Bookish Blonde

noveLIST

2011-03-12T02:59:00.000-08:00

Synopsis
Submission
First three chapters
Marketing
Exposure
Networking
Fingers crossed
Exciting
Writer And Artist's Year Book 2011
Cold calling
SAE
Rejections
Interview
Tears
Regrets
Shredded manuscript in wastebasket
Agent
Publisher
Book Deal
Picture in The Courier (again!)
Smug

Long winded list to let you know I have finished my novel ... Woo! ... Woo! Next step? ... See above list.

Just to let you know I may not be around for a while ... but I'll be back!!!

Thanks to everyone for following my blog and giving support.

Think Big. Think Hotel

2011-02-20T12:47:00.000-08:00

Monopoly. My favourite board game of childhood ... our tournaments went on for days. I liked playing banker ... surprisingly I was entrusted. I wonder if my passion for property began here? I always aimed to obtain Old Kent Road and Mayfair. In those days I preferred an avenue of little green town houses than one chunky red hotel, just seemed ... kind of more.

However, I have since fallen in love with hotels. Recently, I watched the whole of series 6 and series 4 - back to back - of Channel 5's Hotel Inspector. I simply adore Alex Polizzi. Her passion for property has a family connection as she is the grand daughter of Lord Forte (Forte dynasty).

Her own property portfolio includes; The Hotel Endsleigh, a cottage in Devon, her original flat. Whilst her husband owns a small house in London and a house in Brazil.

Alex says, that her biggest asset is her husband. Ahh sweet, just as it should be.

Edward Hopper's Hotel Lobby.

Make Your Life About You - Not About The Boy

2011-02-16T03:51:00.000-08:00

Society places too much importance on finding a partner and pesky hormones pull this trick on you too. Lighten up.

Here are five good things about being single. (This post is written for women but can apply to men too):

1/ You never need to lose your Mojo. No one is getting you down.

How many couples do you know who are truly happy? They may say they are. Look at their faces; are they weathered? are they old before their time? ... have they lost their Mojo?

2/ Being in a couple costs you money - to do stuff.

Being single means you can spend money doing your own stuff. Make a list of things you always wanted to do ... and actually do it.

3/ As a couple you neglect your friends. This is one of the biggest sacrifices of coupledom.

There is nothing more irritating than when you have asked a friend to do stuff and she replies that she has to check first with her significant other.

4/ Being in a couple takes away a percentage of your freedom.

As a single person you are your own boss. You can focus on your career; make your own decisions. Relationships are synonymous with compromise.

5/ A relationship can go one of two ways - long term commitment (re-read 1 above) or it ends.

Being single means you never get dumped. Flirt like crazy whenever and wherever you want - you will never have someone say "Who are you looking at?"

Once the honeymoon stage is over it is all down hill. Alternatively, you can tell yourself: It's all about me! Celebrate.

Eve Deceived Adam

2011-02-15T08:48:00.000-08:00

Time to introduce my heroine. Nameless for the time being. I don't want to jinx her fate. She's having a hard time of it already, then again perhaps she brings it upon herself.

Femme Fatal; she has been know. Of course she is a femme fatale she is an irresistibly attractive woman. Mandatory. Though hapless, but no ones perfect. Are you?

She's hungrily creative, Machiavellian even, yet has only one mission in life. The same one as you!

My novel is urban satire / women's' fiction and I am currently pitching to publishers.

Make Me Laugh I'm Going Mad!

2011-02-13T09:55:00.000-08:00

I don't know if it is just me or February or something but I needed some cheering up ... PRONTO!

The Funny Chicken clip did it. Phew! I dare you not to laugh.

Shakespeare? Pah! A Monkey Can Do It.

2011-02-11T02:32:00.000-08:00

Where do you compose your novel? At the kitchen table? Beneath the duvet? Or do you seek out an inspiring yet welcoming, cozy atmosphere, perhaps accompanied with a delicious and luxurious cup of coffee.

It is said that J. K. Rowling composed much of her beloved Harry Potter in a cafe, so with this in mind and needing a new inspiring atmosphere to work in, I am on a reconnaissance to pick a cafe / coffee bar in Dundee. (Will let you know the outcome in due course.)

Costa's t.v. advert: Shakespeare ... eat your heart out!

The Future

2011-02-09T01:56:00.000-08:00

Prediction is very difficult especially if it is about the future. (Nils Bohr)

Sometimes, after reading a ton of books about a subject, listened to your friends views and tossed a coin or two (best of three) ... you have to admit - you have no idea if you are doing the right thing in your life or not.

Sometimes, you have to have a conversation with your intuition. Nothing else.

Every Writer Does It

2011-02-06T01:03:00.000-08:00

Scene from No Country For Old Men

Published.

Every writer yearns to be published, that's a given. But having your novel made into a movie, if you are a writer of fiction this is the ultimate wish. How cool would it be to have Javier Bardem Or Eva Mendes play characters from your book! Therefor having a creative interest in movies and producers is part of a writer's game.

I was reading an article about the Coen brothers which made me laugh. Having won four Oscars previously for No Country For Old Men, they said they found their success frightening. Talking about finding themselves at the Academy Awards they said, "You wonder what you did wrong."

Ha! Well if doing things wrong is the ingredient for success there's hope for me yet!

Read article here.

Eva Mendes and Javier Bardem to play characters in my novel.

Sunday (Morning) Girl

2011-01-30T04:18:00.000-08:00

I had a progressive January and feeling like a Siamese with a saucer of cream, I have decided to make this Sunday a tribute to women and call this morning Thank Goodness For Girlfriends' Day. Corny?

This got me wondering if I am more of a girl's girl or a man's woman. In other words do I prefer to spend more time with men or women? Is this weird? Maybe there's a clue in that my ex boyfriends call me ... Bitch ... Cold Bitch From Hell ...

Anyway, I have chosen three music tracks to demonstrate the kind of woman I am. Should be easy to work out.

Beyonce - Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It) (Official Music Video). Watch more top selected videos about: Beyonce, Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)

I'm a step ahead of Gloria though, if you come back from outerspace I didn't forget to change the stupid lock ... See progressive January.

Uncharacteristic For A Writer

2011-01-28T10:12:00.000-08:00

What would you do if you had to do something completely out of character?

Have an affair? Buy a new car? Dye your hair? Take a holiday solo?

It is really difficult to think of something for yourself that is completely out of character. Maybe you would need to ask a friend?

Being bookish, being a writer, being a straight 'A' student, being shy ... the most obvious out of character thing for me to do ...

Back To School

2011-01-24T03:56:00.000-08:00

Every name is called a NOUN,
As field and fountain, street and town;
In place of noun the PRONOUN stands,
As he and she can clap their hands;
The ADJECTIVE describes a thing,
As magic wand and bridal ring;
The VERB means action, something done -
To read and write, to jump and run;

How things are done, the ADVERBS tell,
As quickly, slowly, badly, well;
The PREPOSITION shows relation,
As in the street, or at the station;
CONJUNCTIONS join, in many ways,
Sentences, words, or phrase and phrase;
The INTERJECTION cries out, 'Hark!'
I need an exclamation mark!

(An old children's rhyme)

When I was at school I was lucky to have a desk by the window. Outside I could see a green field with a solitary pony - oh how I wished I had my own pony! I spent years gazing from that window dreaming of owning horses. Then a funny thing happened; I must have been around fourteen probably nearer to fifteen years old ... I discovered ... no not alcohol (that came later) ...

Hello

2011-01-16T12:34:00.000-08:00

This is me. This is where I live. This is Scotland.

Hope to see you soon.

Books Brains Beauty

2011-01-15T03:37:00.000-08:00

One of my New Year resolutions for 2011 is to read a book a week. That's 52 books.

So far I have read seven books and we are just over two weeks in. At this phenomenal rate by close of the year I'll be very brainy.

I'm going to have a beautiful mind.

How many books have you read over your lifetime? I've lost count; hundreds, thousands?

It's inevitable with all those books I've read, that I would write a few of my own.

An Odd Favourite

2011-01-12T08:37:00.000-08:00

Sometimes simple pleasure is living in the moment. Sometimes that moment may be 1988.

This was my favourite pop song from 1988. The '80's, being my era.

Looking back, it was the idea - to have Tiffany tour the shopping malls of the States - that catapulted her to international stardom. That spark of entrepreneurial genius I love.

A Model Inspired

2011-01-06T01:27:00.000-08:00

You want to be someone. You want to be important. A success. Icon! Maybe you just want the oh so gorgeous guy at the gym to notice you. Here's how you do it:

NLP (Neuro Linguistic Programming) is about studying someone who has already succeeded in the goal you want to achieve. So if you have a crazy Marilyn Monroe collection or a painting by Picasso on your wall, you are heading in the right direction. My gorgeous friend, Susan Long a hypnotherapist, explains how to, in more detail on her official site here.

I'm always looking around for inspiring people - funnily enough it is almost always women - especially those who have come from nowhere having grafted and fought to succeed. Someone who stood out lately is the winner of USA's 2010 t.v. show The Apprentice. Brandy Kuentzel.

Brandy Kuentzel's profile for The Apprentice 2010

Not The Easy Option

2011-01-03T03:18:00.000-08:00

We will open the book. It's pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's day.
Edith Lovejoy Pierce

I love a New Year. January: a new beginning; out with the old in with the new ...

Janus, is the Roman god for which January is named. Janus is usually depicted with having two heads, that face in opposite directions. One looks back to the year departed, and one looks forward to the new and uncertain year ahead. Reflection in a nutshell. Which is my cup of tea.

Which reminds me of saying about the future, that I like and must pay attention to:

Things change over time. But you still have to make the changes yourself.
Andy Warhol

There's no easy option ... Happy New Year!

A Gorgeous Year

2010-12-30T02:58:00.000-08:00

Ok, this year is different, this year I will kick ass, I will have a fit body ... dammit! It's nearly 2011!

Here's how I'm going to do it:

With the help of the Tracy Anderson Method. Tracy being Gwyneth Paltrow's and Madonna's personal trainer and now via dvd ... my personal trainer too!

And after a few months this will be how I look. Just as Tracy promises ...

2011 Look Whos Back!

2010-12-19T11:37:00.000-08:00

JLo has stumbled over her stiletto and dropped the tray holding our drinks - two Vodka with Diet Cokes and one Vodka lemonade - for the third time ...

"Agg! She's not getting to hold the kitty again," grumbles Inge under her breath.

"The drinks are bloody dear in here," sneers JLo giving a snide look towards the bar staff as she takes her seat empty handed. "I think we should all go some place else."

"Well, no bloody wonder!" complains Inge. "You keep spilling our drinks and we're all sober as judges ... there's hardly a bean left in our kitty glass." She starts to count the notes and silver held in a pint tumbler on our table.

Except for me. I'm drunk. Hee hee heee. (Anyway, Inge shouldn't be drinking; she's pregnant. I'm not; false alarm.) Hee hee heee.

It is New Year. Well, it will be in two hours when it will be 2011. Way hey! And JLo can go and shuffle if she thinks we're going to pick another place for our local. Bar Rio, er ... Mexicanna as it is now known, has been our local for yonks. I throw a dagger of a dirty look towards Mikey the proprietor who's flat out working a Hogmany bar.

"What's wrong with your face Shaz?" says JLo catching the action.

I think that's rich coming from her face smeared in half a tube of foundation and a tub of bronzing powder, which as I glare at her notice she has dusted a little of the bronzer over the left shoulder of her dress, but I refrain from being sarcastic. (Our rivalry goes back years. Over a guy - Attila the Hun, in fact - Who else?)

"Mikey," I reply. "Humpph. Putting the prices up" ... Sulk ... "At a New Year too. He knows we wont frequent anywhere else. This is our local. Emotional blackmail ... Scoundrel Dog."

"Speaking of scoundrels and dogs," begins Inge taking three brown notes bearing Mary Slessor from her purse and adding to our kitty. She then dips her head between me and JLo as if a referee and pokes her nose into our mutterings. This causes her fringe to fall into her eyes which makes me think of calling her Fringie Girl from now on. I giggle a little. "Look who's just paraded in with his posse of tarts."

JLo and me both flick our hair-dos towards the door.

Attila The Hun!

Gasp.

We three party goers ogle Attila as the three beauties in the Diet Coke advert. Hmm, I'm the Vodka lemonade ... Perhaps this is a sign ... I need to make changes in 2011.

To Catch A Fish

2010-12-17T12:15:00.000-08:00

There are plenty more fish in the sea.

A great proverb to mull over when you have a broken heart, devastated by unrequited love or have just dumped someone.

I was watching the BBC's The Apprentice on Wednesday night at the stage where the wannabe apprentices were at the interview stage. Stuart Baggs - The Brand, on being asked why he wanted to be Sir Lord Sugar's apprentice replied that he no longer wished to be a big fish in a small pond.

Seriously, said the stern interviewer, there is no pond. You are not a fish.

Ok, so men are not fish. But there are still plenty of relationship opportunities to be caught.

Good luck.

Bridget Jones's Diary, Dear Diary

2010-12-12T10:40:00.000-08:00

Bridget makes lists in her diary (Bridget Jones The Edge Of Reason), here's a couple of extracts:

List one:
1 Go to gym every day.
2 Have lots of lovely evenings with Jude and Shazzer ...
4 Send time with dad.
5 Really work hard at work to improve position.

List two:
No. of gym visits 0.
Evenings spent with Jude and Shazzer 6 (and another one tomorrow night, looks like).
Minutes spent with dad 0. ...
Journalistic articles written 0.
Pounds lost 0.
Pounds gained 2

Bridget Jones is self depreciating, that's why we love her. Er ... we don't want to be her!

Here's a list I recently made in my diary: Surprising random things I enjoyed about the summer of 2010:

1 Dancing around my living room to my music whilst drunk on a bottle of wine, with someone I adore(d).

2 Discovering body combat.

3 Feeling great and looking great this summer.

4 Snogging a stunning looking guy in a club in Edinburgh.

5 Discovering true friendship from my girlfriends when I needed it through a crisis.

6 Enjoying pop music in the charts this year.

7 Enjoyed watching my BBC dvd series Mistresses.

8 Feeling smug when I was offered a new job. (Yes, I accepted.)

9 Buying a new Samsung mobile phone.

9 Feeling more settled in my life ... Excited for 2011 ... More of please!!!

Mistresses

2010-12-08T00:35:00.000-08:00

Would you? Wouldn't you?

Dictionary definition: a woman who has a continuing extramarital sexual relationship with one man, esp. a man who, in return for an exclusive and continuing liaison, provides her with financial support.

Of course, there are variations on that theme ...

And the BBC television series Mistresses portrays these brilliantly!

Mistresses series one and two makes Sex And The City look like a Walt Disney production ... no kidding!

