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Sunshine, Puddles and Escaping from TV

It was almost impossible to see where I was walking in the woods today due to the dazzling light. I should have worn sun glasses! The breezes drifting up from the calm ocean had an icy edge, and I suspect that tonight the temperature will plummet. The chill hadn't prevented half the local population from heading out for a walk, though. Perhaps they too were escaping from the dismal TV. The dogs love the woods, of course; there's a whole world of scent which is closed to human noses. Ygraine investigated a small puddle and discovered it was deeper than she'd anticipated. A lot deeper. I've just finished reading David Hunt's  The Magician's Tale , which I thoroughly enjoyed. Crime isn't my usual genre, but I found myself eagerly turning the pages of this well-written tale of a photojournalist who is gathering material for a project about male prostitutes in San Francisco. When her favourite model is murdered, the protagonist sets out to solve the crime.

Winter Solstice

However you celebrate Yule, I hope you have a great time! The house is quieter again now. Richard's upstairs playing with his new toy, a gadget which records old LP records onto CD--some of those ancient albums are too valuable to play now, he says, especially his original Queen and similar. The market value of these things not something I know anything about. And Cat's just set off for home--her shared student home--and in the morning her father will collect her and drive her home for the Xmas break from Uni. She's already talking about studying for a PhD. She's got to get this BsC first! And then a full-time job (rather than the part-time waitress job she already has.) I'm pleased she's aiming towards a constructive goal; at her age, I hadn't a clue what I wanted to do--not due to a lack of interests but because I had so many. I had no idea how to specialise in just one interest when so many diverse and seemingly contradictory subjects held appeal. P

Writer's Block

Two friends have complained about writer’s block within the space of one week. They wanted to know how I get around this problem. Well, the truth is that writer’s block is not something I have a problem with, so it could be fairly argued that I’m not the best person to seek advice from. On the other hand, as it isn’t an issue for me, perhaps I’m doing something right--or, more accurately, something which works. Writer’s block does not exist outside a person’s own mind. If you’re bored with your story, how do think a reader might feel? Set aside the piece you’re working on and write something else. You can always come back to the original piece another time. To get into the creative flow, try a writing exercise such as the monthly projects we set at Riverside Writers. Members are asked to create a poem or short story (of any length or genre) on a theme such as a location, a phrase or object, an opening sentence, or we might use an unusual photograph as a starting point. Those wh

Danger of Rechargable Batteries

Ooow, busy day... First I wrote the first draft of a 1,500 shorty for Riverside Writers' latest project which is on the theme of "the punch bowl"--so my tale of an office party is called simply Punch . Next, the bedraggled hedge in our (freezing cold and distinctly soggy) front garden was returned to order with our strimmer. As I was working, our neighbour drove up in her car so I asked if she minded if I step into her front garden so I could trim both sides of the shared hedge level. She readily agreed. It looked a mess left uneven, so I did it for my own benefit. I left the trimmings strewn on her lawn. She and her two adult sons do have complete sets of fully functioning limbs, after all. *chuckles* Then I tackled stray dust bunnies under the dressing table, and retrieved the remains of the shredded paper bag which Emily had dismantled under our bed. I even used the stinky "lemon" furniture polish which smells like how marmalade on burned toast tastes.

Books and Ballet

I've got two pairs of socks on, and some leg warmers, and my feet are still freezing! It's a hazard of sitting in front of this computer for too long. Anyway, editing work on Tamsin continues, and chapter 12 brings the total word count so far to 33,250. This afternoon I'll be dodging rain showers to go to the village. We need a few bits for the kitchen, and as I'll be seeing friends tomorrow there's a small present to find. There has been no snow here at all, despite the gloom-laden weather forecasts on TV! Fancy them shutting schools yesterday, just for an inch or so of snow. As a child, my friends and I walked the mile to junior school through knee-deep drifts of snow, and then home again later (at the usual time) - every winter. Softies! (Am I now turning into Victor Meldrew? Will my next statement be a lament about having coped with twelve hours down the coal pit before walking over the ice-bound hills in bare feet to do another twelve hours in t'owd co

