Deadpool, the Orb and an Unplanned Day Out

IMG_1180As I’m sure you know, it was Valentine’s Day yesterday. Some of you may have pushed the boat out, others may not have marked the occasion at all. My husband and I tend to fall into the latter category – other than a spectacular surprise night out several years ago, complete with jazz, baby animals and a picnic, we don’t really do the ‘Valentine thing.’

Which is fine by me. There are 365 days in the year in which to say we love each other – to celebrate one as being more important than all the others isn’t really something I’m bothered about. However, to each their own.

So this year we had made no plans, as usual. Then the gorgeous girl was asked on a sleepover at her best friend’s house, and suddenly we found ourselves at a loose end. The weather was cold but sunny, so when husband suggested a drive out to Dunstable Downs, I was very keen.

I love the Downs. There is an energy there at once uplifting and relaxing, the ancient landscape holding the feel of old Britain, green countryside stretching for miles around. Other than a very nice visitor centre, there is nothing much up on the Downs, which is how it should be. The attraction is the view, the clear air, the gliders swooping like giant birds overhead, kites streaming in the fresh breeze.

It was bitterly cold when we got there, but the sun shone and I took several photos up there, as I usually like to do. When I looked at one photo I saw this:

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I had taken two photos in quick succession of the same view, cold fingers fumbling a little. The orb is visible in both, though in the second shot it has moved a little. And, even though I took other photos pointing the same way, it’s only visible in these two. Trick of the light? Maybe. Probably. But then again…

IMG_1190So. This was already a cool (actually, cold – it was freezing up there) start to our unplanned day out. Feeling hungry, we stopped in at a popular country pub on the way back, expecting it to be heaving with couples yet hoping we might get a table for two. And we did. Amazing! The food was lovely, the service excellent and we enjoyed the chance to sit and talk and eat uninterrupted. Then we realised there was a 5:15pm showing of Deadpool at the local cinema. It was 4:40pm. Forgoing dessert we asked for the bill and headed back into town, hoping we’d get in before the movie started (and that it wasn’t sold out).

It wasn’t. We made it with ten minutes to spare, managed to get two seats together and sat back, ready to be entertained. Husband isn’t as big an X-Men fan as I am, so he was a bit unsure. However, from the opening credits he was laughing, as was I and most of the other cinema patrons. Deadpool is excellent. Profane, funny, gory, romantic – we both enjoyed it immensely. It was probably the perfect Valentine’s Day movie for us.

Sometimes the best days are those with no plans at all.

 

Hugh’s Photo Challenge: Week 12 – Games

IMG_0592Well, I snuck in at the last minute with this one! This is a Snakes and Ladders game at the Enchanted Maze, near to where I used to live in Australia. I thought it a really cool idea which is why I took the photo – I think I had some dream of one day having a garden big enough to host my own Snakes and Ladders game 😀 We last visited the maze several years ago, just before we left Australia, and here is Miss Five about to jump down a ladder.

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The Enchanted Maze is hidden high in the hills above the bay, and comprises lovely formal gardens, a large hedge maze, a native bush trail with games and more mazes, and, in the summer, inner-tube sledding in the big field, which is hilarious fun. There’s also a big sweet shop and a lovely restaurant overlooking the gardens, which are open to weddings and birthday parties (we had the gorgeous girl’s second birthday there, a big picnic for family and friends).

IMG_0578This probably doesn’t look like the sort of garden you’d expect to see in Australia – however the lush soil and rolling hills of the Mornington Peninsula are home to some of the best wineries in Australia, as well as other formal gardens and parks. There’s plenty of bush, of course – gum trees and moonah and ti-tree abound, possums and spiders and kookaburrahs part of life ‘down the coast’. I loved living there, and feel very fortunate to have done so.

This is for Hugh’s Photo Challenge Week 12, and the subject is Games. The deadline is today, so if you’d like to add your own, be quick! And thanks for reading.

Silver and Black – For Valentine’s Day

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So. This little vampire story of mine, which started out as a flash fiction piece for Ali Isaac, then expanded into a couple of pieces for Sacha Black, plus a #BlogBattle entry for Rachel Ritchey, has given me another scene.

It’s a continuation of the piece I wrote for Ali’s challenge, and it’s a bit lovey-dovey, so I thought I might be nice to share it for Valentine’s Day. 😉

Hope you enjoy it…

It was quiet. The big door had banged shut downstairs, my mother and father gone now for most of the night.

