Wednesday 5th November 2014

Good evening, peoples.

I thought I’d sign in and pen some witterings and ramblings. Dick and Shane have rolled up their trouser legs and moseyed off to exchange dodgy handshakes with like-minded Masonics at the local lodge. Rather them than me, baby. I am thus home alone.

It’s been a cool sort of day today, not cool funky, but cool as in temperature, not cold exactly, but colder than it has been. It’s been a warm sort of autumn so far. It’s unnatural. I prefer the weather to do what it’s supposed to do at its allotted season. Spring should be mild, summer ought to be warm wending towards hot, autumn cool and winter should be cold, proper cold with frost and snow and stuff. There speaks Gillibran Brown, weatherman for our time.

It’s Bonfire night here in Blighty. I can hear the bangs, shrieks, cracks and whistles of fireworks exploding in the night air outside, but alas I can’t see them. I’m not allowed to look out of the window in order to gaze upon their fiery beauty, lest they render me twitchy. Like booze, fireworks are a pleasure still missed from time to time. I know better than to try and cheat and take a peep. I settle for trying to recall what they look like. Unfortunately, for some peculiar reason, my mind's eye seems only able to cast up memories of red fireworks. Don’t get me wrong, I like red, but fireworks are about the full multicolour rainbow experience, not just red. I want to see purple, green, silver, blue and gold, but no, my mind insists on only letting off fucking red ones. What’s that all about eh? Maybe it signifies that I’m suppressing some deep-seated, unsatisfied blood lust? I hope not. Give me plain old sex lust over blood lust any day of the week. The fallout from sex lust is so much easier to clean off the carpets than blood lust.

Thank you kindly to everyone who has sent an email recently. As ever, I’m behind with replies. The fantasy secretary I employed to run my fantasy fan club is supposed to take care of such matters, but has so far fallen down on the job. Lazy bar steward! You just can’t get the fantasy staff these days, especially not on the make believe wage I was offering.

I’ve actually been out of sorts for the past couple of weeks. The changing of the clocks always throws me out of kilter. It takes me a while to adjust, which I resent. I try to carry on as per usual instead of accepting that I’m more prone to tiredness and thus to episodes due to the time change. I tend to be a tad crabby, snappy and snarly. It drives Shane up the wall. He tends to meet my snaps and snarls with barks and bites, not literally, he doesn’t sink his pearly white gnashers into any part of my anatomy, but you get the general gist. Poor Dick gets caught between the two of us.

Book news: ‘Christmas at Leo’s’ is done or at least as done as it is ever going to be. It just needs a final edit. It shouldn’t take too long. Yay!  I think.



Saturday 15th November 2014

Drum roll please…

‘Christmas at Leo’s’ is done and out. Ta-Dah!

I know, at last. Mini miracle. Bloody hell, what a marathon that was! Well, I can only hope you think it’s been worth the long wait. In format, it’s similar to ‘Achilles and The Houseboy’ in that it deals in detail with a particular event, in this case, ‘Christmas at Leo’s.’ I know some folk liked Achilles while others didn’t. I guess ‘Leo’s’ might be the same.

I’ve created two ebook versions, one on Smashwords and one on Lulu - details on the book page. Smashwords has several downloadable formats, while Lulu offers a PDF. There’ll probably be a paperback version at some point, when and if I get around to it. I’ve found this one tough going, peeps. Goodness knows when I’ll get around to writing ‘Revelations.’

Anyway, for now, ‘Christmas at Leo’s’ is out, and I hope some of you enjoy it. Many thanks for your patience and patronage.

Cheers,

Gillibran Brown


Monday 17th November 2014

Good morrow, boys and girls, ‘tis I, houseboy, author, web sub, domestic cherub and all round cute guy, popping in for a chunter while I enjoy a coffee and the ‘free’ mince pie that I got from John Lewis yesterday, and very tasty it is too, my first mince pie of the season no less. Yum. For those of you who might not know, John Lewis is a store. Dick and I had a jaunt to Newcastle yesterday to do a spot of early Christmas shopping. There was a lady wandering around JL with a tray of mince pies trying to lure people into the coffee shop. We’d just eaten lunch so I wasn’t hungry, but still, you can’t look a free mince pie in the mouth, not when you’re a tight arse. They looked delicious, so I took one and wrapped it up to bring home with me.

