tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3584143406339624962024-02-21T03:40:56.580+00:00The Life and Writings of Sleepy JoeReader, writer, music lover, library nerd, mother and wife. I have big dreams with little time and no funds to pull them off. Join me as I try to dream my way through adulthood.
'Get busy living or get busy dying' Stephen KingUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger284125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-17797711802704305092021-03-26T15:45:00.000+00:002021-03-26T15:45:10.053+00:00The Gift of Reading<p>I'm currently reading a book called The Gifts of Reading; inspired by Robert Mcfarlane and curated by Jennie Orchard. It is a series of short essays on the joys of reading, giving, and receiving books. I have been enjoying the differing perspectives immensely, what most have in common is a 'person'. This person gave them a particular book, this person (who happens to be a librarian in one story) guides the writer to the book or book(s) that inspired them, that started them on their journey of reading and writing and generally loving and advocating for the written word.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2VmvU7qjt-9w0jHf3gsn9rr3412oKbWNMWxIWu4b1ppmnY8lXj2OeEoyxMoTukh64lMEoGKMLwSGC6JHrJq6lPocp0aER5uJaLf7uxmeVeXAWfrZaJIkzvua7ZV1zSssY5w_4bTj45IKW/s2448/IMG_0440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2VmvU7qjt-9w0jHf3gsn9rr3412oKbWNMWxIWu4b1ppmnY8lXj2OeEoyxMoTukh64lMEoGKMLwSGC6JHrJq6lPocp0aER5uJaLf7uxmeVeXAWfrZaJIkzvua7ZV1zSssY5w_4bTj45IKW/s320/IMG_0440.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">One of my favourite places. Barter Books Alnwick</div><p><br /></p><p>This has given me pause to reflect, do I have a person? Do I even have that<i> one </i>book that started it all?</p><p><br /></p><p>I recall being around eightish and the girl across the road was babysitting for me (that girl later became my sister-in-law). I don't know how or why it came about but she ended up reading a section of Charlotte's Web to me. I never did finish the book and she didn't read to me again but the warm feeling one gets from being read aloud to has never left me. I dream occasionally of having a man read lovingly to me, Jude Law maybe...I like his voice. Alas, I am not married to Jude Law, nor is my husband one to read aloud to me. I wonder if it is this feeling of being read to that inspired such a drive to build a home library for my children and to read to them every night, even when none of us were in the mood! </p><p><br /></p><p>Later in life, say around tenish, I do recall loving the Roald Dahl books and loaning my treasured copy of Matilda to a friend. She kept it for an inordinately long time and when the book was returned it was no longer readable. I was incensed and vowed never to loan another book again, I have since but only to fellow librarians or my Mum both of whom I trust implicitly with the books I give them.</p><p><br /></p><p>A little later, or maybe about the same time I have memories of visiting the library. Never with my mum, who was either working or otherwise busy with single parenthood. No usually with my cousin or alone. These were the days of Nancy Drew, Point Crime, and Point Horror. The days of devouring book after book and being constantly jealous of my cousin who could always read faster than me and 'graduated' to adult books and a love of Stephen King way ahead of me, even though there are only nine months between us. </p><p><br /></p><p>Next came the teenager break from reading. I recall still reading something but nowhere near as much and often my memories are of college or University texts rather than for pleasure. Though I did still manage to amass a stock of books collected from all over the place. John Grisham featured here for a time and soon true crime books made an entrance.</p><p><br /></p><p>My passion for reading didn't become inflamed until I gave birth to my first child. This was about the time I discovered Harry Potter and the need to have the next book in the series. I also discovered the joys of Julia Donaldson and Alan Ahlberg and Oliver Jeffers whilst reading to the munchkin. I soon became a little obsessed. Junior fiction became a huge part of my life as much for my enjoyment as that of my children. I discovered places like the Seven Stories Centre in Newcastle, the Discover Centre in London, and Bewilderwood in Norfolk. It was a few years after my second munchkin came along that a friend showed me a job advert for a library assistant position at a nearby library. I applied and the rest they say is history. It was like putting a child with a sweetie problem in the literal sweet shop. My obsession was stocked and now my children are teenagers and no longer need my input into what they read, so I read for myself.</p><p><br /></p><p>Looking back on my brief life in books I can't say that there was one book that outshone the rest, there have been many books that have arrived at the right time and under the right circumstances, that is a post for another day. Nor has there been that one literary person that is responsible for my passion. I doubt I would love books and reading as much as do if it hadn't been for libraries and their openness to take in everyone and let them discover things by themselves, both as a reader and professionally. I also doubt I would love libraries as much as I do if not for my cousin and those trips to the library and sharing Point Horror and Point Crime books. Ultimately I suppose though my passion for books and reading is inextricably linked to my children. Without feeling the need to pass on reading and books to them I doubt my own love would have grown so much.</p><p><br /></p><p>As for gifting books to others, I don't have a top-five books that I gift, I just give books. Whenever I can I give books. I am that Auntie and I am probably hated for it, but I figure that the more books are under people's noses the more likely they are to read and get the associated benefits from reading. If I can't think of the right book, book tokens it is. It seems like a cop-out sometimes, but then I remember how much I love visiting bookshops (about as much as libraries) and realise that I am probably giving a better gift in some respects.</p><p><br /></p><p>I still collect lots of books, and I still use the library a lot too (and Netgalley and the library e-book borrowing service and kindle and audible) basically any way of getting hold of books and I'm in! Which is why I have no room on my bookshelves and also why I will never read all the books I want to. In The Gifts of Reading William Boyd wrote:</p><p><span> "I say to myself as I look at the exponential growth of books in my house that if there is a circle of hell in a notional literary purgatory where the compulsive book buyer is obliged to dwell for a few millennia, then perhaps I will resign myself to my fate. As long as there is something to read."</span><br /></p><p>Although this sounds more like a version of heaven.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cCj_ih9ngnk" width="320" youtube-src-id="cCj_ih9ngnk"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-89555844950983877022021-03-18T14:58:00.002+00:002021-03-18T14:58:48.059+00:00The Tea Shop<p>Hello there. At the beginning of March, I saw a post on Twitter. The gist was that instead of 'The Ides of March' writers could do the 'Ideas of March' and note down daily at least one story idea. So I shared it with the writer's group I am in and we decided to have a bash at the Ideas of March, with no pressure though because that's how we roll.</p><p><br /></p><p>Anyway, so far I have actually managed to come up with a new idea each day and today I thought I would take an idea and play around with it a little and see what happened.</p><p><br /></p><p>The idea I chose was "It's just an ordinary tea shop...or is it?" so here is the little flash of a thing for you, including my nod to the Bard this Shakespeare Week.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5W75bu_7GQo" width="320" youtube-src-id="5W75bu_7GQo"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> A little Youtube music for you while you read.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Drink Me - Anna Nalick</div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-decoration-skip: none; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-decoration-skip: none; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-decoration-skip: none; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-decoration-skip: none; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The Tea Shop</span></p><p><b id="docs-internal-guid-382d5846-7fff-3887-0d88-80ae31fa7e3d" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">The brass handle on the door squeaked a little as it moved to open, seemingly disconnected from the shadow you could see through the frosted glass. The bell above the oak door tinkled announcing the customer’s arrival.</span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Cary emerged through the beaded curtain that led to the private quarters. The owner of this establishment was not what one would consider to be conventional. Today she wore her standard working boots, a victorian style of heeled boot with button fastenings running up the side, combined with purple tights and a multilayered skirt. This was paired with a crisp white shirt and waistcoat, in the pocket of which she kept her pocket watch. Cary was never seen without one of her amazingly designed hats and today’s number was a purple top hat with a tulle bow and cascading tails down her back.</span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Good morning, how may I…” Cary started her bright and inviting welcome as was customary for all visitors to the shop but stopped dead when she saw Julie before her. </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Rushing around the counter Cary caught Julie as she stumbled to the floor. Her clothes were torn and under the grime blooms of blue and purple were starting to rise on her face with a dribble of blood coming from the corner of her mouth.</span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Harelson” Cary all but screamed, “Harelson, it’s Julie.”</span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Oh, sweet Apothecary.” Julie sobbed into Cary’s arm. </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Harelson, Cary’s assistant, burst through the beads in his tweed slacks and waistcoat with his shirt sleeves rolled up and collar missing. A sure sign the delivery had already arrived.</span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Get her in the back,” Cary ordered as she transferred the now unconscious form to Hare. Rising to action Cary flipped the closed sign on the door and twisted the lock before Hare had even had time to stand with Julie in his arms. Cary then yanked all of the blinds down on the door and the two windows of the double-fronted high-street store, if you could call it a high-street anymore, but not before glancing down the street looking for anything she needed to worry about.</span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">In the comfort of the back room, dressed and designed like a Victorian ladies parlor, Cary knelt in front of the prone figure on her couch. “What was she playing at?” She mused under her breath.</span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Hare I need some boiled water and clean rags.” </span></p><p><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“Already on it mistress.” Hare bobbed his head before backing away to finish gathering supplies.</span></p><p><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“And Hare. Send a runner to get Rome, we don’t need him starting a war over this,” She sighed. “I’ll put a pot of tea on,” Carey said to no-one in particular. “I have a feeling we are going to need it.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">Say hi, let me know you're still around after this crazy crazy year.</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-23436368739823718422021-03-11T11:55:00.000+00:002021-03-11T11:55:26.372+00:002020<p> The year that was awful on so many levels, in so many different ways, for so many people. I have really struggled when it has come to writing recently because writing means slowing down, looking inward, and exploring feelings...and since March 2020 I haven't wanted to look at them at all!</p><p><br /></p><p>Generally 2020 made me feel useless. I couldn't tell my youngest why the Government thought it safe for her to go to school with hundreds of other kids and teachers but that she hasn't been able to see her Nana in over a year. I haven't been able to ease the depression that various aspects of the lockdown has exacerbated in my eldest. Due to my own disabilities, I was unable to care for my husband during an operation and recovery as I would like to. I have been unable to help a friend during the toughest experience of her life. And as for me, self-care was almost been impossible. I haven't wanted to slow down and take time to recover; I needed to stay busy, remain occupied, keep 'doing'; just so that I didn't have to notice the feelings creeping up inside.</p><p><br /></p><p>As 2020 ended and 2021 started and things didn't seem to be getting better with the wider situation. I was facing turning 40 and to be fair I wasn't dreading this as much as turning 30, I have had ten years to come to terms with the fact I was seen as an adult. For me mentally things started to shift and I started to enjoy the things lockdown has forced: Family time, a slower pace of life, a focus on what is actually important. I have become quite thankful for the focus that I have developed over the last few months and I have this weird zen-like feeling, home-schooling aside!</p><p><br /></p><p>The positives for me; my reading has almost tripled compared to previously, I finished my crochet jumper (a project about two years in the making), and I am well on my way with my 40 in 40 challenge (a challenge to complete 40 things during my 40th year).</p><p><br /></p><p>I am looking forward to lots of things when life starts to re-open: I want my hair cutting (desperately), I can't wait to go to the cinema to see a great film, I want to sit in a cafe and have a brew with my mum. But equally, I don't want to lose the lockdown life feeling, I want to keep things slow and focus on the important things in life.</p><p> </p><p>I won't call this post literary brilliance, but for the sake of the 'Life' part of the blog title, I really couldn't skip this chunk.</p><p><br /></p><p>How has lockdown impacted you? Are you itching to get back to 'normal' life or will you be trying to maintain some of the lockdown life as things re-open? What have you achieved during lockdown that would probably still be sat waiting if Covid had never happened?