A Mouse’s Tale….


When I set off for my lunchtime meander today, I was lost in my own thoughts. The ear buds were in, my music was playing and I was over thinking and over analysing just about everything in my world. With every step, I was withdrawing further and further into myself and was truly living up to the Introvert aspect of my INFJ personality type.

Instead of my usual waterfront route, I decided to head towards the nearby marina. The sun was shining. There was even some warmth to it. The major drawback of that particular lunchtime route is that it runs along the main road and the traffic is horrendous. Not really a problem as there are no roads to cross. It just means I need to crank up the volume on the iPod and enjoy breathing in exhaust fumes for a few minutes.

I was halfway to the marina when something flew onto the pavement to my right then ran across my path. It then stopped and looked at me. I stopped and looked at it. Ok, confession, I spoke to it too.

It was a tiny mouse.

I expected it to vanish as quickly as it had appeared but it didn’t.

It stayed beside me, keeping close to the brick wall to my left.

Watching it scurry along, stopping every few metres to glance back, almost as if it was checking I was keeping up, made me forget all the “junk” that had been clogging my mind.

The mouse was moving too fast for me to get its photo. I tried and failed. I did catch a couple of seconds of video though.


For over a hundred metres it ran along beside me and I found myself wondering where it was going. Was there a wee mouse family waiting for it somewhere nearby? Was it on the run from a predator? Was this a fitness freak mouse out for some exercise?

My mind gradually drifted away from the thoughts that had been troubling me as I recalled my mum reading to me when I was a wee girl, reading one of my favourite storybooks, Timmy Mouse.


Timmy Mouse tells the tale of Timmy’s attempts to find someone to adopt his baby sister and care for her after their parents failed to return from a foraging expedition. He realises that its too much responsibility for him to look after himself and the baby but he wants to make sure she is safe and cared for. I’ll not spoil the story but let’s say all ends well.

An incoming message on my phone distracted me for a few seconds – just long enough for Timmy Mouse to vanish. I assume he disappeared through a crack in the wall to safety.

With my own mood now somewhat lighter, I continued on my merry way, wondering where he had gone to and what adventures awaited him on the far side of the wall.



Snow Stopped Play…..or did it?


I hate snow! I hate being cold!

Love it or hate it, Mother Nature dumped  more snow than I have ever seen on the area a few days ago. In the end, a whopping 16inches fell on our garden.

The world ground to a halt instantly…. well the road had disappeared for a start (it’s in the background behind the metre stick in the photo…honest!)

Cue furious digging to excavate the cars in the hope that a snow plough would rediscover the road. Hours and hours of digging – and at that point we didn’t own a snow shovel. Boy Child worked tirelessly for most of the day digging with the garden spade, the garden fork and the giant outdoor brush. I couldn’t watch him struggle on his own so for several hours I joined him in his excavation efforts.

snow collage

This prompted a debate about the correct way to hold a fork or a spade. We were both holding it differently and it appears that I dig left handed, much to his amusement. Does it matter as long as it works? ha ha

The road still hadn’t been cleared and there was no way I was attempting to drive on the packed rutted snow.

Friday morning came….. there had been more snow overnight and the driveway we had cleared was white again. NO!!! We still couldn’t get out.

Cue more furious digging to excavate the car again and to clear the driveway in the hope the snow plough would clear a safe path out.

Eventually the snow plough arrived. We were free!!!!


Saturday morning came….. a light dusting of snow overnight but we were still clear to escape. Thankful to be out of the house and the street I headed off to do the weekly supermarket shop. That turned out to be mission impossible due to empty shelves in the local supermarket thanks to panic buying and lack of deliveries due to the weather. I did my best. We weren’t about to starve. I failed on the bread mission but hey ho who needs toast!  I reached the conclusion though that some locals seemed intent on a diet of chocolate Easter Eggs judging by the number in their shopping trolleys!

Next on the shopping list was a snow shovel! Boy Child had only cleared two thirds of the driveway and we still had a fair amount of snow to dig out. Snow shovels were almost as rare a commodity as bread!

Feeling optimistic Girl Child and I headed to the local garden centre in search of a snow shovel.

Now the garden centre is across the road from the beach…..I couldn’t resist the lure of a snowy beach walk. The bay was virtually deserted. There was one lone fisherman in his waders up to his waist in the river and one dog walker. I didn’t venture far along the beach. It was knee deep in snow and too uneven to walk safely on. The small area of woodland wasn’t much safer underfoot.