I missed the third and apparently final series. Here's the trailer.

What stands our for me in that trailer ... and it's key (though what do I know about being a mistress?) is:

You know you can't have him.

Seriously, would you have an affair with a married man?

British statistics show, that during a marriage 60% of the men and 40% of the women will cheat. (Statistics here are unreliable as the subjects of the research are notorious liars.)

The comment in brackets made me laugh. I have actually known someone who cheated on their wife and being a liar is definitely a prerequisite. These men are boring to be around after a while (like a broken record). Yaaaawn!

Mistresses official web site.

Sorry

2010-12-05T11:26:00.000-08:00

I made a decision. Apologies for harping on about it again. Sex.

I know, I know, there's a right time and a wrong time ... but I do have a novel to write.

I last spoke about sex here. My dilemma was; will I include sex scenes in my novel or not?

I came across a line in Susan Mallery's, Falling For Gracie; here the two main characters are making love ... I don't think anything can prepare you for it, brace yourselves:

At the same moment he claimed her mouth, he pushed deep into her, replacing his fingers with something far larger and more impressive.

Ladies, I don't know about you ... hilarious! Don't you think? Hilarious! Read it again.

Er, to write sex scenes or not? Hmm. I am writing satire after all. Know what. I'm so close to finishing my novel. I am going to keep my sex scenes in.

Of course, relationships are not all about sex. Oh no! And to prove it, here's Fyfe Dangerfield with She's Always A Woman.

Jobs To Impress Girls

2010-11-20T05:21:00.000-08:00

Would you turn down a date with a guy because of his job?

Do you always choose a type when choosing a man? Is it a conscious thought?

Here's a list of the jobs of men that I have dated:

Doctor
Yoga teacher
U.S. Navy SEAL
Royal Marine Commando
Tennis Coach
Journalist
University Professor

What does the above list say about me? ... That I like brains and brawn, but never lucky enough to have the whole package.

Who do I want now? Simple. The title of this track by INNA; someone AMAZING.

(This Is Goodbye)

2010-11-13T08:28:00.000-08:00

I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life, the way I feel when I'm with you.
Baby, Dirty Dancing.

We've all been there; breaking up aint easy.

The good news is : The end of a relationship isn't the end. No. It's the beginning.

My last breakup line went something like this:

Him: I'll see ya around.

Me: Ye, suppose I will.
(Er ... not if I see you first, said under my breath.)

I don't think that's a quote that will make it into the movies, however here are movie breakups I adore:

Bridges Of Madison County
This kind of certainty comes but once in a life time.

Casablanca
We'll always have Paris.

A Beautiful Mind
Perhaps it is good to have a beautiful mind, but an even greater gift is to discover a beautiful heart.

As Good As It Gets
You make me want to be a better man.

Gone With The Wind
You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.

How To Lose A Man In Ten Days
"Andie: Our love fern! You let it die!"

Good Will Hunting
It doesn't matter if the guy is perfect or the girl is perfect, as long as they are perfect for each other.

Title of this post is taken from Scouting For Girls, This Aint A Love Song (This Is Goodbye)

Kiss And Tell

2010-10-27T03:05:00.000-07:00

Normally, I don't.

But, today I'm going to tell. I'm going to tell five facts I've discovered about kissing.

1/ Infidelity starts with a kiss.

2/ Passionate kissing is more intimate than sex.

3/ Kissing under the mistletoe: Ancient druids believed mistletoe to be an aphrodisiac or sexual symbol. Kissing under the mistletoe is still practiced here in Scotland on Hogmany. Though modern-day as a sign of friendship and goodwill. I still kiss under the mistletoe.

4/ A survey showed that many men are more particular about which women they kiss than who they went to bed with. This suggests that kissing is more connected to love.

5/ I kissed a girl and I liked it.

Is a song by Katy Perry. (2008)

In League With Lady Writers And The Originality Of Men

2010-10-21T08:15:00.000-07:00

To be perfectly honest I am not sure if my novel will ever be finished. Let alone published. The process of writing a novel just seems to remove me further and further from every day life and every day people.

It's either be a writer or be ordinary, and never the twain shall meet.

However, if I do finish my novel and it is published, then here is the list of female writers and their titles to which genre my novel will belong:

Helen Fielding, Bridget Jones's Diary and Bridget Jones The Edge Of Reason

Muriel Spark, The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie, and The Driver's Seat

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Fay Weldon, The Life And Loves Of A She Devil

Speaking of which, Fay Weldon's, The Life And Loves Of A She Devil, is the novel to read if you are a women who has ever been cheated upon by a husband or boyfriend. (Er, take note ... the protagonist's way is not the way to handle it.)

The novel is a satire, perverse, silly ... sick even. It is about a wronged wife who wants to, 'cause Bobbo [her husband] as much misery as he caused me, and more.'

The protagonist Ruth (the wife) also sets out to destroy the mistress, the lovely romantic novelist Mary Fisher.

Fay Weldon about her novel says it's about envy rather than revenge. Don't the two go hand in hand?

One of my favourite quotes is where Ruth envisages an intimate conversation between her husband and his mistress going like this:

I am quite sure at some time or other Bobbo would have said in the manner of husbands 'I love her. I love her but not in love with her: not the way I'm in love with you. Do you understand? ' And Mary Fisher would have nodded, understanding very well.

Ah, yes men ... bless their originality!

Not Interested!

2010-10-13T03:02:00.000-07:00

Facebook

Not a day goes by without the word Facebook cropping up.

Am I on Facebook?

NO.

Do I intend to join Facebook?

Hell, NO!

Here's my day to day activities of Facebook. (Remember I am NOT on Facebook. Is anybody listening?!!):

My hairdresser quickly checks her Facebook account from her mobile phone before making a start to my wash and blow dry. And proceeds to tell me the latest goss. Hey, Facebook, at least gives us something to chat about.
A friend over a coffee asks me why I am not on Facebook. I asked what the big deal is. She says we can chat on line with multiple friends across the country etc. Hey, that's gonna be fun. What's the chances of that coming together??
I receive an email from a relative (incidentally, this relative has no idea of this email to me, because it was in fact sent by Facebook) asking me to check out his new holiday photos. But I would need to join Facebook to access these. Ha! Sneaky.
My boyfriend remarks that an ex girlfriend from over 20 years ago has connected to him through Facebook. They call each other to catch up. He tells her about me (his girlfriend), she tells him about her life and her husband. The catching up continues (over the following months); and includes her telling him that he (my boyfriend) was her first love and that she has always burned a candle for him. She's been trying to contact him for ages (years). She says, 'I hope your girlfriend is not the jealous type.' Well, thank you Facebook!

Facebook is the largest social networking site worldwide and has over 500 million active users.

Entertainment Weekly put it on its end-of-the-decade 'best-of' list, saying, "How on earth did we stalk our exes, remember our co-workers' birthdays, bug our friends, and play a rousing game of Scrabulous before Facebook?

So what of my boyfriend and the Facebook Abuser from Hell? ... As it transpired, my boyfriend finished with me ... They had arranged to meet up with each other. Did it work out between them? I have no idea? But I can tell you that some weeks later (nine days actually) he contacted me hoping to get back.

I told him to **** **** ***

Hey ho! Looks like there are pros and cons for Facebook.

Everyone Has Favourites

2010-10-10T07:41:00.000-07:00

Marilyn with her husband Arthur Miller. (Picture from November 2010 issue Vanity Fair.)

One of my favourite idols is Marilyn Monroe.

Intelligent, creative, vulnerable yet strong, dynamic and beautiful. A book worm but most of all human. Marilyn was introspective and recognised the human condition:

I am alone. I am always alone no matter what.

Intelligent, yes. One of my favourite quotes of hers is:

He [Arthur Miller, play write] wouldn't have married me if I had been a dumb blonde.

He let her down in the end. I can't help feeling that perhaps she was too good for Miller. Then again would any man be good enough ... and appreciate her level of complexity?

This November's issue of Vanity Fair highlights an exciting archive of Marilyn's own writing - diaries, poems, doodles and thoughts - and are being published.

Above pages from November 2010 issue of Vanity Fair illustrating fragments of Marilyn's own writings.

In this archive it is clear who Marilyn's favourite was. Her favourite man, lover, husband ... was Arthur.

I am so concerned
about protecting Arthur
I love him - and he is the only person - human being I have ever known that I could love not only
as a man to which I am attracted to
practically
out of my senses about - but he [is] the only
person ... that I trust as
much as myself - because when I do trust
myself (about certain things) I do fully

I love Marilyn on all sorts of levels but my favourite area of intrigue is the dialogue that she has with herself. I am looking forward to the publication of these documents.

Fragments, Poems, Intimate Notes, Letters, by Marilyn Monroe, edited by Stanely Butcthal and Bernard Comment to published this November by Farrar, Straus Giroux, L.L.C. (US), HarperCollins (Canada and UK).

Slumming It!

2010-10-08T05:35:00.000-07:00

Have you ever gone out with a guy from the wrong side of the tracks?

Slumming it?

In respect of relationships the dictionary definition is, a person who dates outwith their socio-economic circle motivated by curiosity or a desire for adventure.

Yes, yes and curiosity almost killed this cat!

When I was a teenager (at that point when those pesky womanly hormones kicked in) I lived with my parents in an affluent suburb of town. Once in a while, we (me and my girlfriend, she who was a lot more sensible than I ...) would happen upon a crew of gangland boys from the outer or inner city estates. Dramatically infiltrating our territory. My friend would be completely unaffected, but I would be intrigued by the boys and their brazen banter. These dudes (in my tiny world) were exotic. Adventurers. Dangerous.

I wanted, needed to know, how different life was on the other side. I wanted to taste it.

Rough looking boys reeking of adventure. Unscrupulous cunning. They had the gift of the gab. Perhaps not owning a library card between them but owning tall stories and a knowledge of local places and people my parents would never let me dream of frequenting or talking to. They were entrepreneurs of the shady sorts. Full of Machiavellian promises. I was smitten. My sheltered life would be the curse of me.

So I grew up mixing with the wrong sorts. Does socialising with bad boys make me a bad girl? Is there a Freudian theory to this?

Alexandra Burke in her song (with Flo Rider) Bad Boys says:

Even though I know they are no good for me,
It's the risk I take for the chemistry,

I have a history of slumming it. I thought I'd learned lessons.

Alas, like Alexandra:

... somehow I'm drawn to danger,
And have been all of my life.

Alexandra Burke Feat. Flo Rida - Bad Boys on MUZU.

Why Is It The Things You Want The Most You Mess Up On?

2010-10-07T03:48:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wanted something so much ... so badly ... it's your reason for being. It's your passion. Yet, lo and behold you still haven't got it?

Take relationships. What about that person you are attracted to so much? That person who is The One!!! Dammit!

Psychologists say:

The harder you try to get someone ... you won't get them.

Poo!

The more you want something the more desperate you get. Desperation is unattractive.

Does that put determined in the same league as desperate then?

The paradox of course, is that it's easier to get something that you don't want than something you want badly.

Sound insight. That explains why I'm living the wrong life! I coped out and took the easier options because the things you don't really want are easier. Makes sense.

Greg Behrendt in his book (It's Called A Break Up Because It's Broken) and talking about first dates says:

You have to get all dressed up and act sensational - even though at the same time not caring about the result.

What?? I'm a woman I care!! This is tough.

Ok, it's the end of the day and you have come to the realisation that he/she is just not that into you and you are now faced with a broken heart, what next? The good thing is agony can be cured.

And according to Greg in his book, the first commandment of breaking up is:

Don't see him/her or talk to him/her for sixty days.

Hmm ... day? ... lets see ...

Taking Advice From The Write People

2010-10-02T06:01:00.000-07:00

I keep a little note book which I fill with quotes, insights, advice, snip-bits etc from writers.

This little writer's booklet is my motivational tool and it is filled with famous writers (alive and dead), unknown writers, writers who blog and bloggers who write.

Here's an entry from the American author Mark Twain (1835-1910).

Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you too can become great.

Small people are, of course those little people, with little minds, thinking little thoughts.

Drop those people like the plague.

Womanizer

2010-09-30T02:38:00.000-07:00

Have you ever seen the Spanish actor Javier Bardem in the movie Vicki Christina Barcelona? I would not describe Bardem as being conventionally good looking, yet in this movie he succeeds in seducing all three leading ladies. So what makes a Ladies Man?

I first saw Bardem in the movie No Country For Old Men, and found his character magnetically sexy. He is a pathological killer. Is there something wrong with me? I found other women saying the same thing. Are we lambs to the slaughter in regards our attractions towards a man who may not necessarily be good looking and is bad news. A Casanova. What is the allure?

Masculine energy. Aura. Captivating expression. Ability to charm the birds off the trees. An accomplished liar. Are these the traits of a womaniser? Or, is there something more sinister?

The dictionary definition of a womaniser is, a man who likes many women and has short sexual relationships with them. He is a guy who fools a girl into thinking he is in love with them, but lets them down by having many girls on the side.

Are women gullible by gender?

I like Britney Spears, Womanizer (2008), a song recalling a womanising man, whilst the protagonist knows who he really is. Men don't like that.

So I'm going to end on a lyric from Britney's song, dedicated to all the womanisers I have ever known.

I'm never gonna fall for you! Never you!

Alternative Lives And Loves

2010-09-30T01:27:00.000-07:00

Have you ever kicked yourself for missing a train?

In the movie Sliding Doors (1998, Gwyneth Paltrow and John Hannah) the plot splits into parallel universes when the heroine Helen, misses her underground train. The movie shows the two different paths of Helen depending on her making and of her missing the train.

Have you ever asked yourself ... if only? If only I got that job. If only I hadn't had a relationship with that man. Had the confidence to apply for that course. Got married. Got divorced sooner. Got back in touch with a past lover. Oh, how my life would be different. But how different would it be? Radical or by degrees? Can missing a train really make a big a difference?

The two time lines in Sliding Doors both sees Helen pregnant. The first time line (on making the train), pregnant to her new boyfriend, whom she discovers is married. And in the second time line (missing the train), pregnant to her long term boyfriend, who is having an affair with a woman who is also pregnant by him.

Helen loses the baby in both time lines and in one alternative, her life ends in tragedy. (You will have to watch the movie to see).

Alternative reality implies a universe where the laws are different. How different can life be by failing an exam as opposed to succeeding? Moving to a new town or staying put? Being married or not? Both of Helen's realities were complicated, because relationships with the opposite sex are like parallel universes. Complicated.

How Would You Know If You Married The Wrong Man?

2010-09-29T05:27:00.000-07:00

If your husband said of another woman:

This woman is more to me, dead as she is, than ever you were or are, or can be.

Would you feel you married the wrong man?