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nXhS231_iJ4" width="320" youtube-src-id="nXhS231_iJ4"></iframe></div><br /><p>Keep safe folks xx</p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-48892575355099829152020-06-30T20:31:00.001+01:002020-06-30T20:31:38.130+01:00Light and Dark<div class="separator"><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></div></div>I've been wondering today, what exactly is it about the Fae and fiction containing them that fascinates me? Out of all books, the ones that, more often than not, drag me in and get me addicted to the story are about Faeries. <div><br /></div><div>I'm not talking about the twee fairies, the delicate and tiny beings we discover as kids. No, I am totally fascinated by the vicious beings of old tales; Seelie and Unseelie courts, Light and Dark, Summer and Winter. </div><div><br /></div><div>Most of the stories I read introduce you to this darkness and the light that is supposed to counter it. However, the story generally takes a turn somewhere showing you that the darkness is not always what it seems and purity of the light can be dazzling and vicious just the same. The constant images we are fed by society and the media, that we are good OR we are bad, that we are evil OR pure. These images are torn apart in these books and the hapless human in the picture, seemingly mundane and useless, usually ends up surprising everyone. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think it is this recognition that we are all light AND dark, and that we are all useful that I latch onto. That there is this in-between where it is ok to be a bit of both. It never really hurts that there is usually a very lush male to read about and the Fae are unapologetically perfect.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's not just that though, there is an underlying message of loving people for who they are and not judging the "flaws" that others see. Can we love the darkness in someone as well as their light?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="light, dark, pillow, city, night, darkness, forest, shadow, magic ..." height="262" src="https://p1.pxfuel.com/preview/82/745/260/light-dark-pillow-city-night-darkness.jpg" width="466" /></div><div><br /></div><div>Which are my favourite Fae stories? Hmm, Holly Black is the queen of the faeries, Marrissa Marr and Julie Kagawa are two other favourites. Maggie Steifvater has penned some lovely Fae books (though my favourites of hers are the Raven Cycle). A little more on the adult side of things L K Hamilton and Sarah J Maas have both written series that I have loved.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5qOvUkQYQn8" width="320" youtube-src-id="5qOvUkQYQn8"></iframe></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-77289264576135529012020-06-09T23:12:00.001+01:002020-06-09T23:12:57.551+01:00No One Died Today - The Paradise in My Mind.I was looking at writing prompts on Pinterest...ok so I have been looking for a prompt for over an hour. No characters were talking to me and I was just about to pack things in and go read in bed. Then I saw this one:<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"How's your day going?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Well, no one died."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Those are your standards?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I will admit that this is a phrase I have used, on more than one occasion and sometimes yes a day can only be held against these standards. Then I thought for a moment longer and just how much this exchange has taken on a much graver meaning of late.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Other countries are celebrating or at the very least hoping beyond all hope that Covid has left them behind. That this statement is truer than ever and a relief. We are not there yet and for some this exchange could be too close to home and a little macabre.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In other places, for other members of the human race, this could well be the standard by which they live. None of their neighbours have been persecuted or been killed just for being the colour they were born as, hopefully!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Mostly this last few weeks I have been torn and conflicted and down-right disheartened that as human beings we could treat each other this way. My brain has areas that so easily slip into a sarcastic exchange like above, but my brain has also built a little walled off paradise, and this paradise is under attack.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My paradise is one where everyone believes as I do. ALL LIVES MATTER. I struggle to differentiate in this little paradise; black/white/Asian/disabled physically/mental health conditions/LGBT+++. I just want to scream 'WHATEVER, you are human'. Here you don't get extra points if you are one colour or another. Here society works to make sure disabled people are treated with equity, not just equality. Here you love who the heck you want! And we embrace any difference, not persecute people for their difference.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I am aware how naive I sound and I am aware that life is not like this. But my brain tries to keep this idea protected. Surely I am not the only person to think like this and surely at some point with enough will power this could become reality. I had hoped that the Covid crisis would be that thing to bring us all together, as only a global event could. Again still so naive. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It is startling how in less than six months the reality behind a throw-away comment can be made all too real. Amazing how things can change in so little time and yet not change at all.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/yTOwpbSPcks" width="320" youtube-src-id="yTOwpbSPcks"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-32319475366048740132020-06-05T22:16:00.001+01:002020-06-05T22:16:25.528+01:00Touch MeLet's talk about the elephant in the room. Covid-19, Coronavirus, lockdown, this situation, self-isolation, this shizzle...whatever you call the last few months it doesn't matter. It has been strange, weird, and sometimes downright scary. But what has it meant for you?<div><br /></div><div>For me it has meant having my family at home, all together, no international travel taking my other half away for weeks. No running around with the kids to whatever social occasion is this week. We have chilled and watched tv, we have finished making our new house a home, we have cooked and eaten together, baked, tried new foods, garden DIY projects as a family. I will not pretend it is all sunshine and roses but if this is what it takes to save lives and make sure our health service could cope, I'll take it gladly. I had nightmares about a situation like this when I was a teenager and the reality is nowhere near as bad!</div><div><br /></div><div>Its been about three months of distancing from friends and family. Of only going out to shop and walk the dog. Of working from home and not seeing my amazing work colleagues. Its taken three months for me to seriously miss one thing:</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="sad donkey - i need a hug !!!!!" src="https://memegenerator.net/img/instances/51591037/i-need-a-hug-.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I miss touch, not in a creepy way, but I miss that human physical connection. I am luckier than a lot of people, I have my family at home and I don't live alone. But I am a hugger! I am <i>that</i> work friend that greets you every morning with a hug. If I know I'm not going to see you in a while you know that a squeeze is coming to tide me over as much as anything else. I need that physical connection and that is what I miss from this lockdown...hugs!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Initially, it was just another thing, then I was talking to people through windows and started to feel it more keenly and it has taken three months for me to feel it physically. I find it so hard to keep that distance and not jump on in and squeeze you to know all is ok. And so if I avoid seeing you at a distance please don't be offended, if I divert conversations and interaction to zoom calls and messenger chats please don't think it's because I don't want to see you...It's because I don't trust myself to maintain that 2m distance, I do it to protect yours and my personal space!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And know that as soon as the all-clear is given I will be catching up on hugs!!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/KcBhJMc9Ibc" width="320" youtube-src-id="KcBhJMc9Ibc"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For now, stay safe, stay smiling and hug those that you can!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-76329749634706870502020-06-02T22:43:00.000+01:002020-06-03T11:51:59.640+01:00Library of Life<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMe9CoprvqS3LZPVfXFRv1ZsqqRcaMNDOlTsXNX2Xgnd5z1TmYcfN8pGRdmPK6lx2q70p4OXIb7mwL9XPssrC20v8zmB3TSVuopgYHCt28jZEX5XfXGvJdJt0fjNzoGU_HfJETjJHpRWr/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="750" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMe9CoprvqS3LZPVfXFRv1ZsqqRcaMNDOlTsXNX2Xgnd5z1TmYcfN8pGRdmPK6lx2q70p4OXIb7mwL9XPssrC20v8zmB3TSVuopgYHCt28jZEX5XfXGvJdJt0fjNzoGU_HfJETjJHpRWr/s320/IMG_4311.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Good evening madam." The librarian behind the desk said with a smile as Betty walked in. Betty smiled back wondering how the girl with the pink hair had managed to smile around so much metal.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Deposits to the left. Loans to the right." she shouted cheerily over as Betty headed to the stacks.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She had intended to pick up a couple of romances on her way home from the grocery store, but left and rights were never her strong suit, her driving instructor had taken to writing a little L and R on her hand when she was driving. Heading down the left aisle and rubbing her hip that was giving her jip again, it would probably rain later, the paperbacks turned into dusty old tommes that she would never be able to lift. Betty made to turn around but a strange light in the gloom ahead made her stop.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Hi Betty." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The voice made Betty's blood run cold. She had not heard it in such a long time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Am I dying? Have you come to get me? Is this how it works at the end?" she panicked.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A booming laughter came from the gloom, "no my love. Come closer and then I can explain."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Betty took a few tentative steps and then the form of her first love took shape in the strange blue light and she couldn't go any further. "How?" Was all she could whisper.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"I came across this place a few years back now and I made an exchange for a new lease on life. Don't panic there is nothing devilish going on here, I am a virtual avatar. Wherever possible I try to take the form of someone you recognise, it makes the process so much easier. With you two it's such a dream as your memories cross-referenced."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Betty touched her head, had she bumped it? How could this thing that looked like Bill know her memories?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Again please try not to panic, it is a simple memory scan to see if you are viable for download. You are currently in the Library of Life. It is our mission to try and record as much of history as it happens from the memories of the times older population. In return we can give you years back to live again."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"I'm sorry, I've never heard of any of this hoo-ha or download doohickies. You sound worse than all these youngsters that wander around with their machines pinned to their ears." Betty turned to leave and started down the stacks.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"You should know, " the avatar began, "he always regretted it."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"What?" Betty paused.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Not kissing you when he had the chance."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Betty paused and touched her lips, she knew the moment he was talking about. The moment that could have been, save for it being the right people at the wrong time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"You could have that chance again."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"What do I do? Will I be a baby again?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A chuckle came from the not-Bill, "No, our standard is to return you to your twenties, memories intact. All we do is make a copy for the archive."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Oh what the hell. It's nearly the end any way, let's give it a whirl." She had no idea how she would find Bill if this worked, but it was worth a shot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What seemed like only moments later Betty staggered down the aisle looking slightly like she was wearing her grandma's old dress. Out in the sunshine everything was so bright, colours seemed to pop everywhere.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Quite something, ain't it?" said a perfectly familiar voice.#</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gv0x3LZ5RlQ" width="320" youtube-src-id="gv0x3LZ5RlQ"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-11608715163656116232020-06-01T00:22:00.000+01:002020-06-01T00:22:04.302+01:00The Things I Could Never SayBack to the prompts, just to see if I can get some of those juices going again. What better time to revitalise something than during this strange lockdown. So here goes....<b style="font-family: courier; text-align: center;"> </b><div><b style="font-family: courier; text-align: center;"><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="font-family: courier; text-align: center;"> <span> </span><span> </span>Write about the three things he could never tell her</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="font-family: courier; text-align: center;"><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="font-family: courier; text-align: center;"><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><font face="arial">Jack sat on the edge of his bed fiddling with the cuf of his tux playing over the last conversation he had with Dani. </font></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><font face="arial"><br /></font></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Dani looked into the full length mirror, head cocked to the side like her spanial Chica. Gingerly she picked up the chiffon of the very, very white dress and let it float back down. Jack had said he was an open book, he'd said I knew all of him. Can I still do this knowing he is lying? Can I do this knowing I'm was lying too?