Rolling over, I switched on my little lamp, the warm golden light welcome in the darkness. I sat up, rubbing my eyes. Then I sighed. I was tired, but the growl in my stomach told me I was hungry, too.

I tried not to eat at night, not wanting to remind my parents any more than I had to of their failure. But they were gone so it would be okay, as long as I left everything spotless, no stray crumb or sauce droplet to betray my human weakness.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up, grabbing my robe and slipping it on. It was long, deep red velvet with tasselled ties. I liked it, the way the velvet hummed under my fingers as I stroked it, the heavy tassels banging against my legs as I walked. It made me feel more like my mother, I suppose. Going to my bedroom door I opened it, careful to slip out and close it quickly, lest my light harm one of the guards.

The hallway was shadowy, long panelled walls stretching towards the stairs. There were a couple of candles in the wall sconces, a concession to my needs, but otherwise the only light came through the long windows, pale moon painting stripes along the carpet, which was deep red like my robe. I couldn’t see anyone, which was unusual. Normally there would have been a guard at night, especially with my parents being out.

‘Hey.’

I jumped. Turning, a hand to my chest, I found myself face to face with Kyle, a smile in his silvery eyes. The smile changed to worry. ‘I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.’

‘You didn’t. Um, scare me, I mean.’ I took in a breath, smoothing my hands down my robe, the warm velvet comforting. I swallowed. ‘Um, so, I just need to go to the kitchen-‘

‘I’ll come with you,’ he said, all cheekbones and smooth skin in the half light.

I shook my head. ‘Oh, no. I mean, I’m going to be eating-‘

One corner of his mouth quirked up. ‘So, I’ll keep you company. I’ve already fed.’

‘Oh. Okay.’ I frowned. ‘Really?’

His smile became wider. ‘Really. Besides, I’m supposed to be looking out for you.’

Oh. Right. He was coming with me because it was his job.

I started along the hallway towards the stairs, walking fast, my injured pride wanting to put distance between us. But who was I kidding? As if I could outwalk a vampire. He kept pace with me easily. I could feel him looking at me, see his head turn out of the corner of my eye. Whatever.

We reached the kitchen and I headed straight for the fridge, silver door gleaming in the moonlight. I went to open it, then paused. Huffing out a sigh I turned to him. ‘Sorry. The light?’

‘Oh, right,’ he said, moving away to lean against the cupboards. I took my time choosing something, even though there wasn’t much in there. Screw him. If it was his job, he could just… do it. Wait as long as I needed him to.

Seriously.

I grabbed a bowl of tuna salad, leftovers from the day before. Plus some extra mayo, and, as an afterthought, some lettuce. Closing the fridge door I put it all on the counter. The tuna smelled delicious, cool and fishy, spring onions and celery. My stomach growled again. Right, bread. Going to the pantry I found the end of a loaf. I suppose I needed to go out again and buy some more food, but that would mean asking Kyle to come with me, and there was no way I was doing that. He was still leaning against the cupboards, head down, arms folded. I tried not to notice the muscles visible through his guard’s uniform, the lean hips, the long legs- Putting the bread down I grabbed a chopping board, banging it down on the counter. Grabbing a knife, I sliced the bread.

Then I caught the tip of my finger with the blade.

Shit.

Kyle’s head snapped up, silver eyes wide. ‘Are you all right?’

I stared at him, holding my injured finger close to me. ‘Am I all right? How about you?’

He shook his head a little. ‘I told you, I’ve fed already. Let me look.’

‘What!? No!’

But he was there before I could stop him, his hands on mine, uncurling my fingers. Blood pooled on my palm, running from the slice in the fleshy pad of my finger, coppery scent in the air. He took in a breath. I held mine, fear and excitement running through me. He was so close to me, heat and cold coming off him, his violet scent twining around me. Then he put my finger to his lips and I thought I was going to black out.

Don’t let him glamour you, the thought came, unbidden. Don’t be ridiculous! I sent back to the voice in my mind. I might be human, but I’m still his employer’s daughter. He would be mad-

Then his mouth closed around my skin and there was no more coherent thought. He licked at my blood, his tongue tingling rough as it moved across my palm, taking every last drop. He brought my other hand to his mouth and I let him, let him lick away the vestiges of blood there. He bit into his lip, taking a single drop of blood on the tip of his tongue, which he then pressed to my cut, healing it.

‘There.’

