Why I wish I could remember...

The story I started in my head, when I was trying to get back to sleep in the middle of the night.

It's a sad fact, but a true one, that when you reach a certain age you often wake in the night. (Well, I do anyway.) Which then means you need to use the facilities. Yes that a coy way of putting it, but I don't want to upset anyone.

The upshot of which is, of course, when I get back into bed I'm more awake than when you got out of it. My mind then goes into plotting mode. I can write a full book in my head, dialogue and all. 'See' the setting, know the ins and outs of the characters and their quirks and be generally happy with a full 'written' however many words story.

Then I fall asleep.

Which means, no notes, no bullet points and often not much memory of what I had been convinced was a great story. Yes, maybe I aught to have a notebook and pen, or type it briefly, but that would mean waking up even more, and probably waking up my other half as well... So of course I am convinced I will remember it all.

Arghhhh

Faint hope.

But last night, I plotted my contemporary Christmas story, and yay, happy dance. I can remember it. Even down to the names and hair colour. Okay not the eyes but you can't have anything. 

Now to make notes as I drink my coffee, sort out some photos of the area it's set in and get stuck in. And hope it's as good as I thought it was in the wee small hours.

Happy reading,

love, Raven xxx

(All pics, except the last, Pinterest. The last is my own)

You want to rain on my parade? I'll put my umbrella up

 Grab my wellies, splash in the puddles and feel sorry for you.

(source: Pinterest)

Why do some people feel the need to make disparaging remarks?

Does it make them feel good to make others feel bad?

Once I asked someone that, and they looked baffled. As far as they were concerned they were 'just pointing out my mistake'. Which is all well and good, up to a point. That point doesn't need to be laboured.

If It makes them happy, I'll block them out of my mind. If it's about my writing I'll decide if it is justified or not. Sort it if it needs sorting, ignore it if not. (Being told that English was obviously not my first language because I wrote labour and not labor wasn't worth the breath or energy to point out it was a book about the UK written by a UK author etc etc...

I've decided not to argue, or try to put my point of view over. That will just feed their desire to go further. 

It's sad really. that to make themselves feel superior or, I don't know, special, they take a delight in pointing out your mistakes, be they large or small. And often hammering the point. Over and over.

And sometimes I think a lot of those remarks are especially aimed at authors. Well known or not.

Is that me being paranoid?

Maybe. But how many times have you heard, 'that's not what we/I would say'? 

Or even this, which was said to me, once, many years ago. 'If you spell w****y like that a large part of your maybe readers will think it's a typo.'

To which I replied 'and if I spell it like you want me to, not only will a large part of my maybe readers be up in arms at my lack of knowledge about the country I live in, my husband will divorce me'!  

When I told him that, he roared with laughter. (He worked for a w****y company.) However, he agreed over the up in arms bit.)

It's strange that people can't accept there are some difference in spelling, depending on what you are describing, where you live and so on. And that some words seem weird to one person and totally normal to the next. Diaper, nappy. Hood, bonnet, trunk, boot...

I remember years ago reading a book set in New Zealand. The heroine slipped her jandals on. Now I did wonder if that was a typo, but I didn't get all holier than thou and righteous about it. I looked it up (in the library, no such thing as the net in those days) and discovered it was the NZ word for what I call flip-flops and Aussies call thongs. 

(source: my own, old, well travelled and well worn—me and the flip-flops!)

Mind you, I did have a giggle though when on holiday in Australia a sign on a pub door read 'no thongs or singlets allowed'. I had visions of ladies having to take off their vest tops and undies! 

But to go back to the miseries who get joy from trying to make others less happy. Next time you try to rain on my parade—beware. Not only do umbrellas have spikes, my wellies are super-cool and have a rather hard toe on them!

Happy Reading, 

(hope you don't find too many mistakes)

love, Raven xxx

A what?

 Morning...or whatever time of your day you are reading this/lining the budgie's cage or going 'oh not her again'...

I've just been lucky enough to spend a fabulous time in Canada and Oregon.

We of course did too much but wanted to get a flavour for the places. And learn things about where we were.

For instance did you know the original Pronto Pup came from Rockaway Beach in Oregon?

Nor did we. Nor did we know what a Pronto Pup was. We sort of know now. A corn dog ( they were new to us until our last visit to the USA) but with pancake batter or flour instead of corn batter. Sort of. Maybe. They weren't gluten free so I didn't try one. And the shop was closed the days we were there!

(Source Pronto Pup/Rockaway Beach info)

Or that people queue outside the original Starbucks in Seattle?

I learned that there are a million (okay a thousand or...ten) ways to ask where the bathroom, washroom, restroom, loo etc is. As I mentioned recently).

That there is a sign as you leave Jasper in Canada reminding (or in our case, telling us) that you were entering a new time-zone.

And the glaciers are amazing.

That the sunshine coast near Vancouver might not always have sunshine but it is stunning

That after three ferries in four days and then four in seven I was 'ferried out'.

We didn't see any bears, moose, elk, or coyote.

But there were lots of squirrels and this cheeky chipmunk.

I'd been told and read how long the freight trains in Canada were but they have to be seen to really understand that!

I learned how the weather can change. We went to Lake Maligne near Jasper in beautiful sunshine and then a few days later I read snow had closed the road into the area and people were stranded!

We saw stunning scenery, met great people, and want to go back. 

That  English is a lot more complicated that I ever realised.

and Scotch Whisky does not have an E in it, and I still get annoyed when someone says it does!

That apart, I now need to get into the writing rather than sightseeing mood

Happy Reading,

love, Raven xx

What's an ology and who wants to wear tights?

 I was reminded of this a few days ago when I came across an old post about the lovely Maureen Lipman who did an advert many years ago when she talked about someone who had an 'ology'. She was as a character called Beattie and it was for British Telecom. So many people remember the 'ohh he's got an ology.'

(source Manchester Daily News)

This got me thinking about other phrases that for some reason or other stick in mine (and maybe your) brain.

When my children were little we had an audio tape—remember those—of the great Kenneth Williams talking as a character who didn't want to play a silly part, because he was in the characters words 'I'm a serious ac-tor. I want to wear tights!'

(source, Radio Times/Getty Images)

This struck the kids as hilarious and it became one of those catchphrases they would trot out every so often.

Also from a good twenty-thirty years ago, the well loved BBC radio programme test match special was on in the car as we were driving down Sutton Bank in Yorkshire. A really steep hill, where lorries crawled up and got a long queue of traffic behind them, and caravans are banned. I remember it so vividly.

Anyway, we had almost got to the bottom of the hill, listing to the radio when we heard the commentator say 'The bowler's Holding the batsman's Willey.'

The car swerved and we began to giggle. Then heard the commentators crack up as they realised how that could be interpreted. That along with 'Ian Botham's got his leg over,'(The wicket as it transpired but that wasn't mentioned at first) are family favourites.

I could go on for ever, but I'll stop there... And say that my absolute favourite is about a story my aunt read to me when I was about two or three I guess. About a naughty kitten. Evidently I sent my aunt crazy by asking her to read the story and butting in every few seconds with' naughty pussy pickpaws?'She was pregnant with my cousin and said it was enough to want her to go into early labour just not to have to read it again.

(Source, Perla Coco designs on Facebook)

Whatever you remember, enjoy.

Happy reading,

love Raven xx