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="courier">Dani was right, marriage can only work between two people who are completely open. Should they even do this? There are things she can never know. Three things in fact.</font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="courier"><br /></font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia">He can never know that I am part of The Collective; part of the underground network of operatives fighting to keep the world safe.</font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="courier">She can never know my underground persona, the suit I wear, the mask that protects me and her.</font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia">He will never know that I have killed those that have tried to usurp the peace of this world.</font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="courier">She will never know that I have killed those that have tried to usurp the peace of this world.</font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="courier"><br /></font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="courier">Standing here infront of the minister I know I am doing the right thing, love has to be more important than everything else. Given a choice I would protect her, only her.</font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="courier"><br /></font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia">The music starts and I push throuh the doors certain that this is right. Above all else I know he loves me and I love him; we are worth fighting for. I slowly walk down the aisle, passing all the empty pues with my eyes on him, just him. Then I hear my internal comm bleep and Jack is walking towards me.</font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="courier">Seriously, of all the moments I get comm'd in the middle of getting married. It's an all hands on deck call, there must be trouble. Generally The Collective are solitary workers, we get a call and do the job then debrief, opperatives don't tend to mix. Walking up the aisle I am about to start my apology, I have no idea what to say.</font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="courier"><br /></font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia">He's walking towards me, I'm going to need to cover my calls better. Stopping dead in the middle of the aisle is probably a bit obvious but I need to go. "Sorry," I say as soon as he is in earshot. "I have to go," I blurt. Before I can see his response I turn and run, kicking off my heels as I go.</font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="courier">I pull up at the bunker and am so preoccupied by Dani's exit that I don't look where I am going as I walk through the garage enterance and straight into someone. "Dani?"</font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia">"Jack?"</font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ghZt2cILcCU" width="320" youtube-src-id="ghZt2cILcCU"></iframe></div> </font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="arial">Haha, who can tell I've been catching up on superhero tv?!</font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="arial"><br /></font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="arial">Let's not make it so long before the next catch up.....I think that is what I am taking from 2020!</font></div><div style="text-align: left;"><font face="georgia"> </font></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-56646761371341317382019-07-29T20:40:00.000+01:002019-07-29T20:40:35.570+01:00Cutting the tiesOne by one, as we teach our babies, we cut the ties that bind. Cutting the apron strings is the idiom, which apparently has literal links to the past when mothers would tie a child to her apron strings so that they would be safe and she could get on with jobs.<br />
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However as we teach them to walk, talk and eventually fly we realise that we have been cutting those ties one by one, until they need you no longer and are ready to fly the nest.<br />
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My youngest left primary school recently, it is the end of an era for our family. I no longer have babies, I am the proud mother of two young ladies. When I used to hear the idiom of cutting the apron strings I had imagined a day when I would sever them once and completely and would feel the loss deeply and suddenly know why and what the feeling of loss related to. I am coming to understand, belatedly as with most parental realisations I have had (it takes me a while sometimes), that I have been cutting the strings one by one since the day I started teaching them “mama” and how to hold-all spoon. I just hadn’t recognised how few threads were left.<br />
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That looming feeling of loss has been gathering recently and I now understand that I am mourning motherhood. I know that my girls will never stop needing me, I have never stopped needing my Mummy! But I also know I will not be needed to put on socks, or wipe their face; they will need me for boyfriend advice or a listening ear when friendship troubles loom. I think I was hoping for a little more time, a few more snuggles (the ones only a toddler can give).<br />
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There seems to be a connecting theme in my last few posts...time moves fast and don’t waste it. The natural endings of things will creep upon you before you know it!<br />
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My only hope is that my girls learn one important lesson...you might have to get older and life my move along but you don’t need to grow up! Always find the fun in everything, it’s there somewhere.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-35895547941714468902019-03-27T23:29:00.001+00:002019-03-27T23:29:39.039+00:00As Time Goes By<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: start;">Have you ever noticed that the older we get the faster time goes. When we were young time dragged on forever; the summer holidays lasted forever, Christmas and birthdays never came quick enough and rainy days were hell! Adulthood, now you can blink and miss half the year or take a nap and a whole year is gone.</span></div>
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view original and licence <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Pocket_watch#/media/File:Taschenuhr_sw_1.jpg" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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So when you leave something as an adult even with the best of intentions to come back to it in a few minutes, the next day, the next week, it never quite works out like that. The next thing you know and a year has gone by and your blog hasn't had a post. A week turns into a month turns into year(s) and you haven't spoken to that friend that meant the world to you in so long that now it would seem strange to talk to them. Time makes some things harder. Harder to type the first few lines, harder to dial the number, harder to make that first move.<br />
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Yet they say 'time heals all wounds'. Maybe this is the ultimate time paradox?<br />
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After losing a dear friend recently the advice I got from his wife really struck a chord, 'you don't know how much time you have, tell the people around you what they mean to you'. So do it today folks, tell your people that they are your people, reconnect those friendships you miss, work hard not to lose those friendships that mean something to you...there may not always be time to do it tomorrow!<br />
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I'll leave you with an artist my daughter has introduced me to and this song just seems right.<br />
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Love and hugs from me.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-50883637734292230742018-02-21T23:20:00.001+00:002018-02-21T23:20:55.753+00:00AcceptanceWell it's been a while. Um, two years, oops. A lot can happen in two years.<br />
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The last episode of my life I was battling with Anxiety and Depression and I almost thought I had it licked for a while...if not defeated, in chains and under my command. I had taken up running. (I'll just give anyone who actually knows me to process that thought for a moment. Yes the girl who never completed a cross country run at school started to run.) I worked up slowly until I eventually started to comfortably run 10km. It felt good; a place where I could switch off, or a place where I could process, a place to dream, or a place just to breath. Then things started to go a bit wrong. A fall but carried on running. Things didn't quite feel right though and a twinge in my back tured out to be a bulge in my spine. However that wasn't the causing the problem. My pain spread and a bone deep fatigue followed, plus other things much too boring to go into!<br />
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Fast forward six months and a diagnosis of Fibromyalgia. Great, I figured, I know what this is I can handle this. I thought I had <i>Accepted </i>the condition and what it meant going forward to live with chronic pain. Oh boy how foolish was I!<br />
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So, here we are again. My body and mind kicking me in the ass and making even the simplest of tasks hard and yet again signed off work.<br />
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Not one to just say, 'okey dokey, switch over to Jeremy Kyle' (maybe there has been some Netflix and duvet time) I have been fairly proactive in trying to work out where I went wrong and how I managed to spiral so far so fast. Aside from generally not being nice to myself a common theme seems to be:<br />
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Accept this is you. Accept the help. Accept you can't do things the way you used to. Accept the feelings of guilt, fear and loathing are normal...but they don't have to define you.<br />
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Accept the elephant in the room. Take him on as the new family pet, he is going to take a lot of your energy whether you ignore him or train him.<br />
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And accepting that all that is easier said than done. At the end of it all we are fairly understanding of our loved ones and our friends. If they are struggling with something, if they are gay, if they suddenly dye their hair blue we accept them for who they are. We don't guilt trip them or barrage them with the insults that rage though our heads when its something that relates to us. Hell if I did I think I'd have been punched a few times by now! Why is it then that as humans we find it almost impossible to be as kind to ourselves as we are to our friends?<br />
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Love yourself as much as others and remember that life is to be enjoyed not avoided.<br />
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Before I go to try and practice what I am spouting I'll leave you with a song, and seeing as I will be going to see the Dragons in a couple of weeks one of their songs seems mighty fitting, it has to get easier....right?!<br />
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So hit me, how have y'all been? Did you miss me?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-92185506678276036972016-02-03T22:52:00.000+00:002016-02-03T22:52:32.449+00:00The Mind is a Warzone! Always Keep FightingI have tried to write a post...this post...and then just any post, countless times over the last few months. So many of them I approached the subject sideways, with analogies and metaphors. Once I even used a sports metaphor complete with curve balls and getting hit straight on. The thing is none of them seemed to get across what I wanted to say, none of them conveyed what I was feeling. I kept hoping that writing would help me work through things, but every time I started it got more and more knotted up. In the end I had to step away for a while. Things are a little better now, so now is the time to get back on the horse, maybe this time without too many metaphors though, and add in this most recent chapter in the life of Sleepy Joe.<br />
<br />
About three months ago I ended up off work having been diagnosed with anxiety and depression and getting to the point I could no longer cope with daily life. In all honesty it had been building up for a while; stress on stress on stress plus some changes and uncertainty equals the last straw on the camels back (see I can't help myself) and I broke. There were tears enough to fill an ocean and guilt like I have never felt because surely I was letting the world down if I stopped for a moment. But more, I was lost. I had no idea who idea who I was anymore.<br />
<br />
I once thought of myself as strong and capable woman but I found myself scared and a wreck just going into a supermarket. There were days where I couldn't face leaving the house or answering the phone and the thought of going to work terrified me. I felt like a failure, like some weak thing that could no longer cope (sometimes I still do) and I think that horrified me even more. And tired, so so tired. Every day was (and sometimes is) a battle with my mind over which voice would win; the one telling me not to do something because I would get it wrong or the one telling me what a failure I was because I'd already messed up.<br />
<br />
The first few panic attacks had scared me and my Other Half had seen me withdrawing so he 'encouraged' me to seek help and by the time I broke completely I had worked my way up the list for Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. It sounds weird but I think the best way I can describe it is a healthy eating package for your mental health. The fabulous lady I have been seeing over twelve or so weeks has helped me to look at all the unhealthy ways I think about things, in particular with regard to my anxiety and panic attacks. She has helped me see that life is not black OR white - control OR out of control - strong OR weak. I have come to realise I don't hold others to the same standards I was holding myself to "be perfect or you've failed" "be in control or you're weak". It's a cliche but I now understand why I am the way I am, what experiences from my past have shaped me and reinforced my beliefs to mean I got stuck in a cycle of panic because at the end of the day being anxious sometimes is a normal human response, getting stuck in those feelings probably isn't so helpful.<br />
