A Virtual Prayer

Dear Lord of the Cyberverse,

I guess you must be bored or something.
That's the only reason I can think of to explain why you've seen fit to start that irritating nonsense with my emails.
Again.

Yes, I have contacted you before about this.
And no I'm not going to bother searching back to find the links.

I'm sure you must have better things to do than to hold onto my emails and play with them.
Don't you know how much trouble this can cause?
I send them off and then wait for replies that never come.

Then I'm contacted by people who say they guess I didn't receive their mail and I have to say that I did and I replied ages ago.
Then, just for an extra giggle, you sometimes (but not always - huh, you're so crafty) bounce them back to me a week or so later.

I really really don't have time for this.
I have a barmitzvah to stress over.

Take pity on me please.

Virtual love,

Debi x

And if anyone reading this has wondered why I haven't responded to them, I almost definitely have!
Honest!
Just ask the Lord ...

Literally literary alliteration

I do love a good lit launch.

Throw in some blogmates and fellow Bookarazzi buddies (a Disgruntled Commuter, Emma Darwin and Sarah Salway and maybe some others) and a book by Sally Hinchcliffe and my cup runneth over.

This is where I'm going later today.

Truth or Dare

I've never bought a property, so my personal experience of estate agents is limited to their reputation for twisting the truth.

So I was surprised yesterday to see an ad in a window describing a house as 'smells like an ashtray'.

Did they have an attack of conscience?
Had they swallowed some sort of truth serum?

Imagine if such a thing existed ...
It could be force fed to lying politicians, cheating partners, manipulative bosses, flattering friends ...
Though I wonder sometimes if it's better not to know ...

Lemon Aid

Mr Lemon (spouse of Meloney and not in the slightest bit anorak-y) came round recently bearing a pc which he's kindly set up for FB to do his homework on.

Mr L is a great fan of Linux open source software - free, efficient and safe as well as a challenge to the Microsoft monopoly - so I'm spreading the karma a bit further with a mention here.

Anyway, as we live in a very small and very cluttered space, the arrival of the new equipment has necessitated a clear out.

We now have 2 dead Playstations and some other odd bits of defunct techy toy hardware to dispose of.
I can't bear to just chuck them in the bin/landfill.
Anyone know of an eco-friendly way to dispose of them?

Piping up again

Regular visitors to this blog will probably recall me gushing on previous occasions about Pipe & Slippers, south London's premier literary and music event.
(See here for the post re last November and here's the latest re the one in February.)

The next event is nearly here and is scheduled for 1st June.

P&S is fast approaching cult status.
Come along so you can say you were there in the early days ...

Check the website for details.

Have you been ripped off?

OK - this is the scenario.

A friend tells you they've seen a chunk of your blog reproduced in a national paper.

Do you:

a) Jump up and down in glee at the unexpected publicity
b) Wonder why they didn't have the decency to at least inform you
c) Rant because they should have asked for your permission before using your words
d) Immediately bung an invoice in the post demanding payment?

I have a confession to make here.
When I found out last year that the Guardian had quoted my blog post re Hay, I was really pleased.
It never occurred to me that the way this happened was out of order.

Well, never let it be said that I don't have the courage to admit when I'm in the wrong.

This articulate post by Zoe Margolis on Comment is Free is what persuaded me.

A Day Like No Other

Doncha just love it when life presents you with new and different experiences?
This was me yesterday ...

a.m.
We arrive at the synagogue soon after 8.00.
Here's how 2 people, working in unison like a well-oiled machine, cook 10 filleted and skinned salmon:
Wash each fillet. Season both sides with salt, black pepper, lemon pepper, onion powder, dried onions and lemon juice. Smear on a little mayonnaise. Sprinkle with fresh thyme. Place fillet on silicone paper and sandwich matching seasoned fillet on top. Wrap loosely in heavy duty tin foil parcel allowing enough space for air to circulate. Cook in relays - half hour in medium oven.

p.m.
We go to the park for some chill out time.

A family near us groan as their remote control plane gets stuck in a tree.
'I'll get it!' says G, leaping to the rescue.
He throws our football at the plane with unerring aim.
Once. Twice. On the 3rd attempt the ball hits the plane ...
... And lodges snugly in the branches cuddled up next to it.

'It's OK,' G yells, grabbing our cricket bat.
But at 6'4" and with LG on his shoulders, even the combined height of my partner and son are insufficient to reach.

'No problem,' G says, undeterred.
He'll use the cricket bat as a javelin and knock both the trapped ball and plane down.
Once. Twice. On the 3rd attempt the bat shoots into the branches with deadly accuracy...
... And snuggles up cheek by jowl next to its comrades.

By this time we've attracted quite a sizable crowd of gawpers.
And I'm laughing so hard my poor pelvic floor muscles are begging for mercy as G and the other guy attempt to rock the tree.



It takes a passing light, lithe and fearless teenager to clamber up the tree and spare my man from further embarrassment (and me too according to my bladder).

Evening
Back to the synagogue to transfer the salmon from fridge to freezer.
Another task crossed off my list(s).

Bad dream

In my dream it's Sunday morning.
I wake up ...
Today's the day I've organised to cook and freeze 70lbs of salmon at the synagogue with the help of a friendly friend.

Only - we've forgotten to pick up the salmon the evening before.

I wake up, shrieking.
'Argh! We've forgotten to pick up the fish ...!'

Only it's not Sunday morning - it's Friday.
And we haven't forgotten.
Yet.

First Born's barmitzvah - 4 wks and counting ...

UPDATE: No, it's 5 weeks and counting. Doh! Scrambled brain ....

The Book Cook

Having recently finished The Gene Pool, I've just begun to cook a new character and plot.

Karen Townsend would be known as Kaz by her friends.
If she had any.
A woman with a tragic past gradually revealed in a series of flashbacks, Karen finds it difficult to engage with other people.
Her vivid Virtual Life is a lot more interesting.
But when a sinister stalker makes the terrifying leap from cyberspace into Real Life Karen has to decide how hard she's prepared to fight to stay alive.

I haven't started writing Karen's story yet, but she's moved in and I'm getting to know her.

Watch this space ...

Debi and her Dad. Part 14

Dad's lost 3 sticks.
Actually, that's not strictly accurate.
He's lost 3 sticks several times, but until recently either Big Bro or myself was able to track them down.

I think he takes one out with him, then when he's at the tills in the supermarket he leans the stick against the counter and walks off without it.
(You'd think someone would notice, wouldn't you ...?)
Sub-consciously he probably doesn't accept he really needs it.
OTOH, he knows he's frail and is really scared of falling again.

Anyway, in spite of labeling the last one with his address, that one too has now disappeared without trace.