The picnic area was largely untouched snow. It was just begging for someone to leave a “snow angel” on it.


I couldn’t resist. 🙂



Sometimes you have to just channel that inner child and play in the snow!

We did  manage to purchase a snow shovel (once I’d figured out how to stand up without ruining my snow angel!)


I’m still on a mission for that loaf of bread ……




Happy World Book Day 2018

world book day


Happy World Book Day 2018

“You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me”

CS Lewis

Support an Indie Author – buy a book and settle down today with a big mug of tea/coffee and enjoy escaping into another world.

Happy Reading, folks 🙂


Amazon.com links –

Stronger Within – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VXDSC1M

Impossible Depths – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01C0GS30K

Bonded Souls – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XSQHG71

Amazon.co.uk links  –

Stronger Within – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00VXDSC1M

Impossible Depths – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01C0GS30K

Bonded Souls – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XSQHG71



I’ll Take That As A Parenting Success….

I ventured into Boy Child’s bedroom earlier to collect his laundry basket. The sun was shining in and the wall above his desk caught my eye.

Now, I’ve been in the room countless times but I hadn’t really given this spot on the wall much thought before today. I paused to look and to read.

It made me smile.

This is what I was looking at.



Every ticket, except his Alter Bridge ticket from SSE Hydro in Glasgow on 1 Dec 2016 as the venue staff insisted on collecting them in, for every show he’s been to. There are three up there that I wasn’t with him for – I’ll not point them out.

As I read though them I could remember highlights from each of them.

From nudging him and telling him it was ok to laugh out loud at comedian Daniel Sloss’ risqué jokes to the first rock show we attended on 23 May 2009. The very first band to take to the stage that night in the SECC were Black Stone Cherry and so began his love (and mine) of those boys from Kentucky.

There’s the ticket from the first rock show he stood at – Iron Maiden on 20 July 2011. I remember vividly keeping a close eye on him in the densely packed crowd. (He was only 13 at the time) There’s the tiny ticket stub from 16 May 2017 when we saw Iron Maiden again. I remember all too clearly Boy Child keeping an eye on me in one of the roughest crowds I’ve been in. We’d come full circle.

There’s the MTV EMA World Stage show with Slash and Biffy Clyro from 7 Nov 2014. Still can’t believe we got those tickets. It was a fan only event. Best value for £10 ever!

Then, less than a month later, we saw Slash live again and, thanks to Miss Janette, got after show passes to meet The Conspirators and were lucky enough to meet Myles Kennedy for the first time. The kind of night that dreams are made of.

A ticket from the Black Stone Cherry Nordoff Robbins charity show in The Cathouse (tiny venue) on 18 Nov 2016 also holds precious memories. That was an incredible show!

There are wrist bands from Tremonti shows where we’ve been lucky enough to enjoy a quick meet and greet after the set. They really are lovely guys.

A few picks don the wall too including a Myles Kennedy pick.

There are even some Ghost dollars.

Parenting is never an easy task. Kids don’t come with a rule book or a user guide. I wish they had!

What struck me in the sunlit room was that this wall represented parenting successes…lots of them! The simple fact that each of these tickets has earned a place on the wall is evidence of that.

I left the room with the laundry basket, a smile on my face and a warm fuzzy feeling inside.


A short while later there was a cry of “Mum, where’s the Blu Tack?”

As I handed over a small blue/gray cube of sticky stuff, I asked what he needed it for.

“To stick my Brian Fallon ticket up.”

Another moment of parenting success.

Ticket collage


The Last Emoji (flash fiction)


There had to be thousands of messages in the chain he was scrolling through….. and he missed receiving them.  Those silly emojis that she’d used. The crazy conversations of emojis alone that they’d both understood perfectly. Messages that would ping into his phone at all hours of the day and night. Random and bizarre. Short and sweet. Occasionally an annoyance. … an annoyance he now sorely missed.

For two long weeks the thread had been virtually silent. All the recent messages had been one way. All of them had been his.

With a sad smile, he looked at the last one he’d received from her

                Beach time 🙂 🙂 🙂

                Have fun 😎 Be careful 😀


She’d never reached the beach that day.

It was a news report shared on his timeline by a mutual friend that had delivered the news of the accident. The brief report had made his blood run cold.

Those first few days had been touch and go. From a distance, he’d waited for news, thankful that his sister-in-law was a nurse in the ICU. He’d made every excuse he could to visit her at work that week. Offering her lifts, coming into the hospital to let her know that he was there, hoping to seize the opportunity to visit Room 5.

