Nightmares and Kids...

Hey there, can someone please answer me this question – Why do kids have nightmares?

My wee one is driving me crazy! He keeps having the most bizarre dreams, he’s starting to freak me out too, and it takes quite a bit to scare me. Unless it has anything to do with clowns, mirrors, and spiders then I will shit myself!

Anyway, my wee one’s latest nightmare is very disturbing. He woke the other night screaming his little head off; he’s only six. When I managed to calm him down, I asked him why he was crying… he shrugged his shoulders and said he didn’t know.

A short while later the same happened again. So, he settles again, for a little bit.

He wakes up crying, this time he tells me that the bath-towels are trying to eat him… hhmmm, I ain’t heard of this one before, killer bath-towels… that’s original. I calm him down and he drops back off.

And he wakes again. This time there is a bath-towel in his bedroom, it wasn’t there before. He claims the bath-towel opened the door and tried to strangle him. So, I’m a bit peed off now, and I tell him off for going into the towel cupboard when he’s supposed to be sleeping. I close his door and go into my bedroom. I wait a few minutes for him to settle and I trod on back downstairs…

At the bottom of the stairs, I decide I want the book that I’m reading, which is in my bedroom. So, back up the stairs I go. I take two steps into my bedroom and freeze… there’s a bath-towel draped over my television and I’m positive it wasn’t there a few seconds ago…

Yup, I felt a bit creeped out. After a few minutes of telling myself that my little brat is winding me up, I get the courage to pick up the towel, fold it and put it away. I close my bedroom door and go back downstairs.

The following morning I wake up and head to the lavvy, as I always do in the morning, there’s a bath-towel hanging from my sons door handle… I questioned him about his dream and the towels and he looked at me as if I was a crazy woman and said he didn’t have a bad dream… he also claims he never took any towels out of the cupboard…

Do I believe him? Well he did look as if he was telling the truth…

Maybe it’s me who needs a shrink!

How Do I Kiss...

Ooooer! I'm really very shy...

Part Expert Kisser

You're a kissing pro, but it's all about quality and not quantity You've perfected your kissing technique and can knock anyone's socks off And you're adaptable, giving each partner what they crave When it comes down to it, your kisses are truly unforgettable

Part Freaky Kisser

When you kiss, you want to experience something new A new technique, a new partner, a new piercing... And your own personal kissing style is very unpredictable There's no saying where your tongue or hands will go

What Kind of Kisser Are You?

Blinkies...

I promise to make this short and sweet. I mean it! I’ve just found out what Blinkies are, ain’t they great! I’ve pasted a load into my pictures file on my pc. I’ve also added links to places where I copied the blinkies from too, it’s common courtesy.

Here are a few of my favourites, to see more just click on my links.

The Book Files

The Book Files

I Have No Idea...

These weeks are passing by so quickly! Won’t be long for Christmas now!
I do love that time of year… Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, oh what fun… sorry, I forgot myself there for a moment.
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Right then, let’s chat about what’s happened here this past week.
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It’s amazing what you can learn about yourself with these little quizzes.
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Apparently, I’m super sensitive and I’m able to understand situations. I didn’t realise that I was that sensitive, then again, I do get a bad rash when I wax, so yup I agree I’m super sensitive. I guess I can solve complex problems and make decisions fast, I wonder if that has anything to do with the fact that I can’t be arsed wasting my time on stuff like that, hence a quick resolution. My path is supposed to be always clear, bollocks! You ain’t seen the amount toys my kids have left sprawled all over the floor. Me a visionary… well, I can imagine men naked easily…
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I wonder why I scare people away though…
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Well the quizzes were right about me not being a big drinker, *falls off chair with laughter* me easily carried away too! Never!
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I hadn’t realised Mike Tyson was my Daddy… I wonder how much money I can get from him… but at least he took me to Disney Land, I think… I must have drunk that much I can’t remember it!
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And as for me being a dark mysterious person, I honestly think that’s spot on.
I know I really should go and see the doctor; I’m terrible for these quizzes. Anyway, you’ve got a cheek to complain, I bet you play with them too!
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Okay, enough about the quizzes lets take a peek at what’s happened this week. I have a new friend, yay!
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Michael Acton yup, the writer I wrote about last week. What do you mean you never read it! Why? Go read it now! He was impressed with the feedback he received so he decided to start his own journal, please pop over and give him some support.
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I’ve been through loads of sites lately; far too many to mention… most of the people who I have contacted have left messages in my tag box, go browse them. Don’t do it now! You’re supposed to be reading this first! What are you like? Am I boring you? Good!
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Ah yes, back on Monday was my little flash fiction piece based on something that happened when my daughter was just a wee one… she was lovely back then, she never back answered, unlike now. Teenagers can be a pain… but then again, so was I at that age!
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Shall I bother going into what I wrote on Tuesday? The stuff about my writing. Stuff it! If you’re interested in it, then go take a peek. Oh yes, my website has been updated too. The link is up there at the top. I couldn’t be bothered to stick a link here.
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Hope you enjoyed my choice of Book and Film review; if there’s a certain one you’d like me to review just give me a shout.
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And we are now up to this week’s writer Alan Ingram. He is rather shy so go give him a boost. I’m sure you’ll get a laugh from his writing. I know I did… and I meant that in a nice way, or do I…
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That’s it for tonight. I really must get my piece finished for the challenge on UKA, it needs posted this Monday, I am so behind!
See you another time.

What Element Am I...

You know what, I think this could be right...

The dark, night sky is your element. Although it's
not really considered an element. You are a
dark and mysterious person. Just like the night
sky.

What is your element?( for girls /pretty anime pics)
brought to you by Quizilla

A Film Called - The Amityville Horror

Hey there, it’s Friday night and time for a film.

Tonight’s movie is The Amityville Horror.



I presume you know the story behind this film... well it is a remake. This time round it seems more of a fantasy than non-fiction. This updated version is brought up to date, but once again, the biggest let down is the scare factors, they have used the old typical cheap shot scare antics.

Some horror fans will love this while others will hate it and tear it apart. My opinion, well the story line is strong, and there are some new added bits to it, which weren’t in the first one. I did enjoy this, one bit sticks in my mind and that is a bedroom scene where the couple are having sex… and small figure suddenly appears standing at the bottom of the bed.

You must know the storyline, but for those who don’t here’s a very brief rundown:

The Lutz’s move into a house in Long Island, they thought the house was a dream come true… Unknown to them the previous tenants were horrifically murdered. Once the Lutz’s are settled in, strange things happen in the house. George becomes possessed with the spirits, just like the last tenant who slaughtered his family.

Nickelback - How You Remind Me

My fav' song from Nickelback...

Video code provided by HotCodez.com

A Writer Called - Alan Ingram...

Hey there, welcome back.

This week’s writer is Alan Ingram from Corby Northants; he's a 42yr old who works for Oxford University Press. He enjoys scribbling for a hobby, which he started doing when he was 40. He would like to see some of his stories appear on screen as plays or dramas. I hope he succeeds too.

He does not have a website of his own or a journal, but his writings, poetry and prose can be found here, ABCtales & UKAuthors.