If your husband secretly carried a golden lock of hair to which you find and react in the following fashion:

Bathsheba's eyes had been accidentally lifted at that moment, and she saw the action and saw the hair. She flushed in pain and surprise, and some words escaped her before she had thought whether or not it was wise to utter them. "A woman's curl of hair!" she said. "Oh, Frank, whose is that?"

And on reply you ask:

"Is she pretty?"

"Yes."

How would you feel?

How would you feel once you realise that the owner's lock of hair was the woman that your now husband had arranged to marry before meeting you?

Far From The Madding Crowd (1874) by Thomas Hardy is a novel where the heroine Bathsheba, has chances to marry three men.

Bathsheba is a vain young woman and turns down Gabriel Oak (shepherd) because she values her independence too much. She also turns down William Boldwood (prosperous farmer) as her interest in him is only aroused by his initial aloofness towards her. She then becomes smitten with the dashing Sergeant Francis Troy whom she marries.

Did Bathsheba make the right choice? How do you know if you are marrying the right man?

Bathsheba says to Frank of this incident:

"This is all I get for loving you so well! Ah! when I married you your life was dearer to me than my own. I would have died for you -- how truly I can say that I would have died for you! And now you sneer at my foolishness in marrying you. O! is it kind to me to throw my mistake in my face? Whatever opinion you may have of my wisdom, you should not tell me of it so mercilessly, now that I am in your power."

"I can't help how things fall out," said Troy; "upon my heart, women will be the death of me!"

I always say, don't be hard on yourself you can't help who you fall in love with. Everyone has a right to make a fool of themselves once in a while. It's human.

In the novel Bathsheba does get out of her marriage and ends with someone who is not a womanizer. (See women can only be tricked for so long!) And was women the death of Frank in the end?

You will have to read the novel to see.

Personal Goals: Big and Bigger

2010-08-31T01:36:00.000-07:00

I have decided I want my hair this length (as girl in photo above). Is this goal easy, taking into consideration that it requires little effort but a lot of patience? (I have patience now see this post here.) Three, four years perhaps of perseverance?

A bigger goal (or is it?) is to have a Honda Civic. Three, four years of saving ... of believing. More effort involved here as I have to keep a job.

Ok, better get on ...

Cliches Are A Girl's Best Friend

2010-08-30T00:59:00.000-07:00

Cliches have the negative reputation of being over used ... or perhaps they are just loved?

I love discovering new cliches ... here is one I heard yesterday:

'Experience is what you get when you didn't get what you wanted.'

... And experience is gold! Right?

HOPE

2010-08-23T05:51:00.000-07:00

Hope is a good thing and no good thing ever dies.
Andy Dufresne The Shawshank Redemption

Hope is a dangerous thing. It can drive a man insane.
Red The Shawshank Redemption

From Greek mythology Pandora was given a jar (Pandora's Box) filled with seductive gifts from the Gods however she was told not to open it. Well, if you were given a jar and told never to open it ... ever. What would you do? How long could you hold out?

So low and behold all the evils of mankind; crime, poverty, pain, abuse, hunger, sickness and vice flew out into the universe. Except, one thing was left inside the jar. Hope.

Sometimes in life the only thing that keeps you going is HOPE.

How Sexy Can A Museum Be?

2010-08-10T23:54:00.000-07:00

Titian's Diana and Actaeon

Boring? Stuffy? The historical displays are out out of touch with today, even? No, not here at the newly restored McManus, in Dundee.

What makes a museum sexy? The building? The displays? The visitors? The cafe?

The building: The Albert Hall; magnificent wooden ceiling and spectacular stained glass. Or, the Victorian Gallery; curved red walls, vaulted glass ceiling, ornamental plasterwork, and varnished dadoes.

The displays: Spanning 400 million years!!! recount the City of Dundee's fascinating history. Here you can find the famous whale, the world's oldest Astrolabe and a Rossetti masterpiece.

The Visitors: Don't you check out the talent when visiting galleries and museums? ... It's only human nature. There are no disappointments at the McManus.

Cafe: With external terrace. A place to mingle, chatter and eavesdrop.

For me what made my visit to The McManus sexy was marvelling with awe at the latest touring display: Titian's, Diana and Actaeon. This painting by the 16th century Italian painter was bought for £50 million with generous contributions from the Scottish Government, The National Heritage Memorial Fund, The Monument Trust, The Art Fund (with a contribution from the Wolfson Foundation) and through public appeal, 2009.

Now if that's not sexy what is?

Titian is on view at The McManus, Dundee from 5th August until 6th September 2010, then it will tour America.

The McManus, Dundee

King Edward VII Slept In My Bed

2010-08-06T08:30:00.000-07:00

OK, King Edward VII died in 1910, so he could not have possibly slept in my bed. But it is possible I slept in his!

I had a couple of weekend visits to Kinlochleven in the Scottish Highlands recently and stayed at Hotel Mamore, which was the original hunting lodge of King Edward VII. The setting of the hotel is idyllic, isolated and with views up Loch Leven. The hotel itself is a living museum with servants bells and hatches and the original panelled walls and ceilings still intact. I couldn't help think what a great location this place would be for a murder mystery.

Today the guest accommodation bears the name of those who once visited and stayed in that very room. Over my couple of visits I stayed in Lord Belper's room and the master suite itself ... the very room of King Edward VII.

There was a spooky atmosphere I have got to say and the hotel sitting high up on the hill behind Kinlochleven reminded me of the hotel in the movie The Shining. I even dreamed of two ghosts the night I stayed. Did The Shining not feature ghost twins?

I felt privilaged sleeping this close to British royalty, though at the end of the day, sadly, I did not find my Prince Charming.

Hotel Mamore

Me: Views up Loch Leven from the hotel

Love Is In The Air?

2010-07-15T02:34:00.000-07:00

What is the most romantic text you have ever received?

I received this from my boyfriend the other day.

It's hard to find a girlfriend who's

96% funny
97% sweet
98% talented
99% loving
100% gorgeous

Ahhhh

What's a Couple Of Bombshells Between Friends?

2010-07-01T09:18:00.000-07:00

'I'm finished with Deek ... for good! I've handed in my notice at Compass Travel and I've discussed it with my mum and she's brilliant. She's going to support me and Marie until I find another job.'

Inge says this as we both take our place in our usual corner of Bar Rio, except its not called Bar Rio anymore. Since I've been on holiday they changed Bar Rio and gave it a make over and it's now called Mexicana. I sigh deeply as I slip my handbag to the floor beneath the Adobe hard-wood table. I have this incredible feeling that life's never going to be the same.

'Wow, Inge. I'm sorry to hear that. Gosh a lot's been going on since I left for America.'

'Ye.' Inge smirks cheekily. "It's great to have you back Shaz, bestest pal. Me and JLo missed ya!'

'Ye I bet,' I frown suspiciously at the mention of JLo.

I nod at Inge sheepishly. 'I know. I know. I didn't approve of Deek, ok, but sweetie only 'cos Deek's married ... with five kids ... all steps and stairs' I mutter under my breath. ' You Inge are a gorgeous gal, and you babe I've always believed deserve better ... Someone without dramas.'

Micky comes and takes our order for coffees. And it all seems quite surreal as the whole concept of the pub has changed, yet here is the proprietor and all the usual staff as large as life ... BBC Radio One, over the bar kicks out Kickstarts by Example ... business as usual. Hmm. Life's funny.

I feel quite sad for Inge, as I watch her rummage in her bag for a tissue - Oh no I hope she's not going to cry - It's an end of an era. Over the years I watched Inge try her very best to make it work with Deek. I even helped her by dating Noris. But how can a relationship with a married man work?

'Enough of me Shaz!' Inge suddenly starts up. 'Today is about you and your holiday in USA with Mr Mo Rocco, the sexy Italian!'

'Half Italian.'

'Oh ye,' nodding profusely.

'And half American Indian!' we say in unison. 'Aka, Talks With Goats.' We both fall about giggling.

'So Mrs Talks With Goats, how's the romance going?'

'It's over.'

Inge falls onto the floor. 'Whaassat! Nooo way?'

'Ye,' I say limply.

'You dumped, The Sexy Italian Millionaire from Missouri? says Inge scrambling back onto the bench and rubbing down her scuffed knees.

'It's not him Inge, it's me.'

Inge gives me a wink and we smile ... sadly, yet knowingly.

'Ya can take the girl outta Dundee but ya can't take Dundee outta the girl!'

We sit nodding in agreement for a bit.

'I'm pregnant.'

Shocked silence.

I stare at Inge eyeball to eyeball.

'Me too,' she says.

Much blinking. Long silence ... except here Micky turns up the volume for Kickstarts,

... start to think that it could be fizzling out
Kinda shocked because I never really had any doubts ...

and more shocked staring. Inge sprouts a tear in her left eye which makes her mascara run.

'Inge don't cry. Deek has to leave his wife for you now!'

'Deek who?' says Inge blubbering, 'I'm crying for you, you great loaf. You're gonna be a mama and at your age too. I'm so happy for you Shaz. And we are doing it together as friends, how cool is that?'

Inge actually brightens up.

Mama? Me! Gulp! Flipping men.

PLEASE NOTE: This is the last Inge and Shaz post of this current series (Series One). I am now going to focus on finishing my novel. I am excited about that. I have lots of new material.

There were 33 Inge and Shaz posts in all. I hope you enjoyed them.

Here's Me Sitting In Kim Wilde's Garden

2010-06-24T08:07:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting on the arbour sniffing the floral scents and listing to that certain swish that can only be heard when there is absolute silence.

I am marvelling at the very tributes planted by Kim Wilde herself, here in the Duntrune Demonstration Gardens in Dundee's Dawson Park. See famous people do come to Dundee!

Speaking of famous people; from the gardens the pointed gable end of a house in The Ferry, belonging Lorraine Kelly, peeks into view. If Dundee is good enough for Lorraine Kelly then it is good enough for me!

I am having a great day; the sunshine is uplifting and the gardens at the centre are magical. I am happy.

This Girl Called Patience

2010-06-19T14:20:00.000-07:00

Patience is a virtue.

I had a coffee with a fellow author the other week. We had a really good chat. She is called Jeni and she has just published her first book called Hot Chocolate For the Soul - What a groovy title! (see her website here.)

Anyway, during our conversation I had this Eureka moment ... or put plainly, Jeni told me that patience is my life's lesson. Hmm, was it that obvious? It's true.

Patience isn't something I have mastered. Impulsive ... yes. I was never able to see the point of sitting doing nothing. I read an interesting article (here) that has changed my view.

This article says,

We all want to do more in a day than can be done. But we've got to take the tasks one at a time.

Usually patience gets better results than impatience.

Ok, I am convinced. What have I got to lose. I am going to give it a go.

The article continues,

Patience is doing nothing right away rather than doing something right away. Ideally, it's doing nothing while being relaxed and feeling fine about waiting.

Learning patience for me is like another person quitting smoking or dieting ... it's not going to be easy.

How will I do? Hey, we'll have to wait and see.

Making News On My Birthday

2010-06-16T04:38:00.001-07:00

Click on photo to read article.

The Dundee Courier, today (June 16th) page 5 ... and on my birthday too! Woo! Woo!

The launch of The Book Of Memories last night went exceedingly well. There was a good turnout and first impressions of the booklet have been very positive. I even got a few chuckles at my talk. Phew!

The press photographer too, did a grand job, thanks. Feedback about the photo is that I have a fine pair of legs. Er ... humm. (I am front row left.) Though the person who said that is my boyfriend, so forgiven.

I'd like to thank everyone who has left comments and has supported my endeavours over my blogging journey. Next project ... ?

For the record I am 45 years old today!

Oh My Gosh!

2010-06-08T02:43:00.000-07:00

Here's a sneaky preview of The Book Of Memories, the social history booklet I have been working on over the last six months or so.

The official launch date is Tuesday 15 June and there is to be a little launch do. Not a Way hey!!! undrrie-undrrie- arrrrreeeeba!!!!! type do. Oh no. Just a little launch in Arthurstone Terrace Library, where teas and coffees will be served. Even so, I'm still wearing my jazzy frock, heels and fake tan. Jane Soutar, another of the story tellers from the book, said she's wearing her tiara, though she may have been kidding I'm not sure. Well, the local press has been invited ... never know, there may even be a photo call. Hmmm, beginning to feel more arrrreeeeba!!!

Here are the details and if you are in the area you are very welcome to pop in as my guest: Tell the door staff, Sharon McPherson said, or else!

The Book Of Memories Launch
Tuesday 15 June at 5.30 pm
Arthurstone Terrace Library, Dundee

Teas and coffees will be served after introductions (I think I actually am to give a speech - Oh My Gosh!)
Free copies will be available afterwards.

For Better For Worse

2010-06-02T01:36:00.001-07:00

Procrastination or research, whatever you want to call it, I've been doing a lot of it, lately. I've been researching the life of a smallholder. Why? Low cost life style? Along with my recent vegetarianism, am I also turning green? Insanity?

Yes, in answer to the first two and more like being in the rat race is driving me insane, to the second. I sold my television the other week at a carboot sale, for £20 - it had an LCD screen and everything, but it went. Next, was a letter written to the T.V. Licensing in Bristol, requesting a refund of the remaining money for the license I had paid for 12 months in advance. (Yes, in Britain you pay the government £142.50 annually because you own a T.V.)

What is all this smallholding ramblings, I thought you were a writer, a wannabe novelist? Yes, I am ... as a means to an end; to make money so I can buy a smallholding - my lifelong dream. Have you seen the price. I have! Minimum £200K.

If working a smallholding is my childhood ambition, why have I not mentioned sooner. Or indeed, acted upon any research or aims? Men!!!

I have been waiting for a man. Silly me. I have been waiting for the strength and brawn required as part of my rural dream. Faulty thinking, perhaps?

When considering this further [taking on a smallholding], look closely at your relationship with your partner. It is surprising how many relationships exist between two people who really don't get on. They survive quite happily doing their own things and can't actually coexist without contact with family and non-mutual friends ...

Above extract from an article, Is Small Holding Really The Good Life, written by Peter Johnston,

I thought that very interesting, because it rang true: can't actually coexist without contact with family and non-mutual friends. Nothing wrong with that, if you need the strength of others to endure a relationship, then good luck.

Regards men, my friends say that I am hard to please, that I am too fussy. Possibly. But the truth is that I am just not that interested in enduring a relationship, not for better not for worse. I think I will take myself to B&Q to buy power tools ... that's a solution!

I'm A Vegetarian and I've Been Sick Three Times

2010-05-28T06:02:00.000-07:00

I recently turned vegetarian. So, I think I should eat more cheese. And the cheese made me sick. So, now I don't eat cheese.

Because I only cut red meat, I started to eat more chicken and the chicken made me sick. So now I don't eat chicken.