I had a stick myself, dating back to when I had a series of operations on my knee 25 yrs ago, so I took that one round to him yesterday.
It felt very strange carrying it across London.
It didn't fit into my bag, so I alternated holding it in front of me like a banner with hanging it over my shoulder.
Even so, I found it hard not to limp.

I've taped another 'Please return to ...' label on it with his address and my mobile no and left it with him.

I kept it for 25 yrs.
What do you reckon is the likelihood of him hanging onto it for 25 days?

We're wheely lucky

Where would we be without friends?
Certainly not any place I'd like to be ...

I was really sad recently when good buddy N (who I've known for nearly 25 yrs through all our ups and downs) returned to Jamaica to live.
I'm so delighted for her, but it goes without saying that I miss her.
She's one of those wonderful people who's always there for you and she has a knack of sorting things out just at the point you thought they couldn't possibly be sorted.

When we came back from Cornwall last week, there was a message on the answer machine from her.
'Hi,' came her familiar tones. 'Only me. Just phoning to see how you are. I'll call again soon.'

And a couple of days later she did.
I told her the sorry tale of Helga's demise.
'We're selling our old Mondeo,' she said. 'It's outside N&D's place in Addington. P reg, MOT to Oct, tax to end of August. £150.'

So this morning we set off on 2 long bus rides.
And came back in our new car!!!

Follow the Leader

I sometimes think I give more bloggy attention to First Born than to Little Guy.

So ...

... LG has been involved with a programme at school called Young Sport Leaders.
Following some intensive training, they have been working with the other children in the playground, organising activities like circus skills, speed stacking, football training etc.

This week's school newsletter included this:

'Six of these children demonstrated 'exceptional leadership skills' during their training and will soon be taken to Grangewaters Outdoor Education Centre to further develop their abilities.'

And LG was one of them.
(I have no idea where he learned to be so bossy!)

No fears for the future of film

Remember I told you about the film First Born and his friends made with Cineclub?

Well, they've done it again.

Yesterday, together with films by 10 other school Cineclubs, their latest production was screened at the National Film Theatre on the South Bank.

Their first film, Retribution at School, was a dark depiction of bullying, violence and death.

This time they decided to go more upbeat with a 'mockumentary' of the making of their previous film.
The Making of Retribution is the result.
(If you haven't already done so, I suggest watching the original film first.)

Having edited over 2 hrs of footage into a 5 min film, I think they've come up with a production Ricky Gervais would wholeheartedly approve of.

The overall standard of all 11 films was very high indeed.
The graduates, all aged between 11 & 15, are now qualified to teach film-making skills to others.

The future of the British film industry is bright!

DIY has never been easier

See this post from Danuta Kean re self-publishing.
It may be from her archives but it's still relevant.

Take heart - it may be harder than ever to get that elusive deal, but it's also true that there have never been so many other ways of getting your words out there.

Just watch out for pirates ...

I promised you visuals

There we were.
And here they are:

The go-karts and the daisies

The boys climbing the walls

The crowded beach

The chilled out twosome

Alas poor Helga. Gone but not forgotten

Going on anon

Anonymity's a weird 'un, isn't it?

Seems to me there are 3 types: the good, the bad and the irritating.

The Good.
There are some very good reasons why some people want/need to preserve their anonymity.
Girl With a One Track Mind, for example, who originally set up her blog with the sole intention of writing frankly - and anonymously - about sex.
When she was outed there were huge and hideous implications for every other area of her life as well as that of her family and friends.
Or Zinnia Cyclamen, who writes with such wit, wisdom and warmth re being a humanist funeral celebrant.
Her beautifully written posts give a unique insight into how the grieving process affects different people, but it's obvious she cannot risk any of those involved being identified.
Or the lovely person who donated anonymously to G's fundraising for SOS Africa.
If you're reading this, thank you!

The Bad.
You all know them.
They lurk in the blogosphere seemingly for the sole purpose of spreading poison.
They hide behind a cloak of anonymity with pseudonyms and avatars.
Never mind that some people who have to comment anonymously because they don't have a blog of their own, but still take the trouble to identify themselves (*waves at the chicken*) this lot hide in the shadows and spit vitriol in a way that presumably they would never dare to do if they could be identified.

The Irritating.
Sorry - but this has to include those people who have sent back their reply slips saying they will be coming to FB's barmitzvah but haven't completed the 'name' bit - so I don't know if I need to cater for 2 people or a family of 6! Bah ...

Don't veto the vote

Dictionary definition of democracy:
government by the people or their elected representatives;
control of any organisation by its members; a political or social unit governed ultimately by all its members;
the practice or spirit of social equality;
a social condition of classlessness and equality;
the common people esp as a political force.

The inescapable conclusion (for me anyway) is that putting a mark on a piece of paper every few years is a piss poor sorry and narrow interpretation of 'democracy'.

I've long been of the opinion that if voting changed anything, it would be made illegal.
But there are times when I think it's vital to exercise this minimal right to be heard.
The local and London elections on 1st May (oh the irony ...) are a case in point.

The British National Party are contesting seats in 23 councils.
If they achieve 5% of the vote, they will be awarded their first seat in the London Assembly.

Searchlight have launched a campaign, Hope Not Hate, advising people to vote for any of the other parties in order to minimise the fascist share of the vote.
Operation Black Vote are urging the same as are the Jewish community with their campaign Your Voice or Theirs.

Just in case you need any persuasion re what the BNP stand for, here's a selection of quotes.

Nick Griffin. BNP leader:

• 'Yes, Adolf went a bit too far. His legacy is the biggest problem that the British nationalist movement has to deal with. It just creates a bad image.'
  
• 'At 13, I read Mein Kampf, making notes in the margins ... The chapter I enjoyed most was the one on propaganda and organisation, there are some really useful ideas there.'
• 'I am well aware that the orthodox opinion is that 6 million Jews were gassed and cremated or turned into lampshades. Orthodox opinion also once held that the Earth is flat ... I have reached the conclusion that the 'extermination' tale is a mixture of Allied wartime propaganda, extremely profitable lie and latter witch-hysteria ... It's well known that the chimneys from the gas chambers at Aushwitz are fake, built after the war ended.'

Richard Barnbrook, BNP candidate for mayor:

• 'Immigration has caused this (his diagnosis with TB). I am angry that I have picked up this junk. This disease should not have come into this country.'
  

Nick Erickson, BNP London Regional Organiser (believed to be associated with Sir John Bull blog - no link for, obvious reasons - from which the following quote comes):

• 'I've never really understood why so many men have allowed themselves to be brainwashed by the feminazi myth machine into believing that rape is such a serious crime. Rape is simply sex, so rape cannot be such a terrible physical ordeal. To suggest that rape ... is a serious crime is like suggesting force feeding a woman chocolate cake is a heinous offence.'

If you want to vote but can't decide who for, this website might help you make up your mind.
(Thanks to Mr Bloggy for the email heads up.)