<br />
I have made peace with the fact I am always going to feel like this; I am going to have low moments, I am going to over analyse, I will probably beat myself up about things that I cannot control, and I will probably panic. The difference now? I know how to handle it, it won't handle me!<br />
<br />
When I started the therapy one of my goals was "to feel like me again" and it's strange because I don't feel like the me I used to be. I don't think that I will ever be that me again. For quite a while I have identified with a song (pinned in below) and a line in it says, "If I recover will you take me back again." I thought all this time that I needed to 'get well' and get back to being what I was because I was ill. I have come to realise now that yes anxiety and depression, like other mental health issues/illnesses, are illnesses. They are diseases of the mind. But they are ones from which you never fully recover, you just learn how to handle it, how to live a more mentally healthy life. I will never be that me again because that me never ran a day in her life, this me runs three times a week to get head space and stay calm/sane. I will never be that me because that me tried to write a journal every day but could never quite maintain it, this me has to to clear out the mental baggage and to see her achievements on a daily basis. There will be more differences because I'm still a little lost trying to figure out who I am in all this but I'll get there.<br />
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None of us have any issue talking about our latest healthy lifestyle craze do we?! Healthy eating; #leanin15, juices or 5:2 Fitness; spinning, burpees or the latest gym membership. Why then can we not feel free to chat about our mental health too? Why does that have to break down before we decide to take our mental well being for a healthy spin? One of my biggest fears at the peak of my problems was the social response I would get to having a panic attack in public. That people would think I was weak/stupid/silly, that I just needed to pull myself together when in fact I had little control over it at that point. And I know I am not the only person with fears of this nature. Would it be like this if we talked about it a bit more? If we talked <i>Sinceriously.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<img src="https://d2v48i7nl75u94.cloudfront.net/uploads/3e072fb40d5f38b339e18f3ada444cd3.jpg" /><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
From the Stephen Amell Represent campaign see <a href="https://represent.com/sinceriously" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I feel lucky. I have my family; my Other Half and my Munchkins and although it's been hard I have not seen the bottom, I know I didn't get that low and help was there when I needed it. There are people not so fortunate and that's where we fail as a society to look after each other. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Finally in the words of Jared Padalecki, who has openly spoken about his fight with depression, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Always Keep Fighting!</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-85856298359618811492015-05-11T01:09:00.000+01:002015-05-11T01:09:07.849+01:00Let's get out of here!I have to apologise to my very good friend Leah. I promised it wouldn't take so long to post the next part to Alistair and Frankie's story and it's been months. But it's here now! Catch up with the start <a href="http://sleepyjoes.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/the-hellfire-club.html" target="_blank">here</a>, continued <a href="http://sleepyjoes.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/the-morning-after-night-before.html" target="_blank">here</a> and the last installment was <a href="http://sleepyjoes.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/meet-boss.html" target="_blank">here</a>. And the story continues...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvQnjfWC_SXk80vMCpJP3azkJ7tj8V0dSXv1xI-C22e8upZ2uYIgltZlpDoL9f9hfDnx_gA_J5W3ClUphKyza3C5WCK44ns8tgUqV11sfywP-KBRrY7oq_O4FJJ9qVm-nlwVfyaCpGKz1/s1600/14867489636_81efddcb90_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvQnjfWC_SXk80vMCpJP3azkJ7tj8V0dSXv1xI-C22e8upZ2uYIgltZlpDoL9f9hfDnx_gA_J5W3ClUphKyza3C5WCK44ns8tgUqV11sfywP-KBRrY7oq_O4FJJ9qVm-nlwVfyaCpGKz1/s320/14867489636_81efddcb90_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Photo by Holmes Palaciosview original <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/holmesjr/14867489636/in/photolist-oDMLGd-865gb7-865fwW-4mRcH-cEjvEw-cTKYU7-862ugt-863uPD-9po1SY-866E39-6zkdNC-865CNs-865ADd-862rA4-862viZ-862wPH-865FXN-862tJz-865EqS-862qzn-emHaq-5PDc56-5PHqHN-4qsT7T-5hHVXT-ubJH2-8LHy8S-f8oi2X-6wPka1-6wPi3b-4uxCda-6qB6SH-6qB6Kp-6qB6Ac-6qB6wR-6qFhd3-6qFh2q-6qB6FR-6qB6rt-6qFh47-7wUPCt-aKxxFF-5fF2nd-67KocJ-4A3GJa-6s25xf-6s25tj-6s6wFp-6W7Qwe-6WbTnf" target="_blank">here</a> on Flikr </div>
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<br />
Leonard twirled Frankie out to the side as the song was
coming to an end and pulled her in just in time to dip her backwards on the
last note. Frankie’s breathing became deeper as he looked into her eyes. She
would have done anything to get away from those eyes; they may be similar to
Alistair’s but they made her feel totally different, like he was an insect
crawling into her soul. At this little display of Leonard’s there was a round
of applause rippling through the room. When he finally righted her she became
aware of the number of eyes in their direction and that none of the staff were
clapping. Will especially looked like he might grind his teeth down to nothing.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Taking his offered arm Frankie let him escort her back to Alistair,
who hadn’t moved an inch since she left his side. If looks could kill Leonard
would be six foot under by now, but the way Alistair gripped his folded arms
let her know that it wouldn’t be that simple.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“ We are going to have so much more fun my dear. But for now
I think you two lovebirds have some things to discuss.” Leonard sniggered as he
turned and bowed to the audience of waiting men.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Time to go.” Alistair said through gritted teeth grabbing
hold of Frankie’s hand and pulling her toward the arch. Frankie had no
objections at all, except that they didn’t seem to be stopping for her jacket.
She liked that jacket too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But the world didn’t tilt as the shimmer kicked in and
walking forward only spat them back out into the club. Twice more Alistair
dragged Frankie through, gaining speed with each attempt.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You know that’s not how it works Alistair.” Trixie’s voice came
from the corner. “If he has decided you’re not leaving then the arch will no
longer work for you. I’m sorry.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Alistair, who is <i>he</i>?”
Frankie asked, “Alistair.” She said grabbing his face and forcing him to look
at her. His eyes were frantic, unlike anything she had ever seen in him before.
“Ok, take a breath for a minute. We obviously aren’t going anywhere fast so
let’s just sit down...”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No! We have to go, now. Trixie, please?” Alistair pleaded,
“This has to stop. Let us out.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You know I don’t have that kind of power. And before you
ask Miss Taylor, no there isn’t an alternative exit. One way in. One way out.”
Trixie replied and then disappeared, her position no longer needed at the front
of house with the doorway sealed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Come on” Frankie said pulling Alistair with her as he
looked back at where Trixie had been moments
before. She took them straight to the bar and slid onto two bar stools
as far from everyone else as possible.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An uneasy silence hung between them sat there at the gloomy
end of the bar, punctuated by the clunk of the ice rolling around in Alistair’s
glass as he swirled his whiskey. Frankie was the first to break the impasse. “Ok,
are you going to tell me what I’ve gotten into here?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alistair rubbed his hands through his perfect hair and
pulled them down his face, letting out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, Frankie. If
only we had met before.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Before what?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Before I ever started coming here,” he gestured to the club
suddenly looking exhausted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Exactly how long have you been coming to the club
Alistair?” Frankie asked warily.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alistair let out a long breath. “Around three centuries.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Frankie threw back her shot of tequila that had been sitting
on the bar since they sat down. She savoured the burn as it slid down her
throat and the sticky bitter smell of the alcohol while she composed herself. <i>Three centuries!</i> “Well no offense but I
wasn’t around back then, I don’t think meeting would really have been an
option.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alistair looked up from his down-ward gaze to meet Frankie’s
eyes. As he did Frankie burst out laughing, straight delivery of comedic lines
wasn’t something she was ever good at. I didn’t take long for her laughter to
infect him too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“ So,” Frankie began, gasping through the remnants of the
hysteria, “exactly what is it you bring girls here for?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You have to understand Frankie that this started a long
time ago when I was very young and very stupid.” He started, “I was from a rich
family; thought I was entitled to the world and more . Why do we always want
more? Anyway, I’d been coming to this club. Back then I lived in London and
that’s where I was introduced. Drunk one night, sat at the bridge table, I
stupidly said in front of the wrong person ‘all I want from life is to have a
young woman on my arm.’ The next thing I know I am speaking with Leonard and
signing my life away.” Alistair stared over toward the gambling tables lost in
the memory for a moment.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The deal was I would always have exactly what I wished for;
never again would I grow old and I would always find young beautiful women
attracted to me.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.” Frankie encouraged when he seemed
unwilling to go on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alistair sighed, “Yes the <i>but</i>; there’s a catch that I didn’t care about back then. Every five
years Leonard gets a young lady for the club.” His head in his hands, “God
Frankie I used to justify it that they would get to live forever. Seriously I
was condemning them to this hell-hole and they get to stay here forever, what a
peachy life huh? I just couldn’t see a way out.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Really? Not one single way?” Frankie asked raising her left
eyebrow for effect.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes I tried that and
a few other ways too.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh, I’m sorry.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alistair sat up and finally downed his whiskey; he’d give
Will this one the guy knew his patron’s poisons. “I’ve been at this for three
centuries Frankie. Once I finally grew up and realised what the <i>Hell </i>I’d gotten myself into, do you not
think I tried every which way to break this or cheat it. It doesn’t work. He
finds me every time, drags me back or revives me and then takes what is owed
any way he can.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And I’m your five year payment?” Frankie said bluntly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Shit Frankie, I don’t want this. I love you. I wish you had
never met me.” Alistair shouted throwing his empty glass at the wall.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Frankie smiled; watching him come apart was just a little
bit satisfying. “Alistair,” Frankie said calmly composing herself, “tell me how
it works.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What? How what works?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How Leonard gets me. How the club takes me. Tell me exactly
how it happens.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In hushed tones at the end of the bar Alistair told Frankie
how the process starts when she puts the ring on but isn’t complete until vows
are exchanged in a ceremony. He explained how the vows are the key, seemingly innocuous
wedding vows but vows are a contract and a contract with Hell at that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So if I do this I’m what another waitress? I grow horns and
a tail and wander round in my underwear?” Frankie spat the words at Alistair,
the disgust now showing plainly on her face.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If you are lucky.” Alistair replied, not bothering to hide
the disgust from his voice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bar stool tumbled over when Frankie stood grabbing her
purse to leave. Alistair grabbed her wrist.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Please don’t. We’ll figure this out...I lo”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t.” She cut him
off before he could finish the word. “I will not be another Trixie in your
world, watching you bring women into this club.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Will appeared at the end of the bar, “Do you need anything
down here? Is he bothering you Frankie?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, I was just leaving.” Frankie yanked her arm free and
for good measure slapped Alistair across the face with a satisfying crack.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Walking away from him and no longer having to pretend to
like him felt good but this was far from over, she hadn’t gotten out of the
place yet. And she still hadn’t found Mum. She was nearly to the end of the
bar, though where exactly she thought she was going was a mystery. Leonard
stepped into her path forcing her to stop just before colliding with him.
