Bridesmaid puts comfort first at the wedding reception

No killing six inch heels like the 'Strictly' dancers for this lovely bridesmaid as she dances with her bride mother.  How sensible. How comfortable. What fun!

This was the loving, joyous wedding of our niece and her man on Saturday. Mr A and I were very glad to be part of it.

LITTLE CROW

Caw stone the crows, I've just realised how significant the handsome black bird has become in my life. 


1. It's the name of my very own company: Little Crow Publishing


2. If you add 'borough' to it it's the name of the town where I now live.


3. A crow features in my last year and this year's Christmas card designs - and will probably do so for evermore.


Someone on the radio the other day said that crows are as clever as apes, maybe even cleverer. For instance, if there is water in a narrow container that is too shallow for them to reach, they just plop stones in until the water level rises and they can have their fill. Bloody brilliant! For a laugh I'd like to try them out with ice cubes but a) it's difficult, and cruel, to catch a crow for experimental reasons, and b) Mr A keeps using all the ice cubes for his campari and soda and not filling up with fresh water. Humph. (Sorry, I realise I'm getting quite a humpher.)

DIAMONDS are not a girl's best friend.

The title of my e-book The Sea with Diamonds refers specifically to the Bosphorus, the stretch of water that runs through Istanbul, glinting and sparkling in the sun. But anyone who has ever seen an expanse of  water with thousands of dazzling pinpricks of light sparking off it will know the effect is just magical - better than any solid carbon diamond - and free.

They say 'diamonds are a girl's best friend' but that isn't true. A girl's loved ones, human and animal, are their best friends, unless that girl is a fool. Or maybe I am the fool and the gold-digging, diamond-loving trollops are the sensible ones. Who knows? Humph!!!

Reading on a Kindle

If you ask somebody who does not own a Kindle if they own one they will often recoil in horror saying 'Oh no! I'm a traditionalist, I enjoy holding a book, turning the pages, I love the smell of it, the feel of it, etc. etc..' And six months ago I would have said the same, or words to that effect. But then I tried to read a book that was so big and heavy that my thumb joints rebelled by inflicting intense pain, and reading in bed was impossible without a crane. 


Then I saw an ad for the new small lightweight Kindle and took a chance and bought one. Oh and what joy! What bliss! I've always enjoyed reading but the difference between reading on a Kindle and reading from a book is like the difference between eating stale bread and a freshly-baked loaf, or having dull sex that lasts three minutes and, well let's just say, the opposite!


And unlike the computer, there is no glare from the screen. It looks like ordinary paper printed with ordinary ink but I know the ink isn't ordinary: it is magic. Magic electronic ink that flips into the shape of letters at the drop of a binary digit. 


It was a pleasure editing my novel THE SEA WITH DIAMONDS on the Kindle and now that is published and selling well I am free to download other books. At the moment I'm reading THE HELP, a truly wonderful book.  


All in all, I love my new Kindle and, to my surprise, I think I love it even more than my books. And that's saying something!

THE SEA WITH DIAMONDS

My new novel, The Sea with Diamonds, is now published on Amazon Kindle and I am more excited than is good for me! I started writing it the day after nine eleven when the horror of the atrocity was still raw in everyone's mind. I imagined being a newly married, pregnant young American woman who had lost the husband she adored. The Sea with Diamonds was thus born.

I named the beautiful young widow Angie and her story starts in New York and finishes in The Bosphorus, Istanbul: the sparkling water her husband had dubbed the sea with diamonds. Along the way, Greek myths sometimes entangle with real life. 

The four main characters in the book are American. The other two main characters come from Tunbridge Wells, England. During the voyage friendships are made and secrets are revealed - but not Angie's. She does not reveal that she has been married, has been widowed, that she is pregnant or that she is intent on killing herself.

This e-book is available on iPad, iPhone, Android, Blackberry, Mac and PC with KINDLE APPS.

A new member of the family: Our Eunice

Up until now it's been pigs. The Pig and I; The Pignapper; Going the Whole Hog plus pig lavatory brush, pig with flowers painted on it, china pig on which to rest cooking utensils, etc etc. But, I saw this sheep last week and was immediately entranced by it. Its winsome faintly worried look, its round eyes which, just like the Mona Lisa's, seem to follow you around. Mr A didn't rave as much as I did but he did buy it for me and was in agreement that our sheep was female and was very nice, hence the name Our Eunice.  She sits on our decking looking through our glass sliding doors, keeping guard in a sheep-like matey kind of way. She is a real joy and, unlike other pets, doesn't need feeding or walking and doesn't let loose with smelly farts or nasty poo. I love her and cast her an appreciative smile each day.

The Second and, thankfully, last eye is operated upon

A lot of time has elapsed since I last posted a blog, the reason being my second and, thankfully, last eye has had the vitreous jelly sucked out and replaced with salty water, plus the cataract has been replaced with a nice clear lens. This operation did not go as well as the first. For starters, the wounds each side of my eyeball were angry-red and clear to see. Of course that could possibly have been because my already-operated-upon eye could now see the detail. Whereas when that first one was done ... sigh, it's a long explanation but I expect you can work out what I mean. 