And so farewell, faithful friend

Yes, we had a wonderful break.
Thanks for asking.

The spring sun shone.
The air was sweet, the beach golden ...
chilly evenings warmed by driftwood fires.
We were staying in an ancient stone cottage in an unspoiled setting.
First Born and Little Guy had their own rooms for the first time EVER in their lives.

We sped rickety go-karts down daisy-smothered slopes and explored nooks and crannies, secret spaces, woods, winding paths and rugged coasts.

And we had visits from the Magical Minx.

But then on the way home, just outside Okehampton on the A30 about 1/3 of the way into our journey and still 2oo miles from home, Helga - our faithful, trusty and much-loved D-reg Volvo Estate who had carried us on so many adventures together - sighed ... and died.

The AA man (we worship at your heroic feet, oh saintly smiley knight in shiny shades) arrived within half an hour.
'Cam belt,' he said. '£50 job. 90% of the time the car will be fine once the belt's changed.'
'And the other 10%?'
'It will have buggered your engine ...'

Hero tows us to garage.
'I'd say 95% likely to be fine,' said the cheery mechanic.

You've guessed, haven't you?
The odds seemed good, but Helga was not destined to leave Dartmoor, scene of so many sweet and happy romps over the last few years.

We ran through the options, none of them good.
A call to our mechanic in London confirmed the worst.
'She's scrap,' he said.
Which piece of news resulted in a payment to the garage of £96.35.

We unloaded Helga, bid her a fond farewell, and stuffed our luggage into a cab, balancing the surfboards on our heads.
Cab to Exeter = £40.
More unloading - this time into a hire car = £136.
(Though FB & LG were very excited to be traveling in such a posh car with a working radio etc.)

9 hours after we set out, we arrived home - tired, hungry, car-less and in debt.

Bummer.
Big smelly stinky bummer.
(Pix to follow - I have other fish to fry right now.)

Lucky Us

Following the confirmation that G wouldn't be able to run the marathon this year, we were dreading being in London on the day.
So how lucky are we?
A dear friend has offered us use of their holiday cottage and we're going away for a few days.

Away from the marathon mania, pollution, stress, phones, emails ...

A time to concentrate on simple pleasures - wood fires, sea air, long walks ...

... and barmitzvah cramming.
(8 weeks and counting ...)

Take care and see you soon.

PS Don't forget - G's sponsorship for SOS Africa had been carried over to the North Downs 30k in June.
Thanks for your support.

Extreme Mutton Moment

I have my own style and mostly don't care too much about what other people make of it.
It doesn't worry me if I see someone else wearing the same thing.

So there I was yesterday, making an extremely rare foray down Oxford Street.

And walking towards me among the heaving crowds, I spotted a little girl aged about 5 ...
... wearing the same top as me.

Debi and her Dad. Part 13

Dear Mr Alper,

Unfortunately we have had to cancel your follow up appointment.

We will contact you shortly with a new appointment date.

Grrr. Gimme strength ....

Debi and her Dad. Part 12

Dad's got new gnashers!

I can't begin to tell you how much of a saga this has been ...

But as a taster: I finally managed to cancel the 3 follow-up appointments that I was told were not necessary but were arranged for him anyway.
2 of them were at the same time on the same date - but at different hospitals.
(And - to keep to the theme of '3s' - I had to contact a 3rd hospital to arrange the cancellation after 3 days of abortive phone calls had got me precisely nowhere...)

Still, as the dentist said, Dad's got his smile back now.

Mystery Women - what a site!

Mystery Women have a fab new re-jigged site.

The aim of the group is to raise the awareness and profile of female crime writers and provide a forum for the discussion of crime fiction by enthusiastic crime fiction addicts.

It also furnishes a lively friendly atmosphere in which authors and readers can meet and exchange ideas. If you are interested in Crime Fiction then Mystery Women has lots of interesting information for you on events, reviews and interviews.

And I'm not just saying the site's fab because it includes this lovely review of Trading Tatiana ...

Six Little Words

Could you sum yourself up in 6 words?

The title of Not Quite What I Was Planning is hard to match.
The book evolved from an initiative by online mag, Smith, who asked readers for submissions and received over 500 a day, some funny and some sad.

Howzabout these:

Everyone who loved me is dead.
Birth, childhood, adolescence, adolescence, adolescence, adolescence.
Cursed with cancer, blessed with friends.
I still make coffee for two.
Business school? Bah! Pop music? Hurrah.

And here are mine:

Loves chocolate but can't handle alcohol.
Grumpy in morning but gets better.
Likes to dance and writes books.
Eats, drinks, smokes, rants, organises, scribbles.

And yours?

Happy Springmas

Ah, April ...

Tree branches bending under the heavy weight of blossom.

Tree branches bending under the heavy weight of snow.

Simultaneously ...

We can change the world

The pressure on China urging for justice in Tibet is beginning to pay off.

You did that!
And you and you and you - and all the other 1.5 million people who signed the petition and joined the demonstrations around the world.

This is what Avaaz have to say about you:
Together, we've built an unprecedented wave of global pressure. The Avaaz petition is one of the biggest and fastest-growing global online petitions on any topic in history; since it launched on March 18, it has been signed by 100,000 people per day--an average of more than 4,000 per hour, day and night.

It seems that the Chinese leaders are beginning to waver, so it's vital to keep the pressure on and to urge our own government to do likewise.

You can send a message to your own heads of state here.

On Sunday, the Olympic torch will be passing through London.

Finally, some more words from Avaaz to help you sleep at night:
We're privileged to be alive at a time when people anywhere can reach out and support people everywhere--instantly.
If we have the power to make things better, we have a responsibility to act.

A change to the running order

We knew it was increasingly unlikely that G would be fit to run the marathon this year.

He ran on the belt at the gym earlier this week and again today and after a few miles his ankle protested.

Though there has been improvement, his osteopath has confirmed out feeling that it would be crazy to run 26 miles on 13th April.

But all is not lost!
He's applied to run in the North Downs 30k in June and we're holding sponsorship for SOS Africa over 'til then.

Click here if you'd like to donate.

Huge thanks to those people who have continued to sponsor him even though they knew he was unlikely to run. You make it all worthwhile ...

Things you don't expect to hear ...

I love my writers' group and all the clever, funny, wise, warm and talented people I've met through it.

So there we were today at the coffee caucus.
I was talking about First Born's struggle to learn his barmitzvah portion in Hebrew.

'I once had to learn an entire opera in Hungarian,' said Rupert.
'I found the best way was to learn it backwards ...'

When death is not the end ...

It may be 5 months since Dina Rabinovitch died, but her blog continues to attract visitors - at this point there are 106 comments on her last post.

Dina set herself a target - to raise £100, 000 for the CTRT appeal at Mount Vernon Hospital and she donated all the proceeds from her book, Take Off Your Party Dress, to the appeal.