Slowly having to adjust the angle of her head to look him in the eye, the smell
of his colongne almost overpowering.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well my dear that chat didn’t seem to go at all as Alistair
would have hoped, or I for that matter.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m sorry to disappoint.” Frankie replied belligerently.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Come sit with me Frankie.” Leonard offered his arm, once
again to take her away from Alistair and once again she could feel him seething
behind her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He guided Frankie across the club to his own private booth,
set just away from the rest of the booths it offered the best view of the stage
as well as the rest of the club. It was also more spacious with added velour
throw cushions and a seat that you could sink into. There was no waiting for
drinks a waitress was right behind them with glasses and a bottle of blood red
wine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Tell me Frankie, what do you make of the entertainment
here? What brings the young people into a club like this?” Leonard asked
handing Frankie a rather large glass of Argentinean Malbec.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Frankie took a slow sip trying to work out how to answer
this question, “To be honest I’m probably not the best person to ask. I think I
live in the past sometimes.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ahhhh, but life is ahead of you my dear. A very beautiful
life”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Hope you are still enjoying this, the few of you that are still reading ;-) What has everyone been upto lately?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-13043960337550690372015-03-11T00:03:00.000+00:002015-03-15T02:30:55.451+00:00Laughter, Pebbles and RemindersSometimes you just need a little reminder to be mindful, to appreciate the good and beautiful things around you; the <a href="http://sleepyjoes.blogspot.co.uk/p/pebbles.html" target="_blank">pebbles</a>.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Laugh so hard it brings tears to your eyes,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Giggle so long your cheeks ache.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Laugh so often you've no idea the subject, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But those you laughed with never forgotten.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img src="https://38.media.tumblr.com/ba2f02821b17b3e7e45e96edd34f6ee8/tumblr_mq21iqk9A11rsatdlo1_500.gif" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
view original <a href="https://38.media.tumblr.com/ba2f02821b17b3e7e45e96edd34f6ee8/tumblr_mq21iqk9A11rsatdlo1_500.gif" target="_blank">here</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This tune never fails to make me smile, I hope it does the same for you.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
What things have been making you laugh, or just smile if that's all you can manage, recently?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-50936225602278258162015-02-23T23:29:00.001+00:002015-02-23T23:29:30.042+00:00Immortal<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Tears etched on my cheeks</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You're tattooed on my heart</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Always immortal in my soul</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-30653698305490918752015-02-20T01:19:00.000+00:002015-02-20T01:19:23.368+00:00I'm a weirdo let me out of here!I have lost count on how many times I've tried to start this post. But then it is never that easy to admit that something is not quite right with yourself. Though I don't understand why. I guess it comes from the social construct that we must all be "normal" and "perfect". I find this really irritating. One, who the heck can ever live up to those nondescript standards? And two it makes it really difficult for people with serious illnesses that need help to seek it for fear of the stigma that they will attract.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mind.org.uk/" target="_blank">Mind</a>, a charity that deals with mental heath issues in the UK, has had a campaign recently encouraging people to take five minutes to talk. It can be talking openly about mental health issues or just generally getting things off your chest because doing so is a bit like going to the gym for your mental health. If you don't currently have any problems you are making sure you have a fighting chance in the future just by having a chat, now that sounds like a work out I can handle!<br />
<br />
Now, me? I don't suffer any mental health issues as such. I am most certainly a bit weird and not all there sometimes but nothing diagnosable...at least not that I know of. How I feel it's not claustrophobia because I don't struggle in lifts and small spaces, however if I spend too long confined in one building I become agitated. I have a need to be out...doing...being elsewhere. I have no idea if there is a term for this, to me it's just another little way I am weird.<br />
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<img alt="Let me out of here" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/e3/84/6f/e3846fa4544a7b7deef8288768738e23.jpg" /></div>
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view original <a href="http://www.dose.com/lists/316/24-Cat-and-Dog-Pics-You-Just-Have-To-See" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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Just recently though I have discovered that it goes a little further. It is not only if I am in the same building for any length of time, which can be a couple of days to a few hours, this weirdness seems to extend to getting stuck in the same routine/rut. I found that I was getting agitated more easily, but also tired quicker my interest in things was slipping away too.<br />
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Are you ready for the light-bulb moment?<br />
<br />
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<img alt="Getting this in my house. | Community Post: 18 GIFs That Prove Science Is The Coolest Subject Ever" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/41/a8/84/41a884aa717634ff5f5ab9339f9c77ac.jpg" /></div>
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<br /></div>
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view original <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/victoriamaryrey/18-gifs-that-prove-science-is-cooler-than-you-k56l?sub=3398602_3458423#.rfjjV5Nv9" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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<br /></div>
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I listened to a new album (track off said album coming up) this week and for the first time in ages I felt alive, I felt ready to go face what the world had for me and I wanted more. I realised that what drives me out of the house isn't just the need to be <i>out</i> it is the need for <i>new</i> and <i>different. </i>The easiest way for me to achieve this is to take a trip to the closest city and wander round for a couple of hours, it's a quick fix. When I was young and lived at home I used to move my bedroom round on a regular basis so that the furniture was in a different orientation. Only now after all this time am I discovering that there are other ways to alleviate the symptoms, or even keep the feelings at bay completely with a constant stream of new!<br />
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So I guess the key to staying happy, sane and motivated is to get up, get out and fill my life with new things (that don't take up precious writing time). Best learn to juggle then!<br />
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<img alt="(gifset) Because Thomas William Hiddleston is in fact a five-year-old stuck in a 32-year-old body." src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/34/15/fd/3415fd0bca89a234d041f337dd88350f.jpg" /></div>
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Awww, look at his happy face. </div>
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Original <a href="http://camiekahle.tumblr.com/post/73632922221/because-thomas-william-hiddleston-is-in-fact-a" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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<br /></div>
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For now sit back, relax and enjoy my favourite track so far off the Imagine Dragons new album. </div>
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Lets not be afraid to be weird, we never know what awesome things we will discover along the way!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-33561454106070339532015-01-29T01:50:00.001+00:002015-01-29T22:15:55.848+00:00Meet the Boss<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">So a little while ago for daily writing prompts I started a story called <a href="http://sleepyjoes.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/the-hellfire-club.html" target="_blank">The Hell Fire Club</a> and the follow up <a href="http://sleepyjoes.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/the-morning-after-night-before.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Anyway I haven't written in a while so I thought I would get back into the swing of things and this is the story that has been toying with me. Here is the next installment. Let me know what you think.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18px;">*****</span></div>
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<img src="http://www.crystalchandeliercompany.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/Basket-Chandelier-CCB7150-2.jpg" height="400" width="271" /></div>
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view image <a href="http://www.crystalchandeliercompany.com/chandelier-services/" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Miss Taylor. Alistair." Trixie the hostess nodded as she
took Frankie's leather jacket from her. Alistair had been right, entering the
club the first time had been the worst. She barely broke her stride now. She
did, however, still need a few seconds to take in the club as the foyer opened
out into all its opulence. Frankie really wasn't used to all this splendor;
two up two downs with her mum growing up and dingy flats through uni were her
thing. Getting used to Alistair's way of doing things was taking a little time.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Taking Alistair's offered arm she leaned in and whispered into his ear,
"Is there a particular reason Trixie is so familiar with you? I mean with
everyone else it seems to be Miss or Sir but you're on first name terms."
She finished raising her eyebrow for effect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"I've told you before I have been coming for a long time."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Yeah, so have most of the old dudes in here. Come on, there is a
lot you don't tell me Alistair and I can handle it, mostly. But at some point
you are going to have to start giving something up! Why not start with
something small?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Hmmm." Alistair had a pensive look on his face as they slid
into their usual booth and was staring across the room at the guy Frankie
assumed was the owner, he was</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">always</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">there
surveying his empire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"I mean if you two had a thing it's fine. You seem to be over it
now. I assume the split was amicable? You are both being positively adult about
it. "<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Something like that." Alistair replied, still distracted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Hey Mr." Frankie said waving her hand in front of his face.
"Conversation over here. Plus we are supposed to be celebrating something,
but someone wouldn't tell me what. I dressed up and everything." Frankie
pouted and that finally brought Alistair back to the here and now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"I'm sorry, I....I'm sorry." Alistair sighed with a last quick
glance at the guy. "I did promise someone a celebration didn't I?" He
said with a wicked twinkle in his eye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He slid his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small red velvet
box. A ring box.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Frankie looked at Alistair, his impeccable hair dark hair brushed back with
not a strand out of place as usual and his dark wicked eyes baring down into
her soul through her eyes. In the last few months he had taken the half broken
woman that she had become, plodding through life like it didn't matter, wasting
it on stupid wishes that she could disappear into a world that didn't exist. And
he had made her whole again. No more than whole, more than she could ever
imagine. Frankie knew that her mouth was probably hanging open by now but she
just kept looking from the box to Alistair and back again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Are you going to open it?" Alistair asked quietly and for
the first time Frankie heard doubt and unease within him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"I..." Frankie started, touching the box with just the tip of
her fingers. Looking up at Alistair, "it's....we've only been together six
months...I."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Open it." He whispered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Frankie gingerly lifted the small box from the table. The velvet was
thick and expensive under her fingers. Taking a deep breath she pulled on the
stiff spring and opened the box. She could barely string a sentence together
before, now looking at the vintage gold ring sat in the shiny black silk there
was no chance of coherent speech. Frankie looked up at Alistair patiently
waiting for her reply and back to the beautiful ring; the emerald cut blood red
stone, the diamonds set down the asymmetrical band and the filigreed claws
holding the captivating stone in place. It was so beautiful, so old, too much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"It's too much." Frankie whispered finally, her eyes shining
bright with the potential for tears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"It's the only ring I would choose. Don't over think this Frankie,
are you happy?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"More than any other time in my life." Frankie replied,
distractedly fingering the ring. "I just don't know if I'm ready for this.