My lovely daughter accompanied me to London for my 2 week post-op examination. The doctor said a stitch was sticking out causing my discomfort and that he would cut it back with scissors. I didn't faint although I rather wish I could have, but I did twitter on about being a nervous patient. As if he couldn't tell! Anyway, he dropped a bit of anaesthetic in, wielded his scissors and did the deed.

After tottering back home, the doc rang up and instructed me to stop using the antibiotic and anti-inflammatory drops immediately as the latter had caused the pressure in my eye to increase. The result of following his instruction was a burning sensation, sensitivity to light and, at times, pain that, despite taking pain-killers, was at groaning level.

So, the following week, after running the Portrait Group and painting a blurry portrait, I traipsed back up to London again, this time with Mr A, arriving at 2.30pm and waiting and waiting and waiting in various eye departments until, finally discovering that, yes you guessed it, I had inflammation in that eye. A new type of anti-inflammatory eye drop was prescribed, and we dragged ourselves, nay almost crawled, to the pharmacy situated at the other end of the vast hospital but, again thankfully (see, I do count my blessings) on the ground floor. There we waited whilst drinking tomato soup until eventually two bottles of drops were produced.

We arrived home at ten to nine, quite exhausted but, despite what I've written which may lead you to believe differently, grateful to the NHS for sorting me out, plus 50 others who had turned up at the emergency eye department without an appointment that day. Where else in the world would you get that kind of treatment? I know, I know, the doc should have given me different anti-inflammatories in the first place, but he's a very nice man and works very hard.

I now wait for about another 4 weeks for the eye to settle down so that I can see properly. Despite diligently using moisturiser each day, I am expecting a myriad of new facial lines to appear with the new high definition vision. Every silver cloud does have a dark lining. Deep sigh.

Mis-matched eyes

This is a picture I painted a year or two ago to illustrate my American neice's poem 'Smoke and Mirrors'. The face has mis-matched eyes and a doleful expression and that near enough represents me these days. 

My eye that has been operated on sees bright clear images, the other sees small blurry objects bathed in muddy gold. This mental confusion makes me lose my balance, feel swimmy-headed and cross-eyed. Hopefully, when the other eye has also had the vitreous jelly sucked out and a new lens inserted I'll be on an even keel and can throw my bloody stick away. Humph.

Come on my sun!!

Since we've had photovoltaic panels fitted to our roof I am galvanised into action whenever the sun shines: not to rush out and bask in its warm rays, not to smile at neighbours remarking on what a beautiful day it is. No, I'm grabbing sheets off beds and clothes from the laundry basket, shoving them into the washing machine and switching it on; filling the dishwasher and switiching that on too. If it's chilly the electric fire gets switched on to boost the gas central heating. And, if the sun still shines, the tumble dryer and iron come into action. Our electricity is being generated free. Our money-making machine is in action. Come on my sun!!

Now I ask myself if the poetry has left my soul leaving in its place a mercenary core. (Pause for a long think.)

And the answer I've come up with is No. Not only are we helping to save the planet by generating clean electricity, but also the government FIT Scheme (Feed-in Tariff) is boosting our pensions and thus we shall be able to afford to rent a beach hut this summer and thereby be able to frolic on the beach and in the sea. And for the whole week we'll be doing that our solar panels will be quietly turning the light from the sun into more dosh. Yay!!!!   

Today's date 1.1.11 BRILLIANT!!

Today, the first of January, has to be one of the most satisfying dates of the year. 1.1.11. How beautiful is that. And lucky too in my book, due to my obsession with noughts, ones and twos which bombard me night and day with their promise of magical things to come.

To Mr A's relief, I have ceased waking him up when I open my eyes in the night and see the digital clock lit up with the numerals 2.20, 2.21 or 2.22 which is often the case, my bladder somehow knowing exactly when to arouse me. I read once that when people keep seeing these particular three digits, it means that an angel is trying to contact them. Whoever this angel is, I take my hat off to its persistence and hope that one day, in the great hearafter, or is it hereafter, we can have a laugh about its influence on my night-time perambulations to the loo. Except that I don't believe in a hereafter, or even hearafter, so that's not going to happen. Unless I am wrong of course.

Anyway, the next fantastic dates are 11.11.11 and 12.12.12. So I look forward to those. In the meantime I wish anyone reading this a very happy, healthy and prosperous New Year. Mr A and I relaxed with a glass of whisky in front of the tele last night, standing up to have a bit of a smoochie dance and then a jive, before kissing each other on the stroke of midnight whilst gasping for breath (on account of the jive). Very satisfactory.  

In order to download the picture of dates for free I am obliged to mention the website which I think is called photosforfree. Or something like that. I hope that will prevent any royalty court case.