Many Tears…

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

Many Tears

… will be shed today,

Elvis has not just left the building, he has left our world for another

where I hope to God, he finds the answers he was looking for.

I know he may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but for me, he was my first real crush. I deserted Cliff Richard the moment I found Elvis.

Sad to say, I never made it to Graceland’s

I am not one of those screaming kind of fans, I felt I could see beyond the performer and the part that haunted me, captured my soul.

I do not say this lightly; I am writing this because Jaye and I were discussing our heroes. Name three, she said. She knew the first one of course.

The second was Da Vinci. I could not name a third

There are many lesser ones that I like

Ones that have the same kind of spark in smaller amounts

Like idols with feet made of clay, they don’t quite match

What about writers, Jaye asked

I could only think of one, James Herbert

I had watched an interview once and he had a great sadness about him

I brought his last hard back, something I never do as I prefer paperback

Then found out a few days later, he had died

That left a little hole in my mind as I had contacted him a while back

His kindness is still remembered

I told Jaye, that’s enough of this nonsense, back to work…

Anita Signature

 

 

 

Where we walk… #Poetry

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

We live where others have walked before

This blood-soaked land holds memory.

Walk barefoot, feel history seep into your skin

King Henry with his battle against the monastery

Leaving a scar on the landscape.

Broken walls and towers remain standing

The Holy Thorn can still be seen

Sheltered by Abbey walls.

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

The hill at Glastonbury where monks

were hung for sins imagined

Walk the hill, feel the shame of hands

that destroyed for fame, for money.

Don’t forget the Holy places

where water ever flows, healing those who visit,

 if only by mind changed when they leave

The land will be here long after we are gone

With more scars and stories to tell

Will someone record the history of where we walked?

Anita Signature

Remembering… #Poetry

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

Do you remember when we were young?

The skies were always blue, even when it rained

We played, we grew strong

we made a life with children.

Sixty years later the light is fading

and my mind has wandered.

I sit alone and wonder if I remember

our life through rose coloured glasses?

aaaaa

Book Roundup…

The last book I read…

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Some passwords protect more than just secrets.

Danny Caruso was glad to be back in the United States, back to his regular job. Back to his comfortable routine of all work and no play. But when his friend Mac asks a favor of him, he can’t refuse. He owes the guy everything. So he accepts the job, even though it means a twenty-four/seven protection detail guarding a particularly exacerbating—and beautiful—woman.
Braelyn Edwards is careful to stay out of the spotlight, preferring to hide in the background and skip the trappings of a vibrant social life. But her privacy is threatened when there’s an attempt on her life and a bodyguard is foisted on her. Compounding problems? He doesn’t just want to protect her. He wants to investigate every detail of her life, starting with her top-secret job.
Danny casts his sights on Charlie Park, her co-worker, her partner… the one man who knows all Braelyn’s secrets. She’s frustrated by the distrust until she realizes jealousy fuels Danny’s suspicions as much as instinct and proof. One of them is right about Charlie—but by the time they figure it out, it may be too late to save their relationship. And Braelyn’s life.

Our Review:

Password is my first Staci Troilo book, so wasn’t sure what I would think of it.

I needn’t have worried.

There was brilliant scene-setting throughout, with interesting and vibrant characters, all wrapped up in a totally realistic and believable scenario.

Braelyn Edwards first struck me as an ordinary working girl, hardly someone who would need a bodyguard. But someone had attacked her, so she could be hiding a secret.  Danny Caruso has trouble believing she is innocent too, although she seems so ordinary. He is convinced she had to be mistaken for somebody else.

She mysteriously denies knowing of any reason for the attack, and this is when their incredibly fast-paced banter begins. The chemistry between them fizzles with electricity, and I ended up enamoured by the two of them to such an extent that I forgot all about the plot. I just wanted to watch and listen to the two of them together. I suspect we are seeing the birth of a relationship that will sell a lot of books!