The amount raised currently stands at £109,998.59 and people are still donating.

It just goes to show ...
Some people have a life force so powerful ... so irresistible ... that even death can't stop it in its tracks.

Hey - who turned the lights out?

I assumed any attempt to persuade the ladz to participate in Earth Hour would be met with howls of protest and would be doomed to failure.

Oh me of little faith ...

True, First Born did check to see if he'd miss anything good on tv.
Fortunately (and entirely predictably) there was nothing but crap on.

At 7.55, crafty G put the kettle on and made a cup of tea.
Then we unplugged our electrical appliances, lit an array of candles and switched off all the lights.

We started by playing a game suggested by techno-boy himself, FB.
You tell a story by taking turns, contributing just 3 words each.
It was astonishing just how quickly every storyline dived into the depths of filth and obscenity ... (*sigh*)

Then 2 of us took turns to tell the story, while a 3rd flitted among the flickering shadows acting it out and the 4th provided sound effects.

After that, it was a few rounds of Who Am I? (mostly sports people I've never heard of) and the hour was up before we knew it.

Oh - and most importantly, we talked about why we were doing it, Little Guy expressing his disappointment at the number of lights he could see burning in the neighbouring houses.

7 continents. 6.6 billion people. 1 hour.

If you care about what's happening to the environment, would you be prepared to give one hour of your life if you thought it would make a difference?

You won't have to go anywhere.
No marches or demos to get to.
No distributing of leaflets or flyposting will be involved.
And it won't cost you a single penny - quite the reverse.

All you have to do is switch off all your appliances for one hour tomorrow (Saturday 29th March) at 8pm.

Is that too much to ask?

To see who will be joining with you in this initiative, check the Earth Hour blog here and the website here.

Thanks for the reminder to she who always backs up her words with action - the inimitable Sharon J.

Are you one in a million yet?

If you are, you'll know that Avaaz have reached their target to collect a million signatures to protest against the situation in Tibet.
Proof positive of the power of the internet and of YOU!

If you haven't signed yet, what are you waiting for?

Here is an excerpt from the latest email:

Dear friends,

We reached our target! In just 7 days over 1 million of us have signed the petition calling for human rights and dialogue in Tibet--the fastest growing internet petition in history. As the crisis continues, it's time to deliver our petition and make sure Chinese President Hu Jintao hears our voices.

An International Day of Action has been declared for Monday, March 31st. On Monday, thousands of people in cities across the world will march to Chinese embassies and consulates, and stack hundreds of boxes containing our petition outside them. 1 million signatures makes a mountain of boxes--it will send a powerful global message.

We have just 4 days left until the petition delivery. Could we get to 2 million signatures in 4 days? We can do it--if every one of us recruits at least one more friend to sign the petition.

Running (no) commentary

Some of you may have been wondering why I haven't done any updates re G's marathon training.

The truth is, I'm afraid all is not well.

G's been struggling for some weeks with a foot/ankle injury.
He's seen an osteopath, been doing ice treatments several times a day, massaging with glucosamine ointment, tailoring his regime so that he maintains overall fitness through mega gym sessions while not putting undue stress on his ankle ...

In these last few weeks, he should have been winding down his running.
Instead he's been unable to run at all.

On Tuesday, he ran on the gym belt for the first time for ages ...
... And his ankle became instantly painful and swollen.

He hasn't quite given up hope that he'll be able to compete.
The problem is that if he pulls out now, he would still get a guaranteed place next year, whereas if he took part but failed to finish (or ran a very slow time) that wouldn't be the case.

But the real problem is this: many people have already been kind enough to sponsor him.
My hope is that they will all realise they have donated to a really good cause whether G runs or not.
In fact my real real hope is that people will continue to sponsor him, even though there's a strong possibility he won't compete.

Tell me I'm not wrong to have this faith in human nature by going here and donating to SOS Africa.
Don't forget - 'It is our guarantee that every penny you raise or donate will go straight towards paying for the education and care of the children who need it most." (Matt Crowcombe, UK President, SOS Africa)

Brave new world?

I switched on the tv for a quick glimpse of the news headlines.

First up - concerns re a new website called Miss Bimbo (I kid you not).
In exchange for Bimbo dollars you can clothe and feed your very own Bimbo and even pay for cosmetic surgery.
Apparently, girls as young as 9 have been accessing the site which I'm not going to link to for obvious reasons.

Next up - the NUT is discussing whether to ban the army from schools amid fears that the MOD is presenting a distorted and propagandist view of the realities of life in the armed forces.

What kind of brave new world are we creating for our children?
I despair ...

Just desserts

Planning to cater for a barmitzvah party for 120 people?
(11 weeks and counting ...)

You'll need lists, lateral thinking, lists, teamwork, lists, forward planning, lists, a clear head and some lists.

Here's a guide to how to deal with the desserts.

• Buy ingredients and drive to dad
• Defrost dad's freezer
• Inform meteorological office you've located disappearing polar ice cap
• Allocate tasks
• Crush 10lb digestive biscuits
• Mix with 5lb seedless raisins
  
• Add 10 tins condensed milk
• Melt 5lb butter and 5lb plain chocolate in a bowl over a pan of simmering water
• Add melted butter and chocolate to biscuit mixture and mix thoroughly
  
• Spoon into 15 greased tins and flatten
• Freeze

Right. That's the pudding done ...

Thud ... ouch ... thud ... ouch

That's the sound of my head banging against a brick wall.

You see, I'm starting to think I'm ill-equipped to play this game.

I went to a seminar at the Society of Authors yesterday on how to get the best out of your publisher.
It was full of useful tips and contacts, but it all boils down to one thing -
- if you're not prepared to pimp ... oops, sorry, I mean self-promote ... you don't stand a chance.

Now, herein lie my problems:

• the skills involved in writing and those related to self-promotion are very different and may in some cases (*self-conscious cough*) be mutually exclusive
• you will have to do a huge amount of work in the face of publicists who will tell you to leave it all up to them - which you must on no account do while bearing in mind that's it's crucial not to alienate them
• you have to be self-confident without being obnoxious and assertive without being aggressive
• which means you will need to have the balls of a rottweiller, the hide of a rhino and the soft hand of a seductress
• if successful, you will probably have morphed into someone you won't like very much

Thud ... ouch ... thud ... ouch

Become one of the million

I've just received this email from Avaaz re Tibet.
Please sign the petition and link on your own blogs to spread the word.

After decades of repression under Chinese rule, the Tibetan people's frustrations have burst onto the streets in protests and riots. With the spotlight of the upcoming Olympic Games now on China, Tibetans are crying out to the world for change.

The Chinese government has said that the protesters who have not yet surrendered "will be punished". Its leaders are right now considering a crucial choice between escalating brutality or dialogue that could determine the future of Tibet, and China.