We had a nice day out. We had a good poke around the shops and bought a couple of presents. I have to say, though, I wasn’t that impressed with Fenwick’s Chrissy window display this year. The theme is Alice in Wonderland, and, to me, it didn’t look that festive. Maybe I’m just fussy, or maybe it’s because I’m not a huge fan of Alice in Wonderland in general. As a story, it’s never struck a deep or affectionate chord with me. I find it sinister. I think perhaps the window displays will look better at night when the lights are all glowing.

As ever, thank you to everyone who has emailed of late. I try to reply, but don’t always get there. Forgive me if I seem an ignorant git for not replying. No slight or rudeness intended. I’m just not a great correspondent, and I don’t always have the time to do other than say a simple thank you. Some of you send wonderful letters that I feel inadequate to respond to, certainly with the attention they deserve. I get overwhelmed. A few folk have contacted me via webring and try as I might I have NEVER worked out how to send a reply, how webring operates is a continuing bloody mystery to me. If you have contacted me this way, then again, thank you. I have read your messages.

Thank you so much to everyone who has kindly bought a copy of my latest book of scribblings. I hope it entertains you. I’ve been edgy all weekend. Putting a new book out is a nerve shredding process.  So, what now? I think I need to take a break before attempting to pen ‘Revelations.’ A lot happened in the two years following on from Xmas at Leo’s. They were testing years for the three of us. I did a lot of growing. I think we all did in different ways. The original plan was to deal with 2009/2010 in one fell swoop, but I’m not sure now. We’ll see what transpires. Watch this space, but not for too long, cos it’s a big space and you might get dizzy.

Well (blows pastry crumbs off the keyboard) that’s me done here for today. I have stuff to do of a domestic nature. I’ll say ta-ra for now.


Sunday 23rd November 2014

Sunday again, where does the week go, eh? We’re lunching with Leo later today, so I’ve got some time to waste on my own account this morning. I should really chuck some of my magic glitter into the air and go back over some past things that have been mentioned, but not expanded upon. However, I can’t be arsed, not at the moment. Laters maybe. I will say that my eye is fine now. It waters and smarts from time to time, especially if I use the computer too much, but is essentially over its trauma. Incidentally, I blame my old deceased pal robin for the accident, as I suspect he planted the seed that grew into the evil bush that attacked me. I certainly didn’t plant any hawthorn. I reckon he was growing it as his own private, organic ‘arsenal.’ I bet he was cultivating the thorns to use as swords and spears to see off other birds. Bad robin! I still miss him, thug though he was. I’ve glimpsed another robin in the garden from time to time, but I don’t think it’s resident here. I think it just pops in for lunch now and again.

While I’m here I thought I’d post a new recipe I’ve had sent to me, and about time too! (Blows inch deep dust off the recipe page.) It’s for a creamy pasta cheese soup and it sounds very tasty, though I haven’t yet tried it, but I will. Thanks to Sarah for sharing. I only wish email had evolved to the point where she could have sent a bowl of the actual soup through the airwaves. It will happen, peeps, it will happen, one of these days, and then keyboards will get REALLY messy as we all slurp and slobber on cyber sent goodies. The humble mouse will come equipped with a set of cutlery. Apparently, this soup is a firm favourite with murdering members of the Sicilian Mafia (Lie Detector says NO!) Okay, I admit I embellished that bit. It's got pasta, therefore it's Italian, let's just leave it there. No offence intended to any murdering Mafia members who might be reading this (please don't hurt me.) Shut up chuntering, Gilli, I hear you say, and get on with posting the bloody recipe. Okay, okay, it’s posted.

December

 
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