Because of You, is my favourite piece of his. It’s full of raw emotion and it’s very touching. His MSN one, well I couldn’t stop laughing at that one. I’m sure you will love that one too. Things Can Only Get Better, what a sense of humour he has; it’s another favourite of mine.

I hope you enjoy these few that I have chosen. Read the snippets and simply click to read the full piece. Enjoy.

Because of You... by Alan Ingram

Monday is now hate day. And when I wake, the first thing I think of is you. I am consumed with hate for you and for the things you have or I think you have done. On this hate day I talk to myself and let out my frustration through stifled agonised screams…I say the word why a lot and I punch vacant air, slap walls and pound wooden doorframes…I hope sincerely these aren’t a substitute for your face.
Click here to read the rest.

Taking a Dip or Trying To and Failing to Cajole a Shag out of Girls on MSN by Alan Ingram

And as for you being a Swordfish, well that was the first fish that jumped in my head, I’ve seen your picture on MSN and I would say you’re more of a Halibut or a Brill…no, no a Halibut it is because like I say I’ve seen your picture and you’re definitely not that Brill.
Click here to read the rest.

Things Can Only Get Better by Alan Ingram

‘OOOO! No!’ He said. ‘Mine’s ok…it’s yours my friend, I mean mine certainly doesn’t need a magnifying glass for detection.’ This nodded remark was in my todgers direction, which I thought was rather tart for someone I’d only just met.
Click here to read the rest.

My Daddy...

Erm... well...

 

Your Daddy Is Mike Tyson

What You Call Him: Old Man Why You Love Him: He takes you to Disneyland

                        

Who's Your Daddy?

A Book Called – Erebus by Shaun Hutson

Hello there again, thanks for popping by. Leave me a message or tag me and I’ll have a peek at your journal too, or website.

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The book I’m talking about this week is Shaun Hutson’s Erebus.

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I’m a pretty big fan of his works and I now own quite a few of his books. They’re all well written, straightforward, and packed with violence and gore. Something that I love in horror books.

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Tyler returns back home to the family farm when his father recently dies. With the help of Jo, a newspaper reporter with a background she wishes to remain a secret, they discover the livestock’s food has been tampered with. Chemicals have been added to it, poisoning the animals which is passed on to humans… Vendenburg Chemicals have a lot to answer to in the rural town of Wakely.

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If you’ve enjoyed Resident Evil, you will love this book. Hutson’s descriptions are enough to churn even the strongest stomach out there. This book repulsed me, but I had to keep on reading. And he really doesn’t give damn about using swear words which adds attitude to his novels. A must read in my eyes.

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Basically, its gory, scary, several questions are raised throughout the story, but all is wrapped up well by the end. An ending that I didn’t expect…

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Synopsis:

Wakely was just a small farming community but something was terribly wrong there. Something wrong with the livestock, with the people. Something unspeakable. Perpetuated by the mysterious Venderburg Chemicals Group who sought to protect its interests and secrets no matter what the cost to the people of Wakely or, indeed, to the rest of mankind. And who would have thought that red meat could be so deadly?

Addicted to Live Journals...

Well I'm no where near that... yet!

You Know You're Addicted to LiveJournal When...

If you can't access the site, you have a minor freak out - and a major case of hitting reload. You found yourself composing journal entries during dates, movies, even sex! When you're out, you suddenly think of a witty reply to a comment somebody made to you... several days ago. You actually call it LJ and not Livejournal. Check. You've downloaded some sort of LJ program which has only the purpose of making entries easier to write without going on the site manually. You consider it a great offense if someone deletes you off their friend's list. The first thing you do every day when you go online is check your friends journals - even before checking your email. You actually paid money for a few extra pictures with a full account when you could actually just alternate pics when you want to for your screen icons. When your friends ask what's new, you get mad at them because you already wrote it in your LJ and they didn't check it yet. You have put more time into LJ than all your assignments for the semester. You have more friends on LJ than in real life. You've met at laest 50% of your LJ friends. You can't seem to call your friends by their real names - only LJ names will do. You've fallen in love with someone you met on LJ. You have posted about a party or get together on your LJ... and random strangers showed up. You are guilty of traveling more than an hour to meet someone with LiveJournal. (Extra points for traveling five hours or more) You've written a protected entry about one of your LiveJournal friends. (Extra points if they eventually found out about it) You have written posts to notify people you're going to sleep. You talk about your LJ friends to your real life friends all the time... like they're a part of your group. You've created a LJ community, and people actually post in it. You've been recognized in real live by a fellow LJ'er. You have friended someone because of their LiveJournal icon. You have "pity friends" on your list, who you would defriend if you could. You've pimped one of your friends on journal, trying to get people to friend him / her. Instead of doing research, you post difficult questions on your LiveJournal. Your pets all have their own LiveJournals. You know, right now, how many people have friended you (without peeking). You've stopped being friends with someone in real life because of something they've said on LJ. You're guilty of posting sexy or nude pictures to get more people to friend you. You have consoled yourself after a horrible day thinking "At least this will make a great LJ post" You're jealous of people who have more friends and / or comments than you. You have written a really great, solid post - only to be disappointed by the lack of good comments. You're guilty of commenting excessively to get more traffic to your journal. You've deleted a post a few minutes (or hours) after you've written it, because it seemed lame in retro spect. You give shout outs to all your LJ friends on their birthdays. You have an additional, secret journal that hardly anyone knows about. You've broken up with someone - or ended a friendship - soley via LiveJournal. You have gotten mean anonymous comments (bonus points for figuring out who it was via their IP) You've been reported (or reported someone) to LJ Abuse. You've been featured on LJ Drama. You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends who are LJ addicts.

Get Your Own Addicted Meme Here

More cool things for your blog at Blogthings

On Writing...

Hey there, thank you for popping in and having a look at this, I'll make this as short as possible... so it's Tuesday, time for me to talk a little about my writing.
My short story Grumpy Old Man is to be published in UKAuthors Anthology, due approx November. I haven’t heard back from the others, it has been a while now so I’m taking it that they don’t want to use what I subbed to them. I haven’t sent anything else out, yet. I keep meaning too, but I keep putting it off.

I’m still working on the usual pieces. Barry is once again at a stand still.

However, I’m plodding along, getting deeper into The Hell of War, here is a very brief outline, it's very basic at the minute:

Set in the First World War, Jimmy meets a man called Billy. They set off on a mini quest through the trenches, but Jimmy has no idea what it is. They befriend a group of frightened Germans hiding in an abandoned dugout who take them hostage. They ask them questions and torture them. One by one, the Germans are killed. Jimmy and Billy have no idea by whom, they break free. Many questions are raised. Then night settles in, an everlasting darkness. Inside that darkness something chases them, it’s after a certain object that Billy has, an object that Billy must get to his destination.

The first two parts can be read on my website here.

As usual, the shorts are still being edited over and over again. I have quite a few short stories written but no matter what I do to them, I’m never happy with them. Maybe it’s time to place them at the bottom of a drawer for a while.

I really need to finish all projects that I have started before getting into new ones… I’m saying that and I’m planning to start a new piece for a challenge! That’s so typical of me!

My biggest problem with my writing is my grammar. I’ve listed a few things to help with that in my forum here. If you have anymore hints and tips on grammar then please give me a shout. I am so blind when it comes to editing my own works... it’s very annoying!