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do anything except stare at him, overcome by sensation. He was still holding my hands, still closer to me than any other vampire had ever been, other than my parents.

Then he moved closer still.

Vintage Love

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Lace Edwardian Dress. This was a gift from a lovely lady I met at a vintage fashion show.

Several years ago, when I lived in Australia, a friend and I were proud proprietors of a vintage clothing stall. It was a permanent stall in an antiques market, one of those places where they manage the sales for you in return for a small commission, so we didn’t have to be there every day.

We called our stall Snowdrop and RoseRed, after the sisters in the Brothers Grimm tale. I was Snowdrop, on account of my pale colouring, while my lovely brunette friend was RoseRed. We designed a logo, a Tudor rose with a snowdrop curving around it, invested in a stamp, some manila mail tags and a few clothes rails, and the business was born.

Detail from an embroidered silk caftan I found in a Sydney charity shop.
Detail from an embroidered silk caftan I found in a Sydney charity shop.

And it was wonderful fun. We went into our stall at least once a week, tidying the racks, replacing stock and checking our drawer in the small office to see what sales we’d made. We haunted flea markets and charity shops and EBay, visited auction sites and ransacked our own vintage collections to ensure we had new stock, finding gems all over the world to add to the collection, including a fab collection of 1940’s hats we bought from Wales, and a vendor in Canada who seemed to be selling off the contents of a suitcase of 1930’s clothing. Local charity shops yielded beaded cardigans and gold lame shoes, marquisate jewellery and delicate pearls.

But the best part of it was having all these gorgeous clothes on hand, whenever we wanted them. I’ve been wearing and collecting vintage clothing since I was a teenager – my collection has expanded and shrunk several times, all the moving I do necessitating the occasional downsize. Some pieces I bitterly regret letting go of, such as a black velvet 1930’s evening coat with eau-de-nil silk lining, whereas others were ready to move on to different owners, ready to be worn again. So to have a stall where it was my job to source and buy and wear vintage clothing was a bit of a dream come true.

Me in a vintage op-art dress on a murder mystery weekend
Me in a vintage op-art dress on a murder mystery weekend

For me, the beauty of vintage clothing lies in the construction. The beading, the linings, the delicate handstitched seams. For so much of it is handmade, mass-produced clothing not so readily available back then as now. I also love the glamour – the idea that women wore such gowns when going out for tea or over to a friend’s house or out to the theatre, a sense of occasion that seems to be missing these days. (Do not get me started on the time we went to an evening theatre performance and there were people there in jeans and football scarves).

Detail of a vintage waistcoat I bought at a vintage clothing sale, many years ago.
Detail of a waistcoat I bought at a vintage clothing sale, many years ago.

Of course women have come a long way (though we still have a way to go), and I wouldn’t swap our freedoms for those hazy glamorous days. But there is a mystery and enticement to these old garments, wondering where they were worn and by whom. To the careful, almost invisible, repairs, the tiny stitched pleats and structured linings. They speak of a different world, a different time.

Part of a silk and net Victorian mourning cape. This apparently came from my family, and I remember using it for dress-ups when I was small!
Part of a silk and net Victorian mourning cape. This apparently came from my family, and I remember using it for dress-ups when I was small!

Our stall eventually closed, our circumstances changing so neither of us had the time to dedicate to the business any more. But we each kept our favourite pieces, and our love of vintage, Snowdrop and RoseRed a friendship that endures.

The 2K International Writers’ Blog Tour – Renee N. Meland

Another stop on the 2016 Indie Book Blog Tour, this time with Renee Meland…

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Renee N. Meland lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two dogs. Her favorite obsessions are Rome, learning new recipes, and exploring the world around her. She is an avid reader of speculative fiction, and believes that telling stories is the best job in the world.

What is the first piece you remember writing (from childhood or young adulthood)?

I remember writing a fantasy piece, that we used cardboard and wallpaper to make into a Reneebook. It was called Yendor (my dad’s name spelled backwards)

What is your favorite aspect of being a writer? Your least favorite?

I get paid to play pretend. Least favorite part? It’s very hard to stand out when there are millions of other books out there.

Do you believe in writer’s block? If so, what is your best tip for beating it? If not, why not?

I believe in it but I don’t…

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Thursday Doors – Abbots Langley

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This is the tower door of the Church of St Lawrence in Abbots Langley. While it’s believed there was originally a Saxon church on the site, the current church was built around 1150 AD, just four years before Nicholas Breakspeare, a resident of the parish, became the first and only English Pope, Adrian IV.

