Thursday 6th November 2025
Mmm, hot toasted teacake slathered in chocolate butter is my new favourite snack. It’s delicious, but messy, especially if you slather it as generously as I do. What can I say; I’m a greedy houseboy. I look like I’ve got shit stains all down the front of my top. Never mind, life is too short to get mad about chocolate butter dripping off a teacake. A couple of scoops of Vanish Pink in the wash, and my top will be as good as new.
Some catch-up. October was a pleasant month in my portion of Old Blighty. Mostly dry and sunny, it made outdoor pursuits pleasurable. We got in a couple of good long bike rides, and even going for a run was nicely seasonal, with all the dry leaves flying up into the air like crunchy and colourful confetti. Since then, it’s rained heavily, so the leaves are wet and breaking down, making the pavements a bit slippery. So far, I’ve avoided coming a cropper, but it won’t last. It wouldn’t be a proper autumn without me going arse over tit on slimy wet leaves, at least once. Shane has the TCP on standby.
Guy Fawkes night was last night, so we are now on the run-up to Christmas. I can’t believe how fast this year is going. It hasn’t been the best year from my perspective. I’ve had some stuff to contend with. In a way, I needed to step back from journaling, to take stock. I’ve been talking tripe for quite some time now, and I guess I needed a break for my health sake. Life isn’t easy at the best of times, and let’s face it these are NOT the best of times, for any of us.
Bits & Bobs remains unfinished, but largely written, and I hope to find the focus to complete and get it out there at some point. Maybe, closer to the festive season, I might post a chapter to see how it’s received, and as a thank you for your patience and loyal followships.
We’re off to Harrogate at the weekend to meet up with one of Dick’s old uni chums, and his wife. We’re staying over at their house on Saturday night. I’ve met them before, and they’re a nice couple, posh, but not snobby. They don’t mind my banter. It’s supposed to be nice weather, and it’s a scenic part of the country, so I’m looking forward to it. I’ve learned, for the most part, that the only point of life is to take and make the best of the day you are in. You can’t relive the past, and you can’t foresee the future, so all you have in the here and now.
Thursday 27th November 2025
Dear Diary,
Grey. It’s just so damn grey here in my portion of Old Blighty. Wet, mild, and very, very grey. I’m not a big fan of grey. It’s an emotional vampire of a colour that drains all the joy out of you. Earlier this month we had a bit of a cold snap, which brought snow and frost, but bright clear blue skies. I can live with that. The men folk moaned, of course. They don’t like snow and ice. It interferes with their mechanics. Honestly, their bloody cars mean more to them than anything else, including me at times. They deny it, but if it came to saving me from a savage dog or saving their cars from getting a bit of frost on the bonnets, I know what they’d choose first. It’d be cars in the garage, followed by shovelling my bloodied remains off the drive.
Slimy, slippery rotting leaves season is in full swing after all the rain, and yes, I’ve skidded onto my arse more than once while out running. Everything is wet and mucky, so even if I don’t actually go arse over tit, I arrive home spattered in mud and leaf mulch. I need mud guards and windscreen wipers on my shins.
In other news - Smashwords, the site through which I publish most of my deranged witterings, sold out to a company called Draft2Digital some time ago. I was disappointed tbh. I felt let down by Mark Coker, the Smashwords founder. He spouted a lot of fine words about indie authors and presented himself as a champion, so when he sold out, I felt a bit betrayed. Anyway, all us little independents, who were with SW from the beginning, had no choice but to migrate to Draft2, and I hate it. I hate the site. I hate the format of it, the whole thing. Coker also failed to tell his loyal subscribers that Draft2 have some crafty hidden charges that mean the royalties you end up with are even more meagre. I haven’t had time or inclination to get a handle on it all yet. I don’t know if I actually will. Time will tell. Maybe I’ll get used to it, or maybe I’ll have to accept my little writing adventure is over. The day of the true indie author is over for sure, big business found our small corner of the internet and decided to muscle in and take over, making it harder for us to operate.
The run-up to Christmas is in full swing, but, for various reasons, my heart isn’t quite in it this year, things are pending on the health front, and I guess I’m distracted. Sure, I’ve got my Chrissy tree on order, and my credit card has been in training ready for the big spend, but, so far, I’m not quite able to shift gear up into full on glitter and sleigh bells mode.
This has turned into a bit of a gloomy moaning session. I don’t mean to be a miserable bastard; it’s just my natural default setting.
I hope Thanksgiving is a beautiful occasion for all those celebrate it, and that you find some joy in it. If you’re celebrating alone, then at least you’re not having to put up with relatives you can’t stand and there’s no risk of fights breaking out, not unless you argue with yourself, plus there’s less washing up to do. If you’re having the full on family thing, then enjoy, and if not, then keep telling yourself, it’s just for one day, and bear in mind the turkey is having a way worse day than you are. ;)
Ciao for now, peeps. X
Mmm, hot toasted teacake slathered in chocolate butter is my new favourite snack. It’s delicious, but messy, especially if you slather it as generously as I do. What can I say; I’m a greedy houseboy. I look like I’ve got shit stains all down the front of my top. Never mind, life is too short to get mad about chocolate butter dripping off a teacake. A couple of scoops of Vanish Pink in the wash, and my top will be as good as new.