Because I am hungry and there's not much to eat as a vegetarian, I eat more chocolate. More than usual. The chocolate makes me sick.

The chocolate makes me sick, but I still eat chocolate. And I'm still a vegetarian.

I would like to say thanks to Matthew, from AbodeOneThree (see post here). So powerful is his writing, that I converted from the date of his post, Friday 12 March 2010. The post also made me cry. I love cows.

The Sad Things We Do When We Feel Blue! Or Maybe it's Just Me?

2010-05-26T08:05:00.000-07:00

Ok, call me narcissistic, but I Googled my name. What a surprise ... there are lots of us! So many in fact, that there is even an 'images for sharon mcpherson' reel. And I'm on it. That's hilarious!!!

It sure has cheered me up, but I suppose you can still call me sad ...

Never Mix Business With Pleasure

2010-05-24T09:00:00.000-07:00

Being a person who lives by the following rule - the rule is there are no rules (as influenced by Brad Pitt in Fight Club) - I have decided to ignore the above title.

I am going out on a limb, a wing and a prayer and have adopted the, you only live once attitude ...

What am I talking about?

I have started a second business!

So without further ado go here and be the first to view my little pet services business.

I Give Up

2010-05-23T09:27:00.000-07:00

Trying to be a success is tough.

... although, I retain a little of the exclusiveness of unsuccess, the little reviews, like wise detectives, can scent it's on it's way.
Graeme Greene

Unlike Greene, I can't scent any signs. Women are masters of intuition and I can't see any signs. None.

So, I've decided I don't want to be a success anymore. I just want to be normal. Normal and unsuccessful.

The good news is, because I am not focusing on success, I am dating again. See, I have a normal life back. Maybe even sex ... Depends ... I'll flip a coin.

Obvious, Really

2010-05-14T06:21:00.000-07:00

I am taking a break from blogging, honestly. But this is important relationship advice ...

10 Surprising signs that they are interested

1. They don't talk to you.

Ye, number 1 is soooo annoying!

4. They don't seem to remember you.

I remember bumping into an old flame in a restaurant completely out of the blue. He didn't see me, but I saw him first and approached him and the way he acted, it was like he hadn't seen me before in his entire life! Er, we had, and I have photos of us together to prove it.

The article says;

That's what they want you to think. They want you to think that they're far too busy and popular to recall it. In fact, the memory is etched onto their brain and lived out in filthy fantasies every single night.

I like that last sentence, particularly ... feel better now. Ha!

5. They suggest splitting the bill on your first date.

All this time I'm thinking I'm unlucky picking rude men;

When some one's interested, they're careful not to seem over-keen, or out to buy affection ...

Read full list of 10 and explanation here.

Also, thank you to the super saucy gal, Adventures of the Cautionary Tale for this awesome award.

I will pass onto 6 others soon.

Cheerio

2010-05-10T10:25:00.000-07:00

Cheerio!

This is Scottish for goodbye. I always liked the word cheerio, it sounds like a celebration. Cheers! A departure being happy not sad.

Cheerio!

Of course, a goodbye usually involves one person leaving and another left ... However, think! absence makes the heart grow fonder. Yes?

I hope so, because I am taking a break from blogging for a while. Not long. Not because I have stopped loving it. Or loving you. I still do. I'll be around.

Exciting changes ahead ... (No, it doesn't involve a new man ... hmm, that wouldn't stop me blogging.)

As always, I put in 100% therefor I need to focus.

Wish me luck.

xxx

GORGEOUS

2010-04-30T05:49:00.000-07:00

If you look good you feel good!

It's true.

I used to wonder, you know, like the chicken and egg scenario - what comes first the chicken or the egg? I used to think, that you must feel good before you can motivate yourself to look good or achieve success.

The answer is this ...

If you look good you feel good!

... just got to get myself looking like the gorgeous gal in pic above, then everything else will fall into place. No probs!

VIVA LIFE!

2010-04-29T01:34:00.000-07:00

Dream House

Viva My Life!!!
My post of yesterday had a purpose. I wanted to look over my skills and experience and ask myself: How am I best suited, to earn a living?

I have to be frank with myself and admit I'm a quitter. Except ... in property developing. Is this because I get to boss people about ie, joiners, plumbers, decorators?

Oh! And writing books. I don't get to boss anyone about here ... unless you can count my characters. Technically, a writer is in charge of a lot of people's destinies.

Property developing is a risky business. You can make money on one development and lose the whole lot on the next. Then there's the property climate. Like now. Slow. The property I am marketing presently, will take about a year to sell (I'm speculating).

Writing. I have been working on my novel for three years. It's not finished. Then a year to market to agents.

Cash-flow crisis!

Life!!! Agg!

Changes

2010-04-28T07:43:00.000-07:00

That's my downfall. Changing. A Jacqueline of all trades a master of none.

Jobs I've done:

Delivered newspapers, when I was thirteen
Worked in a corner shop (grocery store) when I was fifteen
Made soft toys (self employment) when I was fifteen.
Laboratory assistant at Dundee College
Dental laboratory assistant
Sales representative selling Tupperware (self employed)
Market research assistant Dundee City Council
Sales assistant, men's boutique
Bar person / cloakroom attendant in nightclub
Sales assistant, women's boutique (stuck it five days)
Trainee financial consultant (stuck it two weeks ... me advising on money Ha Ha!)
Waitress (two days)
British Army (Territorial) What was I thinking!!!!
Waitress
Hairdresser ... changed my mind before starting

Change:

Secretarial assistant
Secretary
Administrative assistant
Production assistant (with a glossy magazine in Edinburgh)
Production assistant (with a magazine publisher in Edinburgh)
Information assistant, Dundee University
Faculty assistant, Dundee University
Office administrator, British Red Cross

Change again:

Begin first property development
Publish my first book
Publish second book
Begin second property development (currently on market as at 2010)
Pumpkin Press secures first book commision

I feel another change coming on ...

The Luck Of The Draw - DUNDEE

2010-04-26T06:45:00.000-07:00

The Tay Road bridge leading into Dundee. The peak is the Dundee Law, an extinct volcano.

... a city is more about a spirit, a state of mind, than any rules or regulations or the size of it's population.

(The Book Of Cities Dodd and Donald)

It's true, the culture you are born into shapes you, the way a craftsman shapes a wooden marionette. Like Pinocchio.

Little Pinocchio, who cast off his strings for freedom and suffered many of life lessons the hard way. What was the alternative ... to stay a puppet all of his life?

I feel the oppression of the city I was born to. Dundee; the city I wrote a book about with great positivity and pride and none of my words were lies. I have no argument with the city. It lies with the culture. To be exact ... the culture of the people, the Dundonians, themselves.

... a city that congratulates you for your fabulous success rather than perceive it as a threat.

This quote is referring to Dallas USA, not Dundee. Dundee, in fact, casts the opposite. A few years ago I lived in a tenement and placed a few pot plants on my landing, to brighten up the close. One day I found my pot plants vandalised and some had been stolen. I know who did this petty crime, and I know why. A neighbour and the message was, 'don't get above your station.'

What! Pot plants! How did he feel when I got my book published and a 6" by 6" press release in the Courier? And a photo! He probably chocked to death, funnily enough I never saw him after that.

Dundee has the highest unemployment rate in Scotland and the second highest unemployment rate in Great Britain. It also has the highest rate of teenage pregnancies in GB. What is there to look forward too? Popping kids on the dole?

I have studied in Dundee, I have loved and lost in Dundee and I started my family and a business in Dundee. I have dug deep for inspiration to keep my soul alive. The people around me say I could never make it out of Dundee. Better the devil you know, they say.

My son just had some new neighbours move into the tenement flat above his; Nigerians. A large family all smiles and teeth and afros, saying hello, hello. My son, laughs, it feels good to have a lightness of spirit around. Dundonians scowl and sneer.

I can't stand it any longer. I'm suffocating. I'm having an allergic reaction to where I live. Worse still, I'm morphing into one of them, a Dundonian.

I'm leaving.

I'm Saving Up To Go To America

2010-04-20T11:34:00.000-07:00

"I stood Kevin up. I did."

"Gasp ... Noooo waaay?"

"Yes, way," not believing it myself, since I already paid £23.40 for my train fare.

"Why Shaz? Kevin was cute, cute, cute." Inge, gives me a real weird stare like I am mad.

"Nerves," I say taking care to miss her gaze. It's not a nice feeling to think that you have let the one slip away.

"In that case Shaz, you did the right thing." Inge, continues in a worldly way. "A relationship is not meant to make you feel bad. It is meant to make you feel on top of the world. Excited. Make you go all goosebumpy." Inge gazes glassy eyed out of the window, wrapped in her own memories. Her eyes rest on the bridge over the Tay. The same bridge I crossed two days ago on my way to meet Kevin.

Absentmindedly, my gaze follows hers to the rail bridge and I see a tiny commuter train chug its way to Leuchars - next stop. I wonder why, if Inge knows this wisdom she continues to see Deek. I don't see him making her happy. Then again maybe Deek gives her earth shattering goosebumps. I'll talk to Inge about this another time, as right now I do actually have good news.

"Inge," I say, "my mind was also made up by the fact ... lalalala ..." I sing. Building suspense. I fail.

Inge, gives me another look.

So I just blurt it out, "Mo Rocco's invited me to Missouri!"

"Weeeeeeee yip yip!" Inge screeches at the top of her voice and we both get up and bond like in a rugby tackle and pogo around Inge's mum's living room.

Rarara Amereeka! Rarara Amereeka!

Mrs Strudel, on hearing the commotion scurries from the kitchen and pokes her head around the door. Inge tells her I'm going to live with Mo Rocco, in America, which is not quite true, but this sets off Mrs Strudel, who throws her walking stick over the back of the sofa and woots:

Woo woo wooo wooo, she honks like a choo choo train, not unlike the one crossing the Tay Bridge and pushes herself into our scrum and we three pogo around the living room, squealing.

Rarara Amereeka! Rarara Amereeka!

You know, just normal girlie reaction to good news involving men, love and ....

... going to America woo woo wooo!

Between The Lines Lies Wisdom

2010-04-18T06:18:00.000-07:00

'There's only one explanation.' Jude was declaring. 'Mark Darcy's gay.' 'Of course, he's gay,' snarled Shazzer, pouring out more Bloody Marys. 'Do you really think so?' I said, excited by the bizarre yet ego-comforting theory. 'Why else would he go off with someone freakishly tall, with no sense of grilfriend-hood and no bottom: ie a virtual man?'
Bridget Jones The Edge Of Reason, Helen Fielding

Reading the sequel to Bridget Jones Diary (for the umpteenth time), although outdated in places, it still makes me laugh. Helen Fielding is a comic genius. My novel (WIP) is written in Helen Fielding's spirit; about relationships. Only time will tell if I can pull it off. No one since Helen has.

In the quote below, Helen extracts from a book written by Dr John Gray:

'The more a man likes a woman the more he will avoid getting involved!' said Jude triumphantly, reading from Mars and Venus on a Date.

Ok ... That's logical.

Isn't it?

Affairs

2010-04-15T01:03:00.000-07:00

How old was I, when I had my first affair? I can't even remember. The attraction seems to have always been there. Innate. However, I do remember my first love, the house pictured below.

Me with my wheel barrow.

Kilmaurs was my Uncle Eric's and Aunty Margaret's home. Aunt Margaret being my father's baby sister. My three brothers and I would go for summer holidays. I can't remember how many. Maybe just the once. Vague memories.

I remember sleeping in the attic; climbing two sets of stairs. I remember the grand piano and sneaking a little practice and leaving grubby finger prints. That's how I was caught. (See maverick.) I also remember the t.v. room, filled with overstuffed chairs and pouffes in an assortment of colours. And the steamy utility room with the concrete floor leading from the kitchen and containing sprawling plants in pots. This was where the tortoise lived. Incidents indoors. Outside; the garden held most of my playtime.

The garden at the back was vast, set out with squared off flower beds and a series of crossing paths like in a game of noughts and crosses. These paths saw much traffic from me and my trustee wheelbarrow. Apparently, I would zig zag between flower plots. Not a peep from me all day. Someone in tune with nature. Always have been.

My love affair with property didn't end there. This was the start.

Good Fortune

2010-04-14T06:04:00.000-07:00

I read this and felt inspired ... and lucky. I sincerely hope that, when grieved upon I will re-read this. And re-read.

Good health, food, a safe place to live, an education and the right to a job ... Utopia?

Shopgirl

2010-04-11T01:58:00.000-07:00

I learned every thing I knew from the shopgirl. She was awesome. I fantasised being her; fashionable, sophisticated ... married. Now pregnant. Hence she was leaving.

Coincidentally, she was a friend from my childhood, when we were kids living in Kirkton, in the timber houses on the estate. Did this have a bearing on my getting the job - she having put in a good word? The boss couldn't make up his mind. In the end, her old job - the full time sales assistant advertised in The Courier - was split into three part time posts.

Winkl van de Mens, was the name of the shop. The owner, who married a Scottish girl, was Dutch. Translated as: Shop of Man. The shop sold men's fashion wear. A shop similar to Old Navy or Burtons.

Yeeha! Me! Selling kit merrily to the opposite sex all day long. Dream job. I was nineteen.

Technique number one. Was easy.

The changing cubicles were set at the back of the shop and had those swinging wild-west saloon style doors, with the louvre slats. They gave little privacy. I learned that men are just as shy as women.

Shopgirl said:

'If a customer is trying on denim jeans, let him remove his own pair first ... then just as he pulls the new pair passed his ankles, swing open door - remember not to look Sharon, spare the bloke his blushes - and say,

How are you getting on? ... Do you need another size? ... I have those in stonewashed?

Customer reacts,

Er ... no ... er, I mean yes ... I'll take these.

And you have made a little commission.'

Me:

'Coool!'

Technique number two. A little trickier.

Get to know your customer. His size. Check him out. What style is he?

The jeans in the shop were hung on rods in compartments according to size. It was probably set up just to bamboozle the customer. Customers would fumble about the hangers for ages.

Shopgirl said:

'Pull two or three pairs ... sneak up on customer and say,

These what you're looking for?

Surprised. Sharon, I swear the bloke won't even try them on. He'll check the ticket ... Ye correct size - How did she know? And buy perhaps two of the three.

And you have made a little commission.'

Me:

'Coool!'

Technique number three. Retail confidential.

Butterflies

2010-04-09T08:58:00.000-07:00

I'm on my way to meet Kevin. In Edinburgh. I'm nervous. Butterflies.

Why is it when you like someone a lot you get nervous?

Why?

Behave out of character? Say things ... why did I just say that? Noooo ...