I don’t want to ramble on too much. Some of my pieces can be viewed on my website, as well as my nasty attempts at poetry. I can’t write poetry to save my life. Right, that’s it this week.

Oh yes, nearly forgot. Here is a reader's comment about Still Life that was published in Scifantastic Magazine.

Feedback:

Just read Scifantastic from cover to cover.What a great choice of stories – my favourites were, I’M A COOK, COLD HANDS, WARM HEART, and STILL LIFE. Yes, okay, my stomach turned when on the menu was Fried Human Infant in I’m a cook, but I can forgive almost anything when a story is so well written. The same applied to Still Life. Made my skin crawl but couldn’t stop reading it. It fits in with the amateur sleuth in me/ the whole world it seems, and I was gruesomely interested in how the crime was committed, very CSI. The ending I liked.

If you ain't read it yet, go get yourself a copy now!

What Drink Am I...

Hahahahaha...

You Are a Mai Tai

You aren't a big drinker, but you'll drink if the atmosphere is festive. And when you're drunk, watch out! You're easily carried away.

What Mixed Drink Are You?

Ain't Kids Funny...

I nearly forgot what I had planned for a Monday… I was going to write a load of bollocks about sod all, and then I remembered that I said I was going to use Monday’s for talking about my family.

Well last week I mentioned a small bit about my youngest son. So, I’ll have to do something about one of the others, I have five kids to choose from… okay, I’ll start with my eldest.

This is a piece of flash fiction based on a little something that my daughter said to me, something that makes me laugh every time I think about it:

Out on a walk, passing by a high spiked metal fence with a white plastic object embedded between the spikes, my husband winked at me and said to our six year old daughter, “I told you dinosaurs came out at night. Look up there - one of them tried to eat this fence and got his tooth pulled out instead.”

She jumped up and down, smiling with amazement at seeing a real life dinosaurs’ tooth.

Continuing on our walk, our daughter and I fell behind. She tugged at my arm and said, “Mammy, we can’t come back this way.”

Very concerned I asked, “Why, is something wrong?”

She replied, “No, but if we do come back this way daddy won’t be happy.”

“Why is that dear?”

“He will look at the dinosaur tooth again and he might see it’s just a plastic cup.”
“Oh! I see,” I said amused.

“I don’t want daddy sad, you know what he’s like with dinosaurs, he’s a bigger kid than me.”

Scary Quizz...

Tis a load of nonsense!

You Are Scary

You even scare scary people sometimes!

How scary are you?

Hidden Talent...

Oh wow! I have a hidden talent!

Your Hidden Talent

You're super sensitive and easily able to understand situations. You tend to solve complex problems in a flash, without needing a lot of facts. Decision making is easy for you. You have killer intuition. The right path is always clear, and you're a bit of a visionary.

What's Your Hidden Talent?

Two Weeks...

Jeeezz, it's been two weeks since I started my daily journal. It’s been a busy week this week. I’m still peed off with the prices of sanitary protection. And as you can tell I’m still addicted to these quizzes, I may have to see a shrink.

The writing is still going on. And I’m now Marketing Coordinator of Gold Dust magazine. We are looking for artists at the moment, as we would love to illustrate the magazine. Please see the website for more details if you’re interested or email me, my addy can be found on my website.

Hope you’ve enjoyed my thoughts on my book report and on this week’s film.

If you have not already read it, then can you please read Michael’s article, They Are Going To Send Angels To Prison, based on adoption issues, please feel free to comment to Mike via the comment buttons. And of course follow the links to have a peek at his writings. Just scroll down to find him.

Yes, I’m quickly rushing through this today, as I’m supposed to be relaxing but I managed to moan so I can have thirty minutes on the PC…

Please take a look at the people listed in my friends list, I will talk about them tomorrow, there’s some great journals out there. If you want to be on my friends list, all you have to do is give me a shout.

Right I’m off. Have a good weekend… I’m trying too…

What Type Of Killer Am I...

You kill for revenge.
That is because you have lost something or
someone you held very dear. Now you can't seem
to get over the loss that marked your soul, and
the only solution is to go after the one person
who brought all this pain to you. Chances are
you are angry inside and you bottle everything
up and don't talk to anyone about it. People
may want to help, but you think that they can
never understand your pain and only get
frustrated because of this. But it is important
to see all that you have left and be thankful
of that even if you have lost something great.
It may not be true that Times heals all wounds,
but with time and talking about your feelings,
maybe the hurt will ease.

Main weapon: Yourself

Quote: "You can close your eyes to
reality but not to memories" -Stainslaw J.
Lec

Facial expression: Gritted teeth and
teary eyes

What Type of Killer Are You? [cool pictures]
brought to you by Quizilla

A Film Called - The Skeleton Key...

The Skeleton Key, advertised as a horror… hhmmm… more of a psychological film to me, but I still thoroughly enjoyed it.


I think what makes this film more successful than other films is that everything works; it doesn’t rely on silly gimmicks like the average horror films. The plot hooks you in and keeps you at the edge of your seat as things become more mysterious and intriguing. And the ending… don’t you just hate it when someone spoils the ending of a film and tells you what happened? It freaked me out, that’s all I will tell you. I know I can be a bitch, but I wouldn’t do that, go watch it!

This is the basics of the film, a young care worker for the elderly, Caroline, takes a new job in Louisiana, it has the typical setting here though, large house in the middle of nowhere. She cares for an elderly man, Ben, a stroke victim who is bed ridden and is unable to talk. Caroline is given a skeleton key from Ben’s wife, Violet. Unsurprisingly, Caroline finds herself in the attic and finds a hidden door, she eventually enters the room… am I giving too much away? Okay I’ll not mention anymore on the plot, apart from that Caroline is determined to release Ben from his nightmares…

Once you’ve watched this you will realise that the previews are scarier than the film… another typical thing in the horror world of movies. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve nearly shit myself watching a preview only to find myself disappointed with the actual movie. Yes, in a way I was peed off with this one, as it wasn’t that scary, but it has such a strong winding plot that makes up for it.

Nope I ain’t going to moan about the prices of cinema tickets this time or the price of a hotdog. What I am going to moan about are other people in the cinema. Why the hell do they go when they have a bad cough? Do they do it on purpose? ‘Oh, I’m not feeling well tonight, I’ve coughed my guts up all day… lets go to the cinema.’ Yeah, what a brain wave! Some people can be so dumb at times…

Right that’s it for this week. Please don’t go to the movies with a cough, it is very annoying unless you know someone who is going, and you don’t like them.

My Blog Test...

Wow! I have brain power, I wonder where it is...

Your Blogging Type is Confident and Insightful

You've got a ton of brain power, and you leverage it into brilliant blog. Both creative and logical, you come up with amazing ideas and insights. A total perfectionist, you find yourself revising and rewriting posts a lot of the time. You blog for yourself - and you don't care how popular (or unpopular) your blog is!

What's Your Blogging Personality?

A Writer Called Michael Acton...

Hello there, this weeks author that I would like to introduce to you is Michael Acton, a talented writer and much more!

Michael has his own website here. A monthly competition is also held through his website here.