It's a big commitment, I'm giving you me and you'll be giving me you...forever.
Are we ready?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Closing his hands around Frankie's and snapping the box to in the
centre, taking a breath. "Just think about it, please. Think about what we
have. I don't know about you but I don't want it to ever end."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">All Frankie managed was a nod as she watched Alistair slip the little
red box into her bag. With a sigh she knelt on the booth seat and turned toward
the bar. Will, the bartender spotted her and she just mouthed 'Rough Day' then
turned to sit down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"What was that?" Alistair asked. But before Frankie could
answer Will arrived at the table. Now he was out from behind the bar it was
much more obvious how well toned he was by how well fitting his stripped
waistcoat was and Frankie only noticed now the spatterdashes that he wore over his boots. There were
things all over this place that made you feel like you were stuck in some kind
of time-warp.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Two glasses?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"I think so Will, thanks. And maybe the bottle?" Frankie
replied. Alistair meanwhile was sat stunned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"I took that as a given Frank! I brought the Don, you look like
you need it tonight." Will winked, his reptilian eye flicking sideways,
and after pouring two shots of Don Eduardo Silver Tequila set the bottle on the
table. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"You know all my favourites." Frankie smiled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Ah, there she is. Few more of those and you'll be back
giggling."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Not sure that's the answer tonight Will, but thanks."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Well give me a shout if you run out of lime." He said
turning to leave without even acknowledging Alistair's existence. Usually the
world revolved around the men in here and she was an added extra, but Will had
been a friend these past few months. There to run to when things got a little
too weird or when she needed a little time out from the lecherous old men that
sometimes</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">needed</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">to speak with Alistair when she was there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"So Frank, we're on the hard stuff tonight huh?" Alistair
asked. Was that jealousy that flashed across his face? Nah, she was reading too
much into that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Don't get me wrong champagne is lovely. But sometimes tequila is
what a situation requires." Frankie smiled, "let's try and enjoy the
rest of the night? I know it's not the celebration you were hoping for."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Frankie, you never cease to amaze me. That is a cause to
celebrate in its self." With that he nodded in the direction of the stage
and it was only then that Frankie realised there hadn't been any performers on
yet, which was unusual, just the band playing various background pieces. The
lights dimmed and the heavy bass kicked in. Before even the first spark hit the
stage she knew the fire poi dancers were back. They hadn't seen them since
their first visit to the Hellfire Club but Frankie asked almost every time if
they were on the bill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"How?"</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Anything for you."Alistair smiled handing her her glass and
clinking them in an unspoken toast to them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The fire held no captivation for Alistair that night. He just watched
the glow of the flames dance on her skin, he watched the amazement in her eyes
and he felt the beat pulse through their intertwined fingers. Slowly he came to
the realisation this time he meant every word he said. That singular thought
scared the hell out of him. In three centuries none of them had realised, none
of them had guessed what the contract held and it made her all the more
attractive. He wasn't going to be able to give her up and as that dawned on him
he caught sight of Leonard watching him watch Frankie.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">How
much had he seen? Was she safe?</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He hadn't gotten out of the first mess he
got himself into and now he was walking head-long into another.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Alistair was no longer watching Frankie; his eyes were firmly on
Leonard at the blackjack table. Their stares meeting across the club as the poi
dancing rolled seamlessly onto Frankie</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">s favourite singer. The sultry tones of Madame
Kitzsch melted out from the stage while the smell of sulphur still hung in the
air from the fire, smoke clinging to the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Dance with me.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Alistair
blurted out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">But no one else is dancing.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Frankie replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I don</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">t care. I
need you close to me. Come on.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> He said again standing and taking her
hand, pulling her to her feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">They moved on to the dance floor and Alistair pulled Frankie against
him. She really did look exquisite tonight; wearing a floor length deep
amethyst satin number, she shone like a gem amongst all the blood red of the
club. Tonight he really felt her as they moved to the slow rhythm of the music,
how their bodies fit together, how they moved in sync. They cut a path through the
smoke clinging to the dance floor like birds through the clouds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">What</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">s wrong
Alistair? This isn</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">t just a delayed answer.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Frankie spoke into Alistair</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">s neck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Frankie, pretty soon I am going to have to
tell you some things, but now is not that time. Right now someone is coming,
whatever happens be careful. You know enough to be careful around him.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Frankie pulled back to look at him and saw fear, quickly masked under
the businessman mask she had seen many times before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Remember this above all. I love you, I
really do</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> He whispered. And pulled her close to prolong what
remained of the dance as he watched Leonard approach from the gambling tables.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Well you two make a rather cute pair don</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">t you.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> The voice made Frankie jump closer to
Alistair, making the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Good evening Leonard.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Alistair bowed his head slightly, </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Frankie this is Leonard he runs the Hellfire Club.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">So this is the infamous Frankie?</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Leonard turned to Frankie, </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">My dear I
have been remiss in not seeking you out sooner. Or Alistair here has been downright
rude keeping you all to himself.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Alistair caught the annoyance in his tone
and wished that leaving the club would solve their problems. He hoped at this
point it was still an option.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Leonard, it</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">s a pleasure.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Frankie, confident as anything stepped up and held
out her hand for the King of Hell to take.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">A triumphant grin spread across Leonard</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">s face as
he took Frankie</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">s hand to lay a kiss across the knuckles.
All the time keeping eye contact with Alistair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Would you mind old chap if I cut in for
this dance?</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Leonard sleazed, keeping hold of Frankie</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">s hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Alistair tightened his grip around her waist, </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">its ok
Alistair. I believe Leonard owes me a dance given the interruption.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> He let his arm loosen and she slipped away from him
straight onto the arm of the most dangerous person here. Yet she seemed in
control of the situation, <i>was that
beautiful pixie haired woman going stop amazing him</i></span><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">…</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">ever?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">*
* *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Leonard was completely different to Alistair. Where Alistair was gentle
Leonard was forceful and Frankie was pulled against him in a possessive vice
like grip. Frankie could feel that he was well built compare to Alistair</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">s toned and athletic physique. They had the same dark
eyes though, but somehow Alistair saw <i>her</i>
and had a cheeky wickedness to him. Leonard</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">s eyes
just seem to be wicked and searching for what they can have and own, they made
Frankie</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">s skin crawl. But she had met men like Leonard before.
He was no different than the scum that took her when she was sixteen, she was
stronger now. Not physically</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">…</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">but there is more than one way to skin a
cat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The song had a staccato feel to it; Leonardo was using that and moving
them around the floor. Frankie caught a glimpse of Will watching them looking
almost like he was going to throw up and most of the club was watching them too,
it was like the club and its occupants had collectively held its breath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">So, is this your song then?</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Frankie asked, making conversation as they moved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">What makes you say that?</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> he asked<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The nod to Kitzsch as we moved away from
Alistair.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Very perceptive. It</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">s one of
many. I guess you could say it fits with my personality.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Leonard smiled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">So we can safely say your halo need a
polish like mine then?</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Frankie smiled; maybe she could work with
this,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Oh no sweetness, it hangs off my horns.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> His laugh echoed over the music.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-5666098593580973032015-01-22T00:01:00.000+00:002015-01-22T00:01:22.541+00:00The Bookshop TourOh I have a friend that is sooooooo going to be like this with me!<br />
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<img alt="." src="http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/8d/3d/0e/8d3d0e5719fad622391a911f0ab4e05c.jpg" /></div>
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found on Pinterest <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/279293614367096083/" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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All because I have been promising to read a book forever (ok so there is probably more than one friend and more than one unread book but I agree with Lemony Snicket!)</div>
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<img alt="*It Is Most Likely That I Will Die Next To A Pile Of Books...* - Lemony Snicket #Quote" src="http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/18/6d/41/186d4192b2c58e47b37c8609e68ccc36.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></div>
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found on Pinterest <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/380554237235760504/" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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But I got an amazing book for Christmas and <i>really </i>couldn't resist it! It's all my weird and lovely colleague's fault for she introduced me to <a href="http://www.jen-campbell.co.uk/" target="_blank">Jen Campbell</a> and the Weird Things Customers Say in Bookshops books. They are books that had me ahhhing, nodding and out right laughing with every other quote, even though I have never worked in a bookshop most things translated to libraries. So when I got Jen's new book for Christmas, The Bookshop Book, it just kept winking at me until I picked it up and sneaked a peak. And another one. Then another, well you get the picture.</div>
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Sat there nice and cosy in front of the crackling log fire in Northumberland with plans to visit my favourite bookshop in the coming days guess which bookshop the opened onto?...Yes, my favourite bookshop Barter Books, Alnwick. It did raise a little chuckle. Then I did what every good bibliophile should do, I began at the beginning and continued to the end! This tour by page did not disappoint. It was full of little nuggets of wonder and brilliance. Full of rabbit holes for you to follow, books to add to the never ending <i>To Read List</i> and even a few blogs to check out.</div>
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But worse than that (at least for my other half) rekindled some dreams and tickled my wanderlust. I now have a list of bookshops circling the globe to visit and a new Pinterest board to gather my thoughts on for my dream bookshop.<br />
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I truly loved reading about all the wonderful bookshops all over the world; the ones I want to visit from Wigtown, Scotland to Storytellers Inc. Lancashire and across the pond to places like the Community Bookstore, Brooklyn New York. Jen even had me wanting to visit Paris, something I have never wanted to do before. But with the lure of Shakespeare and Co. who could not want to take a look in person; finger those spines, close your eyes to take a deeper breath of that vanillary book smell and pick one off the shelf to curl up with for a while.<br />