The opportunity finally came three days after the accident. He’d arrived early to collect his sister-in-law from her last in a run of night shifts and, needing to confide in someone, he’d told her the gist of his friendship with the patient in Room 5. Luck had been on his side. There was no one sitting with her.

For less than ten minutes he was allowed to visit in secret. They had been the shortest ten minutes of his life. She had looked so peaceful, despite the tubes and IVs and the incessant bleeping of the machines keeping her alive. Nervously, he’d held her hand and talked to her. He’d kissed her on the forehead before he’d slipped unseen from the private room.

Now, ten days later, he couldn’t remember a word he’d said but he could’ve sworn that she had squeezed his hand ever so gently. Wishful thinking? A reflex reaction? He’d never know for sure but it made it easier to bear if he kept believing that she’d known he was there.

It was after that that he’d started to message her again. Short messages. His usual random messages as if nothing had changed.

                Morning 🙂

                What a shitty day! >:D

                Car broke down again. Hate buses 😥

                Night. Sleep well  😉

                Long day. Work’s fried my head 😕


And so they went on……

The day he heard that he’d lost her forever, he’d sent another message

                😥  xx

Even though he knew she was gone, he’d kept messaging her. He could see on his phone that they were all unread but sending them, holding onto the connection,  eased the searing pain of his unspoken grief.

After the funeral service, he’d messaged her again.

                You’d have hated that! SO not you! Not one song that you’d have picked ha ha  :’)


Now a week after he’d said his final goodbye alongside her family and friends, he sat on the wall looking out over the river in his lunch hour, scrolling back through their message conversation. Re-reading some of the old messages made him smile, triggering memories of happier times.  In the mix of short text and emojis, her personality was still alive.

In his heart and his head, he knew he couldn’t keep messaging a ghost. He had to stop ….  but he didn’t want to. Then he began to worry that her family might be able to read the message chain. A wave of panic washed over him. Silently, he prayed that she’d been as careful with their messages as he had.

What happened to folk’s social media after they died? Would her timeline just sit there growing old and out of date? Would it be deleted and be gone forever?

A swift Google search informed him that nothing would happen to it until the family reported her death to the host site. Knowing how thorough her family could be, he guessed that the death would be reported sooner rather than later  and the account “memorialised”. That at least would be something to hold onto in the darker moments of the days and weeks to come.

He had to let go. He had to say goodbye.

With a heavy heart, he typed one final message. 

                    Miss you  😥

He hit send then stuffed the phone back into his pocket. Time to get back to work.

As he walked across the car park, his phone vibrated twice.

Two notifications.

Pulling the phone back out, he glanced at the screen.

One notification. One message.

The notification was the change of status of her account to “memorialised” and her friends list had all been notified.

His heart sank.

The message almost made him drop his phone. It was from her! How? Why? His mind raced. Rationalising things swiftly, he deduced it must have been stuck as a draft and the suspension of her social media account had triggered it to send.

He opened it.

                   ❤ U x

He smiled.






The Wrong Hand – a poem for Valentine’s Day



The Wrong Hand


A dozen deep pink roses

Their petals rich and velvety.

Their thorns sharp.

Roses given in theatrical jest.

Given in friendship.

No love in their giving- thank God.

Roses given by the wrong hand.





What’s Your Trademark Scent?


The array of bottle sits on the shelf- which one to choose? Do you choose by label? By colour? By aroma?

No, I’m not talking wine bottles! I’m talking perfume bottles.

I’m not a “girlie” girl by any stretch of the imagination. Can’t really be bothered with all the fuss and faffing with hair, nails and make-up but I do like to wear perfume.

The only issue with this is that I’m allergic to the vast majority of them. I may love the scent but sadly most of them don’t love me.

Through trial and error over the years and a lot of sneezing and irritated patches of skin, I’ve found a core suite of fragrances by Philosophy that I stick with.

So, how do you decide which one to wear for the day?

Me? I tend to choose based on my emotions and mood.

The logic of this is as follows-

Pure Grace – for the days when you want to feel fresh and clean all day. A simple uncluttered day.

Amazing Grace – for those rare days when I’m feeling confident (A bottle lasts quite a long time)

Summer Grace – for when it’s a gorgeous day out and the world around you feels good or, at least, you want it to.

Pure Summer Grace – for the days when you need a reminder of a summer beach day (this bottle never lasts long!)

Baby Grace- my favourite – A scent for when you need to feel reassured. The one that whispers “Everything’s going to be ok.” A hug in a bottle.


So what kind of day are you having today?