The ending was unexpected, with a very clever twist I didn’t see coming.

Staci Troilo has created two masterful characters for this first book in the series, roll on the next one!

The Book I am currently reading…

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Aberdeen, 1841. Woodcarver John Grant has an unusual new commission – creating a figurehead to feature onstage in the melodramas of a newly-arrived theatre group. Simultaneously, he’s also trying to unravel the mystery of the death of a young woman, whose body has been found in the filth behind the harbour’s fish sheds.
His loving relationship with Helen Anderson, which began in The Figurehead, has grown stronger but, despite the fact that they both want to be together, she rejects the restrictions of conventional marriage, in which the woman is effectively the property of the husband.
As John works on the figurehead, Helen persuades her father, a rich merchant, to let her get involved in his business, allowing her to challenge yet more conventions of a male-dominated society.
The story weaves parallels between the stage fictions, Helen’s business dealings, a sea voyage, stage rehearsals, and John’s investigations. In the end, the mystery death and the romantic dilemma are both resolved, but in unexpected ways.

The Book I wish I had written…

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Looking for a thriller that you can’t put down? Then try this book that everyone’s talking about.
One of the tensest, most gripping thrillers you will ever read. From UK and US best-selling author Taylor Adams.
A KIDNAPPED LITTLE GIRL LOCKED IN A STRANGER’S VAN. NO HELP FOR MILES. WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

Darby Thorne is a college student stranded by a blizzard at a highway rest stop in the middle of nowhere. She’s on the way home to see her sick mother. She’ll have to spend the night in the rest stop with four complete strangers.

Then she stumbles across a little girl locked inside one of their parked cars.

There is no cell phone reception, no telephone, no way out because of the snow, and she doesn’t know which one of the other travelers is the kidnapper.

Full of shocking twists and turns, this beautifully written novel will have you on the edge of your seat.

Who is the little girl? Why has she been taken? And how can Darby save her?

 

The Book I go back to time and again…

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J.R.R. Tolkien was born on 3rd January 1892. After serving in the First World War, he became best known for The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, selling 150 million copies in more than 40 languages worldwide. Awarded the CBE and an honorary Doctorate of Letters from Oxford University, he died in 1973 at the age of 81.

In dark Mordor, evil Sauron is joining the Rings of Power which will give him total dominion. Only one ring escapes him – and it must be destroyed at any cost. Enter a world of magic and magnificence in Tolkien’s epic trilogy, often considered the greatest fantasy story of all time.

The Book that inspired me to write my first book…

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HERE IS A SMALL FACT – YOU ARE GOING TO DIE

1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier.
Liesel, a nine-year-old girl, is living with a foster family on Himmel Street. Her parents have been taken away to a concentration camp. Liesel steals books. This is her story and the story of the inhabitants of her street when the bombs begin to fall.

SOME IMPORTANT INFORMATION – THIS NOVEL IS NARRATED BY DEATH

 

The Most Unusual Book I have ever read…

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This book was described as;  ‘Dark, twisted and compelling, the most exciting and original thriller of the year’… and was a first for me. Having recently becoming a fan of crime/thrillers, this one came as one hell of a surprise!

‘Normal’…a strange name for a book about a serial killer?

But this is the clever way the author, Graeme Cameron makes you think of the nameless killer in this fascinating different psychological thriller.  An anti-hero with an amazing sense of humour that you find yourself liking, despite what you know of him. He should be despicable, deplorable, someone you should despise. Yet do not.

A brand new genre… comedy /thriller. Exquisitely hilarious…

Readers will enjoy this story, it is entertaining in a way most books are not. As a writer myself, I can only marvel at the complexity, the vast array of observation and emotions, the depth of the characterisation. In short, an amazingly brilliant book!

(Graeme Cameron lives in Norfolk, England. He has never worked as a police detective, ER doctor, crime reporter or forensic anthropologist.)