Interview with Adele

My Computer Is Dead! Long Live My Computer! When, for the second time in one month, my five year-old puuter puttered out, I gave up dithering and bought a new one. And here it is, purring away quietly before me. The monitor displays the right colours. And the tower actually switches on--always a bonus!!! I renegotiated my ISP contract and got a free upgraded modem, a better telephone calls package, and at £11 per month less. My hair is in shock; I've just come back from the salon, having had 4" taken off the length. It's still way below my shoulders, but looks thicker and has more movement now. My usual stylist has moved to Gran Canaria, so I had to risk trying another--which I hate doing, as the amount of hairdressers who can't cut long hair properly is exasperating, but this new stylist has done a good job. The village pond was partially frozen over yesterday! I'd put the dogs' woollen coats on them, as the wind coming off the sea was bitter. Emily a

River Dee, Chester

St John the Baptist's Church, Chester

Ruins of the Norman church around St John the Baptist's Church, Chester. Masonic stained glass window in St John the Baptist's Church, Chester. If you've read  The Hiram Key: Pharaohs, Freemasonry, and the Discovery of the Secret Scrolls of Jesus ... Other Masonic symbols can also be seen around the building. Trapezoidal dais for a small alter in St John the Baptist's Church, Chester. A powerful ley line runs through this ancient site, which sits on the banks of the River Dee.

Dad

He would have been 80 today.

7 Waves Radio

Fancy some Hallowe'en tales to get you in the mood for tonight? Tune to 7 Waves Radio on 92.1 FM (if you live on the Wirral peninsula) or listen via the station's website on http://7waves.co.uk/live-across-wirral/ at 1pm (GMT). Along with fellow Riverside Writers members Tim Hulme, Carol Falaki, Peter Hurd and Peter Caton, I will be taking part in a live radio broadcast on Cath Bore's Lunchtime Forum, when we will be entertaining listeners with seasonal spooky tales. You can send messages to the show while we're on air via 7 Waves Radio's "Shout Out" box found on their website. Emails and texts can also be sent - see the website for details. I hope you'll listen in!

Incense and Misbehaving Computers

The rain has now stopped, but I'm home now anyway... This morning I had to go into the village to pay a few bills and buy some incense as I'm totally out. Out of incense at this time of the year..!!! I wanted frankincense and myrrh--myrrh blended with dragon's blood is one of my favourites--but all that was on offer was insipid junk with names like Angel Fluff and Pickled Pixie (exaggerate, moi?) Hmm...it looks like a quick trip into Birkenhead is in order ASAP. No writing done today; the sunshine coaxed me to tackle some of the wildly overgrown shrubs and roses in the back garden. My dogs helped. Mostly this meant them running off with the pruned branches I'd put in a tidy pile, which means our patio is now sprinkled with mangled twigs. I'd brush up but the brush-head fell off the pole. Again. Besides, it was time for a cuppa. Have you read anything by Paolo Coelho ? I've just finished  The Witch of Portobello: A Novel (P.S.) , which was entertaining. I lik

Templars and Horrible Plots

At 50,000 words into writing the first draft of Bethany Rose , I realise that while I love her character, I absolutely hate the plot. To scrap two and a half months' work is no small thing. But the story is simply not going where I want it to. Better to halt this version now than expend more time on something which I know can only become a major thorn in my side. Rain all day, but never mind. This gave me the perfect reason not to find more excuses to avoid starting a new short Sci-Fi story. Well, I did start it--and though I wrote all of 1 ½ pages of it, due to ceaseless distractions* at least a start was made. *Remember that film with Jack Nicholson , where he’s got his family holed up in some miles-from-nowhere hotel and he eventually kills them all with an axe? Well, there’s a scene a scene before he totally loses his sanity, where he’s trying to write and his wife keeps “helping” by bringing him coffee and sandwiches and other stuff he doesn’t want, and he ends up scream

Grrrrrrr!!!!