The following are his own words. Make sure you have a hankie ready...
MY LIFE IN SMALL DOSES by Michael Acton

Two “occupations” consume my life, apart from viewing the world through the bottom of a beer glass in the blue haze of a downtown bar.
Writing and Adoption issues.

The two subjects are inexorably linked with the small but vivid doses of life I’ve experienced.

It was inevitable that I would enter the world on Halloween, at 0350 hours in a pre NHS hospital deep in the suburbs of Manchester.

My childhood was, in retrospect, strange and weird.

The people who brought me up, I naturally regarded as my parents and their daughter I assumed to be my much loved sister. My early years drifted by on an endless sea of happiness, contentment and what seemed to me as never ending hot summer days.

It all changed when I was 7 years old.

I returned home one day teasing and being teased, as brothers and sisters do after a long day at school. I could hear voices, raised voices, coming from the front room that was used normally only on special occasions. I was called in to see a very tall (I was only small, every one looked tall) lady with bright red hair.
She knelt down to my level and said, “Hello Michael, I’m your mummy.”

That night I cried myself to sleep, very confused and bewildered.

In my mature years, I can identify the feelings I had as resentment and fear. I felt resentment because some one could bulldozer their way into my happy existence, and fear of the unknown.

Muriel, my mother, had given me to her parents to be looked after because she decided she, at that time, wanted nothing to do with me. (Her words.)

The sister I thought was mine was in fact hers, but only three years older than me.

Muriel married in 1953 and three years later when I ‘d almost reached my tenth birthday, her husband adopted me. I can only remember unhappiness during the next five years. And a feeling of rejection, especially when I asked about my birth father.

The next dose of life occurred when I was fifteen and was the victim of a sexual assault by a teacher at school. I was missing for several hours that day and no one asked questions, especially Muriel. It was brushed “under the carpet” except I had to live with the consequences.

The trauma caused a condition called Hypogonatrophic Hypogonadism; to get an idea of what this is read my story One and Only.

I had several routine clerical jobs mainly in the Civil Service and was posted on one occasion to HM Dockyard Portsmouth. By this time I had married, although because of the above condition, was unable to father children. We adopted two children off mutual friends, who were incapable of looking after them and moved from Portsmouth across the Solent to the Isle of Wight. In 1975 my much-loved grandmother who, as I mentioned brought me up, died. When I went to the doctors to get something to see me through the trauma of the funereal it was he who diagnosed the Hyopogonadism and I started to receive treatment.

I felt as if my life was back on track when we found my wife was pregnant shortly after the treatment started, but sadly she had a miscarriage and as the treatment was only short term, we never had the opportunity again. The miscarriage had such an effect on our lives that it was only three months ago (May 2005) that we felt we could talk about it together.

Needless to say, we were offered no support from Muriel or her new family and it was from that experience that I started to make determined efforts to find my father.

The Adoption Act of 1974 made it possible for adoptees to access there adoption files and I applied for mine, but it was 27 years before I actually saw them!

In he meantime, I had a breakdown and as a therapy it was suggested I start writing. I had always had a vivid imagination and on rainy days told stories to friends in our garden shed. My first effort was a dire sci fi story about the return of Jesus as a spaceman! It still lies rotting away somewhere.

In 1982 I wrote SEABOOTS (recently updated and included in the UKA anthology) and was lucky enough to win a national short story comp. With it
I won a rose bowl as well, but was not allowed to bring it from Farnborough, as they weren’t insured. Instead I had to make do with a photograph of it that I lost over the side of the ferry on my way home, although I still have the certificate to prove it wasn’t a dream!

I wrote several stories which were later included in a self published anthology of my early work TALES FROM THE LABYRINTH between 1982 and 1985 all of which reflect the darkness which appeared in large doses, in my life at that time.
I did have two articles published in the Hampshire County Magazine for which I was paid the princely sum of £8!

In 1987, I started work as a postman, my first job after my breakdown. I was so desperate to prove myself, I used to walk seven miles down dark country lanes to get to work, as I couldn’t drive and buying a bike was too dear for me. Later they took me on a permanent basis much nearer home and I was as pleased as punch when several months later I became the local trade union secretary.

My writing took a back seat, but at the forefront of my mind was the continuous need to know about my father. I asked my mother on several occasions, but she would never divulge anything. In the meantime she and the rest of the family pretended our children, Muriels grandchildren, didn’t exist. They were wiped from their lives. When my half brother had his first child Muriel proudly declared, she was a grandmother for the first time. I had to remind her, non too politley, she had been a grandmother for ten years!

My next dose of realism took place on March 31st 1992. I had arrived home from work after working a twelve-hour shift to be greeted by two policemen who arrested me for an assault. I was in a state of shock and being ignorant of the law allowed myself to be interviewed without a solicitor present. I spent that night in a psychiatric hospital instead of a cell such was the trauma.

After this my life really collapsed around me. I engaged a solicitor to fight the case who many years later I found out wasn’t qualified. When the case came to trial key witnesses for my defence were not called and the police scared off the main defence witness. This should have been reported to the judge of course.

Despite having been resident in the local psychiatric hospital for several weeks and the trial halted three times because I was unfit to stand, my barrister called me into the witness box. I told the truth, but I must have appeared a shambolic figure in the dock .To cut a long story short the jury found me guilty and I was sentenced to 12 years.

This part has a sequel which destroys all faith in the legal system .I will return to this later.

I was released in 2001 after serving eight years having refused parole because I would not admit guilt for reasons that hopefully will be clear as mentioned above.

My prison experience is reflected in some of my later work; ROOM 28, PORKIES FINEST HOUR, A SPY ABROAD, A NIGHT AT THE DORCHESTER, and the novel I am working on which also includes my adoption experiences UNLOCK.

While I was inside I also wrote a story that won a prison comp. A GIFT FOR QUINTON LOCK.

On my release, I went to a hostel near Portsmouth and saw a letter in the Isle of Wight paper (yes they do have it there too), which was to change my life.
It was from a gentleman called Malcolm looking for his father who, at one time, lived on the Island. I offered to help because of my local knowledge and found that although his father had died many years previously, but I was able to tie many loose ends for him with regard to the rest of his family.

Two years ago he produced a book about the search which was in part dedicated to me. I am immensely proud of my copy, but sadly, Malcolm died shortly afterwards.

Through working on this, I realised there were many people who had lost contact with their loved ones through adoption or family breakdowns so I started to offer my services. I joined the USA based search angels as one of three UK based researchers.

In my first case as an “angel” I reunited a daughter with her father. He had worked on the pirate radio ship Radio Caroline and used to pass his daughters house every day on his way to work!

Other cases followed, including a son reunited with his mother. The local priest had fathered him and the mother forced to keep her silence by the church. Fortunately, they are happily reunited, but still feel the guilt of those missing years.

My name became known abroad as well and an Australian lady got in touch desperately looking for her mother. I found her within weeks in Ireland, but she would not answer my letters. I left it for several months before finally in August 2004 she relented and sent a photograph and letter. They are also happily reunited although she has yet to tell her eight children!

It would be foolish to say every case ended this way though, human nature being what it is. The saddest was a lady in Portugal, whose father I found had died some years ago. But he had two other daughters who refused to accept my friend into the family. They could not accept that their father had known anyone other than their mother. This is despite the “affair” taking place some ten years before he met his future wife!

