Names, names and er what?

 Isn't it funny how some names make you laugh, some sigh and some make you wonder...'Hmm, why is it called that?'

(source:Pinterest)

I'm not taking about surnames, but street names and place names.

So many are straightforward and describe why they are there and what happened in them or by them.

Like London Road, Beach Avenue, Main St, High St, or Church Lane.

In Beverley in the East Riding of Yorkshire, you have Wednesday Market and Saturday Market. And yes you've got it. One square holds a market on a Wednesday—thats a very small affair—and a much larger market is held in Saturday Market, well, on Saturdays.

The road between them is called Toll Gavel. Where the tolls on the main road to Hull were collected.

In York you have Whip Ma Whop Ma Gate

There's a fair few descriptions of what this means...either this or that.. or...? Up to you really.

In Newcastle I was fascinated by Two Ball Lonnen, originally a lane with two balls on its gatepost.

You get snickets, ginnels, lanes, alley, vennels or ten-foots, depending what part of the country you live in. 

Fleshers Vennel and Cow Vennel in Perth always made me wonder, but I reckon they're self explanatory really.

So many names describing so many things.

And that's before you even look at place names.

There's  Great Snoring, and Little Snoring

(source Wikipedia)

And Emmotland

And mustn't forget Beer, Droop, and the Wallops

In Scotland there's also Dollar, Dull and Ae. I could go on and on, but I won't. 

But it does give me, as a writer, great scope for naming characters.

Happy Reading,

love Raven xxx

A bit of a mixing week

 I think the word of the week has to be... 

mixed.

Defined variously in my on-line dictionary as—

blend, confused, socialised, involved and so on. A lot of things it can mean and I a fair few of them fit my week.

For a start off, I mixed two days up. 

Thought Wednesday was Thursday and I'd missed an appointment. (I hadn't) 

Mixed my cake mixture up—that worked, and resulted in a cake and some scones.

Mixed up two letters in a word and had fire not fare with regards to paying on a train in a WIP.

Mixed up my heroes names and my Regency Earl became a twenty first century surfer named... yes, you guessed it, Earl. Which as he was originally called Stan, and I made that mistake after 20K, was a bit discombobulating. That meant a quick search and replace.

Almost but caught myself just in time, mixing up ounces and grams on my scales.

Last but not lest, mixed up the weight of some wool I was knitting with and ended up pulling out a good six inches! 

Next week, please let the word of the week be something different!

Have a good week, 

take care,

and of course, happy reading,

love Raven xxx

Something happened on the way to the...

loo.

Yep, I was out with the lovely husband the other day, enjoying the sun on a nearby beach.

Or so we thought.

Until two things happened.

There was a sea fret. A haar or a soke, take your pick. Suddenly the atmosphere was misty. 

Eerie. Or asI said at the time, 'ooh how gothic'.

To which t'other'alf went "Uh?"

I thought it was anyway as cliffs and sand turned shadowy and in some cases, disappeared.

The seafront pub was...waiting.

Definitely eerie.

I know, what's that got to do with the loo?

That, not a lot, but as we walked back towards that pub in the distance, there was a lady tangled up with two dogs. A teenage lad was with her and was almost doubled up with laughing as the more she tried to untwist the leads, the dogs went in the opposite direction and made things worse.

The poor woman had her legs crossed ( and almost her eyes as well) and wailed.

"I need the loo." 

At which point one of the dogs cocked a leg the lad shook his head and the other dog pulled in the opposite direction to where away in the gloaming there are some public toilets.

"The bog's gone and got lost in the mist," the lad said. "Maybe you need to copy Timbo." 

Who I presume was the dog.

The lady glared at him, giggled and then said, "Grab them." 

The minute he did as she asked, she unclipped the leads and dashed of up the beach, shedding leads as she went.

That's got to go into a book!

And so has the atmosphere. It got me thinking.

(source for this and the previous one, pinterest)

Watch this space.

Happy reading,

love, Raven xxx

ps, nothing to do with this, but have you read any of the Castle on the Loch series?

The Drummond family of Castle Bearradh

Marcail, Baird and Bonnie.

Siblings with special abilities.

Some they accept, some they don’t.

All will change their lives—if they are prepared to accept the consequences.

Descended from Morven and her lover, who died at Culloden, each of them has a special place in the family history, with a job to do.

Nothing any of them relish.

Marcail has to accept the voices in her head are genuine, and only she can help Paden.

Baird has to accept he’s been sent to New Zealand for a reason, and although he might not like it, or agree with the woman he butts heads with, Helena will play an important place in his life.

As for Bonnie, the baby of the family? She’s happy, living on the island, weaving for relaxation and writing her books—because she wants to. What she doesn’t want is to be told by Lachan how to write her next story, or that she has to go to Skye to write it.

Whether they agree or not, they all hold the future of their family in their hands.

https://www.totallybound.com/book/the-castle-and-the-loch-box-set

Don't tell anyone I told you but....