I think back to the day I met Kevin in the Oxford Bar. I can't remember what he looks like. Honestly. I was drunk (post here). My picture of him is fuzzy.

Inge advised to get over the nerves I am to think of Kevin naked. Naked!

A/ I am going to giggle ... giggle .... giggle.

B/ Weeewff ... get even moooore nervous ... Hot ... Then giggle some. Hot again. Whoa, put your clothes on!

No. No. I am going to keep calm and pretend I don't like him. Reverse psychology. See.

Butterflies will flutter bye bye. Triumph.

Little Miss Maverick

2010-04-08T01:33:00.000-07:00

Having been stung with life's injustice at four-ish years old (post here), I knew by five, that I had to keep my wits about me.

Another incident:

The Christmas Party. My first. At West March Primary School. There were balloons and games ... and ice cream and jelly, and ...

Whoa!

'I don't like ice cream and jelly, Miss.'

'Don't be daft, every kid likes ice cream and jelly ... here's your lovely ice cream and jelly.'

Seriously, I don't like ice cream and jelly and I had a big dollop melting like a slush pile on my paper plate. The jelly just sat and wiggled and winked. And there was music ... and party poppers ...

'Do you want more ice cream and jelly, Sharon?'

'I don't like ice cream and jelly, Miss.'

'Don't be daft, here's a lovely scoop of ice cream. It's Vanilla.' And a cold missile landed on top of my previous gunge.

BOLLOCKS!

I will tell you what happened to that ice cream and jelly. It disappeared into my new school satchel: the sticky smoothie it had became, the globules of Jello and the twisted cardboard plate. Into my NEW leather satchel. I hadn't even customised it yet.

I told my mummy crying. I am not going back.

Here, lay my first BIG lesson in life ...

'You have to go back, Sharon ... You go to school for five days and then have two days off.'

The following Christmas I missed the party. AWOL behind the garden shed.

Becauseey Lur-ve Yoo

2010-04-06T13:07:00.000-07:00

Inge's drunk. I left her at the bar in Bar Rio, griping to herself, something about Deek spending too much time with his wife, whilst I nipped to the basement loos to text Kevin. In private.

When I return Inge is sort of sped-angled across the bar with some bloke leaning over her with his tongue stuck in her ear.

'Hurrhum,' I clear my throat.

Inge comes round from her far-away look. 'Er, Shazzz, Babe ... This is mey berstestest pal Shazzzz ... hiccup ...' She says this to, humm ... a good looking bloke, though spoiled by being drunk. Two drunks together solving their problems. ... Maybe what I need.

I think about calling Mo Rocco. No. No. Mustn't call Mo - you can take a horse to water but you can't make it drink. Is been over a week. Dammit.

'Babe, this Carin' ... Great name ssat.' Inge's looking at me cock-eyed. 'Ssay waat Shazz ... when eh harve a kid .. calling it Lovin'.'

'The names Cairn,' says good looking drunk stranger and flicks over his hand for me to shake. Impressed. He's growing on me.

'Named Cairn, after the man made pile of stones ... in the manner of the Irish,' he continues proudly.

Irish too, even better.

I feel this sharp kick on my shin ... Ow-ya!

Inges slurrs hissing at my chin. 'I sor him first Shazzz. Beady eyesorff. Yoo got Kelfin and Roccomon.'

In darkness the stone becomes the buffalo.
In sunlight all is as it is.

Waassaat Shazzz?

With that I take off. I have a date with Kevin.

Old Times, Old Friends, Old Husband

2010-04-04T01:11:00.000-07:00

Having coffee with a friend the other day (a young attractive female, a lot younger than me. Dammit!) remarked - in only the way a best friend would - by commenting that I'm showing signs of age ... Gee thanks best friend:

Ye, she says, you can see lines around your eyes and there are lines around ...

Whoa Best friend are you done already?

Now blogging beauties you may think what I'm doing next is a tad narcissistic ... however, I'm doing this for therapy.

Here are some of my favourite photographs from my personal album ... before lines.

GIRLS NIGHTS!

Me and Best Friend

Holiday friend and me

Me and Best Friend

EX BOYFRIEND AND EX HUSBAND

Triple Goddess

2010-04-03T01:45:00.000-07:00

Those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life.
Rachel Carson

When I began writing my novel, I started from blank. My characters are true fiction. Not based on anyone I know, unlike Inge and Shaz. This is harder to do. (Though, I didn't know that at the time.)

So I began to look around for inspiration. One day as I was strolling around Edinburgh's old town, just off the Royal Mile and under a cobbled close I fell upon a cramped shop selling mystical potions, jewels, fairy dust, magical symbols and cards painted by the artist Briar.

Three women in Briar's painting - Triple Goddess - above, are my characters to a T. I adopted their physical attributes. Stunning! My characters are these women in an urban setting ... My heroine is the blonde, of course ... 'Cos blondes have more fun.

I bought more than an image, when I purchased this card. I bought a little magic. So intrigued with the story in the picture, that some of it happens in my novel.

My novel is women's fiction / satire. With a sprinkle of Charmed!

The Woman I Aspire To Be

2010-03-31T06:04:00.000-07:00

My childhood dream was always to have my own little home filled with animals. So what went wrong ...

1/ I lost my vision and fell for Man, the most superior of all animals. Dammit!

2/ Then I had a kid. Er ... no not a goat. A baby boy. And I love his little cotton socks to this day.

3/ My little family now down to two - me and kid - 'cos Man went off on his wayward journey. Goodbye and good riddance. Now inhabiting apartment living ... so no chance of furry critters here.

4/ Moved to larger apartment, where - damm authority! - (see post here) I snuck in my first puppy a toy poodle called Keighley. And my son - bless his little childhood spirit snuck in a kitten called Jodie ... and a stick insect in a jar, that we called Twiggy. Later swapping Twiggy for a set of football stickers. I was not happy ... I missed Twiggy.

5/ Two pets fell to one, when Keighley was involved in an accident and died. By the end of the year we bought Goofy and Cory. (The breeders of these papillions were giving two pups for the price of one.) But having two dogs and remember the cat Jodie, in an apartment, where no pets were allowed was a little too scary even for this maverick. So Cory changed to Bruno with a new owner.

6/ Still in apartment living ... How the Hell!!! ... though this time with private gardens, my little squeakers appeared. My guinea-piggies called Teddy and Sonny, arrived just in time to see the passing of Jodie at 18 years old.

All in all, I suppose you can say I do have my own little home filled with animals. Yet, the women I mention below are the women I aspire to be ...

Painting above is the Divine Sarah by Georges Clarin (1843-1919). Sarah was a great French actress of the day and an animal lover - she was know to have three dogs, a parrot, a cheetah, a monkey, and no fewer than seven chameleons.

Holly Marie Combs, American actress best known for Charmed according to my research, has 6 dogs, 3 horses, fish (4), 2 cats, 2 hamsters (one with three legs) and 2 rabbits. Sources say only the rabbits live indoors.

Brigitte Bardot, an animal loving icon. Was said to share her bed with 14 dogs.

One day ...

Spring In Scotland

2010-03-30T10:48:00.000-07:00

Because my neighbourhood has turned ugly: conditions like the Arctic. Gales; having destroyed my willow fence and tossed my terracotta filled daffodil-pots like a kid flipping coins, it has brought to mind my favourite lines from a favourite novel describing weather.

... the streets were grey and fuming with rain. It wasn't the nice kind of rain that rinses you clean, but the sort of rain I imagine they must have in Brazil. It flew straight down from the sky in drops the size of coffee saucers and hit the hot side walks with a hiss that sent clouds of steam writhing up from the gleaming, dark concrete.
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

In hibernation. AGAIN!!!

That's it I'm emigrating. Offers?

Writers And Their Dogs

2010-03-29T04:55:00.000-07:00

Sir Walter Scott, one of Scotland's famous writers (who coined tartan and tourism) lived at Abbotsford, where he was always surrounded by a posse of dogs.

I have sometimes thought of the final cause of dogs having such short lives, and I am quite satisfied it is in compassion to the human race; for if we suffer so much in losing a dog after an acquaintance of ten or twelve years, what would it be if they were to live double that time?
Sir Walter Scott 1771-1832

In fact, the breed Dandie Dinmonts (see painting Yorkshire Dandies by Lucy Waller 1882-1906, above) take their name from a character in Guy Mannering (1815). In Scott's novel, there is a character called Dandie, a lowland farmer, who owns terriers with names such as Auld Mustard and Young Pepper. Breeders of Dandie Dinmonts today, still refer to colour varieties as Mustard or Pepper.

Another, prolific writer, Dean Koontz says his dog, Trixie was an inspiration. He has subsequently written a book about his golden retriever, A Big Little Life. He talks about life as a dog owner here.

A Golden Retriever: Painting above Dog With Yellow Eyes by Jorg R. Dubin b 1955

Dean says of his dog Trixie, She came with that name ... sounded more like a stripper than a dog ... intelligent, lack of vanity ... embodiment of grace.

Dean Koontz has written more than 70 books. His muse is working for him! What of my muse? My dog?

Aka Goofy, who likes to climb into my guineapigs cage - Sonny and Teddy - and eat their dried food from their bowl. Huh? What a goof-ball!

Tut. Tut. My muse is not working for me ... my novel is not finished.

In their hey day! Goofy front from left, Cory (through no fault of his own has a new home and re-named Bruno) and my dearest Jodie (who passed away this January).

Fooled You!

2010-03-26T08:32:00.000-07:00

Like Butter Wouldn't Melt In Your Mouth

2010-03-19T01:26:00.000-07:00

I was a fully fledged maverick by four years old:

(Dictionary definition of maverick; a person who takes chances, departs from accepted course.)

An incident stands out in my mind:

I was around four-ish years old, perhaps younger and I liked horses even then. There was this BIG rocking horse at Blackness Road nursery school. A real beauty. A golden Palomino, like Roy Rogers horse from the movies. During playtime all the kids, it seemed, wanted to ride Big Bentley. I wanted to ride Big Bentley so badly. There were these three brothers ... spoilt brats ... who would push past us queue dwellers. They were big brutes for four-ish. They would kick Bentley too hard and holler too loud ...

Anyway, always - in my memory of things - always, just as I was next in line, I'd hear,

Nap!

Ach, ya gotta be kidding miss?

All these tiny cot beds were pulled out, the curtains drawn and within five minutes all us tots were down to our vests and panties in bed and in silence. Even the triplets. Hard silence.

Except ...

Eeck auuw. Eeck auuw.

I could feel the breeze on my little cherry cheeks as Big Bentley slowly creaked to a stall. And I'd blow him kisses like in the Horse Whisperer and I would lie awake dreaming ...

BOLLOCKS!

The Three Musketeers will bulldoze to the front of the queue again, once the nursery teachers were done with their gossip, their tea and their fags.

Life's injustice. I wasn't going to take it?

So, I told my mummy, when I got home. I am not going back! I never did get the ride of my life.

Smug Married

2010-03-18T01:56:00.000-07:00

Humph. Have woken up v. fed up. On top of everything, only two weeks to go until birthday, when will have to face up to fact that another entire year has gone by, during which everyone else except me has mutated into Smug Married, having children plop, plop, plop, right left and centre ...

This is an extract from Bridget Jones's Diary by Helen Fielding. Helen Fielding coined the phrase Smug Married. It is entirely a female phenomenon. I have never met a male Smug Married. I have met men who appear, in somewhat disbelief, that they have a woman who sticks around; picking up, cleaning up, organising ... and yet, there is an underlying embarrassment that they got their balls clipped.

'Jude had heard survey on the radio that by the turn of the millennium a third of all households will be single, therefore proving that at last we are no longer freaks, ... maintains men are so catastrophically unevolved that soon they will just be kept by women as pets for sex ... will be kept outside in kennels.'

Bridgit Jones's Diary was first published in 1996, before the millennium. My novel (Work In Progress) is inspired by Helen Fielding's book and it is post millennium. My Bridgit Jones is a Millennium Singleton. It is a what comes next (in my mind).

My millennium heroine no longer feels like a freak (Phew) ... and isn't irked by Smug Marrieds. Honestly. (Hell, she's even planning the wedding of her best friend) ... her boyfriends neither, live in kennels (One lives in penthouse condominium at Marina City in Chicago, another in an artist's studio in London's Soho) ... men being used just for sex (as implied in extract) ... YOU BET.

As for Smug Marrieds: I have lived long enough to see Smug Marrieds divorce ... and divorce yet again ...

That is the flip side of the marital coin. Pain. I know. I have been there.

Today, I can coin the phrase of Smug Singleton. Though, back to my novel. My heroine would never feel smug; she is too busy for that nonsense. Too busy searching for a happy medium in her relationships ...

Perhaps, she's more traditional than I realise.

I Have No Interest In Being Just Friends With A Man

2010-03-17T01:57:00.000-07:00

Can men and women really be just friends?

One of the blog sites I follow, geniustypes.com, wrote a post on the above. Told from the male perspective. I learned much from reading it. (Read it here.)

Mr Genius himself, says that women believe they can be friends with guys, hang out, go shopping - purely platonic - and that everything is hunky dory. Whilst the male pal / shopping buddy is secretly hoping for the 'friendship' to develop.

I myself, have never fallen into the grey area of having men as pals. They (the men I know) simply would not allow it. And being frank, if I am not sexually attracted to a man, then I have no interest in hanging out. Why would I hang out with a man if I am not having sex? Where's the fun in that?

Someone said to me the other day - after having read a few Inge and Shaz episodes - that I didn't like men.

It seemed like a statement and not a question so I didn't answer. I also didn't understand if the comment was directed at me personally or that Inge and Shaz is being interpreted as unsympathetic towards men.

Inge and Shaz is a fictional satire of both female to female friendships and relations with the opposite sex.

If the question was personal, then my answer is, that I do like men. Out of all the species of animals men are my favourites. Ha!

Perhaps this person was implying that I don't take men seriously. My answer to this person is look into your own insecurities because that's where the answer lies.

However, if I come over as being unsympathetic towards men it's only because I didn't understand the male perspective. But having read the aforementioned post, extract below - now I do.

'This brings up an interesting view of how men get hurt in relationships. Everyone is familiar with a common way that women get hurt: a man sleeps with her and never calls. While women get hurt by sharing something that is sacred to them, their sexual activity, men get hurt by sharing what is sacred to us, our emotional energy. While I am not trying to make excuses for men, or convince anyone to feel sorry for us, I do think that people should be aware of how this works.'

Why I'll Never Be given A Job In The Magazine Industry

2010-03-16T06:05:00.000-07:00

Do I even want to work in the magazine industry?

I did once, until I realised how stagnant journalism is.

If I did work for a magazine, I sure would not commission this teaser line from the front page of a current woman's glossy lifestyle magazine, below.

