Take a deep breath


So now I’ll begin.

Once upon a time I had a blog in which I promised myself to put up only pieces of writing that I had published. It started well and as time went on I got immersed in the writing process itself and neglected to keep it updated.

Now that I’m a little bit older, but certainly no wiser, I’m going to give this blogging lark another go. Only this time there will be thoughts and ideas to share and comments on life, the world and just about everything.


The Saga of the Abandoned Leg

A couple of nights ago I was waiting to meet some friends at a cosy pub after a writing workshop. It’s thirsty business, this writing. I spied a bone-white leg projecting at a peculiar angle from the top of a nearby litter bin. Curiosity got the better of me and, looking to left and right as I approached the sight (well, who would want to be caught raiding a litter bin?), I yanked it free to have a closer inspection of my find by the light of a department store window.

It was exceedingly long and shapely and tapered off to a slim, perfectly formed foot with toes that looked as if they had had a recent manicure. Very attractive, but what was I going to do with it now? I didn’t want to be seen stuffing a leg back into the bin so I attempted to arrange my coat over the top of it thinking it might be less conspicuous. At that moment one of the other writers walked across the street and spied my antics. Was the third leg really that noticeable? Well, by her extreme reaction to the sight I guessed it was. When she straightened up and rearranged her face into a kind but rather concerned look, she squawked “What are you going to do with that?”  I didn’t consider plans for the leg and asked if she had any suggestions.

It was decided that the best thing to do was to walk into the meeting place carrying the leg under my arm as though it was nothing out of the ordinary.

It takes a bit of courage to walk into a pub carrying an extra leg, but I girded my loins, so to speak, and held on while I pushed the door open and walked regally – head held high in the manner of an ancient Egyptian queen, and leg held tight in the manner of some sort of human sacrifice. I don’t know. Did Egyptians do dismembered human sacrifice? Must look that up…  Some of the looks I got from those imbibing in strong drink or cheap wine will be etched in my memory – such as it is – for at least a week. However, I marched on and eventually (it was slow motion in my mind) arrived at the table my friends had chosen – which, of course, was at the furthest end of the establishment. A few of them guffawed and a couple of them choked on their fizzy water as they saw what I was carrying.

Did I blush and make apologies? Not a bit of it. They’ve known me long enough to accept me as an individual and free-thinking spirit. At least that’s what I tell myself. I plonked the leg down on the bench between myself and Mary who, after lowering the initial raised eyebrow, continued her conversation with the person across the table. I ordered a double espresso to keep me calm.

The discussion finally got around to the leg and its future. Everyone had a good look at it and someone whose partner is needing a new  hip insisted on taking it home to him and telling him to look what she brought him. A great idea, we all agreed. She left the pub later proudly carrying the leg before her.

Now we think that we should share our leg and each person in the company can have a chance to take custody of it between meetings. That way, no one will feel left out of the adventure, including The Leg herself (well, it has to be a her, doesn’t it?).

If anyone who reads this has another suggestion concerning the fate of our leg – yes, it has become ‘our leg’ now, please let me know and I’ll pass it on.


Indian Memories

So it is almost time to take down the Christmas decorations and store them for another year. I was going to write about that today – until I read a blog about how the elephant almost became a whale. It was dense read and very interesting too, but it threw up a word that took me right back to time I spent in India not so many years ago.

The word was Gondwana, the name of a southern continent back in the age of the dinosaurs. It was also the name of an express train that I spent an overnight on as we rumbled across the great expanse of plains from Jabalpur to Delhi.

This is a poem I wrote about the experience.

Gondwana Express

Engine howls across endless plain,

magnifies solitude, echoes in the night.

Stuffy bogies rattle, sway. Blue plastic

mattresses soften beneath heated bodies,

release pungent odours. Passengers stare,

wide-eyed into blackness, coax sleep.

Beyond one-way glass they observe

silent people who move in slow motion,

huddle in dreamy groups, prowl platforms,

clutch treasures in thin arms, wait for sunrise.