Our area is being fitted with new gas pipes, both the mains pipes and those running into individual houses’ gas metres. Yesterday a man knocked on the door to ask what time it would be convenient for them to have access to our metre cupboard today. Knowing our usually-hectic Monday morning schedule, I said 12 noon and a note was duly made on the gas man’s list on his clipboard. At 7.45am this morning, there was a racket directly outside our front door as a section of our block paving was ripped up and a hole dug. The soil from the hole was flung on top of my new plants, completely burying them. The loose bricks were hurled against the base of a shrub. “There weren’t any plants there,” was the first response to Richard when he flew out to complain. “Well my wife didn’t plant invisible plants, did she!” growled hubby. “Oh, we didn’t see them,” came the next lame excuse. When the spade-wielding man scraped back the soil, the somewhat squashed remains of my three new heuchera

Richard's Work

For more, see http://www.myspace.com/richie_tattoo_artist

Writers' Workshop

A good article on turn-offs for lit agents: http://www.writersdigest.com/article/what-agents-hate/ The turn-out for the writers’ workshop broke all Riverside Writers’ previous records. There weren’t enough printed handouts to go round, unfortunately. So much for my guess-work! Among the crowd was Sci-Fi author Colin P Davies , who visited our group as a speaker some years ago. http://www.colinpdavies.com/index.htm Anyway, the workshop on constructive criticism - which I'd organised - generated a healthy amount of group discussion, which was one of my intentions. The practical exercise I’d prepared brought some levity. I read one page of what was supposed to be the start of a novel, which was written awfully on purpose, and people had to pretend that a member of the writers circle had presented this in all seriousness. How, then, would the group offer constructive criticism? Once they’d all stopped laughing, I pointed out that if they were to laugh at fellow writer’s efforts,

Incense, Snakes and Cats

Richard has the bubonic plague a headcold. 2am saw me padding around the living room, wide awake. Hubby was snoring like a jammed lawnmower, which is not conducive to restful meditations.  So I'd come down here, lit some incense and read for a while. Mum's not feeling too well. She had food poisoning after eating out, followed by a cold, and now her balance has gone haywire again. She's had inner ear infections before, several times that I can remember. Evelyn stayed the first night with her and took her to the doctor's in the morning. When I spoke to her, Mum said she was feeling better but the Stenetil tablets make her very sleepy. Cat is now an official university student! Yaay!!! And she's bought a pet snake named Havok.... Two friends were caught up in the recent airline collapse. Lynn and Lee had only three days left of their Greek island holiday when their hotel manager told them their room had not been paid for. They were given the choice of paying

Writers and Ostriches

In reply to those who asked, last weekend’s Circle of Hands gathering was postponed at the last minute. It has been rescheduled for October 29th at the usual time. Tonight, I’ll be running a writers’ workshop on “The Craft of Constructive Criticism”, and so now I’m wondering how many people will turn up. All my notes and the exercises we’ll be doing are ready. If you’re in Wirral, join us at West Kirby Library at 7.30pm. Rain all day here. Richard went out to buy his revolting rice milk, which he uses as a dairy substitute. I think it tastes like watery wallpaper glue—and the one which has been flavoured with hazelnut is vile beyond vile…. Meanwhile, I’ve been pouring over maps of Knoydart and gazing longingly at photos of its forests, craggy glens and mountains. I found the perfect cottage—took one look at it and thought, “Wow! That’s Bethany Rose’s cottage!” Photo prompts are useful to me; so are little sketches. Do you ever get the feeling you’re wasting your breath? Some

Thurstaston Common, Wirral

The dogs took us for a two-and-a-half hour walk through the old woodland on Thurstaston Common. This time of the year is one of our favourites for outdoor photography; the skies have character, and the light is sharper than in the height of summer. The woods were full of colour; yellow, gold, rust, emerald and sage green lichens and mosses covered the gnarled, pitted bark of the trees, whose foliage is just starting to show their gradual turn towards autumn. Glossy ivy smothered old farmers' stiles. Mushrooms like ivory-yellow tabletops grew in crabbed tangles of tree roots. Jays and squirrels chattered overhead. And as we walked from the Common onto a public footpath by open farmland around Frankby, we watched the Red Arrows zooming around, drawing red and blue doodles in the sky high above the freshly-ploughed fields. That's not a bad way to spend the August Bank Holiday, if you ask me!