We can affect this historic choice--China does care about its international reputation. China's President Hu Jintao needs to hear that the 'Made in China' brand and the upcoming Olympics in Beijing can succeed only if he makes the right choice. But it will take an avalanche of global people power to get his attention--and we need it in the next 48 hours.

The Tibetan Nobel peace prize winner and spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama has called for restraint and dialogue: he needs the world's people to support him.

Please sign the petition--and spread the word--our goal is 1 million voices united for Tibet.

We will deliver our petition directly to Chinese officials in London, New York, and Beijing.

Hot tip re cold method

Others might already know about this, but I thought it would be useful to share just in case ...

It's the Snowflake method for writing a novel.

I haven't checked it out myself and quite possibly will never feel the need to, but what works for one person won't necessarily work for another, so I think it's good to know about the different strategic options available.

Unlikely combinations

They say you should never judge a book by its cover and the analogy is usually used as a warning against making assumptions about a person from their appearance.

So there I was on the bus.
And there was this young guy engrossed in a book.
He wore a sharp suit, his hair was gelled into spikes and he had a laddish glint in his eye.

And he was reading ...
Daphne du Maurier.

What's the most unlikely combination of reader and book you've seen?

Damn the damp

After my mum died, I filled a small suitcase with some special treasures: her passport, glasses, makeup bag, a couple of floaty blouses, some silk scarves ...
Nothing valuable in financial terms but every item selected for its sentimental value.

It may be over 16 years since she died, but in this time when we're building up to First Born's barmitzvah, I miss her more than ever.
I decided to retrieve the case and share the contents and their memories with the grandchildren she never met.

I went to find the suitcase in the cupboard but it seems a certain person who shall remain nameless had seen fit to move it to the garage.

As soon as I saw it and gasped at the side eaten away with damp I knew what I would find inside.
The contents were almost unrecognisable, disintegrating into dust as I tried to prise them apart.

'It's OK,' said wise FB to his howling mother. 'It's what you carry inside of you that matters.'
He's right of course, but it's hard to let go altogether.

I've managed to retrieve a few pieces that aren't visibly damaged, but they smell foul.
These are not the kind of things you can bung in a washing machine.

Anyone have any ideas how I can get rid of the smell?

I'm weary of conversations like this

The other day I was introduced to someone as an author.
The conversation (not the first of its kind) went like this:

Him: Published?
Me: Um yes. I've had two books published.
Him: How many copies sold?

At which point I go into mutter mumble waffle mode about sales being ok but given the state of the publishing industry ... etc etc.
And then you watch the other person's eyes glaze as they turn away, clearly dismissing you as unworthy of further attention.

Of all the questions you could ask when introduced to someone who writes books, why is it that the one that so often comes first is related to sales?

I need to come up with a standard response in situations like this that doesn't leave them feeling justified in writing me off and doesn't leave me feeling like a two-headed twat with an unpleasant dribbling habit.

Any suggestions would be gratefully received.

(On a brighter note, I met someone else yesterday who said how much she'd enjoyed both my books and that she'd passed them on to her sister-in-law who had also loved them and had now loaned them to another friend. Those readers won't have registered as sales, but are the kinds of responses every author craves.)

Who said bloggers ain't powerful?

The Guardian has published a list of the world's 50 most powerful bloggers.

How did they manage to limit themselves to 50???

DIY for authors

Given the current state of publishing (see here and track back all the links to previous posts for the full picture) it's no wonder so many writers choose to self-publish.

On the one hand, it's never been harder to get a traditional deal ...
On the other, there have never been so many alternative ways of getting your words out there yourself.

Here's an example:
YouWriteOn had formed a partnership with Legend Press offering packages for self-publishing writers, covering editing, text-setting, cover design, registration, sales and marketing.

See here for details.

Debi and her Dad. Part 11

So off I went to dad, looking forward to seeing him for the first time for ages without him having toothache.
(I took him to have some major dental surgery at the hospital last week which was traumatic for him to say the least.)

Aaaaggghhh! His face was covered in livid bruising and swelling down one side and across both lips!
And it wasn't connected to the dental extractions ...

He thinks he fell in the street yesterday.
At least this time his nose and glasses remained intact - and I suppose he doesn't have as many teeth left now to knock out ...

'Did you have your stick with you?' I asked, knowing that he's recently lost two of them.
'It was probably the bloody stick I tripped over,' he replied.

Yes, he still has his wicked sense of humour in spite of everything ...

LG came home from school and said they watched this video today and it made the kids really sad.
It feels appropriate to post the link here.

I had intended to try to fiddle with my template and get it back to how it was (don't like change!).
If I'd got it right, I would have been afloat on the sea of ultimate smugness.
Somehow it doesn't seem important now ...

That'll teach me

Bah! I thought I'd just nip in to update my links to include the lovely new bloggers I've recently met and I've only gone and changed the appearance of my whole blog!

But while I'm here - just a teensy mini meme.
This came in before I made the decision to back off and anyway it's from the lovely Lucy Pepper.
More importantly - it's short.

So I turn to page 123 of the nearest book to hand - Pomes by John Ahearn.
I'm supposed to go to the 5th sentence and then transcribe the next 3, only I'm going to do this as lines not sentences.

anyone would wish, given a choice,
propped on clean pillows, the family close,
framing their last thoughts, in their last voice.

And now I have to pass it on (at which point shouldn't a meme become a youyou?).

Shouting to Sharon at her brand new, stripped down sparkly blog and to Leslie, because I've never zapped her before.

Right - off to dad now, editing on tube with right hand and making lists with left.

Back seat blogging

Big changes are afoot and they're going to impact on my blogging for the next few months.

We're now 14 weeks away from First Born's barmitzvah (which I mentioned in passing here).

We're utterly overwhelmed with the amount that needs to be done - mostly by li'l ole me.

Poor FB has to learn his huge portion to read in Hebrew - particularly challenging for a kid with dyslexia.
Little Guy also has to learn a significant portion.

And I have to:

• teach them both
• design and send invitations
  
• organise the procedures for the service
• organise the party venue
• shop
  
• do all the catering
• juggle lists
• panic
  

G's main function is to do the driving including the part where he drives me up the wall and round the bend.
This is actually valuable as it's a sort of pressure cooker role - enabling me to freak out occasionally and let off steam.

The point is that I'm going to have to drop some of my other commitments for a bit.
Obviously dad remains a top priority.
Homework will still need to be done.
And I'm working extremely hard on freelance editing, which is essential.

But many other things - including this blog I'm afraid - are going to have to take a back seat until mid-June.
I'll still post here and let you know what's happening, but with regret my visits to other people's blogs are going to be rare.
And please please please don't tag me for memes etc!

Hope you understand!
If there's anything you think I might miss but really should know about, please leave a comment here or email me.

Mark Reid: every end is also a beginning.