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More than all of the places I want to visit, which to be frank would need a gap year and a lottery win to fund, were all the places I wanted to share with friends. <i>Cook and Book, dine on a meal selected from a cookbooks, </i>at that point I said out loud to some rather quizzical looks, "Oh Sandra would love that."<i> </i>And so many book shops steeped in the history of the Beat authors I just kept thinking <i>Connor would love this one and this one and this one and I could see him spending a night or two sleeping at Shakespeare and Co. writing and more.</i> Yes there are bookshops mentioned with beds in where you can sleepover (new bucket list item I think!).There were so many more, too many to mention. I guess that is why I have been going around enthusing about this book so much. Trying to get people to add this to their to read list.<br />
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It has been a long time since a book has had me furiously scribbling notes so I don't forget which parts I loved. Even longer since I wanted to start straight back at the beginning as soon as I finished and a little longer still since I cringed when someone asked to borrow my copy, not because I'm precious I know the person will be careful (she's a librarian) but because I'm just not sure I will ever be done referring to it!<br />
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I don't even usually review books but I seem to have walked into doing just that! Seriously Jen, well played! But this book is a bit like the gravy of my roast dinner book list, and everyone knows you can't have a roast dinner without gravy.<br />
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Now, one of my most favourite parts of the author interviews was that most ended with them describing their dream bookshop so I thought I would do the same, here goes....<br />
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It would be warm and welcoming, light but cosy. There would be log fires, coffee and cakes. The cafe would do themed children's meals depending on the story time theme/author of the month theme. There would be comfy chairs and places to sit all over the place and a young adult area too. I'd have arts involved somewhere, somehow with a gallery space and a corner where people can drop in and work on their art or creative journals and if they use our resources there'd be an honesty box system. Oh and a story time chair, which if you know me you know I would probably never sit in as I prefer to sit on the floor with the kids, but it's a must.<br />
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So I've told you my perfect place, what about you. What's in your perfect bookshop?<br />
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Today's track, Youth Lagoon - Daydream, is a recommendation by the aforementioned Connor. Have a listen, and a daydream about bookshops for a while. Then when you're done if you fancy something completely different to here bob on over to his <a href="http://daysofdistortion.blogspot.co.uk/" target="_blank">blog</a> and have a read.<br />
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PS Happy New Year ;-) Better late than never!<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-40136179049475667852014-12-09T23:57:00.000+00:002014-12-09T23:57:45.910+00:00Bucket of FrogsSome days staring at the TV is all I am capable of. Other days there are moments when deep questions tickle the grey matter. Like today; when you plug your phone or ipod into your stereo or car audio system and ask that system to shuffle the music, is it the stereo or your phone that controls the shuffle? The music on my way to work was particularly good you see and I wondered which machine to afford the credit to because some days are <i>bad </i> music days when every other song needs to be skipped as it is just not fitting for the moment. Sorry I digress. Or other bigger 'life, the universe and everything' type questions like; why are we here?<div>
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Now I have no idea what the answer to this question is...what? I am no Stephen Hawking am I? I ask questions about shuffling ipods for goodness sake! However in my pondering I did come to a realisation; does it matter? One thing is certain, the thing that makes it all worth while and the thing that has seen me survive has been my connections with other people.</div>
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The last couple of months have been hard personally for me, for no particular reason other than circumstances weighing me down. Now, in the grand scheme of things I have a roof over my head, I can afford to feed my family and we are all healthy. These are the times where you think to yourself <i>get a grip, your life is peachy. </i>But it is what it is and downward my mood has spiraled. Through it all there they have been, my little shining stars. The lights that brighten my day and keep my head up and a smile on my face no matter what I face.</div>
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Those people that can throw chocolate (and other goodies) a really, really long way and time it's arrival so perfectly it made me smile, cry and laugh all at the same time. Then chat online with you for hours about anything.</div>
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The little messages that pop up and say <i>I'm thinking of you, how are you doing? </i>bringing a smile with them, even though things are not rosy for them.</div>
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Oh and the laughter. The geeking out, the inuendo, the insider jokes and the down right <i>did I just walk into that </i> moments that have kept me sane at work. With old friends and new; discovering those things that we are on the same wavelength about or other things that we have in common when we thought we were the only one. If I didn't eat as much chocolate the amount I have laughed recently at work I could have shed a few pounds at least.</div>
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Connections...lead to smiles...leads to laughter...leads to a lighter heart...leads to inspiration...</div>
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I had always thought in the past that my inspiration came from a couple of very limited sources. I am starting to see that it is there in everything, it is connected to everything I just need a lighter and more open heart (and probably mind) in order to accept it. That's probably why music unlocks things for me and walks in the open. I finally see my awesome friends not only keep me sane and make smile, they inspire me too.</div>
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view original <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/37647346857774008/" target="_blank">here</a> on Pinterest.</div>
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So thank you my friends, thank you for being there for me, whether you were aware or not you helped (are helping) to keep me sane. Though sometimes I wonder if, "we are all mad here." As mad as a bucket of frogs.</div>
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Just a little Stereophonics to end with today. When you are struggling what drags you out of it to face another day?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-68568253157985240592014-11-07T02:09:00.001+00:002014-11-07T02:09:13.211+00:00Slipping Away<div style="text-align: center;">
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Prompt pinned from <a href="http://aroseinhersmile.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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"Do we really need to keep this?"</div>
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"Yes, it's from Charlie's first week of school."</div>
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"What about this?"</div>
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"Yes, our first holiday on abroad."</div>
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"Seriously we can't need all of these cards and pictures! Can we?"</div>
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Liv rolled her eyes. Why was Ian so intent on taking away all of her connections to the past? Their memories, their moments.</div>
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She got up, grabbed her cup of tea and walked out into the garden for some fresh air. She would have to let go of some things at some point. Mara would be off to high school soon and there was no more room for 'stuff' in the house, just like there was no more room in her brain.</div>
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Cradling the warm china in both hands, inhaling the honeyed vanilla sent Liv closed her eyes and sank into the bench and her memory. </div>
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The fresh clean air in her lungs, the smell of the damp wet grass under her boots and the chatting about nothing as they walked.The blue sky and the birds calling, stopping while he tried to tell her which bird was which. Then the feel of his hand slipping around hers. The warmth and the pressure of his fingers made her feel safe. But then the unspoken hung heavy in the air, the next step that would never be. Neither wanting to let go knowing they would never get this moment again. The memory would be the only thing they would get to keep.</div>
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Now Liv worried that her memory would fail her, eventually she would forget this too along with everything else. She had nothing to connect it to.</div>
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<i>What ever you take, what ever you throw away. Please let me keep this memory.</i></div>
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After much deliberation it here is a little Stone Sour acoustic to go with today's post. </div>
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What memory would you not want to let go of? What do you keep playing over and over in your mind like a movie on repeat, just so you won't forget any little detail?</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-56684174187062283702014-09-23T00:39:00.000+01:002014-09-23T00:39:25.173+01:00Wanderlust<div style="text-align: center;">
<img height="400" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-g-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xpa1/v/t1.0-9/1970403_10152703133496147_7045918391165581598_n.jpg?oh=4e75ac108b910616e7b50c9fb745d3b5&oe=54887C07&__gda__=1418760301_f82295522cba34172e8243c7a3238f43" width="321" /></div>
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Today's writing prompt....I know, I know don't all faint at once I'm actually writing it today! </div>
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As well as the picture above, a product of<a href="http://scribblesanddabbles.blogspot.co.uk/" target="_blank"> Sabrina's</a> Etsy shopping I believe (someone correct me if I'm wrong) <a href="http://chmcfarland.wordpress.com/2014/09/22/blog-tour-the-paper-magician-by-charlie-n-holmberg/" target="_blank">Caitlyn</a> added the rest of the quote (oh and head over to her blog she has a giveaway!)</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">"All that is gold does not glitter,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Not all those who wander are lost;</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">The old that is strong does not wither,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Deep roots are not reached by the frost." </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">— </span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/656983.J_R_R_Tolkien" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;" title="J.R.R. Tolkien quotes">J.R.R. Tolkien</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> (</span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34.The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;">The Fellowship of the Ring (The Lord of the Rings, #1)</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">)</span></div>
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I wander, and I get lost. But often I do it on purpose. I've just had a quick look and I can't believe I haven't written about this before!</div>
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I find cities are the best for this, I remember a particularly fruitful adventure in Newcastle. I had time to kill and nothing special to do so I set off in one direction and walked. I found the most amazing shop stocked with local handmade crafts and another that sold delicious whoopie pies.</div>
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The secret to getting lost is to allow yourself time. Never be pushed for time or you will panic. Always have an escape plan, smart phones are great for this (though I try not to fall back on mine if I can). Talking to people is unheard of these days I know, but seriously how do you think folks managed before we had our noses super-glued to a screen. Speaking of which, your best friends when getting lost are your eyes. Look around you, aside from seeing some of the most amazing things you will pick up the landmarks you will need to find your way back.</div>
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After saying all that I only managed to get lost once on my recent trip to London and I only had an hour to make it out. This particular occasion I didn't do it on purpose so I felt no guilt using said smart phone to navigate my way to Big Ben, however fate would have the last say doing so killed my battery! That little excursion did take me on an unexpected trip past St James' park which was pretty so I wasn't disappointed!</div>
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Where I did allow my wandering side free reign was in the galleries and museums I visited, even on a trip into St Pancras station. My eyes looked up and found art not just framed and on the wall but on the ceiling too.</div>
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This was one of my favourite pieces of ceiling art at The Courtland Institute Gallery.</div>
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I continued to look around and I found amazing architecture, not just the exhibits I had come to see.</div>
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One of my many favourite parts of the Victoria & Albert museum (hastily snapped as it is in the entrance hall and it was really busy that day!). Try to let the sculpture fade away and look around it, the building is just as beautiful...and massive. If there is ever a building to get lost in in London the V&A is the place to do it, so many places to hide in awe and wonder.</div>
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Finally, for you at least because this is only a whistle stop tour of my wanderings, St Pancras Station. The place that wasn't on my plan, the place we nipped into on a whim. The place of any wanderers dreams...The one that steals your heart. I will visit again, I may even eat in the booking office restaurant and truly soak up the atmosphere. If I am really lucky I might one day get to stay in the St Pancras Hotel (that one really is the thing of dreams). For now I will leave you with my snaps of St Pancras.</div>
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'Not all who wander are lost' but some of us get lost to discover something and maybe ourselves along the way. Don't forget to look to the clouds every now and again, you never now what you might see.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-88457178542891361972014-09-22T23:19:00.001+01:002014-09-22T23:19:36.916+01:00Some Days!<div style="text-align: left;">