See Emily Play

Dark of the Night: An anthology of shadows Amazon.com Sales Rank: #1,491,928 in Books Publication Date: October 24, 2006 That's interesting... I was updating my bio details on my Amazon Connect page just now, when I spotted this. Jason, who features in my contribution for Dark of the Night ... also features in Rowan . With The Club you get to learn how Jason first came into David's strange, vicious life - which later has desperate consequences for Rowan. So the short story links to the novel, which is something I enjoy playing around with. Monday's Riverside Writers meeting was well attended, though partly because we were joined by another writing group who are linked to John Moores University. First, Antonia Prescott talked about her ten years experience as a children's book editor, and about the things which agents/publishers look for (originality, flair, marketable product) plus common mistakes which writers make when approaching these (format, addressing

Entering the Twilight Zone #2

When hubby’s saucepan of eggs didn’t come to boil, I saw that the cooker’s power-on indicator light was not working. Further investigation showed there was no heat under the pan, or on the other main ring. So, I called out an electrician who we’ve used before. The electrician arrived and he checked the wall socket, the electricity supply and the cooker’s wiring – all were fine. However, the grill, oven, and two rings on the cooker had no heat. He concluded that the elements had burned out. “All at once?” I asked, sceptical. He shrugged and said it happens sometimes. Richard said his mother’s cooker did something similar once. Anyway, the cooker being five or six years old, the electrician said it would be difficult to find parts for it. Meanwhile, the electrician said it was safe to use the two remaining rings for cooking on. So, the very next day, Richard bought a new cooker. It will be delivered on Thursday this week. On Sunday, I was cooking dinner – and noticed the cooker

Poo!

Ban dogs from Wirral beaches? Councillors are to discuss this proposal, which would see a total ban on paddling pooches between May and September. Too many people, apparently, have complained about poo. Dogs poo. It’s what they do. You do it, too; it’s part of that whole “being alive” experience. And the majority of dog owners do, in fact, clean up after their four-legged beloveds. This is far more than can be said for children, whose trail of litter across our beaches and promenades provides ample evidence that the purpose of litter bins is beyond their grasp. They can program i-pods, hold entire conversations in gibberish via IM with the buddy sat right next to them, they can earn Grade A at GCSE even though they think pi is something you eat--but the act of putting their own gargantuan mountain of junk food debris in a bin seems beyond their capabilities. At least the little darlings are back in school now. Finally I have the chance to keep the torrent of discarded crisp packet

Meet the Four-Foots

Richie Tattoo Artist

Entering the Twilight Zone

Ok, now I know not one of you will believe this - but perhaps that's a good thing, and it's entirely your choice anyway, but.... So, yesterday I decided to clean up the amount of Word files sitting around in My Documents. I carefully transfered them onto a brand new CD-R disc. However, when I came to transfer the last file, all the other files bar one had vanished off the disc. Even the title of the disc had reverted to the default date title. Rats , I thought. Now I'll have to retype all those chapters. Then I remembered that I already had the first six chapters on another disc. My habit is to leave files/chapters in My Documents and then transfer them onto CD disc in batches. (These six chapters had earlier been put back into My Documents from the disc while I edited them.) I lifted down the plastic box that my computer CDs live in, opened up the lid, put the old disc in the computer - and there were all the "missing" files. Now, I know I couldn't