“Hypnotic and chilling — you won’t forget this in a hurry.” – Lee Child

NOMINATED FOR THE STRAND CRITICS AWARD FOR BEST FIRST NOVEL OF 2015

He lives on your street, in a nice house with a tidy garden. He shops at your local supermarket. He drives beside you, waving to let you into the lane ahead of him. He’s the perfect neighbour. But he also has an elaborate cage in a secret basement under his garage.

And he thinks it’s perfectly normal to kidnap young women and keep them captive.

This is how it’s been for a long time. It’s normal…and it works. Perfectly.

But this time it’s different

When I finished reading the last page I realised that I didn’t even know the killer’s name but I knew that I liked him and I really didn’t want him to go.

Normal’s (anti) hero is a good bloke. Women love him, men get on well with him; he is attractive, funny, sweet – everything you could wish for in a friend or lover. The only problem is that he has a slightly unusual hobby, he ‘hurts’ people, kills them, chops up their bodies and perhaps even eats them. Shame.

Like that other loveable serial killer, Dexter, our killer has experienced a childhood trauma which has left him detached from the rest of the human race. He is an efficient killing machine and never gets caught but then it all goes wrong, he starts to form attachments; he makes his first friend, he starts worrying about the comfort of his victims and finally – Big, Big, Mistake – he falls in love.

I really liked this book. In fact I can’t wait to re-read it. Perhaps he does have a name and I was turning the pages so fast that I missed it.

Mr Normal is definitely my new favourite psychopath.

 

 

 

Remembering…

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This is the time of year when I remember my father, thinking of what could have been if the second World War hadn’t taken him from me.

I pay tribute to the man who gave me my height, my patience, my creative streak and my weird sense of humour all the time, but especially on Remembrance Sunday.

I know all of these things about him because people have told me what he was like. How he looked and sounded when he sat at the piano, belting out popular ragtime melodies.

They laugh when they tell me how funny he looked, stomping out the beat in his huge army boots.

I have lived all my life with these images, but have no way of knowing if they are true because I never met him. He didn’t return from the war and never met me.

I like to think that my life would have been so much better if he had come home, for my mother never got over losing him.

People say I shouldn’t feel sad for someone I didn’t know, but in a way, I do know him. He is a part of me and it certainly feels as though I knew him well. As well as I know myself.

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I wrote a post last year about these ice soldiers, and you can read it here.

 

When we moved to Hampshire, one of the first things I wanted to do was visit the coast. Something I have done many times since, but on that very first time, we walked past the D-day Museum on the seafront. There was a huge tank outside and this bronze statue of the Unknown Soldier. As I studied the soldier, something about his posture and bearing had me imagining that this is what my father would have looked like.

To me, my father is the Unknown Soldier, and I like to think I will get to meet him, one of these days…

Is There Any More?

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I have been told that thinking is a dangerous thing to do at my age. It is possibly a dangerous thing to do at any age, if you think about it, for who knows where it may lead?

But I quite like thinking, and all the things that trigger it off. Like books and pictures for instance. What I could do with is some method of retaining said thoughts, as they usually evaporate like so much smoke, never to be seen again. I make notes on everything in a vain hope of remembering all the good stuff, and it works some of the time.

Then I am told ‘what do you expect, at your age?’

But this is the difficult part. My mind does not feel old, even though it seems to have more holes in it than my favourite cheese, and when I see or read something that stirs my imagination, I am back in my prime, having a sneaky feeling that this is not all there is for me.

Some of the time I must admit that I really don’t want any more, I am too tired to even consider the possibility. But then there are the other days– days when you forget just how old, and how stiff you are. That you find it difficult just going to the shops and back.
Days when you choose to ignore the sands of time slipping through your fingers and find yourself considering the most amazing possibilities.

Of course, this may be what happens as you approach old age. I don’t know, I have no experience or knowledge of it, not having done it before.
But if you can think, you can dream. And if you can dream I believe you can do anything… at any age!