Nina punched in the code and legged it to the door. She pulled it to with a thud and turned the key. Pushing her ear buds in she cranked the volume on the drumbeat and guitar riff and let the weight of the last ten hours start to drift off with a deep breath in then out. </div>
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Wrapping her skull scarf around three times, trapping her braid, she stepped onto the darkening street to the beat and headed for the station. Today had been a long day, ok in reality time had moved no differently to any other day, but some days the books ceased to be wonderful other realities, they were just stacks and stacks of lead weights all to be moved and scanned. Sometimes the kids ceased to be wondrous little beings discovering the world around them and were just brats throwing crayons all over the floor. Every now and then that 'book with the blue cover' is not a 'nice little challenge' it's a 'you have to be kidding me' kind of feeling. </div>
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Today had been a 'some day'. The one day when she really didn't want to have to handle the creepy dude! Nina knew what was coming as soon as the sentence, "it's something about shades of grey" was out of his lips. Sat there with the creepy ass look on his face. She was polite and went through the motions of, "yes, Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James" <i>and oh joy we have a copy in. </i>She nearly gagged when he was stood so close in the fiction section whispering at her, "I bet you're into this kind of thing, aren't you."</div>
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A louder more diverting song came on and Nina cranked up the volume another notch as she checked the road for cars before crossing, something or rather someone caught her eye up the street she had just walked down. <i>Nah it won't be. </i>She shook her head and carried on, speeding up a little to the beat and to match her pace to the adrenaline in her veins.<br />
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A few more bars and her heart was pounding almost as loud as the bass, she had to look back. <i>Crap </i>It was the creepy dude. Nina quickened her steps but she had no idea why even if she got to the station is wasn't manned at this time of night. Where could she stop? Where could she go?<br />
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Another look. He wasn't there. She turned to get a proper look. No definitely not there. Nina sighed, maybe he was just walking in this direction. She slowed her pace and turned to look where she was heading.<br />
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"Hello Nina."</div>
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view original <a href="http://www.dumpaday.com/random-pictures/funny-pictures/funny-pictures-day-81-pics-2/" target="_blank">here</a><br />
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Wow, Friday's writing prompt took me a while to work out in my head. I must say this is purely fictional and in no way based on any real life events! <a href="http://leahgarriott.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/a-sign.html" target="_blank">Leah</a> and <a href="http://scribblesanddabbles.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/miri.html" target="_blank">Sabrina</a> of course finished their's ages ago...and you must go check out their awesomeness!!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-79497353684121674842014-09-20T00:17:00.001+01:002014-09-20T00:30:47.233+01:00Mother<div style="text-align: center;">
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Yesterday's picture prompt was been posted courtesy of <a href="http://leahgarriott.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/deer-in-path.html" target="_blank">Leah</a> who is already off the mark with her response as is <a href="http://kickingcorners.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/head-and-hart.html" target="_blank">Deb</a> over at Kicking Corners, go check out their magic, but not until you marvelled at my merger efforts which eventually comes to you after I fell asleep yesterday mid-writing.<br />
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"Mother, mother. Look just like you said my wing is mended." Sang the thrush, swooping from branch to branch to show off his new found mobility.</div>
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"So it is little one, rest it for one more day and you should be ready for full flight." At this the thrush broke into full chorus rejoicing her presence and power.</div>
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<i>There went my peaceful walk </i>Gaia thought. She tried to focus on the warm grass beneath her bare feet, the bottom of her white cheesecloth skirt catching as she walked. Twisting tiny plaits in her hair as the last vestiges of summer warmed her skin. Until the chattering and squeaking around her became too much.<br />
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"Ok, ok my darlings" Gaia sighed. "Your babies are all so beautiful. Yes, yes, my blessings on them all. Come and see me at the Oak this evening Master Rabbit and I will look at your ear then. Go now and be merry in the sun, summer is nearly over and the harsh winter will soon begin."<br />
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With that she turned to move through the creatures around her, leaving the voles and foxes and mice and all manner of other tiny creatures in her wake. She needed time to recharge.<br />
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As she cleared the gathering the tree tunnel came under a peaceful quiet once more, quiet enough for Hart to step out from his hiding place. Only he could bring a smile to Gaia's face during this season.<br />
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"Hello old friend." She greeted him, sliding her hand down the fur on his neck. As she stepped past him the beautiful stag rose up onto his hind legs and shifted into the form of a human man. His antlers becoming thick locks of brown hair. But his eyes they were the same, over these many years all the many times Gaia had changed him for her own selfish reasons she had always kept his eyes. Those deep and fathomless brown eyes.<br />
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"Hello Gaia" her name rolled deep from his throat and settled her fraying nerves.<br />
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"Oh Hart, these summers are getting harder and harder to bear."<br />
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"The constant activity, the constant chatter, oh just the constant....I find myself wanting to set forth winter earlier and earlier every year."<br />
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"There is an option Gaia" Hart replied with his usual knowing sideways look, with just a sprinkling of wicked.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-6221682168234609952014-09-18T00:12:00.000+01:002014-09-18T00:12:18.324+01:00Dance with me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today's writing prompt. Now anyone that has read my blog before knows that I am not averse to getting my inspiration from music. However I don't think I have ever used a song with no lyrics purely as inspiration for my writing before. Lets see how it all turns out.</div>
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Leo walked over to the record player, his bare feet muffled on the soft sprung floor. There was a scratch and a crackle as the needle picked up the ridge and started to pull out the first notes from the piano.</div>
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He moved silently to where Jess was sat, having just taken a drink from her water bottle, and held his had out to her. Not saying a word they began to move in the choreographed routine, right around the room they moved. Bodies close and intertwined. The touch of hand to hand, skin to skin. Leo's guiding hand in the small of Jess's back or the feel of her breath as she tucked in against his shoulder. Jess leaping into the air with grace and trust that Leo would be there to catch her, bringing her down so close to the ground her blond braid swept along the floor.</div>
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The music would stop with them embracing 'center stage' neither one could keep their eyes from the other, their lips almost touching. Then Leo would break away, reset the needle and the dance would start all over again. </div>
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Until, that is, one or the other or both indeed could no longer stand the tension. When the temptation to close the gap was too much, they would collect their things silently and leave to repeat the same routine again the next day.</div>
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Unfulfilled passion. The critics saw the connection of course, praised their astounding chemistry. The tabloids spread rumours of them being seen together. The dancers simply never confirmed nor denied any of it, they refused all interviews and would only dance.</div>
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That is what would make them the most captivating of dancers to watch. As their bodies moved, in ways only an intimate couple should know each other, that night on stage everyone was enthralled. And the audience couldn't help but hold their collective breath as the curtain fell on their final embrace.</div>
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For more prompt loveliness head over to <a href="http://kickingcorners.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/written-on-sky.html?showComment=1410994686314#c5999270264194741378" target="_blank">Deb</a> for dimples, <a href="http://leahgarriott.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/written-on-sky.html" target="_blank">Leah</a> and <a href="http://scribblesanddabbles.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/waterfall-of-ache.html" target="_blank">Sabrina</a> for some beautiful poetry.</div>
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Three posts from me today catching up on prompts....think I am going to go crash and burn somewhere now ;-) But it has been one fantastic ride, why not try it sometime? Give it a go if you are stuck in a writing rut, power through some writing prompts. Pinterest is a great place to find them, but generally anything will work and set yourself a time limit to write. Go over, write off on a tangent it doesn't really matter JUST WRITE!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358414340633962496.post-64735292175412753052014-09-17T22:47:00.000+01:002014-09-17T22:47:21.171+01:00"And They Lived Happily Ever After. The End"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Cole ducked just in time to see the crystal decanter shatter on the wall beside him. His Balcones Fifth Anniversary bourbon trickling down the wall mirroring the tears on her cheeks, the ones he put there. <i>God, I'm an idiot!</i></div>
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Heaven screamed. It was the most unearthly sound Cole had ever heard; rage mixed with her heart breaking and it could only escape through that noise and a volley of possessions smashing around him</div>
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"I can't believe you took her there, to our restaurant." Heaven shouted breathlessly. "Were we just a lie, all along. 'Happily Ever Afters' just for the movies after all." She continued adding air quotes to the happily ever after.</div>
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"No...Crap...I don't know. I love you, I'm an idiot Heaven...please."</div>
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Heaven just shook her head and turned to walk away. <i>Oh please no, fight me. don't give up.</i></div>
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"If I could undo it all I would. If I could trade everything I have for just one more day of what we had I'd do it in a heartbeat Heaven. I've never been happier than the day we got married."</div>
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Heaven turned to face him but the look on her face was no longer filled with rage and the tears had stopped. Cole's breath caught in his chest, in that moment she scared him. His beautiful angel looked downright vengeful.</div>
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She slinked over to Cole, standing nose to nose with him she traced her finger down the side of his face. "Do you really mean that <i>Baby</i>? All of your wealth, all of your tomorrows for just one yesterday?"</div>
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"Yes." Cole answered definitely, even though this whole thing confused the hell out of him. One minute she was throwing things at him the next she was close enough to kiss. But he had to show her what she meant to him.</div>
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Then she screamed again but this time there was a blinding light that filled the room and everything started spinning. Cole dropped to his knees, he could no longer see Heaven and he couldn't even reach out for her. When everything came to a stop she was there in front of him dressed in a white trouser suite, when had she had time to change?</div>
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"Cole get up!"</div>
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He staggered to his feet rather ungracefully and then he had the chance to take her in in all her glory. Yes that was the word, beautiful white angel wings and glory.</div>
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"Cole close your mouth. Here's the deal, I'm going to give you what you want. You can have one more day of loving me, our Happily Ever After."</div>
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"Thank you, I love you. We will be great together this time...." Cole started to move towards her but she held up a hand to stop him.</div>
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"Cole you don't get it, there is no this time. Do you know what Cole? Just enjoy today." With that Heaven turned to walk away leaving the images of Cole's wedding day to come together around her. Muttering as she left. "I'll enjoy it more when I take it all from you."</div>
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Yesterday's writing prompt was to write something that starts with "And They Lived Happily Ever After. The End". It kind of starts that whole debate over if there are any 'happily ever afters' and just how hard you have to work on them once the credits come up! But I guess that is a whole other post. For now <a href="http://scribblesanddabbles.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/in-water.html?showComment=1410977346068#c234197533299133997" target="_blank">Sabrina</a>, <a href="http://leahgarriott.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/happily-ever-after.html" target="_blank">Leah</a> and <a href="http://kickingcorners.blogspot.co.uk/search?updated-max=2014-09-17T14:40:00-06:00&max-results=1" target="_blank">Deb</a> have posted their responses to this prompt onto their blogs...go check them out!</div>
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What would your happily ever after look like? Have you found it already? Is it as plain sailing as you expected?</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4