So there we go, eh, Mark?

When I wrote this for you back in December, I said I assumed you would have no funeral, no loved ones to care and no closure to mark your passing.

How wrong I was.
On Tuesday I went to the funeral I never thought you would have.
Your mum was there, and your twin sisters as well as some old family friends and some new friends from recent years.
It’s clear that you were indeed loved.

So the inevitable question - why did you take the path that you did?
No one can answer that.
It’s perhaps hardest of all for the people who loved you as a child to come to terms with – that you made a choice to live the way you did.
You were a free spirit, Mark, and you defied the stereotypes.

You’ve taught me a lot since you left this life behind, Mark.
You taught me never to make assumptions ...
And that there are no easy answers.
We see someone who seems to be on a self-destructive trajectory and we want to know why, we need reasons, justification, meaning ...

If we believe it’s because they suffered unbearable pain and abuse, it somehow comforts us.
Ah, we say, so that’s why it happened.
And then we secretly reassure ourselves it could never happen in our own families.

The truth is far more subtle.
Like I say – no easy answers.
Maybe we’re just not asking the right questions.

Thank you for enabling me to meet your family, Mark.
I think I know why you never told me about your lovely sisters – you were protecting them.
We plan to meet again soon, when we’ll visit your bash on London Bridge.
Our lives will continue, but forever affected by what happened in yours.

I couldn’t hear what was said at the funeral, but your family were kind enough to give me a copy of the moving speeches made, referring to the ‘happy, lively boy, full of energy and enthusiasm’ they had known as a child.

I imagined a soundtrack – Led Zeppelin, Stairway to Heaven, and perhaps some Pink Floyd.
And afterwards they told me these were indeed the tracks played during the service.

So next time any of us sees someone who is homeless, we should take some time to wonder.
They may well have a tragic background filled with abuse and pain.
(And there is no doubt that life on the streets is brutal and fraught with danger.)
But they also might have a kind and loving family who are left wondering where they could possibly have gone wrong.
Everyone has their own unique story to tell.

You may not have been born a child of the streets, Mark, but it was ultimately your choice as an adult to live in the way that you did.

Oh and I’ve remembered something else too.
The flowers.
You knew all the people who ran the florist stalls in the station.
They would give you the flowers that were considered just past their best.
You would put them in jars and pots around your bash, to brighten up the days of those who passed by.
One day, I came along and you were waiting for me.
You gave me a huge bouquet.
I was blown away.
When I arrived at work everyone wanted to know who had given me these beautiful flowers.
I watched the confusion on their faces as I told them they had been given to me by a friend who was homeless.
See, Mark? That’s what I mean about you defying the stereotypes.

And so fare thee well, Mark Reid, Stargazer.
We’ll see you on the dark side of the moon.

Safe and good sounds

The weekend certainly lived up to expectations.

You wanted visuals, so that's what you'll get.
(Unfortunately it was all I had too, since I was/am deaf as a whole row of posts.)

We started off with lunch here - which, you'll be delighted to know, included gin and chocolate cake.
Drumroll: l-r John Ahearn/Wordcarver/(US), Kate B/Minx/(Cornwall), Barbara Smith/Cailleach/(Ireland), Bill Liversidge/Pundy (Scotland), Karen S/Riverwillow (Kent), Emma M/Meloney Lemon (down the road).
Oh and that's me perched at the back there - I'm the one who lacks the imagination to come up with an interesting bloggy name.

And here we are at the venue. That's Babs with Emma Darwin, fellow Bookarazzi buddy who blogs at This Itch of Writing.


And that's L Lee Lowe/Lowebrow with Babs.

I do know, in spite of barely functioning ears, that both John and Babs were predictably wonderful, as were all the other performers in a pure class eclectic lineup.

Pipe & Slippers is going from strength to strength.
And people I know and love are part of it.
Who needs ears?

Weekends are made of this

I'm building up to a top notch, platinum standard, highest quality, pure class weekend.

First and foremost, First Born is due back from his 8 day trip to France tomorrow.

Please, please, please Mr France Coach Driver, take care.
Watch out for slippery roads, precipitous edges, rockfalls, fog, blizzards, exhaustion, other drivers ...
Please, please, please Mr Ferryman, take care.
Watch out for unexpected currents, mechanical failures, stray ships, ice bergs ...
(Ice bergs? In the Channel? Come, come now. That's taking the anxious parenting too far.)
Please, please, please Mr UK Coach Driver, take care.
Just because you're nearly home, this is no time for a lapse in attention.
It's been a long journey.
Take a break if you need to.
You carry a cargo more precious than gold, rubies, diamonds and every coin in every currency across the globe.

The rest of the day will be spent on a family love-in of monumental proportions.

Meanwhile, back in the Real World, bloggers will be flocking from all points of the compass for Pipe & Slippers (and some of them will be crashing on various bits of our furniture).
On Sunday, they'll be descending on our tiny loved-up abode for lunch.
I haven't told them yet that they're going to need to sit on each other's shoulders.
Or that the reason I'll be serving finger food is that we don't have enough forks.

Oh and I must warn them about the toilet seat.
It's ... um ... not actually attached to the toilet, which can make for a less-than-relaxing lavatorial experience (unless they find rollercoasters soothing ...)

Then on Monday, it will be back-to-normal day.
And I'll probably be wondering if I dreamed it all ...

Oh - and did I mention that I'm deaf? Again?

If I've told you once ...

... I've told you a thousand times. (Or at least five ...)
(See here and here and here and here)

Don't write because you hope it will make you rich.

An article in The Times (thanks to Absolute Vanilla for the link) makes the case crystal clear.
The words 'brutal' and 'reality' leap to mind.

Here's an extract for those who can't be arsed to check the link:

Last month The Times published statistics from Nielsen Bookscan, which tracks book sales nationwide, showing that, of 200,000 books on sale last year, 190,000 titles sold fewer than 3,500 copies. More devastating still, of 85,933 new books, as many as 58,325 sold an average of just 18 copies. And things aren't much better over the pond: I read recently that, of the 1.2million titles sold in the United States in 2004, only 2 per cent sold more than 5,000 copies.

Tatiana has a new friend

Sarah Salway, who has been described by Authortrek as 'one of Britain's best writers', has posted a wonderful new review of Trading Tatiana, which you can see here.

It's always great to receive a good review, but when it's written by someone you admire and respect, it's especially sweet.

It's that time of year again.

Another year ... another London marathon ...

This year my partner, Greg will be running his 8th marathon.
He's just turned 50 and, for those who don't know, is a maniacal runner who just happens to have insulin dependent diabetes.
Following a recent ghastly chest infection, he's also been diagnosed with exercise-related asthma.
Yeah. Like he needed that.

In spite of all this, he's still desperate to break the 3 hour mark.
(You can read about last year's dramatic attempt here.
And Greg's running story is here.)