I Have Chocolate Every Day
and still get to a size 8.

Well woopa doodeeedo!

Is that the best line a modern - weight loss - magazine in 2010 can come up with? Someone out there seems to think that women's brains don't develop after twenty-four months of life. Does any self respecting, intelligent, self assured, healthy, mature woman give a fig about chocolate?

We run businesses, run homes, raise kids and manage husbands. (Ok, you got me on the latter, I don't have a great track record with husbands, maybe husbands don't need managed. Perhaps they just exist ... in beautiful harmony. Whatever.)

I stopped being seduced by chocolate around ten years old; I remember my mum encouraging me to help with housework with the promise of a bar of chocolate. I said mum chocolate? - it might have been a Fry's Cream (my favourite at the time) - forget chocolate, my rates are £1.50 an hour.

This was the teaser line: the one chance to beat the competition and entice the consumer to part with their money. Who the hell are they marketing at? Ok, I do know - people who are trying to lose weight. Give women some credit, please!

'Ok, Smarty-pants,' I hear you holler, 'what' your line?'

Open Your Heart To A New Romance

Every woman know's that the possibility of a sexual encounter in a new relationship has pounds drop like leaves from a Rowan tree in autumn.

The Whole Order Of things Is Messed Up

2010-03-14T10:49:00.000-07:00

"What is happening to this world? ... What happened to the good old traditional ways? ... No one seems to take notice of the order of things anymore?"

"Oh, stop moaning Shaz and pick up the phone and call Kevin."

"Inge," I look at her in desperate seriousness, "how do I know he's really interested in me?"

"He gave you his phone number, didn't he?"

"He gave me a beer mat with the contact details of the place where he works."

"Ok, so he never actually asked you to call him ... but when you were talking could you suss out if he was into you. Did he ask if he could call you?"

"Er ... Hummm ... Ummph ... I can't say ... I was drunk."

"Ok, give me that beer mat, since I am your best friend Shaz, I will call Kevin on your behalf."

"Eeeeeeeeeee," I jump from Inge's sofa and run around like a dog having a mad half hour.

"What's wrong now!"

"He's going to think I am a real wimp if I can't phone myself."

"Ok," says Inge handing me her landline. "Do it."

"I can't ... Eeeeeeeeeeee."

I run out of Inge's living room into the kitchen and put the kettle on. I take a couple of washed mugs from the draining board and then place into each a teabag taken from a bright green canister. I can hear Inge's muffled voice talking on the telephone.

I sheepishly re-enter Inge's living room carrying a mug of hot tea in each hand. I pass the one with milk and sugar to Inge.

"And?"

Inge smirks.

"The good news or the bad news?"

"Oh no! He can't remember who I am?"

"Ha!" laughs Inge. "Shaz, the bad news is that today is his day off ... so he wasn't there."

"Phew."

"The good news is ... we know his day off is Friday."

"And that's good? You just said it was bad?"

"Yes, it's good," said matter of factually.

"The other good news," continues Inge, "is that I have fixed the order of things, as I left your phone number with a message asking him to call Shaz."

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee."

List With A Twist

2010-03-13T01:32:00.000-08:00

I was talking with fellow blogger and friend Susan, from Brighter Mind Brighter Life last week in Edinburgh about the movie The Bucket List starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman, and which I have not seen yet. (It's on my movies to see list.) Susan has her bucket list of amazing, adventurous stuff, that held me in complete envy. (To Find out more about Susan visit her blog here.) So I have decided to write myself a list. Here's the twist.

My bucket list will be a bookish bucket list ... Y-A-W-N. No, no it's going to be fun. Listen up:

1. Visit the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam. (This year is the 50th anniversary of the museum.)

2 Climb to the top of the Sir Walter Scott Monument in Edinburgh. (287 steps.)

3 Attend the Wigtown Book Festival, Scotland.

4 Work in a bookshop. NO. NO. Own a bookshop.

5 Visit the largest library in the world. (The Chicago Public Library).

6 Have sex in a library ... No no, I didn't write that. There would be much Shhhh. SSShhhh. SSHHHH!!! It would never work.

7 Get round to researching funding for writers and artists and apply. (Then with the cash do number 8.)

8 Go to Paris and hang out in Montmartre, as that's what writers and artists are meant to do.

9 Finish my novel.

10 Hunt for a literary agent (once 9 is complete).

11 Attend the Publisher's Fair in London - Check. (I did this last year, 2009.)

12 Read the whole series by Alexander McColl Smith, The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency. There are 11 in the series so far with 14 having been commissioned. I've read two.

13 Believe that working in the book industry is a real career: 'cos no one else in Dundee seems to think so. And take Pumpkin Press out of the red into the black. (May need a lottery win for that.)

14 Marry a millionaire, then may increase my chances of succeeding at number 13.

Dundee's A Literary City

2010-03-11T11:13:00.000-08:00

I returned to Dundee from a trip to Edinburgh last week. I jumped into a taxi at the rail station.

Dundee Taxi driver:
So where have you come from?

Me:
Edinburgh.

Dundee Taxi driver :
(Looking me up and down out of the corner of his left eye.)
If you don't mind me asking, what were you doing in Edinburgh?

Me:
Visiting a book event.

Dundee Taxi driver:
(Repeats me verbatim, like I am talking Greek.)
Ahh ... visiting a book event?

Me:
Ye, a meet the author event.

Dundee Taxi driver:
Er ... ahh ... hmmm.

Me:
You may know of him he lives in Edinburgh. It's the famous author, Alexander McColl Smith. He wrote The No 1 Ladies Detective Agency, it's been televised for the telly.

Dundee Taxi driver:
Er ... ahh ... hmmm.

Me:
Probably he's not your style. Are you more of an Ian Rankin man?

Dundee Taxi driver:
(shaking his head in a, I only read The Sun - ye for page three - kind of way.)
Well, I dinnay really get much chance to read. But I did read The Rats by Stephen King.

Me:
James Herbert.

Dundee Taxi driver:
Ahh, ye ... that could be right ... 'twas long time ago.

Me:
Have you heard of a guy called Rabbie Burns?

Mama We Love You

2010-03-07T00:21:00.000-08:00

I like looking around thrift shops and charity shops for unusual books. This weekend I found this quirky little gem in Barnados in Reform Street.

My Mum in which children from all over Britain (some kids being from celebrity families) express their ideas about their mum in pictures, poems and stories. First published in 1997.

Considering Mother's Day is 14 March (in Britain) I thought it apt and bought it for a bargain £1.49.

I laughed at this,

I know about sex, Mummy. And you and Daddy have done it twice.

By Holly Branson aged 7, daughter of Richard Branson (celebrity entrepreneur).

I thought this was sweet,

I think my mummy is silly because she clears up after me and I make it a mess again, but I love her lots and lots.

Emma Sian Bryant aged 7.

Booklover Seeks ...

2010-03-01T01:33:00.000-08:00

501 Must-Read Books says,

The best analogy for choosing a book might be that of the personal and lonely heart's columns. A typical ad might read:

Smart inquisitive mind, imaginative, restless, open to new experiences, good sense of humour, seeks similar, compassionate, knowledgeable, surprising, intellectually stimulating, emotionally uplifting, thought provoking, distracting, colourful, rich, thrill seeking, techie, partner or partners fro lifetime commitment to fun, adventure and new experiences.

Remember when someone you know recommends a book and are excited because they love this book and its author ... And you are excited just to receive a recommendation ... Well, 501 Must Read Books does this.

You may not see me for sometime ...

Talent: Decoy At The Oxford Bar (Part 3)

2010-02-24T02:28:00.000-08:00

Deek finally arrives and he and Inge take off for the Rhu Rouge Bed and Breakfast along George Street for illicit sex.

For the next hour I stare dozy eyed into a second Americano served in a cup as big as a soup bowl and moan to myself that I hate it when coffee goes stone cold. I sulk and glance up and wink at Kevin the barman - we're on first name terms now - gesturing for him to come over.

Fifteen minutes ago Kevin had sat next to me on his work-break: Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth (plans for the exhibition at The National Portrait Gallery, now well out of the window) I pour my heart out to Kevin - About my job at The Dundee Recorder and how tough it is to work freelance and my novel is just crap and should I marry Mo Rocco and what does he think of cheating married men? And other ramblings of the drunk sort.

"Hey, Shaz another coffee?"

I nod.

He smiles and as he does I notice a little twist, where his smile perks up towards his left ear. This makes his eyes twinkle and I think as I watch him march off for my coffee, that he is sex on legs.

"My! My! What talent in The Oxford Bar." Mental note: This is where the good men are.

In fact, I have a leisurely inspection of the talent around the bar starting in the furthest recesses and ending at the table in front of the booth, where Inge and I had been sitting all afternoon.

"Nooo way! Oh MY God!" I mutter under my breath. "Oh, no it can't be? ... Can it?"

I stare at the two men sitting facing each other: one is wearing a dark blue business suit, clean shaved, flat top, around thirtyish - he is busy flicking pages and scribbling into a diary. The other is older, and a little rough around the edges but good looking none-the-less. Except ... hmm ... he needs a hair cut ... Oh, and a suit would perhaps sit better than the casual shirt with blue jeans. And ... and a shave ... no, no I like the whiskers, I decide. Yes, yes, he definitely has the thumbs up ... It is in fact, Ian Rankin.

"Dammit!" I'm still sozzled and I meet Ian Rankin. Well, I have not actually met him, just ogling like a crazed fan. I watch him squirm a little uncomfortably and am sure he's looking at me out of the side of his eye.

Kevin returns with hot coffee.

"This one's on the house, Shaz."

He smiles that sexy smile again that lights up the room ... and my heart and my mind wanders into all sorts of fantasies.

"Ah, you noticed one of our regulars, Shaz, " he nods sideways. "Our most valued customer, Ian Rankin, an idol of yours, you were telling me."

"Huh ... Ian who?" I smile love struck on Kevin.

A door bursts open to my left and Inge and Deek beckon - it's time to leave. I can't help thinking that Deek looks worn out. And now he has to go home to his wife and say he's had a hard day at the office. I think no wonder cheaters have heart attacks at sixty.

I get up and say to Kevin it's time to go.

"Good bye, Kevin."

"Take this," he says, thrusting something into my clasp, then off he marches to his universe behind the bar.

"What's that?" asks Inge as we stride along Heriot Row to Deek's car. "A beer mat?"

"A memento from The Oxford Bar ... From Kevin."

I inspect it closely and flip it over from its glossy side bearing the premises details and website and a little history. On the cardboard back is a hand written message in firm black Biro,

From one author to another,
Ian Rankin 2010.

In Memory Of Jodie

2010-02-22T01:56:00.000-08:00

Some of you knew her as Boss Cat, her nic-name: There is only one boss in this house and that's the cat. I also called her Girly Cat, but her real name was Jodie. Jodie Cat.

Last summer she was as healthy as a pig in muck. I had been in denial since then. I knew she wasn't well, but I didn't think that she would die. She''ll get better; she'll pull through.

In January past; even I knew I had to take her to the vet. She had lost weight - she wasn't eating. The atmosphere was somber, tests were done, the vet said I had a decision to make.

She was going blind, and had kidney failure and other stuff that I couldn't take in because I was in shock. Jodie was 18 years old - and my mum said that even though she didn't die of old age, it was being old that gave way to her illnesses. My friend said that she obviously had a good life - 18 is a good age - you will miss her. My son pointed out that she had had a litter of kitties so she has given back to the world.

I collected Jodie from the vet's clinic on Friday after her tests and set a date for Monday 25th January 2010 at 11.10 for her to rest. That weekend was the hardest of my life.

I have had many pets in my life-time and have lost a beloved pet before. (Comes with the territory of being an animal lover.) But Jodie was my favourite.

That weekend was spent with her sitting on my lap. I read or blogged. Every time I looked at her I cried, knowing what I had to do. Knowing of what was to come.

On Monday, I seriously thought of running away: packing up the car just the two of us - but you can't outrun death. She was dying.

In the end my son was at the vet clinic to do the deed. I had forgotten that Jodie was originally my son's childhood cat. He and his granny (my mother) were in cahoots and paid £5.oo for her from a pet shop and sneaked her home. It must have been a terrible situation for my son.

Ironically, it's easier since she has died. The hardest was having her for that last weekend. Jodie may have just been a cat, but she was as healthy as a pig in muck last summer ... Man or beast, you never know when your number's coming up.

We miss you, Jodie. (Especially Goofy, who is pining like Greyfriar's Bobby.)

Single Men Are Hard To Find In Edinburgh

2010-02-20T01:18:00.000-08:00

Looking for a lover of books ... to love?

The Edinburgh Book Shop held a speed date event on 9th February 2010, just for book lovers. How cool!

Of course, by the time I found out about the event it had been and gone. Darnit! Story of my life.

The event initially consisted of 15 book loving guys and 15 book loving gals to hook up for 3 minutes each. (The usual speed date scenario.)

Apparently, there had been a huge effort involved by the organisers to find single men in Edinburgh. It has to be said that good men are hard to find. And on the night it transpires there were two no shows. Men ... tisk, tisk. But there was good news:

18 couples wanted to see each other again. Now that's success!

If you want to hear the nitty-gritty details, BBC Scotland' Book Cafe recorded the event. You can listen to it at the link below -

BBC Scotland's Book Cafe

And put my name down for the next one!

Awards Again. AGAIN!

2010-02-19T02:13:00.000-08:00

Zonks ago I was given awards to display down my right column. Today I received another.

Woot! Woot! (That's me blowing my own trumpet.)

Now, I would like to thank my adorable Sex-Kittens:

Be True, awarded by Lianne from At My Kitchen Table. I am honoured, thank you. Lianne's blog takes you on a journey - don't worry, she provides maps. One of my favourite stories of hers is A Penny Saved. She also has set up a second blog for doggie lovers. (Yep, I'm one of those.)

Be True, stands for integrity, commitment to excellence and stubborn optimism. (Ye, that's Me.)

I share 5 obsessions.

I also received Kreative Blogger and Honest Scrap (today's award) from Sharon at Random Thoughts, thank you. Sharon, is a writer like myself, though she is of the historical fiction variety. Which means you actually learn something, when you are reading something of hers. Unlike my fiction. (Unless you can say that a bendy penis was something you didn't already know of.)

Kreative Blogger - write 7 things about yourself we don't know. Honest Scrap - write 10 truthful things about yourself.

Is there anything left to know? I will combine seven things, ten honest truths and five obsessions.

OBSESSIONS

blogging (Surprise! Surprise!)

writing my novel

property developing (hey, here's something you didn't know about me)

keeping healthy (except on Sundays ... long lie, fry-up, hangover - get the picture?)

writing about Inge and Shaz

TRUTH

I have a phobia about having a bath (long story). So I only shower.

