Have you ever given a knee-jerk reaction? One of the skills I’ve learnt as a writer is to be patient and edit what I say. It’s a valuable skill as a writer. But it’s made me more cautious about expressing my opinion or giving knee-jerk reactions and I’m not sure that is always healthy. Sometimes, I’ve written out emails and texts which get right to the heart of what I want to say quite bluntly. But fearing the consequences, nine times out of ten, I leave them in draft until I’ve calmed down, sometimes for days and a lot of the time I never send those emails even when I have every valid reason to press “send”. Primarily, this is because I’ve realised over the years it is often a complete waste of my time and energy corresponding with people who can never see someone else’s point of view, who

Over the last week, I have written 18,000 words of a new book. I plan to finish it in the next 28 days. I’m on track though as the as the average novel is only 90,000 so I’m already a substantial way into it. If I continue at the rate I’m going, I will have more then enough material to whittle away anything superfluous. I’m not sure if I’ll publish it. It may be a bottom drawer book. Most writers have several of these: Books where they learnt their craft or books that didn’t work out as planned. I have one too. This may or not be another one. It is too soon to tell. However, it is not comedy. Although there are glimpses of my humour. Life would be dull without humour… I have spent ten years building a writing career which has, sadly, stagnated due to the difficulties

I wonder how many people know what “ignoramus means”? I looked it up just to be sure. Basically, it’s a posh word to describe a stupid person. It’s the sort of word quarrelsome academics or posh folks who went to public school would use to describe each other… “I read Charles’ paper on Lichtenstein. Pompous twaddle. He really is an ignoramus.” “I was at the Club the other night and bumped into Wally. Total ignoramus. Wally by name, Wally by nature I’m afraid. I heard his father was Master of the Hounds. Can’t believe it. Surely, must be the son of a grocer.” It’s also the type of word historians use: “The Prime Minister had a penchant for pigs and referendum. In all likelihood, history will not look kindly on such an ignoramus.” “When he turned his attention from Britain to Russia, Churchill knew Hitler was not just evil, but

Since I have been working back in London, I have been appalled by the number of homeless people I’ve seen. It is so much worse than twenty years ago when I first worked in the capital. In Oxford Street there are homeless people begging every few yards. It is awful. In Euston station the other night I had my worst experience. I was approached by a young girl, a blanket over her head, her face pale and drawn. Desperation in her eyes. She was only about the same age as my youngest son. She was like a zombie. The living dead. I stepped back. In fear maybe. Perhaps distaste. I don’t know. I had no money on me to give her and within a few moments, she moved on. I am ashamed of myself. I keep thinking it over and over. What I might have done to help her. Maybe

Now if you are an oldie like me you may thinking “ghosting” is what happens at midnight in a spooky old house. Apparently not. It is a term now used for when people you’ve dated just disappear on you. No email, no text, no letter or last minute call. They just disappear and you never, ever hear from them again. I believe it’s actually a term derived from David Cameron’s departure from 10 Downing Street. I fancy to do some political ghosting too. I’m planning to write to Tony Blair and say I’d like to donate 5 million to his foundation if he’ll drop his trousers on Horse Guard’s Parade during a live TV broadcast. I reckon he’d actually do it for less but 5 million is a nice round figure. Then I’ll ghost him. Obviously. Maybe I’ll do it to Tom Cruise too. Tell him I’ve discovered an elixir

I don’t think men know enough about forceps. But it’s about time they did. So I’m going to explain what the fear is like when a midwife holds up the forceps and says “I’m afraid I’m going to have to use the forceps.” It’s like a irate women holding up a pair of nutcrackers in front of her partner and saying: “I’ve always had a penchant for nuts. And your’s look ripe for cracking.” Oh there’s another F I liked to talk about and that’s “Freedom”. For the last 6 weeks or so I have been working in the most hellish job I have ever had with a level of toxicity and venom I have never encountered before in all my working life. Today, I made the decision to leave. It was a shame as it was a job I really needed and I will have to work even harder