Some catch-up. October was a pleasant month in my portion of Old Blighty. Mostly dry and sunny, it made outdoor pursuits pleasurable. We got in a couple of good long bike rides, and even going for a run was nicely seasonal, with all the dry leaves flying up into the air like crunchy and colourful confetti. Since then, it’s rained heavily, so the leaves are wet and breaking down, making the pavements a bit slippery. So far, I’ve avoided coming a cropper, but it won’t last. It wouldn’t be a proper autumn without me going arse over tit on slimy wet leaves, at least once. Shane has the TCP on standby.
Guy Fawkes night was last night, so we are now on the run-up to Christmas. I can’t believe how fast this year is going. It hasn’t been the best year from my perspective. I’ve had some stuff to contend with. In a way, I needed to step back from journaling, to take stock. I’ve been talking tripe for quite some time now, and I guess I needed a break for my health sake. Life isn’t easy at the best of times, and let’s face it these are NOT the best of times, for any of us.
Bits & Bobs remains unfinished, but largely written, and I hope to find the focus to complete and get it out there at some point. Maybe, closer to the festive season, I might post a chapter to see how it’s received, and as a thank you for your patience and loyal followships.
We’re off to Harrogate at the weekend to meet up with one of Dick’s old uni chums, and his wife. We’re staying over at their house on Saturday night. I’ve met them before, and they’re a nice couple, posh, but not snobby. They don’t mind my banter. It’s supposed to be nice weather, and it’s a scenic part of the country, so I’m looking forward to it. I’ve learned, for the most part, that the only point of life is to take and make the best of the day you are in. You can’t relive the past, and you can’t foresee the future, so all you have in the here and now.
And on that pseudo philosophical note, I’ll say ta-ta for now, and go and shove my shitty looking top in the wash. I hope all is well in your worlds.
Thursday 27th November 2025
Dear Diary,
Grey. It’s just so damn grey here in my portion of Old Blighty. Wet, mild, and very, very grey. I’m not a big fan of grey. It’s an emotional vampire of a colour that drains all the joy out of you. Earlier this month we had a bit of a cold snap, which brought snow and frost, but bright clear blue skies. I can live with that. The men folk moaned, of course. They don’t like snow and ice. It interferes with their mechanics. Honestly, their bloody cars mean more to them than anything else, including me at times. They deny it, but if it came to saving me from a savage dog or saving their cars from getting a bit of frost on the bonnets, I know what they’d choose first. It’d be cars in the garage, followed by shovelling my bloodied remains off the drive.
Slimy, slippery rotting leaves season is in full swing after all the rain, and yes, I’ve skidded onto my arse more than once while out running. Everything is wet and mucky, so even if I don’t actually go arse over tit, I arrive home spattered in mud and leaf mulch. I need mud guards and windscreen wipers on my shins.
In other news - Smashwords, the site through which I publish most of my deranged witterings, sold out to a company called Draft2Digital some time ago. I was disappointed tbh. I felt let down by Mark Coker, the Smashwords founder. He spouted a lot of fine words about indie authors and presented himself as a champion, so when he sold out, I felt a bit betrayed. Anyway, all us little independents, who were with SW from the beginning, had no choice but to migrate to Draft2, and I hate it. I hate the site. I hate the format of it, the whole thing. Coker also failed to tell his loyal subscribers that Draft2 have some crafty hidden charges that mean the royalties you end up with are even more meagre. I haven’t had time or inclination to get a handle on it all yet. I don’t know if I actually will. Time will tell. Maybe I’ll get used to it, or maybe I’ll have to accept my little writing adventure is over. The day of the true indie author is over for sure, big business found our small corner of the internet and decided to muscle in and take over, making it harder for us to operate.
The run-up to Christmas is in full swing, but, for various reasons, my heart isn’t quite in it this year, things are pending on the health front, and I guess I’m distracted. Sure, I’ve got my Chrissy tree on order, and my credit card has been in training ready for the big spend, but, so far, I’m not quite able to shift gear up into full on glitter and sleigh bells mode.
This has turned into a bit of a gloomy moaning session. I don’t mean to be a miserable bastard; it’s just my natural default setting.
I hope Thanksgiving is a beautiful occasion for all those celebrate it, and that you find some joy in it. If you’re celebrating alone, then at least you’re not having to put up with relatives you can’t stand and there’s no risk of fights breaking out, not unless you argue with yourself, plus there’s less washing up to do. If you’re having the full on family thing, then enjoy, and if not, then keep telling yourself, it’s just for one day, and bear in mind the turkey is having a way worse day than you are. ;)
Ciao for now, peeps. X