I am scatterbrained.

I have been married once. Divorced once. And engaged twice.
(Or three times, if you include the time I was with a current boyfriend and we were both drunk and getting cozy and I said I love you, for the first time. And he said I love you, back. And I decided to push my luck, and asked if we should get engaged and he said Ye great idea ... then his eyes glazed over in a panic stricken way and he said, What did you ask me again?)

I love reading self help, motivational books.

I don't smoke. (Connected to health obsession - see above.)

Men's Anatomy: Decoy At The Oxford Bar (Part 2)

2010-02-17T01:20:00.000-08:00

DISCLAIMER: I don't usually put in a disclaimer at the start of a post, but in this case - if you are a man, best you don't read this. Girls, you know how the dialogue goes - girls talking with alcohol ...

We arrive at the Oxford Bar in Heriot Row. It's not long after 12 noon, but what the hell, we order a couple of Vodkas. Inge's just received a text from Deek to say he is on his way.

"Whaaat! He's just leaving Dundee now! That's another hour, Inge. It's ok for you, once he's here you two are off for a little hanky-spanky at the Rhu Rouge Guest House on George Street."

"Shaz, you said you would browse the exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery ... Ahh, Sweetie, cheer up. Right, let me buy you another Vodka.

FOUR VODKAS EACH LATER: And a text from Deek saying he's held up in traffic on the Forth Bridge.

"I don't know what you see in Deek - he's married!" I slur drunkenly to Inge. "He must be good in bed, then. Huh?"I say prying. And smirking a little.

"He is, apart from ... oh no, I can't tell you."

"Yes, you can."

"No, you will laugh ... Promise not to laugh?"

"Ye, Ye." I make the sign of crossing my heart. "What is it?"

"Deek's got a bendy penis."

"Whaa ... aaat!" laughing.

"You said you wouldn't laugh."

"Soz Inge. What do you mean? Like semi erect bendy?"

"Goodness NO Shaz! This is my Deek we are speaking about. When Deek's hard it's like galvanised rubber. No, I mean there is a slight kink ... to his ... er thing ... Bends over to the left."

Ah ahh ... I am trying to visualise what that would look like, and take a big gulp, or three, of my Vodka.

"Ok, ok ... it's curved more like a semi circle," Inge continues.

I make a face. "Does that not hurt when ... you know ... at it."

"Funnily enough it straightens itself out ... when you know ... in."

"But what about the other stuff, Inge?"

"Shaz, when you have been in a relationship with a man for a while you get to know how to manage his tool. We cope."

That's true ... when you have been in a relationship for a while you get to know every crease, every foible. I am deep in thought and take the last big gulp of my drink draining the glass. "Something similar happened to me, Inge."

"It did?"

"Remember that guy I met from Dundee College ... what was his name?"

"I don't know his name, Shaz."

"Remember he was in my journalism class?"

"Shaz, I don't know his name."

"No neither do I ... anyway, he had a bendy penis."

"What, semi erect bendy?"

"No ..." and I lean a little closer to Inge in our booth, "... non erect".

Sharp intake of breath from Inge "... you mean?" Inge moves in real close and whispers real quiet in my ear. "You mean impotent?"

"Yes. But only on a Wednesday."

"Wednesday? How come?"

"Well, we would hang out on a Friday and Saturday night and stay at mine and, hey, hunky-dory. But on Wednesday, I would go stay to his place and" ... I move in real close to Inge and whisper, "... impotent."

"Shaz it's match of the day on Wednesdays. He would have had a few beers. You never hang out with a bloke on a Wednesday! Shaz, everyone knows that. "

Ahhh! Eureka moment. I smirk, this conversations going somewhere.

"Shaz go get us another couple of drinks."

"Vodka again?" I ask, as I rise and stagger to the bar tripping over a stool that deliberately jumps in front of me and I stumble and crash land against the bar, whilst shouting up my order to the bar man over at the far end. "Two Vodka cocks .. er.. oops ... cokes. That's COKES. Vodak cokes.

Right act sober Shaz. You are in Edinburgh at the Oxford Bar ... high brow establishment. Stand up straight. Try focus. I think all this in my head. (I hope I am saying all this in my head but I may have been muttering under my breath.)

Bar man gives me a funny look. Then he does something completely remarkable:

He puts ice into two filled glasses and then ... yes, you guessed ... two straws. Two freaking bendy straws. I am going to explode, I know I am.

I throw a fiver onto the bar and tell the bar man to keep the change. I grab the drinks and stagger, remembering to take a large swerve past the jumping stool - hearing a muffled voice behind me, "What change?" Yes I forgot this is Edinburgh - I make it back to our booth.

I fall into my seat in hysterics, tears running down my cheeks, I can't talk but point intermittently at the straws between fits of giggles. Inge finally gets it - as best friends do, same wave length and all that - but she may well just be laughing at me, being pissed out of my head. Courtesy of Smirnoff. Thank you.

Decoy At The Oxford Bar (Part 1)

2010-02-16T07:03:00.000-08:00

I want to tell Inge about my Valentine's date, sort of. And Inge wants a favour. So we kill two birds with one stone.

Inge is seeing Deek again. Again. And Deek is a married man. Still.

So, as it transpires, I am the decoy.

Let me explain:

Inge is meeting Deek in Edinburgh (less chance of bumping into anyone they know) and Inge has told her mum, that she is going shopping with me along Prince's Street.

"So why do I actually need to be in Edinburgh?" I say to Inge, on the 11.05 Dundee to Waverley, shuttle service."

"'Cos my mother, as you know Shaz, will ask you how our day went and you will forget and say something like - Oh Mrs Strudel, its been years since I visited Edinburgh. My mother, the nosy so and so, will put two and two together. She doesn't approve of Deek, as you know Shaz.

Oh well, I am quite happy to be having an all expenses trip to the Oxford Bar in Edinburgh's New Town. You never know - you know who - might be in for a quite pint. Ahh, wishful thinking.

So I sit on the train and tell Inge, how my dinner date with Mo Rocco went on Sunday night.

"I am still not sure about him ... I sometimes find our conversations weird."

"In what way?"

"Well, I just got tucked into my starter, when Mo begins ..."

"What did you have?"

"Huh?"

"Starter?"

"Oh, spicy prawn kebabs, and Mo starts with ..."

"Yummy, the Agacan do great starters ..."

"Shut up Inge! THIS WAS WHAT MO SAID:

You know a thousand emotions have swept through me these past few nights ... I don't comprehend half of them Shaz ... I wonder if any night will ever be again like these evenings in Scotland ... your company is like a night in a dream ..."

"You two still not had sex yet?"

"Huh?"

"Obvious."

"It is?"

"Men don't recite poetry of this sort once they are having sex with a woman."

"Aaaah, don't say that."

"It's true, Shaz."

"Why aren't you having sex with, Mo? He travelled 3000 miles to be with you," says Inge, turning to look out over the North Sea and the caravan lets and the dog walkers along the beach, as we zip by Burnt Island.

I too, take a contemplative look as a late morning sun dazzles the sea, sparkling like diamonds.

"'Cos ... " I whisper. "I want the romance to last."

Valentine Date

2010-02-13T01:29:00.000-08:00

I catch up with Inge at Park School just before the bell. I catch sight of her unruly hair amid a cluster of mums and march right up to her pointing my mobile in her face.

What, with the traffic noise from the school run and the bell screaming just at this point, Inge misses what I say. Mistakenly, she takes my phone, puts it to her ear, hidden under a jungle of curls, and says "Hi!"

"It's a bloody text, Inge!" I roll my eyes, but in so doing, calms the tension and my annoyance disappears somewhat.

"Huh. What?"

"Read the bloody text, Inge."

Guess whoz on th scene!!! ... Mo rocco!!! Buy a hat?

"Oh!"

"You sent that text to your address book, didn't you Inge? Inge, I'm in your address book." I roll my eyes again - funnily enough, there is a calming effect once more. Mental note.

"Well I think you should just marry Mo, Shaz ... I'm excited for you."

"He lives in America."

"Even better."

Another roll of my eyes.

"I would come visit you in Springfield, Missouri, Shaz ... Mo Rocco's a millionaire. He's friends with Brad Pitt."

"Doug Pitt."

"Near enough."

"Don't you think ... MO'S A LITTLE WEIRD," I shout over the babble of primary school children making a bee line for respective parents.

"Of course he's weird ... HE'S A MAN."

Now everyone knows, I have a date with Mo Rocco this Sunday night: Valentines night no less. Talk about pressure.

Rudegirl

2010-02-12T02:01:00.000-08:00

It takes a degree of intelligence to be rude. I say this, as the woman interviewing me was the regional manager and to gain a position such as this, you have to be smart. Right?

The incident in question, happened last Wednesday 3rd February, beginning with my entering the premises in Castle Street (ye, Dundee once had a city centre castle) and saying to the receptionist wearing the name tag Wilma, "Hi, Wilma, I'm Sharon McPherson and I've come for my interview, for Executive Desk Coordinator." (That's receptionist to you and me.)

"What's your name?"

"Er ... Sharon McPherson."

"No, we don't have that name, let me write it down."

Rising panic attack from me. I suppress it.

"Ok, Are you a Mick or a Mac?"

"Mick," I say as I pull out my letter of confirmation. Yes, definitely Wednesday 3rd February at 3pm.

"OK, so you're Jane McPherson."

"Sharon."

Blank stare

"My name is Sharon you said Jane."

"Oh sorry. Please take a seat, Jenny has just popped out."

I take a seat pissed off - they have no record of my name, yet I have a letter confirming my interview; I am here at 3 pm prompt and the interviewer is not even in the building; I was up all night last night researching the company buff on the Internet and, to top it off, I snagged two pairs of tights in preparation for this interview. Rude.

Five minutes later Jenny breezes in with a can of diet coke in one hand and a Gregs paper bag containing something greasy in the other. I don't get a chance to see her properly as there is a pillar in the way and she doesn't take a moment to say hi or apologise for having me wait. Rude.

Wilma flits through to Jenny's office and I hear her say, "That's Jane for an interview".

I say to Wilma on her return, "It's Sharon." Wilma flits back into Jenny's office and I hear her say, "No, it's Sharon."

I think I hear something like Whatever from Jenny but I could be mistaken.

Again five minutes later, Jenny enters the stage in a flurry of drama (I couldn't help noticing the crumbs from a Gregs sausage roll around her mouth and stifle a giggle).

"Oh, profusely sorry ... such a day ... interviews ... hectic ... your the sixth interviewee ... "

My heart bleeds, I think to tell her but don't and instead make a mental note to stop applying for loony jobs.

Jenny shows me into her office which contains a single desk and two chairs. There is a laptop flipped open on the desk and I could swear Facebook is onscreen, but Jenny quickly clicks her mouse. There is absolutely nothing else in the room. No calendars on the wall, no pens, no nothing. How peculiar.

"So tell me about yourself Jane."

"Sharon."

"Oh, profusely sorry Sharon ... phew ... what a day of interviews ... we had a cancellation and what a palava finding a replacement ... ahh ... and you will never believe this. Well, a guy just phoned, straight out of the blue, in the off chance of any work ... what a godsend ... and his track record at sales ... excellent ..."

All I hear from Jenny is blah as I think, that if this was a scene from a situ-comedy (Perhaps, The Office) I would stand up and punch her mouth, perhaps dislodge a few of Gregs crumbs, but since I am not violent (except this post here). I let Jenny steal my limelight/my interview and ramble and focus instead on another ladder, that I spot in my tights. Streuth ... three pairs of tights!

Jenny winds up the interview with we'll be in touch. To which I can assure you - to this day - I have heard nothing. So I use my powers of guestimation, that I did not get the job.

What a rude girl.

Stardom Is A Monster - Be Warned

2010-02-11T06:15:00.000-08:00

I am a woman just like any other. I have two ears, two eyes, a nose and a mouth. I have feelings and thoughts and I am a wife and a mother above all else. But my life is becoming impossible. My soul is not my own any more. Stardom to me is a monster, like the sorcerer's apprentice. I cannot live as I want. I merely exist underground. If I want fresh air in my home, I cannot open my window because there's a photographer sitting on the roof opposite with a telescopic lens. There is very little in my life that I can call my own.

Brigit Bardot 1960

Be careful what you wish for ... it might come true! Brigitte Bardot's level of stardom is not common - thankfully.

Bardot is another of my icons, mainly because of her love for animals. I am a pet lover too and would choose (do choose) pets over people. (Did I love my guinea-pig more than I loved my ex boyfriend? Hmm ... oh, that's a toughy ... Yes!)

I have just bought a biography written by Jeffery Robinson from a second hand bookshop. (Now added to my reading list.)

I was in St Tropez, last summer and asked my tour guide, Where is Brigitte Bardot's house? He waved a French arm north south westish and told me her house is very lovely. Glancing through Jeffery Robertson's book I read that, when a local is asked by a tourist where Brigitte Bardot lives, they point in the opposite direction, thus helping her hold onto her pricacy. Ahhh ... so that explains it!

Here is an interesting article posted last year to mark her 75 birthday.

Quotes of Brigitte from the article:

I have been very happy, very rich, very beautiful, much adulated, very famous and very unhappy'

'Animals have never betrayed me. They are an easy prey, as I have been throughout my career. So we feel the same. I love them'

'I started out as a lousy actress and have remained one'

'I am not finding pregnancy much of a joy. I am afraid of childbirth, but I can't find a way of avoiding it'

'I am really not interested in the cinema. I loathed it when I started six years ago, and I don't enjoy it even now'

'It is sad to grow old but nice to ripen'

Apprentice Novelist Wanted

2010-02-09T02:31:00.000-08:00

Candidate must be original, a good story-teller and hold a firm grasp of the written word. The successful person should be prepared to commit 100% to learning the craft. Overtime will include giving up both socialising and watching television and in essence becoming a recluse. Only avid readers need apply:

For further details and application form please contact:

Ms I. Wish
21 Hopeful Street
Read
IF0 NL9

Of course, there is no such job. I will never pick up The Dundee Courier on a Friday and see such an opportunity. (In fact, The Courier on Fridays is scant on opportunities as it is.)

The good news is, if you do have a burning desire to work in publishing or the writing industry here are four web sites to try:

www.paidtowrite.co.uk

jobs.buskisa.com

jobs.guardian.co.uk/jobs/media/publishing

www.thebookseller.com

Good luck!

Celebrity Status? Moi? - I'm On A Roll

2010-02-01T03:39:00.000-08:00

Apparently people on Facebook (though not me as yet, something to do with this post here) for this week are switching their photos to their celebrity look-a-likes. I found this out reading Sierra's blog. (Her dobblegangers are Rachel McAdams and Angelina Jolie.)