Now for the important part:
He's running this year for SOS Africa and the charity guarantees that every penny raised will go directly towards paying for the care and education of the children who need it most.

I will of course be keeping you up-to-date with Greg's training and progress.
Meanwhile, you can donate directly to the charity by clicking on the widget ...
(which in the interests of accuracy should say sponsor him, not me. I just do the admin and carry the bags.)

Let the blogger beware

Shameless has a lesson for us all on how easily blog posts and comments can be twisted, torn from context, stripped of intended humour and take on a life of their own.

It's enough to bring on a panic attack to your typing fingers.

One of the best things ...

... about blogging is when this medium is used to put a little bit of goodness back into the world.

This is a perfect example from Peach:

'We're putting together a book for WARCHILD written by bloggers and here's where you come in:

We would like you to submit (to us at bloggersforcharity@yahoo.co.uk) a written piece about something you've been through from any aspect of your life that you want to share. It can literally be about anything: your relationships, your past, a road not taken, being a parent, an illness or your regrets etc. We've called it "You're Not The Only One" to reflect the camaraderie of blogging.

Proceeds will go to WARCHILD . The book will be published through www.lulu.com. This is a no upfront fee internet publishing site who charge £4.70 per book. We're pricing the book at £9 so £4.30 will go to straight to the charity.'

Nearly there!

The lineup for Pipe & Slippers has been finalised.
And in case you need reminding, it's THIS SUNDAY - 24th Feb at the Ivy House, Stuart Road, SE15.

3.00 Doors open

3.30 John Ahearn – “Pomes” Book Launch

Barbara Smith – “Kairos” Book Launch

4.00 Music from Rebecca Jade

a short interval

4.30 Wes White – “Starlings”

Ben Holden – “Mynatour”

Music from Mat Huntley

5.00 Jack Blackburn - Poetry

Music from Ricardo Garcia

Music from Tim Hogbin

People will be crossing the Atlantic and the Irish Sea to be there.
Some are even rumoured to be coming from North London!

What's your excuse ...

There's a first time for everything

I've never before amended a post once it's published.
It's unlikely many (if any) people would notice the changes, so altering the content later feels dishonest to me.
The comments made would have reflected the original, which would stay in people's minds.

In this case, I'm sure the post really would have lingered in people's minds, as it was a very sad tribute in memory of a tragic life.

I published a later post, but have continued to feel uncomfortable with certain elements of the original that I was concerned may have caused further suffering to those who were already struggling.

So I've amended it with an explanation.
I dedicate this to all those who are homeless and struggling with addiction as well as to their families.

I'm not really here

My presence here is an illusion.
I don't really exist.

Allow me to explain.

First Born may be nearly 2" taller than me and weigh nearly 2 stone more, but he's still my baby.
And later today he's going away with his school.
For 8 days.

It's like someone's sucked out my soul.
I'm mooning around with a constant feeling that I've forgotten something vital.
A savage cold has kicked in, which I can blame for the streaming eyes and nose, but we know better, don't we, my bloggy friends?

This is ridiculous.
He hasn't even gone yet!

Do you have a good reason not to sign this?

Following the announcement that the Department for Culture, Media and Sport plans to reduce Public Lending Right (PLR) funding, a 10 Downing Street e-petition has been set up to protest at the cuts.

Public Lending Right is the right for authors, illustrators, photographers, translators and editors to receive payment under PLR legislation for the loans of their books by public libraries. More than 23,000 people are entitled to receive payment under this scheme, and for many the annual PLR payment is an important part of their income. PLR is particularly valuable to those people who receive little or no royalty on book sales — their books are more often borrowed from libraries than bought in shops.

Please spare a minute to sign the petition.

What do you REALLY want?

A friend just told me about someone he knows who was offered - not one, but TWO - music deals at £100,000 each.
That's a lot of £££ by anyone's standards.

The problem was that the company faffed and farted and the end result was that no record was ever produced.

So - translating this to the publishing world, my question is this:
Given the luxury of a choice between a large advance but no book actually produced in the end
... or a far smaller advance but a Real Book ...
Which would you choose?

Obviously the answer would depend on your finances at the starting point.
If you're struggling to put food on the table, you may well feel unable to turn down the money.
But even if that was the case, where would your ideal preference lie?

If you're honest, your answer will speaks volumes (!) about how you feel about your writing.

Excellence in indolence

I still haven't quite worked out what this is for ...

Either my blog has been awarded a gong for being excellent ...
... or I've been congratulated on being a little less lazy than others ...

The one thing that is certain is that somehow along the way a pointy heel was inserted in my nether regions, so I'm off to A&E now to have it extracted.

X rated

I'm usually fairly chaste in my blog (though not in my books) but I just couldn't resist sharing this.

It's supposed to be from a gen-u-ine chat forum, but I don't care if it is or not.
It made me laugh ...