Words from Wordsmiths - Wirral Bookfest 2008

Front row, left to right: Joanna McIlhatton, Mary Cary, Peter Hurd, Adele Cosgrove-Bray, Peter Caton,(audience member), and Tim Hulme. In the second row, between Mary and Peter Hurd, you can just about see Carol Falaki and Dave Hughes. Here's me, reading Seagull Inn from the Ruins Terra anthology

Vandals and the Radio

Just back from the village, and what did I see when I walked up my garden path to my front door? My best camelia lying crushed on the floor, its main stem snapped. Five years to grow it; one second for some clumsy idiot to ruin it. Yes, the scaffolders will be receiving a flea in their ear from me in the morning.... I didn't have to grant them permission to put the end poles of their scaffold on our side of the hedge. The least they could do is respect our property. Anyway, I've just taken photographs of the roof with the scaffolding in the frame, so if they leave any broken tiles behind I have visual evidence that our roof was fine before they walked over it. Our immediate neighbours are having their roof done. Emily nearly climbed out of the open front-room window in order to scrounge cuddles off the builder who was in our garden whilst erecting scaffolding. I've already had to warn one of them to pay attention to our clear Beware of the Dog! signs. He'd pus

Caldy Hill, Wirral

Writing

1,626 words this morning - and chapter one of the total re-write of Bethany Rose is now underway. The draft I'm working from was originally titled Cry for Innocence but this doesn’t fit in with the theme of my two other novel titles so I simply changed its name to that of the main character, as with the others. The old draft is only 50,000 words long, so I need to double that. I have a solid plot in mind, to amend this. Also, there are many character and plot details which need to be changed so that everything blends with the mythos I’ve developed since penning the first draft of Cry…. For those who are now totally confused, I’ll explain that I wrote Cry… first, followed by Tamsin then Rowan . They can all be read in any order, so this won’t matter in the slightest. However, I’m not happy with Cry… at all; and so it’s about to be totally re-written with a whole extra plotline in the second half, and big modifications in the first. In a way, it might be easier just to start

RPG and Sealing Wax

Saturday saw me in Manchester, when I met with two friends. When burgers were suggested for lunch I hesitated. Regular readers of my scribblings will know I avoid junk food like the plague. However, my two friends hold similar leanings regards health and aesthetics and they said this restaurant made its own burgers from 100% Aberdeen Angus beef. We just made it before a monsoon drenched the city! http://thatsfoodanddrink.blogspot.com/2007/07/gourmet-burger-kitchen-opens-in.html  offers a fair description of GBK. So, yes, if you’re in Manchester and are feeling hungry, I can recommend the place – pleasant surroundings, reasonably priced and excellent food. The milk shakes were yummy, too. Sunday saw Emily waiting for Cat to arrive. That puppy explodes into happy yipping-yapping when my niece’s arrival makes the front gate squeak. The poor girl can hardly get through the door for our two dogs excitedly greeting her. She was wearing black jeans. Oh dear. When will she learn? Black

Hadley Rille Books' Anthologies

Information taken from Amazon, just now! Barren Worlds Amazon.com Sales Rank: #59,895 in Books Publication Date: July 1, 2008 Ruins Metropolis Amazon.com Sales Rank: #59,393 in Books Publication Date: May 19, 2008 Ooow, that is goooood! Congratulations to the publisher (Hadley Rille Books) and my fellow contributors to these two anthologies. At Riverside Writers’ last meeting, the subject of constructive criticism was raised. Some of the members felt that they would like more feedback from the group after readings of work. Previously, Tim and I had backed away from giving too much crit as we’re only too aware that while people say they want criticism, most just want to hear “good” things. So we’ve tended to praise the good bits and stay silent over the not-so-good. Silence can say a lot. However, this can also lead to feedback being of little productive use. Before the group had its current resurgence of membership, some ex-members had been more critical – but while t