Take your pick.

I was doing my usual, can't help but overhearing (yes, eavesdropping but not intentionally) a weird conversation the other day. I was waiting to see the optician, not that that has really got anything to do with it. It just might set the scene a bit. Or not.

Anyway, to continue.

Two ladies were sitting by the door to the shop. They reminded me of that old double act with British comedians where everything was discussed in a very 'well, don't tell anyone I told you, but', manner. Crossing their arms under their bosoms, and pursing their lips.

The gist of the conversation was about one **** (perhaps I'd be best not to put a name there)who 'was no better than she should be, but really.'...

The then to be unnamed woman was pulled to bits, shenanigan by shenanigan. 

Sadly they got up and left, before I heard the end of thier conversation but the last thing I heard made me want to laugh out loud.

'...to cap it all, she looks like a lugubrious bloodhound'

(source:pinterest)

What a way to describe someone. I could picture the dog not the person.

But it did get me thinking. how oftenyou hear something, often just a couple of words that conjure up all sorts of images in your mind.

One of the funniest—apart from the above—was several years ago, when I heard someone describe someone else as a hard as a knob end of bread. And went on to add—and a right heel.

Followed by what sounded as 'as bad as nugget's knocker.' Then, 'all A grades as well'.

 

That one had me flummoxed until I realised the speaker was talking about the expression which related to the colour of Newgate prison's door knocker. I still can't see how that reflected on someone getting good grades. It means things are very bad. 

Unless the person who was up to whatever—sadly I still don't know exactly what it was—had just acheived good grades in some exams. Oh how I wish we could just say, 'excuse me,  I couldn't help but overhear you and wondered...what comes next?'

As I can't, I can let my imagination run wild, think up all sorts of scenarios, and put them in a book!

There is something in the other saying, don't annoy me or you might find yourself in my next novel.

Happy Reading,

love Raven xxx

 

It’s true what we all say…

About the heat.

Especially in the UK

Ok not all from the Uk but places  where I’ve enjoyed the warmth.

Those old chestnuts about, ohhh the washing will dry quickly,..you could fry an egg on the pavement…it’s too hot to do anything…

We trot them out, and roll our eyes. They are of course true, but, we need to think of  some new things to say.

And don’t look at me…

It’s too hot to think!

So sorry this is a very none blog sort of blog, I promise to do better next time,

Love Raven xx

Is it a spider...is it a fly?

(source: pinterest)

No...

It's a 'floater' in my eye.

Yes, that is what it's called.

A black blob, of various shapes and sizes. Described as something that looks like dots, cirvcles, lines, clouds or cobwebs. (The spider and fly are my additions)

(source: pinterest)

The blob floats, drifts or zig-zags all over the eye after a laser treatment. 

or to be posh—a YAG laser capsulotomy in my case.

It's great because I no longer have a fuzzy vision in one eye.

Bad because I can now see the cobwebs so I'm going to have to be a not so domestic goddess and dust!

But that apart, (I hate bothering the dust bunnies—they just go forth and multiply when I do—) I now realise how lucky I am to be able to have such things done.

There's so much we take for granted where I live.

And I'm determined to 'open my eyes' see how lucky I am and appreciate it.

(Random photo of Bath)

All that apart, I'm getting on with writing my Christmas stories. In 25deg sunshine, writing about snow and ice. It seems a bit surreal, but I guess after all these years I'm used to it. Weirdly when I write about warmth and summer in our winters, I don't not feel the same.

Maybe because I've been lucky enough to go somewhere warmer at times and so can envisage it easier.

 Whichever it is, I've got the door to the garden wide open, I can see some fish in the pond, hear various birds tweeting, (and two pigeons having a fight,) a cockerel crowing, and a plane going over head.

Plus some idiot on a motorbike going much too fast down a nearby lane, and a tractor rumbling across a field.

It's early morning, and I love this time of day.

I'm the only one up, I have a cup of coffee and I'm chatting to you via my blog.

And—I'm about to get the last few thousand words of my Regency Christmas story written.

Have a great day, and take care, wherever you are,

happy reading,

love Raven xxx

If we all liked the same things...

 Wouldn't it be boring?

Can you imagine it? 

and if we all disliked the same things...

Can you imagine that as well?

I'd rather not.

(source:pinterst)

When someone says oh I don't like hot stories/same sex/historical/contemporary/mystery or whatever I smile and say what I've written up above.

'Wouldn't it be boring if we all only liked the same things.'

I try never to judge a person by what they read or don't read (there are some exceptions of course but I'll not get into that here). I myself don't like sci-fi, horror or what my mum called 'nasties'.

I prefer happy ever afters, some hot and some not. Just like I try to write.

With coffee of course.

It's all personal preference.

And on that note,

I'm off to indulge in my preference,

Happy Reading,

love, Raven xxx