Okay, I’m not going to beat about the bush. Contrary to what some young people seem to think, people over fifty still have sex and still have erogeneous zones. We are not dead. Some of us might look like it (I’m thinking of Rupert Murdoch) but we are alive and we occasionally still think about sex. And if we’re lucky we actually get to have it with someone who is alive and not a blow-up doll or, if you’re a woman, a giant vibrator which came free with a month’s supply of incontinence pads from Amazon. So what I’m saying is us oldies still have erogenous zones. However, instead of being based mainly in our pants they are based in our brains. That’s why I know that fantasying about having sex with Georg Clooney would actually be better than having it. I know this as he has twins. Which means

So “dipstick” has two meanings. One is a rod for measuring the depth of liquids. The other is a word to describe Donald Trump. Oh crap. The SWAT team are on my doorstep again… I was just joking I swear to God it was just a joke……I’m a comedy writer… I don’t actually mean what I say…… I love Donald. I even have a matching hair piece I wear on my genitals….. No, I am not dropping my knickers. My genitals are my own private business! I demand a phone call. It’s my right as a British citizen…. Hello, Queenie. It’s me. You best pal. Get the Paras over here fast. I’m about to have my hair piece confiscated which means I won’t be able to lend it to William for the coronation. Ten minutes? Awesome.

Now I’m guessing not a lot people outside of the UK know the word “Codswallop”. Basically, it is an old English maritime word used by fishermen. It refers to the old English tradition of using a wet cod (an English fish common in the Atlantic) to wallop someone around the face. In most recorded cases of codswalloping, English fisherman have used the technique on French sailors attempting to poach our fish. But during the WWII codswalloping was used during the evacuation of Dunkirk when us Brits were out of ammunition and needed to give the Nazis a bloody good old taste of British fighting resilience. And believe me there is nothing like an angry English fisherman with a wet cod in his hand. The Germans may have invented the Blitzkrieg but codswalloping takes fighting to a very personal level. When it comes to hand-to-hand combat English fishermen are the best in the world.

In a previous A to Z I talked about “bullshit”, and today I have decided to talk about something in a similar vein which may not be in common usage abroad and is not heard much these days in the UK either. Balderdash. Now “balderdash” ”is not, as you might expect, a word to describe a bald-headed marathon runner. (Although the idea has interesting possibilities for one of my future stories.) It is a word to describe incontinence. Oh wait a minute, that’s “bladderdash”. Blast. I should have started writing about “bladderdash” as that is something I know a lot about. In fact, invariably, most woman over fifty who have had a baby know about “bladderdash.” As it happens, I know more about “bladderdash” than most as I’ve had three children. My bladder now has more holes in it  than my kitchen sieve. If I cough, alarms sound on the Thames

At the very last minute, I have decided to sign up for the Blogging A to Z Challenge. I am going to try and play along even if it is only for a few words a day. So, as usual, I am just going to pick whatever word pops into my head or if anyone has any suggestions they will always be gratefully accepted. I suspect most of my words will be emotive words bearing in mind I am in a very emotional stage of life but, hopefully, I will also come up with a few of my zany posts too. (Hurrah!) So let’s start off with A is for Apprehension.  And get the dross out the way first. The primary noun definition of apprehension is: “The anticipation of adversity or misfortune; suspicion or fear of future trouble or evil.” Now I have mentioned before that I have not written on my blog much for the past few years for a number of reasons. 

I have had a super stressful time lately. I know this as last night I was lucid dreaming. Some people find lucid dreaming a source of pleasure. This has never been the case for me. Usually, they bring out my deepest fears and yesterday was one of my most frightening. Sleep paralysis, evil spirits, the chill of death. If you have never lucid dreamed, let me tell you it is a very unusual state of mind. You are aware you are dreaming and therefore have some degree of control over your dream. In mine, because they are not pleasant, I use the power of prayer to bring me out of the dream. It might be because I was raised as a Catholic my lucid dreams are never joyful ones. They usually delve into dark places and have a spiritual or religious overtone. Last night, when I finally pulled myself out into