Trials of TV

The phrase, “It’s a simple job; it’ll only take a minute” must surely ring alarm bells with any householder. Perhaps the phrase has been cursed by some long-forgotten sorcerer with a grudge against DIY. Employ this phrase, and you are bound to invoke some form of calamity. We decided to swap the downstairs furniture around, which also involved moving the TV from one corner to another. It all sounded so simple. However, in doing so we managed to “zap” the TV and wipe its memory. Could we retune it? No! We could get Sky 3 perfectly, but all other stations were half-hidden behind a dense snow-storm effect. When we originally bought this TV, we tried to tune it in for an entire weekend. In the interests of P&Q (Peace and Quiet), I called out a local technician, a young guy who’s made a business from setting up other people’s electronic stuff – TVs, hi-fi, digi boxes, DVDs etc. So I called him again and, as before, he had everything running smoothly in ten minutes flat. He also up

7 Waves Radio

On Friday, June 27th, at 11am, I will be guest on Cath Bore's show on 7 Waves Radio, which broadcasts on 92.1 FM. The show can also be heard live via the station's website at:- http://7waves.co.uk/live-across-the-wirral/. I will be talking about my contribution to Ruins Metropolis , and reading aloud one of my other short stories - probably Clara's Wristwatch , which is a modern faerie tale. I hope you'll listen in!

Widget

Having been silently nagged out of enjoyable languor by the length of the lawn, I hauled our mower onto the grass in readiness to restore some semblance of respectable order. That’s when I discovered that one side of the mower’s handle was hanging off. Now how had that happened? It had been attached when last stowed away. I would have noticed, otherwise. Somewhere between the lazily waving grass where the mower now sat and the cupboard where it usually rested was the widget which held the handle on. Could I find it? No, of course not! Despite spending over an hour rummaging around on my knees looking for the black plastic screw-like widget, it remained in hiding. Using the mower with only one side of the handle fixed in place would have been hopeless, if not possibly even dangerous. And naturally there seemed to be no way of using some other cobbled-together device to hold it safely and securely together. “Oh well,” said hubby, later that night, “it was on its last legs anyway.

Old World Magic

I am pleased to be able to announce the publication of Ruins Metropolis , which is a collection of thirty-five Fantasy and Sci-Fi stories. This is the third in Hadley Rille Books’ Ruins series, and is edited by Eric T Reynolds. This collection also features my 3,000-word story, Old World Magic . A trip to her local New Age store brings Tracy into conflict with one of the notorious Fae of Caldy Hill. I hope you enjoy the collection!

Richie Tattoo Artist

Circle of Hands

Circle of Hands Saturday, May 31st at 9pm (GMT) If you're uncertain how this relates to your own time zone simply Google an international clock Previous scheduled chats have attracted international publishers, writers of many genres & hosts of enthusiastic readers! Talk about writing - or anything, really! Chocolate muffins have been mentioned.... Locate the Circle of Hands via my official web site at http://www.adelecosgrove-bray.com Everyone is welcome! Courtesy is mandatory in the Circle of Hands. The first draft of Rowan is now complete, and achieved the 100,000 word count which I had aimed for when I began writing it on August 6th last year. A recent email from Hadley Rille Books informed me that Ruins Metropolis (which features my 3,000-word tale of the Caldy Fae) is currently being printed and should land on bookshop shelves - physical and cyber alike - very soon. Anyhooooooooooow, to celebrate, you're all invited to the next gathering of the C

Chimneys, Cats and Werewolves

May I relate the tale of the tail – Saffron’s tail, actually, which I managed to grab hold of just in time to prevent the little darling snaked her way off up the newly-opened chimney. The cat was not pleased. But a grumpy cat is easier to contend with than a huge bill from the Fire Brigade for rescuing the daft moggy. Yes, we now have a new fire, hearth and surround. We also have an unexpected heatwave, so relishing the former will have to wait until the latter has subsided. Maybe autumn sometime. Ah well, I always was one for forward planning. Over the weekend we watched Sommersby , which we both enjoyed. So was he her hubby or wasn’t he? Richard says he was; I’m not so sure. The Gere hubby’s feet were two sizes smaller than the original hubby. Women notice such things, despite rumours to the contrary. One thing I was sure of was that the heroine’s pregnancy must surely have been the fastest in all human history. The tobacco crop hadn’t grown an inch taller from when the pregna

