Last week I did something I hadn’t done for over twenty years; I gave a performance. (Hmmm..perhaps I should add that this had absolutely nothing to my new status as a soft porn starlet.) My friend Mrs B and another friend, Damien, had invited me to what is commonly called an Open Mike Night which is when budding writers and poets read their work aloud to a (questionable) audience of hecklers, drug addicts, pseudo literary critics and dinner ladies from the local school on a night out. (The recession is hitting us hard in the UK; you’ve got to take the cheaper forms of entertainment when you can. In this case – £2.00. Not bad for a small dose of Mrs T, cheap coffee and a hard plastic chair.) Well, as it turned out I was last but one on the schedule so by the time it was my turn

I did a mad, mad thing. I fell for all that blurb on Amazon about voice recognition programmes. Yes, I fantasized about doubling, perhaps even quadrupling my writing output – dictating as I cleaned the kitchen, scrubbed the floor and even as I worked out on my Wii. Not only would I finish my book in a matter of weeks I would soon be working on a sequel to War and Peace. So, having read all the customer reviews, I made a decision – I decided all the negative reviews were from people who hadn’t set the programme up properly and hadn’t gone through all the voice recognition tutorials. Yes, I decided that with my English accent and clear pronunciation I would be exempt from the troubles of mere amateurs. I was completely wrong. I followed everything to the letter; I even did the advanced speech recognition programme…and yet the

Have you ever made the wrong executive decision? I have. In fact I made one last Friday. Let me explain. Well, I had a one of those annoying weeks where I just didn’t get anything done so by Friday I was feeling a little down in the dumps but, nevertheless, I’d made plans to write in the morning and then go swimming in the afternoon. As lunchtime approached I was even thinking about removing all my excess body hair – cos you know it’s just not acceptable for us ladies to have even a whisker of body hair in a pool – although it’s perfectly acceptable for men to flaunt their body hair even if they look like an extra from The Planet of The Apes. I don’t want to lower the tone of the conversation – but there’s something really unpleasant about getting a hair in your mouth in

Every once in a while this dear sweet island nation erupts into furious debate. You may remember that this happened last year when tempers frayed, damning letters were written to national newspapers and news broadcasts were devoted to a matter of national importance – the state of British underpants. If you don’t recall it, you can read my post about this delicate, intimate matter here.But now, a more terrifying, a more sinister and even more horrifying debate has arisen. Yes, I know Peter Mandelson, aka “The Prince of Darkness” has returned to government but it’s something far more dreadful than even the return of The Beast. It’s something that will bring voters out onto the streets, geriatrics out of their electric wheelchairs and babies out of their buggies! By the by, have you noticed how old biddies in electric wheel chairs excel at knee crushing and leg crumpling? What’s more,

I’m a bit late on my music Monday post because I’m part Irish and I thought it was Monday today when it is in fact Tuesday, March 17th, St Patrick’s Day! Of course my surname, Turley, which I acquired from the good Mr T is Irish. However, my maiden name is perhaps even more commonly known as Irish. Have a guess! Here’s a clue; pick a fight with a Jack and then make peace with him and you’ll get the answer. A prize of a Mrs T culinary delight, personally cooked, for the first person to guess correctly. Or if that is unappealing (though I’m sure all would be delighted at the thought of such a scrumptious meal) I will write a post on any subject matter of your choice! Wow, that’s got to be a quality prize! Well, since it’s St Patrick’s Day I feel we should have something