Many happier stories followed, but the pinnacle was a lady who had been looking for her mother for many years and paid a researcher hundreds of pounds to carry out the search without success. I found her in three weeks. It did help because the mother and her family had also been looking. In November 2004, my wife and I were invited to a lavish weekend stay at a top London hotel and a dinner held in our honour by the family.

In another “happy ending”, I reunited a mother and daughter after 51 years apart. The mother remarried on the 13th August, in Australia with her newly found daughter present. There was a piece in an Australian paper written about the search.

My quickest search took ten minutes! I reunited a mother and daughter after matching the mother’s details with her friends Reunited profile.

Earlier this year, I reunited two brothers who last saw each other in 1933. I am currently looking for two other of their siblings and in another case a son who lost touch with his mother when she remarried and moved to the USA.

I keep in touch with all my “clients” and am there for them, should any problems arise.

As well as the London break, I have been privileged to meet some of the people I have helped and have many lifelong friends. Money cannot buy any of that.

That’s a good enough reason for not making a charge for my services.

It would be foolish to say every case is successful, clearly there are some whose cases are difficult to solve and often impossible because of lack of information.
Which brings me back to the search for my birth father.

Toward the end of my sentence, I decided I would write to my mother and ask her outright who my father was. It was many weeks and reminders before she replied.

Her story is that in April 1945 she joined the Land Army aged just 18 and was posted to a small village in Berkshire to work on a farm which “doubled” as a prisoner of war camp. In January 1946, she met a soldier from Cumbria (Cumbria did not exist in 1946 but these are her words) his name was Bill Davies and before she could tell him she was pregnant he was killed in a motorcycle accident. He was said to be about the same age as Muriel.

As I was helping Malcolm find his father, I also checked records for deaths of Bill Davies in 1946, as well as writing to coroners courts, checking the war casualty lists. deaths abroad and many more sources. Nothing was found. The nearest I have got is a William Davies born 1924 in Barrow in Furness, but that was in Lancashire in 1946, now in Cumbria after the 1974 boundary changes.
Then something very strange happened.

As part of my search, I wrote to every farm in Berkshire, at that time not knowing where Muriel had been stationed and I had a reply from a farmer who, for obvious reasons I can only identify as WF.

He said he remembered Muriel very well. Bearing in mind this was in 2002 some 56 years after she had me, she must have made some impression considering she worked for him for such a short time. But the weird part of his letter read and I quote directly from it.

“I cannot add anything to that which I wrote previously.”

So who had he written to previously? It was certainly not me, this was the first time I had heard of him! When I replied asking for further details I received a very abrupt reply from his wife demanding I never contact them again. Why the hostility? What had they to hide? Since then I have asked myself what if WF was my father, I also asked Muriel, predictably she denied it.

WF died a month ago taking his secret with him.

As for my current searches. I am involved in a complex adoption related search, which will involve a trip to the Family Record Centre shortly. I am waiting for Army Personnel records in two other cases and trying to find out what happened to a lady from New Zealand who vanished over 50 years ago. Ironically her son who is looking is involved with the New Zealand prison service!

I have written two adoption related items recently. The first for all those who have to deal with obstacle of uncooperative family WAS IT YOUR FIRST TIME? And the other an article about draconian adoption laws coming into effect later this year (2005) THEY ARE GOING TO SEND ANGELS TO PRISON. (Can be read at the bottom of the page)

While the anger is still with me I will still write. I have written many stories in the last two years and entered them for competitions, but to date my only success was a highly recommended love story SUMMER ROSE, although I was privileged to be chosen as UKA writer of the month in November 2004.

I have had two stories accepted for anthologies THE UNFORGIVEN published by Queenspark press and as I mentioned earlier Seaboots in the UKA anthology.

And so to the future. Well I am actively involved with getting my conviction quashed. My case is before the CCRC, which deals with people suspected of being wrongly convicted. But priority, quite rightly, is given to those still in prisons.

As a sequel to the case, in December 2003 I came face to face with my accuser. She had been arrested for a breach of peace at my house because she wanted access to her son who A) did not want to see her and B) we had guardianship of.
She admitted in front of several witnesses, including of course the police that she had lied in 1992. She is now detained under the Mental Health Act ironically in the same hospital I was prior to my trial.

I also have to live with a broken hip that cannot be repaired, as a result of an assault by a prison officer.

That’s my story for now.

I would like to finish off with a very important article written by Michael.

They Are Going To Send Angels To Prison

This article is about angels but not beings with angelic faces who live on fluffy clouds… The title of this article may sound comical, weird, even nonsensical, but when a new Act of Parliament comes into force in December 2005, this is what will be happening. When the INTERNET was "born”, it opened a new world for millions of people in a way that I am sure could never have been imagined. It allowed people to search on any subject under the sun, find a job, shop, bank without having to leave the home, make new friends. For one special group of people it also brought hope. These people are special because they don't belong to "nuclear" families, very often never knowing their true identity. Adoption is a fairly modern phenomenon and first used extensively during the First World War to accommodate orphans of that terrible conflict. Being adopted and being told, "you are special because we chose you" means a lot to a child who is bewildered and frightened when they find themselves living with strangers. The problems occur when they grow more aware and want to find their birth family. This doesn't always happen of course and many adoptees have no wish to search. In addition, an adoptee may not want to search for fear of upsetting the family who has brought them up. But always, no matter how loved they are in their adopted family, in their hearts there is an empty space, which nags away like a persistent ache. Those searching have in the past, had to overcome tremendous obstacles, not least those adopted out of the so-called "caring" institutions like Barnodo's, the church societies and the NCH. They were and still are, to a lesser extent, reluctant to share information with those who have a right to know. The 1974 Adoption Act did make it easier to access adoption files, but often identifying information was "mislaid" or decreed too sensitive to be divulged to the enquirer. As the computer age dawned, and with new ways of searching public records a new "industry " came into being. Search agencies who charged astronomical amounts (£15000 in some cases) to search for birth families. They carried on their lucrative trade preying on the emotions of vulnerable people. In the USA, the adoption laws for those searching are even more draconian and for many years, an organization aptly named "The Bastard Nation" has been campaigning for change. Out of this group the Search Angels were formed. We are an international group of searchers who use the Internet and public records, to help those adoptees searching for their identity.

We don't receive payment, nor do we expect any. Many of us, myself included, are adoptees, and are driven by an insatiable need for self-identification. But in the UK, this will all change. From December it will be illegal… yes illegal... for individuals like myself to conduct searches on behalf of adoptees. If we do so, we risk being sent to prison for a MINIMUM of six months plus a fine of £5000. ALL searches are to be carried out by registered Adoption Search Agencies run by either large organizations or local Social Service departments. Private ASA's will have to pay up wards of £4000 to register and the adoptee will have to pay a large fee to discover there birthright, with the attendant possibility of misappropriation. I hope the politicians who instigated this brutal change to Adoption law are proud of the misery they will undoubtedly bring. To see the work of a search angel visit here. Please feel to contact Michael about this issue.

A Writer Called Michael Acton...

