the ironing, that is, when she was at home and not working. It was the same with the vacuuming, music was always playing.

Even now, when I need to do any household chore, on goes the radio before I even start. A house full of music is a joyful place. Try belting a Bat out of Hell loudly while vacuuming. Especially if you want to annoy the neighbours.

It was the same with task, as a kid, my turn to polish all our school shoes? I would sing to myself to get through the job as quickly as possible. I also did this with school exams, singing under my breath when in any stressed situation.

And even more recently, when I had to go into hospital for cancer surgery last year. Yes, you guess it. Playing music and or singing to myself was a way to get through the ordeal.

And you, what do you do?

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Doing the hustle ...

2026-03-14T14:00:00Z

Inspired by Jim Mitchell’s post, I Really Hate My Dumb Job, in which he talks about the time he went to Hollywood and almost got a job on radio. I dug deep into my past life.

I had quite a few side gigs back in the day, especially when I was stationed in Germany during my stint in the military. Some of these gigs paid like waiting on tables at various Officer’s Mess shindigs, others we’re done for free for fun and to learn something new, or hang out with some cool people.

One of these gigs was the on-base radio station. It was mostly run by a bunch of Americans who were on base with us Brits, those who had access to the right facilities and know-how at setting up the needed equipment. They had wrangled this cool gig somehow and both their Colonel and our Group Captain, the base commander, had agreed to it.

I stumbled into it by way of making friends with Ken, a US army staff sergeant who ran the whole shebang, taking care of the staffing side and lockup. Ken was a man who loved to dance, and when I got invited to disco night by a friend at the American Bar on camp, I ended up spending most of the night dancing with and talking to, Ken.

It wasn’t my iffy dancing skills that got me the gig with the ‘boss’. It was my voice. Yanks love a good British accent, and I had what Ken referred to as ‘a come to bed’ voice. I was asked if I would like to try out for an evening slot, and duly went along to meet the crew after a late shift. I hadn’t even changed out of my uniform into civvies, or gone for a late dinner, but instead, found myself talking into a microphone for a solid 2 hours.

You could say, I was hired on the spot. Though the truth was, no one was paid. Everyone involved did it for the love of music and DJ’ing. I should point out I never chose the music, or lined up the jingles, or had to worry about anything technical, they only wanted me for my sultry tones.

It was me and the mike, and the listeners.

I often wondered if after my life in the military I should have skipped going on to civilian air traffic control, and gone straight into radio or, something more lucrative?

This is Alexandra, coming to you live from nine zero point five FM radio!

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