15 minutes and some glue

When I was a little un at school the most annoying, and more so dreaded thing ever to be given to do was glue things, and perhaps that’s where my distaste for getting my fingers and hands dirty started. Anyway, glue time meant an eager teacher would bring forth a funny looking pot of glue complete with a brush that from the moment you looked at it was sticky from bristles to handle and back again, no matter how hard you tried to keep it clean.

So sticky you’d end up with fingers covered with paper that no amount of shaking and pulling would remove it, and if anything only served to move it from one hand to the other, and back again until you went half mad, had a tantrum and was told off.

Later we progressed on to a glue pot with its funny little rubber top. It had a bit of slit across the lid requiring you to push down hard to allow the glue to escape before dragging it over the paper. Evidently, my skills do not surround the glue pot of any sorts, because even with this one I always ended up in a sticky mess.

Sometimes I think about how life was simpler once upon a time and how it would be good to have some of that back.  But not if it meant going back to the darn glue pot.


Photo from HERE






What the heck is this blog about?

Should you have fallen onto this blog, the purpose it serves is to ignite my love of writing once more by simply typing whatever is on my mind for 15 minutes and stopping


15 minutes with new Downton Abbey


Photo: From here

Have you seen or heard? Hold onto your knickers. It be true. The Downton Abbey movie begins filming next week.

Really hoping Lady Mary is down on her luck and having to settle amongst the poor in this one.  I don’t mind if she’s relocated to a stone cottage with a tin sink in the hall, and outside loo, all down the road from Downton, or even up in London in a 2 up 2 down terrace she shares with a family of 10, most of whom are under the age of 2. Not overly bothered if she is married or not, but it would be nice if she’d put on a bit of weight because she really is way too thin to cope with the chill.

Lord Grantham and his lady need a bit of a shake-up too. My money is on them having themed murder mystery weekends where all they really do is drink endless cocktails while wearing knee-length costumes that allow them to float and fall about in a newly installed, heated swimming pool.

Lady Edith, she must have a good life this time around, because, for goodness sake, she had the crappiest life of them all.

Downstairs, well please no more weeping over husbands being framed for murder and whatnot.  Rather let’s have one of these good servants inherit a fortune and make a grab for Downton itself, or at least fall in the pool with a tray of cocktails while Lady Grantham reaches for another olive.

And as for those children. Well, let them be happy little people with no illness or anything.



What the heck is this blog about?

Should you have fallen onto this blog, the purpose it serves is to ignite my love of writing once more by simply typing whatever is on my mind for 15 minutes and stopping



15 minutes with Serena Williams and afternoon tea

Well having not watched the US Open 2018 Ladies final match in its entirety, and having caught up with the news and clips on the WWW, I kinda feel like taking Serena Williams by the hand and suggesting she takes a good old break, read some lovely books, and have some time to dwell on why it’s ok not to always win. And, if she is on the losing side, not to push the blame at any other person or situation that ends up in this sort of madness.

Easier said than done, sure. But she was losing that match, no matter the coaching or not. The outburst was likely frustration on a catastrophic level. And sure, we all have those times when you just want to punch something or somebody when you’ve tried so bloody hard to win, get, gain, achieve only for it to fall apart on the day.

And, Serena, I would say. You’ve achieved so much. You have no need to do more for your daughter to be able to see this in years to come. Jeepers, what a role model you will surely be. Come on Serena, you are a WINNER. You don’t need another trophy to polish once a week to know it.

I’m going for Afternoon Tea today, maybe Serena would have liked to join us 🙂

Basically, in about 45 mins time there will be delightful cake and small sandwiches being shovelled down my throat, washed down with Earl Grey tea – actually, correction, a glass of bubbly will do better.

Hubster and I are heading off for this. Sadly this means no roast potatoes for him today, but he will cope because he is a WINNER on so many levels.


Photo: mine.








What the heck is this blog about?

Should you have fallen onto this blog, the purpose it serves is to ignite my love of writing once more by simply typing whatever is on my mind for 15 minutes and stopping



Fifteen minutes with Poirot and Poldark

tukka-tukka 2, tukka-tukka 2, time to write and be amused.  What the heck rhymes with 2? And how the heck do you spell tukka?

Suppose I could have used one of these:

crew, few, true, boo, knew, new, pew, poo, who, pooh, emu – hmmm, not sure about emu.

There’s heat in the house today. That muggy, stifling heat that says no matter what I do or where I am, the old body will end up sweaty and yukky. Yesterday at work the aircon was set to 17, pretty cold. However, with the roof off the office, which is within a distribution centre with no aircon, it might as well have been set to fierce heat.

Been thinking about a character for a book. I can sort of picture him but have a suspicion of channelling Agatha Christie’s Poirot. Think I need to shake him up a bit. Have him maybe a bit more along the lines of Poldark as in ovary thumping abs, fondness of wearing not much, and gets around on a horse.

