So I need an F-word. Hmm. Nothing springs to mind. I need to think harder. Da de da dum da de da dum de da. *lightbulb moment* Ferrero Rocher chocolates! Blimey, why didn’t I think of that before? I love Ferrero chocolates! They are so yummy and…chocolatey. In fact, I love Ferrero Rocher so much I once built one of those pyramids like you see stacked on the tray in the adverts. I was really pleased with myself – until a dog came along and cocked his leg on it. That’s when I realised I shouldn’t have built it on a beach. Anyway I was as mad as hell. And, if the dog cocking his leg wasn’t bad enough, as soon as it had finished peeing it ran off with a mouthful of the remaining unspoilt Ferrero Rochers. I hate irresponsible dog owners. Peeing on someone’s chocolate is unforgivable but

I know most people think January is the time for new beginnings and resolutions. But it seems to me that Easter, when flowers bloom and branches sprout, is a more appropriate time to start afresh and mirror the new life that is bursting forth. Of course, across the world, our seasons and climates are often different. Here, in the UK, spring flowers are blossoming but in California, Steinbeck’s land of milk and honey in The Grapes of Wrath, the soil is currently starved of water as a consequence of extreme drought. A key contributory factor to the drought is the reduced water supplies from the Sierra mountains where the snowpack has been measured at just 8% of its usual levels. So there is little snow and ice to melt – and rivers are running dry. In 2009 I interviewed leading environmental journalist and former science correspondent for The Guardian newspaper, Paul

Today, I am going to talk about a subject that affects us all which is diaherra dorehha dirraheaa, doiaherra  doiorea  diare.. *sigh* … the shits. Blimey, I just cannot spell dioherra… that word. I’ve been trying for well over forty years but I just cannot do it. I have a mental block about how to spell it. I’ll just have to abandon the subject in case I offend all those of you with delicate ears. I know! Wendy Jakob over at Wendy’s Waffle challenged me to write a post about the word “depauperate.” So, first thing’s first, I need to look up the meaning of “depauperate”. How depressing is that? To think I call myself a writer and I don’t know what “depauperate” means. Humph. On the plus side, I do know what “donkey” means. That’s got to put me ahead of E L James surely? Okay, time to Google “depauperate.” So…it’s a biological term that

First of all I want to establish that I think ducks are just great. They’re pretty and that quacking is kinda cute. But, let’s be honest, folks, they are pretty good on a plate too. Especially, Chinese crispy duck. I just love it covered in plum sauce and wrapped in a pancake. Fantastic. However, I have some disturbing news which will be of special interest to my UK readers.  Sadly, I’ve heard on the grapevine that Chinese crispy duck in the UK might soon be in short supply. Calm yourselves, readers. Breathe deeply into that paper bag.  I know you’re probably mortified by that news but, remember, panic attacks are strictly for creative types like me – the rest of you need to hold the world together and prepare for that inevitable alien invasion cos us creatives are going to be no bloody use – we’ll still be panicking over

Okay so my subject matter today is bullshit. And I happen to know a lot about bullshit. Now some people will tell you I know a lot about bullshit because I talk and write a lot of it. Which, of course, is a complete fabrication. I am, in fact, a highly studious author who takes her writing and research very seriously indeed. Indeed, the only thing I take more seriously is the need to pluck my facial hair on a daily basis. So let’s get on and talk about bullshit. God, it stinks doesn’t it?  I’ve lived in the countryside and it’s not like ordinary cow shit which looks like this: This is calf-sized cow shit. Barely detectable. Step in some bullshit though and you won’t ever forget it. Bullshit is way more odious. And about ten times the size of normal cow shit. It’s like crap that’s been sprayed

I am on flu overload at the moment, readers. I have been alternating between hot sweats and cold shivers and have been barely able to speak for the last five days. Mr T is thrilled. Yesterday it was 8 degrees (pretty warm for this time of year in the UK) but I drove the boys to tennis wearing a yellow and purple woolly hat and a bright blue fleece. I looked stupid. So I haven’t done much at all this week. In fact I’ve only just about managed to follow the Jeremy Clarkson debacle in the media. It’s been fun counting how many articles on Jeremy The Guardian can post in one week and truly heartwarming to see them tackling the Clarkson affair with all the impartiality of a open-mouthed shark. But today folks I feel let down – where oh where is the habitual anti-Jeremy rant? Where is it?

Yesterday, as a treat for my upcoming birthday, one of my dear friends arranged a beauty session at a well-known cosmetic counter. I came away feeling glamorous with a bag load of purchases and freebies. This morning I decided I should start a new beauty regime and duly applied my makeup as instructed by the beauty consultant. Afterwards, I went to my full-length mirror to inspect my work. By God, Readers! I looked twenty years younger and almost half-decent. I was so thrilled I was ready to pack my bags and go in search of a toyboy. Hurrah, I thought, there’s some life left in the old girl yet! Then I decided to capture my rare moment of personal glory in a selfie. Which was a very, very, very, bad idea. The selfie, sadly, revealed the truth. When I viewed the photo I did not even recognise myself – I

Last night, Mr T, the boys and I were all watching Expendables 3 when we got to this scene: When new recruit, Luna, finished kicking ass this was the conversation: Master Jacob; She’s just like Mum Mr T: Yep, that’s just what your mother was like when I met her. Huh? I am not tall, blonde or leggy. I don’t even do karate! Later there was a scene where Antonio Banderas, as another new crazed Expendable recruit, says something to the effect of “I just like killing people”. Master Jacob piped up again; Oh that’s just like Mum too. What? I’ve never even hurt a fly! Well maybe a couple. But nobody, nobody, touches my chocolate without my permission. Okay, so there might possibly have been a few wasps as well. But they deserved it. And there might have been a few of those slugs that keep invading my kitchen. But that

Okay, so you may have noticed that this blog has been fairly inactive for a while…which is basically not like me as I always have something (stupid) to say. Basically, my absence is because since I developed a hiatus hernia, with very unpleasant side effects, I’m trying to get on top of it and avoid an operation by doing things the natural way by changing my diet and losing weight. Losing weight has been a preoccupation of mine for about the last 25 years and one that I find incredibly difficult – I’m one of the unfortunate women who work really hard at it but have very little success and as soon as I ease up from a very rigid diet or cut back on exercise (by which I mean less than 5 times a week) the weight piles back on. For example – yesterday I did a zumba class,