Hello there, this weeks author that I would like to introduce to you is Michael Acton, a talented writer and much more!

Michael has his own website here. A monthly competition is also held through his website here.

The following are his own words. Make sure you have a hankie ready...
MY LIFE IN SMALL DOSES by Michael Acton

Two “occupations” consume my life, apart from viewing the world through the bottom of a beer glass in the blue haze of a downtown bar.
Writing and Adoption issues.

The two subjects are inexorably linked with the small but vivid doses of life I’ve experienced.

It was inevitable that I would enter the world on Halloween, at 0350 hours in a pre NHS hospital deep in the suburbs of Manchester.

My childhood was, in retrospect, strange and weird.

The people who brought me up, I naturally regarded as my parents and their daughter I assumed to be my much loved sister. My early years drifted by on an endless sea of happiness, contentment and what seemed to me as never ending hot summer days.

It all changed when I was 7 years old.

I returned home one day teasing and being teased, as brothers and sisters do after a long day at school. I could hear voices, raised voices, coming from the front room that was used normally only on special occasions. I was called in to see a very tall (I was only small, every one looked tall) lady with bright red hair.
She knelt down to my level and said, “Hello Michael, I’m your mummy.”

That night I cried myself to sleep, very confused and bewildered.

In my mature years, I can identify the feelings I had as resentment and fear. I felt resentment because some one could bulldozer their way into my happy existence, and fear of the unknown.

Muriel, my mother, had given me to her parents to be looked after because she decided she, at that time, wanted nothing to do with me. (Her words.)

The sister I thought was mine was in fact hers, but only three years older than me.

Muriel married in 1953 and three years later when I ‘d almost reached my tenth birthday, her husband adopted me. I can only remember unhappiness during the next five years. And a feeling of rejection, especially when I asked about my birth father.

The next dose of life occurred when I was fifteen and was the victim of a sexual assault by a teacher at school. I was missing for several hours that day and no one asked questions, especially Muriel. It was brushed “under the carpet” except I had to live with the consequences.

The trauma caused a condition called Hypogonatrophic Hypogonadism; to get an idea of what this is read my story One and Only.

I had several routine clerical jobs mainly in the Civil Service and was posted on one occasion to HM Dockyard Portsmouth. By this time I had married, although because of the above condition, was unable to father children. We adopted two children off mutual friends, who were incapable of looking after them and moved from Portsmouth across the Solent to the Isle of Wight. In 1975 my much-loved grandmother who, as I mentioned brought me up, died. When I went to the doctors to get something to see me through the trauma of the funereal it was he who diagnosed the Hyopogonadism and I started to receive treatment.

I felt as if my life was back on track when we found my wife was pregnant shortly after the treatment started, but sadly she had a miscarriage and as the treatment was only short term, we never had the opportunity again. The miscarriage had such an effect on our lives that it was only three months ago (May 2005) that we felt we could talk about it together.

Needless to say, we were offered no support from Muriel or her new family and it was from that experience that I started to make determined efforts to find my father.

The Adoption Act of 1974 made it possible for adoptees to access there adoption files and I applied for mine, but it was 27 years before I actually saw them!

In he meantime, I had a breakdown and as a therapy it was suggested I start writing. I had always had a vivid imagination and on rainy days told stories to friends in our garden shed. My first effort was a dire sci fi story about the return of Jesus as a spaceman! It still lies rotting away somewhere.

In 1982 I wrote SEABOOTS (recently updated and included in the UKA anthology) and was lucky enough to win a national short story comp. With it
I won a rose bowl as well, but was not allowed to bring it from Farnborough, as they weren’t insured. Instead I had to make do with a photograph of it that I lost over the side of the ferry on my way home, although I still have the certificate to prove it wasn’t a dream!

I wrote several stories which were later included in a self published anthology of my early work TALES FROM THE LABYRINTH between 1982 and 1985 all of which reflect the darkness which appeared in large doses, in my life at that time.
I did have two articles published in the Hampshire County Magazine for which I was paid the princely sum of £8!

In 1987, I started work as a postman, my first job after my breakdown. I was so desperate to prove myself, I used to walk seven miles down dark country lanes to get to work, as I couldn’t drive and buying a bike was too dear for me. Later they took me on a permanent basis much nearer home and I was as pleased as punch when several months later I became the local trade union secretary.

My writing took a back seat, but at the forefront of my mind was the continuous need to know about my father. I asked my mother on several occasions, but she would never divulge anything. In the meantime she and the rest of the family pretended our children, Muriels grandchildren, didn’t exist. They were wiped from their lives. When my half brother had his first child Muriel proudly declared, she was a grandmother for the first time. I had to remind her, non too politley, she had been a grandmother for ten years!

My next dose of realism took place on March 31st 1992. I had arrived home from work after working a twelve-hour shift to be greeted by two policemen who arrested me for an assault. I was in a state of shock and being ignorant of the law allowed myself to be interviewed without a solicitor present. I spent that night in a psychiatric hospital instead of a cell such was the trauma.

After this my life really collapsed around me. I engaged a solicitor to fight the case who many years later I found out wasn’t qualified. When the case came to trial key witnesses for my defence were not called and the police scared off the main defence witness. This should have been reported to the judge of course.

Despite having been resident in the local psychiatric hospital for several weeks and the trial halted three times because I was unfit to stand, my barrister called me into the witness box. I told the truth, but I must have appeared a shambolic figure in the dock .To cut a long story short the jury found me guilty and I was sentenced to 12 years.

This part has a sequel which destroys all faith in the legal system .I will return to this later.

I was released in 2001 after serving eight years having refused parole because I would not admit guilt for reasons that hopefully will be clear as mentioned above.

My prison experience is reflected in some of my later work; ROOM 28, PORKIES FINEST HOUR, A SPY ABROAD, A NIGHT AT THE DORCHESTER, and the novel I am working on which also includes my adoption experiences UNLOCK.

While I was inside I also wrote a story that won a prison comp. A GIFT FOR QUINTON LOCK.

On my release, I went to a hostel near Portsmouth and saw a letter in the Isle of Wight paper (yes they do have it there too), which was to change my life.

It was from a gentleman called Malcolm looking for his father who, at one time, lived on the Island. I offered to help because of my local knowledge and found that although his father had died many years previously, but I was able to tie many loose ends for him with regard to the rest of his family.

Two years ago he produced a book about the search which was in part dedicated to me. I am immensely proud of my copy, but sadly, Malcolm died shortly afterwards.

Through working on this, I realised there were many people who had lost contact with their loved ones through adoption or family breakdowns so I started to offer my services. I joined the USA based search angels as one of three UK based researchers.

In my first case as an “angel” I reunited a daughter with her father. He had worked on the pirate radio ship Radio Caroline and used to pass his daughters house every day on his way to work!

Other cases followed, including a son reunited with his mother. The local priest had fathered him and the mother forced to keep her silence by the church.

Fortunately, they are happily reunited, but still feel the guilt of those missing years.

My name became known abroad as well and an Australian lady got in touch desperately looking for her mother. I found her within weeks in Ireland, but she would not answer my letters. I left it for several months before finally in August 2004 she relented and sent a photograph and letter. They are also happily reunited although she has yet to tell her eight children!