It Isn't Always All Right on the Night

I sat beside a big cannon on Monday. This was not my intention, as I rather like having ear-drums. However, Richard and I arrived late at the Echo Arena due to a heavy traffic jam through Liverpool, and someone else had whizzed our seats. Rather than struggle to find a staff member in the dark, and consequently miss even more of Raymond Gubbay’s Classical Spectacular, we simply helped ourselves to seats elsewhere. Hence our proximity to the cannon. We weren’t the only late arrivals. At least 200 people entered the Arena after us. And we didn’t notice the canon until we’d sat down. How do you miss a whopping great canon? Two, even. It’s a fair question. We were too busy muttering about the traffic jam and uncomfortable seats with stupid plastic arm-rests which are either set too high so your elbow starts aching or else they poke you in the back if you push them into their vertical position. And we were watching the light show. Hmm, Hawkwind could teach their techie team a thing or

*Blinks*

“So,” I said to Richard, “what did you cook for yourself on Saturday night while I was away?” We were on our way back from Lime Street Station where he’d kindly come to collect me after my weekend in Manchester. “I got indigestion,” he said. “What from? What did you eat?” “Pilchards and scrambled egg on toast,” he said, “followed by rhubarb pie. And haggis.”

Dogs and Boots

It looks sunny but it's freezing out there. Emily has dragged her increasingly tattered fleece blanket to the patio windows where she's made herself a nest. Ygraine is reclining on my patchwork cushions in the other room, while pretending to be asleep. I hate to disturb them but tough. They are about to help me continue beaking in my new purple walking boots. My trusty old ones (once blue and grey, now merely grey-ish and grey) are deliciously comfortable but have sprung a leak. They've lasted for something like seven years, and as they regularly get partially dunked in sea water that is no mean feat. The new ones are nowhere near as comfy. At the moment it feels like walking on springy bricks. Still, they are my favourite colour - and we all know how earth shatteringly important that is. Ahem. Cross-posted from:- http://www.wirralglobe.co.uk/blogs/booksblog/adelecosgrovebray/display.var.2183659.0.wonderful_words_of_wirral.php Monday saw me putting in a guest ap

Busy Days...

Sunday was fun. My sister Evelyn was here, then Lee arrived, and then Cat came round after she’d finished work. It’s not often that Evelyn is able to see her niece, so they enjoyed getting to know each other a little better over dinner. Earlier in the morning, Richard had cooked the roast lamb with honey and rosemary, and I did the rest of the meal. Cat’s vegetarian, so she peered at our lamb as if it was infected with Ebola. Monday night saw Richard and Lee at the Pacific Road Arts Theatre in Birkenhead, for a Chris Rea concert. Meanwhile, I was at Riverside Writers’ latest meeting, when Tim and I planned the performance programme for Words from Wordsmiths, (which is our contribution to the Wirral Bookfest )  next Monday, on April 7th. Nine members of the group will be taking part, and there will be a variety of fiction genres and poetry on the night. Thanks to West Kirby Library’s staff, we’ll be able to offer tea and coffee. And we’ve been given the use of a microphone, which

Caldy Hill, Wirral

Can you throw some light on this puzzling stone carving? Located on the foot of Caldy Hill , facing Thurstaston Common, this large slab of rock has obviously lain here for centuries, if not millennia. It is covered in lichen and moss, which has softened the edged of the graffiti carved into it. There’s even a small face peering from the rock. But the real mystery is the strangely-shaped indentation which looks as if a person could fit their back and head inside it. Think of a vertical oblong, with the top two edges rounded off and with a smaller round bit on top. What was it for, and who made it? Was it a modest shelter for shepherds, who would perhaps light a fire then nestle into this odd chair? But surely a small hut would have given more shelter, especially if the wind was blowing towards the rock face. Was it, as someone suggested, a Celtic ossuary carved to hold a display of bones or similar items for religious purposes? Was it a Viking look-out point? The location seem

Thomas Joseph Walton

"T" Saturday March 8th, 2008. Fly free, old friend.  