In the aisle seat a crumpled man sits alone

sucks neat rum from a Listerine bottle.

Just one of the many, many unforgettable memories I brought back home with me from that mysterious, enchanting country.

Happy New Year everyone!

Walking off the mince pies

Think I should have been walking with you instead of finishing off our mince pies!

Mary Smith's Place

Christmas Day (doesn’t it already seem a long time ago?) poured with rain so I was more or less forced to stay indoors eating chocolate and mince pies and watching feel-good films. Boxing Day, however, was bright and sunny so there was no excuse not to head off with the DH on one of my favourite walks in Dumfries & Galloway – Balcary Heughs. This is a great walk at any time of the year, though not if it’s very windy as the narrow path goes along clifftops.

From the village of Auchencairn a single track road leads follows the shoreline to the Balcary Bay Country House Hotel, built in the 17th century by Messrs Cain, Clark and Quirk who ran a shipping – or smuggling – business. The area around this part of the Solway has an exciting smuggling history.

A car park for walkers is situated close to…

View original post 285 more words

Smorgasbord Health – Cook from Scratch with Sally and Carol Taylor – Meleagris Gallopavo (you can eat if you can catch it) Turkey

Smorgasbord - Variety is the spice of life

This is the last in the current series of Cook from Scratch with Sally and Carol Taylor.. The good news is that next year Carol will be taking on the role of Food Columnist for the blog magazine.. that is very exciting as I know that we are going to be introduced to exotic foods from Thailand as well as recipes that elevate our everyday foods to delicious and nutritious meals for all the family..

This week… The Turkey.. a bird that was usually eaten mainly at Thanksgiving and Christmas but is available all year in supermarkets and butchers. Before handing over to Carol.. a look at all the health benefits this large bird brings to the table.

Meleagris Gallopavo (you can eat if you can catch it) Turkey

The wild turkey Meleagris gallopavo (something to do with difficulty in catching it I think) is native to North America. The…

View original post 2,945 more words

An exciting evening at The Nail Factory

It was a crispy crackly winter’s night when we arrived at The Nail Factory last evening where Mary Smith and I were having the second launch of our new short story collections. Inside the gallery was a welcoming sight of surfaces laden with drinks and nibbles and a wood stove radiating warmth. As guests poured through the door the chat grew more and more animated with friends meeting friends and introducing themselves to new faces. Eventually Rupinder, who runs the gallery, rang a bell to call everyone to order and people took a seat before the introductions.

The gallery itself is a lovely intimate art space in the small town of Dalbeattie that encourages art in the community by organising workshops of all sorts and exhibitions throughout the year. Mary and I were very happy to be asked to read there.



We were in for another treat during the evening because after our readings we were entertained by a young man from the region who is an intrepid adventurer and photographer. His name is Jack Chapman and he has just returned from a twelve month sailing trip which started on the West Coast of Canada and ended in Scotland. He regaled the audience with tales of his experiences during the long journey.

The night was a great success due in part to Rupinder’s generous hospitality and the support of friends and acquaintances who came along to support us. Definitely one to store in the memory bank.

Sally’s Cafe and Bookstore – New Author on the Shelves for Christmas – Having a Ball and Other Stories by Lynn Otty

Smorgasbord - Variety is the spice of life

Delighted to welcome Lynn Otty to the Cafe and Bookstore with her debut release.  Having a Ball & Other Stories.

About Having a Ball & Other Stories.

Having a Ball is a collection of seventeen short stories that deal in varying ways with the human condition. Lynn Otty’s characters range from children at the beginning of life’s adventures through to adulthood and the frustrations of old age. Their situations will amuse, sometimes shock but always entertain the reader. This is her debut collection.

Lynn is sharing an extract from one of her stories.

Sunrise in Chiran

Corporal Masahiro Nakamura stepped out into the dawn garden and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with fresh mountain air. Was he ready?

He looked down at the paper still clutched in his right hand and reread the words, crafted by an artistic hand in traditional calligraphy.

In blossom today, then scattered:
Life is so…

View original post 525 more words