It would be foolish to say every case ended this way though, human nature being what it is. The saddest was a lady in Portugal, whose father I found had died some years ago. But he had two other daughters who refused to accept my friend into the family. They could not accept that their father had known anyone other than their mother. This is despite the “affair” taking place some ten years before he met his future wife!

Many happier stories followed, but the pinnacle was a lady who had been looking for her mother for many years and paid a researcher hundreds of pounds to carry out the search without success. I found her in three weeks. It did help because the mother and her family had also been looking. In November 2004, my wife and I were invited to a lavish weekend stay at a top London hotel and a dinner held in our honour by the family.

In another “happy ending”, I reunited a mother and daughter after 51 years apart. The mother remarried on the 13th August, in Australia with her newly found daughter present. There was a piece in an Australian paper written about the search.

My quickest search took ten minutes! I reunited a mother and daughter after matching the mother’s details with her friends Reunited profile.

Earlier this year, I reunited two brothers who last saw each other in 1933. I am currently looking for two other of their siblings and in another case a son who lost touch with his mother when she remarried and moved to the USA.

I keep in touch with all my “clients” and am there for them, should any problems arise.

As well as the London break, I have been privileged to meet some of the people I have helped and have many lifelong friends. Money cannot buy any of that.

That’s a good enough reason for not making a charge for my services.

It would be foolish to say every case is successful, clearly there are some whose cases are difficult to solve and often impossible because of lack of information.
Which brings me back to the search for my birth father.

Toward the end of my sentence, I decided I would write to my mother and ask her outright who my father was. It was many weeks and reminders before she replied.

Her story is that in April 1945 she joined the Land Army aged just 18 and was posted to a small village in Berkshire to work on a farm which “doubled” as a prisoner of war camp. In January 1946, she met a soldier from Cumbria (Cumbria did not exist in 1946 but these are her words) his name was Bill Davies and before she could tell him she was pregnant he was killed in a motorcycle accident. He was said to be about the same age as Muriel.

As I was helping Malcolm find his father, I also checked records for deaths of Bill Davies in 1946, as well as writing to coroners courts, checking the war casualty lists. deaths abroad and many more sources. Nothing was found. The nearest I have got is a William Davies born 1924 in Barrow in Furness, but that was in Lancashire in 1946, now in Cumbria after the 1974 boundary changes.
Then something very strange happened.

As part of my search, I wrote to every farm in Berkshire, at that time not knowing where Muriel had been stationed and I had a reply from a farmer who, for obvious reasons I can only identify as WF.

He said he remembered Muriel very well. Bearing in mind this was in 2002 some 56 years after she had me, she must have made some impression considering she worked for him for such a short time. But the weird part of his letter read and I quote directly from it.

“I cannot add anything to that which I wrote previously.”

So who had he written to previously? It was certainly not me, this was the first time I had heard of him! When I replied asking for further details I received a very abrupt reply from his wife demanding I never contact them again. Why the hostility? What had they to hide? Since then I have asked myself what if WF was my father, I also asked Muriel, predictably she denied it.

WF died a month ago taking his secret with him.

As for my current searches. I am involved in a complex adoption related search, which will involve a trip to the Family Record Centre shortly. I am waiting for Army Personnel records in two other cases and trying to find out what happened to a lady from New Zealand who vanished over 50 years ago. Ironically her son who is looking is involved with the New Zealand prison service!

I have written two adoption related items recently. The first for all those who have to deal with obstacle of uncooperative family WAS IT YOUR FIRST TIME? And the other an article about draconian adoption laws coming into effect later this year (2005) THEY ARE GOING TO SEND ANGELS TO PRISON. (Can be read at the bottom of the page)

While the anger is still with me I will still write. I have written many stories in the last two years and entered them for competitions, but to date my only success was a highly recommended love story SUMMER ROSE, although I was privileged to be chosen as UKA writer of the month in November 2004.

I have had two stories accepted for anthologies THE UNFORGIVEN published by Queenspark press and as I mentioned earlier Seaboots in the UKA anthology.

And so to the future. Well I am actively involved with getting my conviction quashed. My case is before the CCRC, which deals with people suspected of being wrongly convicted. But priority, quite rightly, is given to those still in prisons.

As a sequel to the case, in December 2003 I came face to face with my accuser. She had been arrested for a breach of peace at my house because she wanted access to her son who A) did not want to see her and B) we had guardianship of.

She admitted in front of several witnesses, including of course the police that she had lied in 1992. She is now detained under the Mental Health Act ironically in the same hospital I was prior to my trial.

I also have to live with a broken hip that cannot be repaired, as a result of an assault by a prison officer.

That’s my story for now.

I would like to finish off with a very important article written by Michael.

They Are Going To Send Angels To Prison

This article is about angels but not beings with angelic faces who live on fluffy clouds… The title of this article may sound comical, weird, even nonsensical, but when a new Act of Parliament comes into force in December 2005, this is what will be happening. When the INTERNET was "born”, it opened a new world for millions of people in a way that I am sure could never have been imagined. It allowed people to search on any subject under the sun, find a job, shop, bank without having to leave the home, make new friends. For one special group of people it also brought hope. These people are special because they don't belong to "nuclear" families, very often never knowing their true identity. Adoption is a fairly modern phenomenon and first used extensively during the First World War to accommodate orphans of that terrible conflict. Being adopted and being told, "you are special because we chose you" means a lot to a child who is bewildered and frightened when they find themselves living with strangers. The problems occur when they grow more aware and want to find their birth family.

This doesn't always happen of course and many adoptees have no wish to search. In addition, an adoptee may not want to search for fear of upsetting the family who has brought them up. But always, no matter how loved they are in their adopted family, in their hearts there is an empty space, which nags away like a persistent ache. Those searching have in the past, had to overcome tremendous obstacles, not least those adopted out of the so-called "caring" institutions like Barnodo's, the church societies and the NCH. They were and still are, to a lesser extent, reluctant to share information with those who have a right to know. The 1974 Adoption Act did make it easier to access adoption files, but often identifying information was "mislaid" or decreed too sensitive to be divulged to the enquirer. As the computer age dawned, and with new ways of searching public records a new "industry " came into being. Search agencies who charged astronomical amounts (£15000 in some cases) to search for birth families. They carried on their lucrative trade preying on the emotions of vulnerable people. In the USA, the adoption laws for those searching are even more draconian and for many years, an organization aptly named "The Bastard Nation" has been campaigning for change. Out of this group the Search Angels were formed. We are an international group of searchers who use the Internet and public records, to help those adoptees searching for their identity.

We don't receive payment, nor do we expect any. Many of us, myself included, are adoptees, and are driven by an insatiable need for self-identification. But in the UK, this will all change. From December it will be illegal… yes illegal... for individuals like myself to conduct searches on behalf of adoptees. If we do so, we risk being sent to prison for a MINIMUM of six months plus a fine of £5000. ALL searches are to be carried out by registered Adoption Search Agencies run by either large organizations or local Social Service departments. Private ASA's will have to pay up wards of £4000 to register and the adoptee will have to pay a large fee to discover there birthright, with the attendant possibility of misappropriation. I hope the politicians who instigated this brutal change to Adoption law are proud of the misery they will undoubtedly bring. To see the work of a search angel visit here. Please feel to contact Michael about this issue.