Words from Wordsmiths - Wirral Bookfest 2008

Visit to Golborne High School

A "Squirrel" Otherkin Trilogy ?!! *chuckles* The article makes it sound like I'm the sole author of Ruins Terra , Ruins Metropolis and Barren Worlds , rather than being merely a contributor to each. Oh dear.... Not my doing. So, yes, yesterday saw me back at Golborne High School by invitation of Sylvia Taylor , gelertandbess, actor, playwright and filmmaker, who also works to promote and develop the arts within the school. We’ve known each other since we were aged eleven, and used to sit next to each other in English and Computer classes at Golborne High – or Golborne Comprehensive School, as it was then named. Certainly it was interesting to see my old school again. Some things haven’t changed at all, while some are entirely new to me – such as the digital photography suite and the banks of computers in the school library. Back in our day, there was one computer for the entire school! And even that wasn’t a PC as we think of them now, but a monitor and keyboard w

Chester

While in Chester we called into St Werburg's Cathedral, where there was an exhibition of tapestry made by Quakers. Each work showed an aspect of the Quakers' history and their role in social change. The work which had gone into the needlework was admirable. Having done a fair bit of embroidery myself, I can appreciate how much time and effort had been given over to this project. St Werburg's is a favourite of mine. The Gothic architecture is fabulous, and the atmosphere in this ancient and historic place is truly precious.

Ygraine

My dogs are thoroughly enjoying our warm spring days. They have spent the last two hours sunbathing on the patio. This gives the local bird population chance to snatch a peck or two of the seed and fat balls which we’ve hung in our cherry tree. All week, the dogs have been valiantly guarding the garden against any bird brave enough to endure an onslaught of woofing any time they dare try for a beak-full. The lack of rain also means that my dogs have – so far – avoided having to try out their new raincoats in public. The picture shows Ygraine modelling hers, which comes complete with little hood.

Quiet Lives

I am pleased to anounce the publication of Quiet Lives , ASIN B0013CX3HQ, available only from Amazon.com. Direct link:- http://www.amazon.com/Quiet-Lives/dp/B0013CX3HQ/ref=sr_1_12?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1202834377&sr=1-12 Four tales of seemingly quiet lives:- Dear Harry - Armajeet writes a parting letter to Harry. He is lovely but she's tired of too much compromise - and her friends would rip him to shreds. Mirror - Having violated Melissa's hospitality, a salesman learns that not all witches comply with New Age stereotypes. The Four Seasons -  When Granny visits, teenager Megan and her mother face a yawning generation gap. Beautiful - Dawn is as tall as a man and twice as broad, yet her determined quest for love, passion and beauty will strike a chord with everyone who has ever felt disheartened by their own reflection.

Circle of Hands

The algid sky is doing its utmost to remind me that January is still winter. The weekend, however, saw us enjoying a long walk over Caldy Hill. The dogs love it up there; there’s so much for them to sniff at! It’s a wonder their little noses aren’t worn out… A whole world is available to them which we’re oblivious to. Riverside Writers met last night, and a lively evening it was too, with three new members joining us. January’s writing project had been set on the theme of ‘the diamond wristwatch’, and as always everyone had produced completely different work, including a smattering of poems – unusual for our group, as poets are thin on the ground. Over the weekend, Richard managed to plant most of the climbing roses, which we’ll train up the new trellis fence. There is room enough for more roses yet. I do like roses, particularly the perfumed varieties. Plus they’re tough plants which can withstand Wirral’s microclimate, which ranges from baking heat in summer to tearing oceanic ga