ChatZ-STUD: Hello, ChatZ-BABE. What do you look like?
ChatZ-BABE: I am wearing an expensive red silk blouse, a black leather mini-skirt and high heeled boots. I am tanned and very buffed. I workout every day. My measurements are 36-24-36. What do you look like?
ChatZ-STUD: I'm 6'3'' and about 250lbs. I wear glasses and have on a pair of blue sweatpants I just bought from Primark. I am also wearing an old t-shirt, it's got some tomato sauce stains on it and smells kind of funny.
ChatZ-BABE: I want you. Would you like to screw me?
ChatZ-STUD: OK.
ChatZ-BABE: We're in my bedroom. There's soft music playing on the stereo and candles on my
nightstand. I look up into your eyes and am smiling. My hand works it way down to your crotch and I begin to feel your huge swelling bulge.
ChatZ-STUD: I'm gulping. I'm beginning to sweat.
ChatZ-BABE: I'm pulling up your shirt and kissing your chest.
ChatZ-STUD: Now I'm unbuttoning your blouse. My hands are trembling.
ChatZ-BABE: I'm moaning softly.
ChatZ-STUD: I'm taking hold of your blouse and I'm sliding it softly off.
ChatZ-BABE: I'm throwing my head back in pleasure. The cool silk slides off my warm body. I'm rubbing your bulge faster now. Rubbing and pulling.
ChatZ-STUD: My hand suddenly jerks spastically and tears a hole in your blouse. I'm sorry.
ChatZ-BABE: That's OK, it wasn't really too expensive.
ChatZ-STUD: I'll pay for it.
ChatZ-BABE: Don't worry about it! I'm wearing a lacy black bra, my soft breasts are rising and falling as I breathe harder and harder.
ChatZ-STUD: I'm fumbling with the clasp of your bra, I think it's stuck. Do you have scissors?
ChatZ-BABE: I take your hand and kiss it softly, I reach behind my back and undo the clasp. My bra slides off. The cool air carresses my breasts. My nipples are erect for you.
ChatZ-STUD: How did you do that? I'm picking up the bra and inspecting the clasp.
ChatZ-BABE: I'm arching my back. Oh baby, I just want to feel your tongue all over me.
ChatZ-STUD: I'm dropping the bra. Now I'm licking your, you know, breasts. They're neat!
ChatZ-BABE: I'm running my fingers through your hair. Now I'm nibbling your ear.
ChatZ-STUD: now I suddenly sneeze. Your breasts are covered in snot and phlegm.
ChatZ-BABE: WHAT?
ChatZ-STUD: I'm so sorry, really.
ChatZ-BABE: I'm wiping your phlegm of my breasts with the remains of my blouse.
ChatZ-STUD: I'm taking your sopping wet blouse and throwing it in to the corner of the room.
ChatZ-BABE: OK. I'm pulling your sweatpants down and rubbing your hard tool.
ChatZ-STUD: I'm screaming like a woman! Your hands are cold! Yeee!
ChatZ-BABE: I'm pulling up my mini skirt. Take off my panties.
ChatZ-STUD: I'm pulling off your panties. My tongue is going all over you, in and out and nibbling on you. ummm, wait a second.
ChatZ-BABE: What's the matter?
ChatZ-STUD: I've got a pubic hair caught in my throat. I'm choking.
ChatZ-BABE: Are you OK?
ChatZ-STUD: I'm having a coughing fit. I'm turning all red.
ChatZ-BABE: Is there anything I can do to help?
ChatZ-STUD: I'm running into the kitchen. Choking wildly. Looking for a cup. Where do you keep your cups?
ChatZ-BABE: In the cabinet to the right of the sink!
ChatZ-STUD: I'm drinking a cup of water. There, that's better.
ChatZ-BABE: Come back to me, lover.
ChatZ-STUD: I'm washing the cup now.
ChatZ-BABE: I'm aching for you lover.
ChatZ-STUD: I'm drying the cup. I'm putting it back in the cabinet. Now I'm walking back to the bedroom. Wait it's dark. I'm lost. Where's the bedroom?
ChatZ-BABE: Last door on the left at the end of the hall.
ChatZ-STUD: I found it.
ChatZ-BABE: I'm tugging off your pants. I want you so badly.
ChatZ-STUD: Me too.
ChatZ-BABE: I kiss you passionately. Our naked bodies pressed against each other.
ChatZ-STUD: Your face is pushing my glasses into my face. It hurts.
ChatZ-BABE: Why don't you take your glasses off?
ChatZ-STUD: OK. But I can't see very well. I'm placing my glasses on the nightstand.
ChatZ-BABE: I'm bending over the bed. Give it too me baby!
ChatZ-STUD: I have to pee. I'm fumbling my way to the bathroom.
ChatZ-BABE: Hurry back lover.
ChatZ-STUD: I find the bathroom and it's dark. I'm feeling around for the toilet and lift the lid.
ChatZ-BABE: I'm waiting eagerly for your return.
ChatZ-STUD: I've finished. I'm feeling around for the flush handle. Uh-ho!
ChatZ-BABE: What's the matter now?
ChatZ-STUD: I just realised I peed in your laundry hamper. Sorry again. I'm walking back to the bed now. Blindly feeling my way.
ChatZ-BABE: Mmmm, yes. Come on.
ChatZ-STUD: Now I'm going to put my, you know, thing in your umm, woman's thing.
ChatZ-BABE: Yes! Do it, baby! Do it!
ChatZ-STUD: I'm touching your smooth butt. It feels so nice. Umm, I'm having a little problem here.
ChatZ-BABE: I'm moving my ass back and forth. I can't wait another second. Slide it in! Screw me!
ChatZ-STUD: I'm flaccid.
ChatZ-BABE: WHAT?
ChatZ-STUD: I'm limp. I can't sustain an erection.
ChatZ-BABE: I'm standing up and turning around; an incredulous look on my face.
ChatZ-STUD: I'm shrugging with a sad look on my face, my willy all floppy. I'm looking for my glasses to see what the problem is.
ChatZ-BABE: NO! Never mind. I'm getting dressed, I'm putting on my underwear and my wet nasty blouse.
ChatZ-STUD: No, wait. I can't find the bedside table. I'm reaching across the dresser, knocking off cans of hairspray, your picture frames and your candles.
ChatZ-BABE: I'm buttoning my blouse. I'm putting on my shoes.
ChatZ-STUD: Now I've found my glasses. My God! One of your candles fell on to the curtain! The curtain is on fire! I'm pointing at it with a shocked look on my face.
ChatZ-BABE: Go to hell! I'm logging off. LOSER!
ChatZ-STUD: Now the carpet is on fire! Noooooo!
© 2000-2008 Gausie UK
www.chatz.co.uk

A challenge

The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to come up with an alternative sentence using every letter in the alphabet.

Here's a sample to be going on with:

I must wear quilted boxers to pluck very jagged firze thorns.

Boatman dips across the Styx; quake not, vapid jock, gaze farewell.

Thick hazy vibe from queasy axe wielding Jap.

(Credit: Janey, the Sutton Sista.)

Extremely bad hair day!

This is what happens when you give your 12 year old son a pair of scissors and ask him to trim 'just an inch' off your hair.

It's an ... er ... extremely interesting asymmetrical bob.

The fact that it would have looked better if I'd chewed through it using my own teeth is neither here nor there.

The fact that it's gone from almost waist length to just above my jaw (on one side anyway) shouldn't be taken into account.

It's only hair, isn't it?
It'll grow again - given 3 or 4 years.

I mean it's not like he chopped off my leg or something, is it ...

Remind me never to ask him to trim my toenails ...

Get ready ...

The lineup for Pipe & Slippers has been finalised and can be seen here.

So draw up a chair to the fireside, kick off your shoes and fill your pipe...

And prepare to have your newly-revealed socks blown off.

Booky Bits in the Sky

I've been contacted by the lovely people at Artswom.
(You may remember them from when I made Hay last year.)

They started off by earning their place in my affections for ever by being very complimentary about FB & Co's film.
(Praise from an arts organisation of their standing is praise indeed.)

They've also asked me to pass on some booky bits that I'm sure will be of interest.
Click here for a post about Sky Arts' Book Show, where guests are asked to choose one book they wish they had written themselves.
Each book is being put in a prize pot for one lucky viewer to win at the end of the series in April.

Artswom have also come up with their own initiative.
They're inviting bloggers to share their recommendations for the last book to read before the end of the world.

Admittedly, this is something of a morbid topic, but when the end comes and this fragile orb finally cracks, it may be too late to panic buy, too inappropriate to copulate, and just too ironic to pray – so what else is there to do other than settle down and read a quality novel.

Click here for details.

(Note to self: This is fun. Try to find time for thinking about this ...)