My Virgo Profile...

Yup, I'm a VIRGO

Virgo - Your Love Profile Your positive traits: You're incredibly thoughtful and able to give your partner what they need most. You are totally logical. You can deal with problems without involving your emotions. A good work ethic. You'll do whatever it takes (within reason) to make your relationship work. Your negative traits: Sometimes you are so focused on your goals that you let your relationships suffer You tend to be a perfectionist - and expect perfection from your mate as well You are picky. So picky that you rather be single than with someone who has a few minor faults. Your ideal partner: Values success in life as much as you do Fits a checklist of qualities you've been looking for since childhood Like you, is more practical and realistic than romantic Your dating style: Active. You're a bit hyper, so you'd prefer a date that involved rollerblading in the park or hiking. Your seduction style: You may seem a bit shy, but once you open up to someone - you're totally uninhibited You like to set the scene first - candles, music, nice sheets A bit obsessed with cleanliness, you may want to shower first with your love Tips for the future: Soften up a little. Vulnerability is sexy - and feels great over time. Lower your standards a little. Look past a messy desk or someone being five minutes late. Praise your partner more. You make expect them to be successful, but complements are still appreciated. Best place to meet someone online: eHarmony - the best place to find other busy singles looking for a serious relationship Best color to attract mate: Navy blue Best day for a date: Wednesday Get your free love profile at Blogthings.

A Book Called – The Gunslinger by Stephen King

My doesn’t the week pass by quickly. Wednesday already. How are you? I’m doing very well, for once!

For my first bit on books has got to be about Stephen King, a class writer in my eyes. I’d do anything to get inside that man’s head… and I do mean anything! Feel free to give a comment or your advice on this book.

Here we go then, the book is Stephen King’s The Gunslinger.


This is Stephen King's first novel of seven in a series; one way to describe them is that they’re an exceptional classic fantasy quest. Best sellers all round. This book is by no means the biggest in the series; it is basically an introduction to a much more larger, complex story. The pace is fast; you can easily read this one in a day or two.

I've been an avid reader of Stephen King for a long time now, I’ll admit I was put off buying this book as it was not one of his typical horror books that I have grew up with and loved. However, I’m a girl who will try anything, so I grabbed a copy and started reading it, a few days later I was finished, and I was left needing more!

This book, The Gunslinger, introduces us to the main character Roland Of Gilead, the last of the Gunslingers from the line of Eld. He embarks on a journey across the western desert, into a desolate world that frighteningly echoes our own, tracking down the man in black, a dark figure who can answer many of his questions. He encounters a fascinating woman and Jake, a kid from New York. Faced with an unbearable decision, Roland is torn between damnation and salvation as he determines to find out what the man in black knows. The flashbacks and dreams throughout help the story and build the main character. As for the end, well it gives you a feeling that you want to get to the dark tower as quickly as possible to see what is there waiting for him.

So, you could say I thoroughly enjoyed this book, as well as the others. I’m now onto the fifth one and I can’t wait to get my hands on the next ones. A must read in my eyes.

Synopsis:
A fantasy tale describing the quest of the gunslinger, a man in tattered black, who passes back and forth through a door leading to two parallel worlds, and of those people under intense psychological pressure in the late 20th-century civilization who alone have the power to join him in the quest.

Set in a world of extraordinary circumstances, filled with stunning visual imagery and unforgettable characters, The Dark Tower series is Stephen King’s most visionary piece of storytelling, a magical mix of fantasy and horror that may well be his crowning achievement. Join the quest for the elusive Dark Tower. The Tower is closer than you thought…

Proud To Be British...

This is So funny, cos it's true!!!

You Know You're British When....

Be very proud to be British because... Only in Britain... can a pizza get to your house faster than an ambulance. Only in Britain... do supermarkets make sick people walk all the way to the back of the shop to get their prescriptions while healthy people can buy cigarettes at the front. Only in Britain... do people order double cheeseburgers, large fries, and a DIET coke. Only in Britain... do banks leave both doors open and chain the pens to the counters. Only in Britain... do we leave cars worth thousands of pounds on the drive and lock our junk and cheap lawn mower in the garage. Only in Britain... do we use answering machines to screen calls and then have call waiting so we won't miss a call from someone we didn't want to talk to in the first place. Only in Britain... are there disabled parking places in front of a skating rink.

Get Your Own "You Know You're" Meme Here

More cool things for your blog at Blogthings

Another Tuesday...

Hey there again, you ready to get bored to death? Good!

In case you didn’t know, today is Tuesday and time for me to chat about my writing. If you haven’t read my first entry about my writing, then scroll down and have a peek at last Tuesday’s entry.

Obviously, the novels are still going, maybe a bit slow but I’m getting there. Short stories still on, even though ‘Sins of the Flesh’ a horror story may be scrapped and re-wrote from a different angle.

Over the past few days I’ve mentioned a challenge I had set on UKA. Well the challenge was to write a short story over 1000 words and the below must be added to it:

Theme:
Take a hand full of UKA members and write a story about them, any genre, the following MUST be used:
· They are staying in a haunted house.
· One gets murdered.
· One is a ghost.
In addition, the following phrases/words MUST be used:
· Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight. · And all the air a solemn stillness holds.
· Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth a youth to fortune and to fame unknown.
· Xylograph.
· Xenophon.
· Xanthic.

My first plan was to make it a horror… I failed miserably. It is now a comedy piece and I don’t do comedy very well… if you fancy having a peek here’s my entry.

It was obviously a hard challenge, only one more person entered, you can read his here. He has two of the characters spot on! I was creased up with his piece; it was a damn good effort!

I hope that we’ll have a few late entries at another date.

Even though, there are only a few entries to the challenges on UKA I will persist and nag more people to join in on them.

I’m glad my challenge is over. It drove me up the wall! I’ve looked back over mine and I have seen loads of places where I can improve it. It’s funny how having a deadline puts you under pressure…

For those of you who don’t have a clue what UKA is, it’s a site for wannabe writers to submit their work and receive feedback to strengthen the works. If you’re a writer you should drop in and have a good look around, their resources are invaluable.

Not much new going on this week where my writing is concerned.

I’d like to give this literary magazine a mention Gold Dust. A magazine that aims to put quality prose and poetry on the map. Where words are gold dust...

Gold Dust magazine is currently OPEN to submissions for issue Five. To submit your work, please see our submission guidelines. It is advisable to buy a copy to get the feel of the magazine. Issue Three is still available for sale. And other back issues of Gold Dust magazine are also available for sale. Issue Four is due out soon.

Well that’s about it for now. I’ve started another short story, I know I said I wasn’t going to start any new ones, but I couldn’t help it. It’s another psychological type one; I’m not too sure where it’s going at the moment. Here’s the first paragraph to it:

Just think, while you’re sitting reading this, I’m most likely masturbating thinking about you and all this time you had no idea. You’ll probably read this and not realise that I am talking about you. You’ll just presume I’m writing about my partner or someone else. I bet you read that first line and your groin twinged hoping it was about you, but now you’ve dismissed that thought, just the way you dismiss everything we have discussed.