Someone once said I looked like Agneta Faltskog from one of the most famous, iconic (perhaps even cheesy) but never-the-less, most copied and loved bands in the world - ABBA.

Now we are both older: (she's 15 years older than me)

When I heard this, I didn't know what to do with the information ... but, I guess it can't be a bad think being likened to one of pop culture's legends. Pity I can't hold a tune.

Marilyn Monroe and Me

2010-01-30T07:52:00.001-08:00

Marilyn Monroe is one of my icons and I collect pictures, books, dvds etc. I am fascinated by her life and death, work and love-life:

Did you know that when Marilyn died her ex husband American Baseball player, Joe DiMaggio had a half-dozen red roses delivered 3 times a week to her crypt for 20 years ... and when he died in 1999 on his deathbed in his last breath said, 'I'll finally get to see Marilyn.'

Last night whilst I was waiting for my friend to call to go to the pub I get the predictable text,

Sorry, late as usual, on my way x

To kill time I took some photos of Marilyn and me for you.

This photograph was taken of her in Korea, as she made an appearance to boost the morale of the soldiers. I am sure the objective worked. Though my photo is in black and white; she wore a skin tight purple sequined dress - with no underwear. Nah! I'd never go out without underwear ... unless for a bet and the reward had pretty well be good.

This is one of my favourite photos. Although staged this photo is Marilyn doing what Marilyn did best - create her persona.

Oops, I stole the limelight ...

Women Don't Make The Best Of Friends

2010-01-28T10:30:00.000-08:00

I'm currently reading It's Just A Date by Greg Behrendt and Amiira Ruotola-Behrendt of He's Just Not That Into You fame.

Chapter three reminded me of a girlfriend I once had:

Dating someone new is always exciting ... It's like you've entered this Utopian little existence ... You talk constantly, see each other daily, run home from work ... blow out your friends, go into work late ... skip your yoga class ...

The blowing out your friends caught my attention. I had a friend called Heather, who would come out on girls nights, call and do girly things when she was single. When she was in a relationship she disappeared from the radar. Only to surface with a telephone call a year, perhaps three, once her relationship had broken up.

"Hey, Sharon hows things? Are you going out this Saturday?"

"Er ... who's this? Heather WHO?"

So she would team up with our crowd for a few weeks and low and behold once she had trapped ... off to her Utopia, and off the radar for another year or so. Great friend!

Not so long ago I had a girls' night out with a friend of many years. I had never been on a girls night out with this old friend because she had been in a long term relationship. Our friendship was more yoga, coffee and lunch, nothing too intimidating for the boyfriend. (I totally don't get this. If I want to do something I just do it. The last person(s) I asked for permission from was my mum and dad when I was a kid. But some women say, I need to see what hubby is doing first. I totally don't get it).

Anyway, Shirley had broken up and now was wanting the girls night out treatment. I agreed to go on a night out with her and her bestest friend (her words) whom I had never met. I did.

The night was not going too well I felt - two's company three's a crowd - perhaps? To cut a long story short the girls disappeared on me in the night club. I searched high and low, I texted (no answer), I phoned their mobile (no answer). They thought they were being funny. I left on my own and hailed a taxi.

Cab driver through his rear view mirror:

"Good night?"

"Hum .. hmm ... ye."

"It wasn't ... I can tell."

"That obvious ... Huh?"

"Girl friends or boyfriend? ... And my names Brian, by the way."

I smile.

"Sharon ... and it's girl friends."

And I told him the whole story. (Not the short version here.)

Taxi driver says:

"Get out your mobile."

"Excuse me?"

"Get out your mobile ... this is what you text that Shirley girl."

"Huh ... er ... ok ... what?"

This was my text (as instructed to me by Brian the taxi man).

Soz Shirley. Had to leave. Trapped sexy boy. Tell all tomorrow xx

Many years ago I had a group of friends (or so I thought) who started a rumour about me and circulated it around our social circle.

This was their mentality. They put it around that, I had a reputation for being good in bed.

(Ah, well, ha, maybe there is a grain of truth there ... no smoke with out fire and all that.)

However, these girls wanted to make out that I, Shy Spice (remember), was a slut of sorts.

It didn't damage my reputation at all ...

I am legend.

PS Brian the taxi man asked me for a date ... all's well that ends well.

Boy Meets Girl

2010-01-23T06:09:00.000-08:00

Universal dating ritual. For those who do not want to watch the movie clip:

Sexy girl and plainer girlfriend dancing in local small town night club. Sexy girl (Penelope Cruz) spots Jack the Lad (Javier Bardem) - macho and high on testosterone - eyeballing her.

Sexy girl tells her friend,

"Don't look now but there's a guy who fancies himself eyeing me up standing over there."

"Standing where?" says plain girl turning her head.

"Noooo, don't look yet!"

"When?"

"Not yet ... hold on."

"WHEN?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter now, he knows I know he's looking at me."

"So, can I look now?"

"Let's go to the ladies loos and pass him on the way and remember to take a good look and tell me what you think."

In the ladies room:

Plain girl says, "He's got the hots for you shame that he's a player."

"Ye, I wouldn't kiss him for the crown jewels."

Enter, er ... sexy macho man.

"Get out the Ladies loos!" chorus the girls.

Hunk steals a kiss from sexy girl, who tells him to sod off.

"You know you want me," he finishes.

Of course, this YouTube clip is in Spanish, so I could be completely wrong.

Guess you'll have to watch it afterall ...

Busy

2010-01-20T06:47:00.000-08:00

Doing this ..... !!!

Reading ...!!!

And this ... !!!

This!!!

I WISH

Catch up soon.

Inge And Shaz Begin 2010 Wearing Nothing But Panties And A Plan

2010-01-07T01:17:00.000-08:00

Inge's flat.

I am lying poker straight on my back next to Inge in her double bed.

We've done our rounds of first footing; have had our fill of Vodka cokes; snogged a couple of guys under the mistletoe (Were they good looking? Have no idea) and are now tucked up under Inge's duvet at 5am, giggling reminisces of the year just departed.

"Do you believe in love, Shaz?"

I am looking straight up towards Inge's ceiling. It is pitch black - and a little chilly - in her room and I can't see anything apart from what's in my imagination.

"Yes, I do."

Inge squirms a little and I freeze.

"Er, Inge ... stay on your side of the bed, please."

"Shaz, do you really like having sex with men?"

It's my turn to squirm ... we both are wearing only our panties (In fact, Inge is in a G-string - have no idea how she can sleep in those things) ... and she is about to reveal she's gay. Entrapment.

"Seriously, Shaz; take out love, wanting a baby, bragging to friends, financial security ... Would you still want to have sex with a man.

"Humm ... "

"Seriously, Shaz," Inge's on a roll ... and drunk, "Without those things ... what do you get out of sex with a man?"

"Inge, you've just brushed your hand against my left buttock."

"Oops, sorry Shaz," Inge rustles around under the duvet.

"Ye, Inge, when the sex is bad ... it is one of the worst feelings in the world ... maybe equivalent to a guy's football team losing the cup ... But when its great ... and Inge, love needs to be a part of this if it's going to be great ... It's like experiencing a miracle."

"It is? ... Who was that with Shaz?"

"Not telling."

"Atilla?"

"Not telling."

"Maurico Rocco?"

"NOT TELLING."

"That good, huh? ... The way my lucks going, Shaz, it'll be a miracle if I ever have sex again before I die."

"Ach, that's the Vodka talking ... huhum ... you touched my bum again!"

"Soz Shaz."

"Right, Inge! Lets both pledge that this is the year we''ll be damned if we don't meet gorgeous men and have sensational sex. SEXSATIONAL.

"You're on, Shaz!"

With that ... to seal the deal, we turn and hug each other ...

"Er ... Inge! Your boob just touched my boob ... "

Guy Walks Into A Bar

2010-01-06T03:36:00.000-08:00

For Christmas my son asks me what I would like as a gift and considering that I am single the job of buying my favourite perfume was bestowed onto him: Christian Dior's, Poison.

A look of disgust came over my son's face and for a nano-second I did feel guilty at asking him to buy something so expensive (40 quid a bottle).

Mum, no wonder you are single! ...

... A guy walks into a bar and tries to chat with you ... so he says something flirty, like 'You smell nice what perfume are you wearing?'

And you spit,

POISON.

Humm ... ok, I get it.

I ask for Chanel No 5, instead. It worked for Marilyn Monroe. Hmm ... was she murdered?

Tricky business ... How do men like their woman to be?

Stop Moaning!

2010-01-04T06:22:00.000-08:00

Excuse me, it's my blog and I'll moan if I want too!

Do you remember when you had your heart broken and on reading the Agony Aunt column of some trashy tabloid, being told to write a letter for your ex; put all of your feelings into this letter, then - and this is very important - DO NOT SEND LETTER.

I remember not understanding the bit about not sending the letter. Why not? ... Why should I not tell him exactly how I feel? And being a little maverick I sent it.

Now, if you are a person who has done this ... the sending part ... you will know exactly why you DO NOT SEND LETTER.

I remember posting this letter and as soon as I let go and hear the long silence before a thud at the bottom of the red pillar box. (Ye, it was a heavy letter; had a lot to say.) I get this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach ...

Oh noooo what have I done!!!!

For this monumentally, horrific moment alone, trust me, DO NOT SEND LETTER.

Agony Aunt says because,

A/ The writing is for therapeutic reasons only.

B/ Ex does not care ... and will just laugh ... and pass it around his friends. (Ha, that's what I did when the stiletto was on the other foot.)

Now, I was thinking about posting all of my moans on my blog; spent a good half hour on this post. Then I think ... THIS IS ONE OF LIFE'S LESSONS. I think back to Agony Aunt's advice about not sending letter. I get a sneaky feeling that a post full of personal drivel should not be sent.

So instead here is some wisdom I read in a book:

Success is a result of good judgement.
Good judgement is the result of experience.
Experience is often the result of bad judgement.

There you go ... all those foolish mistakes made in the past were made for a reason.

I feel a lot better now.

The World Is Full Of Gorgeous Men

2010-01-02T09:49:00.000-08:00

It's 2010!

Happy New Year!

Now 2009 was not such a great year for me and 2008 was not good either. Though with hindsight after living 2009, 2008 was not so bad in comparison. Perhaps at the end of 2010, 2009 will not seem so dire ... which would thus make 2010 Hell!

Of course 2010 is not going to be Hell, because 2010 is full of gorgeous men!

How do I know?

Signs ...

As I mentioned, 2008 and 2009 had me feeling down in the dumps and when I get depressed I stop fancying men.

I know ... I know ...

How can I stop fancying men? Those Y chromosomed people that you love to hate ... or is that hate to love ... Whatever.

Anyway, back to signs ...

In 2009, I decide to take blogging seriously and I stumble across (still stumbling across) a bunch of XY chromosomes (Er ... that's a metaphor ... Those XY chromosomes have since developed into men ... some further developed than others ... it's got to be said.)

And my faith has been restored in men.

I have found men who are funny, intelligent, warm, generous, SEXY, fun, surprising, admirable, charitable, kind, awesome, TALENTED, inspiring, proactive, informative, entertaining, make my heart go pitter-pat, shock me (in a weird way), courageous, spirited ... yes that's you.

Then, another sign. That's TWO signs.

I watch the movie No Country For Old Men, which was adapted from the novel by Cormac McCarthy. Initially I wasn't intending to watch the DVD because the title had me imaging old wrinkly men ... No! No! But, the movie did receive a few Oscars ... so I think I will give it a chance.

Lo and behold ... Javier Bardem ... Corrr!!! Josh Brolin ... Corrr!!!

See, signs!

AND

Signs come in THREES ...

Right?

Have a great year! (XY and XX both, of course.)

Keep blogging ...

We All Make Mistakes

2009-12-30T09:58:00.000-08:00

For me 2009 was not my best year.

Have you ever found yourself in a position where you felt trapped ... dissatisfied ... angry, even?

I felt this way in 2009 and I took it out on my boyfriend of two years. I told him he had to move out. Go back to his flat. (Thank goodness in this economic climate it had not sold.) I was not making him homeless. He agreed to go. I needed to breath. Nothing else mattered to me. I wanted space.

I partied with girlfriends, met new men, had flings ...

I felt trapped ... dissatisfied ... angry with life (it transpires): not with my ex-boyfriend. I missed him.

Five months later I decide to phone my ex ... No. No ... I decide to pay him a visit. I go around to his flat. I am shaking. Nervous.

A skinny blonde in a leisure suit answers the door. She says he's not in. (He must have a new job - he was always home by 6 o'clock.)

Who is she? I feel my internal organs burn. I feel I am going to be sick. The next sequence happens in slow motion.

Blondie asks if I want to leave a message. No. No. Just tell him Mary called and I turn away. I am wearing my red winter coat with the white fur trim. The one he gave me last Christmas. He will know I called.

We all make mistakes of the heart. Even me.

What do You Do When You Have No Job?

2009-12-27T01:53:00.000-08:00

Photo - Dundee, GB. Before my time: when THERE WERE jobs.

So, I applied for a job titled Administrative Assistant.

Ye, ye ... I know! I'm over qualified.

The Job Centre people told me (and Gordon Brown probably told them) to take from my c.v.; my English degree, my HND, my Higher, and any other achievements. Don't mention that I am a journalist or a graphic designer ... and definitely DO NOT MENTION that I am a published author or an award winning entrepreneur.

Pha! As if I would! That was so 2009 ... and this is 2010, or will be soon ...

I am sitting at the interview being told about the job:

"The person who will fill this job will sit at the reception desk ..."

Ahha! I think. So this job is NOT an administrative assistant but a receptionist. Now this deception is very important ...

The blokie with the blue tie, interviewing me must have read my mind,

'This receptionist position is very important ... This job involves the successful candidate to fend off ... er ... deal with enquiries so that the rest of us in the company can get on with our work."

Now, I Googled the company before my interview. Simply because I need to strengthen my chances. There are 2.5 million unemployed in Britain and I think half of those live in Dundee.

Google told me that there were two law suits currently under action against this company. Law suits that involved this company owing money, but liquidating themselves (a number of times, in fact) so as to avoid payment.

All was becoming clear.

The important job of the receptionist was to take all the flack ... possibly from solicitors and angry business men. I think, time to wrap up the interview; I stand up, shake blue tie's hand and say,

"Good to meet you I will be in touch in due course."

It was not until I was outside in the December snow, that I realised - perhaps, the concluding line should have come from him. I was broken from my thoughts with a snowball on the back of my head and turn to yell at the kids. Only to find a bunch of thirty to forty year old men hanging around a street corner with nothing to do.

"Layabouts! Ya, all need to go get jobs," I shriek.

Knowing all to well, that there are no jobs in Dundee.