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The church is a lovely Norman building of local flint, with a square tower and timber lych gate. The graveyard is huge, following the irregular curved shape characteristic of Saxon enclosures, hinting at an earlier history. It also boasts some very large trees, including this rather spectacular redwood.

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There are so many stories to be found in old churchyards, the gravestone inscriptions telling tales of love, loss and family.  So today when I was in the village I decided to make a quick visit, as it the weather was so nice. And I’m glad that I did.

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Thus ends my entry into this week’s Thursday Doors Challenge, courtesy of Norm 2.0 – pop on over and check out some more doors, or add one of your own.

 

Author interview: Helen Jones

Today I’m featured on Writing Ourselves Well as part of the Indie Book Blog Tour 2016 – pop on over and have a look 🙂

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Helen JonesHalf way through my leg of the indie blog tour, before I hand over to my colleague, Kate M Colby, http://katemcolby.com. Today I welcome fantasy writer, Helen Jones. She grew up in Coventry, England, then moved to Canada and Australia before coming back to the UK. She now lives in Hertfordshire and loves to write, dance, study and paint, seeking pathways beyond the everyday. She’s worked many jobs, from martial arts instructor to photography producer, but writing has turned out to be her absolute favourite one of all. She’s written for several publications and blogs in Australia and the UK. Oak and Mist is her debut novel:

‘The end of everything? Great, no pressure then.’
A young girl witnesses a strange event in the woods at her local park. Five years later, in the same place, she is attacked and pushed between two trees… then disappears. She reappears in…

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Author interview: Christina Ochs

Another stop on the 2016 Indie Book Blog Tour! This time it’s Christina Ochs, who writes historical fantasy…

Kate Evans's avatarScarborough Mysteries

Christina2As we continue with our indie book blog tour (co-hosted with Kate M Colby, http://katemcolby.com) today I am very pleased to welcome historical-fantasy writer, Christina Ochs. She writes epic historical fantasy from the passenger seat of a semi truck. At any given time, she, her driver husband and their two cats – Phoenix and Nashville – can be found anywhere in the lower 48. With a bachelor’s degree in History and an MBA, Christina uses her writing to indulge her passion for reading and research. Publishing as an indie author provides an outlet for her entrepreneurial side and she is an avid supporter of fellow authors, both independent and traditionally published.

Rise of the Storm is the first book in the Desolate Empire series, a historical fantasy retelling of the Protestant Reformation and the Thirty Years War. It follows four main characters through the religious and political upheavals triggering…

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Wednesday Wander – Indoor Pool, Hearst Castle

IMG_0652I’ve written about Hearst Castle, on the California Coast, before. I went there the first time when I was fifteen, and still remember it as somewhere magical. On a recent trip back to California it was on my to-see list and, even though the visitor centre was much larger than I remember, the tours more crowded, the magic remains.

This is the indoor swimming pool at Hearst Castle. During Hearst’s lifetime it wasn’t used much, Hearst and his guests preferring the larger and more showy outdoor pool, with its colonnades, statues and real Roman temple. Apparently some of his guests didn’t even realise this pool existed, set away from the main house as it is.

The tiles are real gold, 24-carat, brilliant against the lapis blue, and the warm lantern light entices. If this were my pool I would swim in it all the time, like floating in a dream.

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Thank you for joining me on another Wednesday Wander – see you next time 🙂

Author interview: Kara Jorgensen

I’m on the 2016 Indie Blog Tour this week, hosted by Kate Evans and Kate M Colby. Here’s the first book from the tour…

Kate Evans's avatarScarborough Mysteries

It is time to kick off our 2K international indie book blog tour 2016 (hosted by Kate M Colby http://katemcolby.com http://katemcolby.com & me, Kate Evans). I am delighted to welcome our first indie author for interview, Kara Jorgensen.

KaraK picKara Jorgensen is an author of fiction and professional student from New Jersey who will probably die slumped over a Victorian novel. An anachronistic oddball from birth, she has always had an obsession with the Victorian era, especially the 1890s. Midway through a dissection in a college anatomy class, Kara realized her true passion was writing and decided to marry her love of literature and science through science fiction or, more specifically, steampunk. When she is not writing, she is watching period dramas, going to museums, or babying her beloved dogs.

Here she introduces her book,  The Earl and the Artificer (Ingenious Mechanical Devices #3), a historical fantasy novel.

What mysteries…

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