Can’t find a photo of Poldark on his horse, bare-chested.





Purpose of this blog should you have fallen upon it:

Having fallen out of love with writing, yet deep down really wanting to, decided the best way was to write whatever comes to mind in 15 mins and then stop



Fifteen minutes grabber

Ok, today I’ve written some stuff here for 3 minutes and deleted it all. It was about dogs.

My best writing thoughts come when I’m away from the keyboard, have no notepaper to jot down, or the time and place is not great to pull out a pen and start scribbling. Actually, mostly everything arrives when I’m almost asleep, or just waking up. Then it’s much a case of telling myself, “that’s a good ‘un. Make sure you get that down when you are up.”

Get up is fine. Jot it down is not.

robin on fence

photo source

Today the hubster has taken delivery of some posts and fencing. His chest has expanded with joy and pride and for the next few days, he will be grubby and extremely happy.

He decided we needed a fence between us and the neighbours. Not because they are miserable old bats or anything, he just wanted to put it up and grow something up it. I’m internalising that really it was about wanting a man project. Something that entails several trips to the hardware shop for tools not needed, but nevertheless will look rather nice in the back of a cupboard, for just in case.

Back to the growing part, really hoping this will not be tomatoes or beans or anything edible. Because as I will be parking next to this here fence, I’m anticipating hubster will be painting a white line my wheels are not to cross over. And quite possibly he will find some or other contraption to monitor exhaust fumes and, spend far too much time attempting to persuade me to park three streets away.

Posts and fences have been here for about 30mins, and already the drill is buzzing.

Times up.


fifteen minutes before I leave for work

30th July 2018 – it be Monday

Writers Block – write anything, just write you dummy

That’s all I have, fifteen minutes to put something down on this blank page. No idea where to start. No idea what to say. How about I think about what work is going to be?

Hmmm, well, it’s a 2pm-10pm shift. Quite a change for me. And that’s an office position too. I never really associated late shifts with office work before. Have you? Office hours have always been 8-4 or 9-5. Where is Dolly Parton when I need her.


If my mind is correct we have an outdoor meeting between 2 and 3.  Up the road at a pondy sort of place. Is pondy even a word? Who knows, leaving me only to hope the context is correct for this blog.  Of course, the weather is not playing along, after endless and long days of heat and blue sky, so today we return to grey, damp and blegh. Reason for the meeting? Colleague leaving tomorrow. She’s fluent in French, going to Uni in France to study Spanish. Go figure!

Do you know I actively save every kind of flying creature and, crawling ones too? Flies the lot. Shew them out through doors and windows, urging them to “come along, out you go.” Hubster smiles and rolls his eyes, and will take over shewing if I’m dashing out the door.

Ok, that’s it. 15 minutes almost up.

Just enough time to add tags and categories and publish. Feeling content I’ve done it.

One last thing. Not sure who the killer will be on Unforgotten. Loads of red herrings there.




Stories We Could TellStories We Could Tell by Tony Parsons
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

great book, easy to read, satisfied with the ending.
Bearing in mind the entire story unfolds over one single night, namely the night Elvis died, you would expect this story to be Elvis through and through. Well it isn’t. Which is good. Instead you follow a group of young music journalists, not much older than very early twenties, cock sure of what they are doing and where they are going, only to find 12 hours later that everything has changed, mostly for the good. Pretty much a coming-of-age book.
Based in London, jumping from clubs, to squats, to punch-ups and much more, you can’t help but recognise a little of yourself in this book. How you felt the world was at your feet and that you knew everything, only to discover at some point you know nothing at all and, that as you get older life will send you who knows where when you least expect it.

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Book Review – Hugh Laurie

Hugh Laurie: The BiographyHugh Laurie: The Biography by Anthony Bunko

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I was quite disappointed with this read. This was not a good biography at all, with pages and pages dedicated to talking about actors and a few select friends who Hugh Laurie has worked with, and been educated with. His father was mentioned, and I think I learnt more about the senior Mr Laurie than I did his famous son.

This of course raises the question regarding what should be in a bio’s content? Well no need down to minute detail, or sock size, but some kind of background and or reference to inspirational people etc would be a start.

Such a shame as Hugh Laurie is a favourite of mine.Hugh Laurie: The Biography

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Book Review – Hiss and Hers

Hiss and Hers (Agatha Raisin, #23)Hiss and Hers by M.C. Beaton

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Hiss and Hers was my first Agatha Raisin, chosen randomly from the library.

I classify this book as comedy/crime and was a quick and easy read. The story evolves around PI Agatha Raisin falling madly in love with a hunk of a gardener, only for advances to be avoided, and then said gardener is murdered. To say more would be adding spoilers.

There are loads of colourful characters, and I found myself confused at times around who was who and why they were there. That said, the crime was easily followed, not quite easy to believe, but very entertaining.

There are a number of Agatha Raisin books, and I’d read more. Hiss and Hers

(Original review on Goodreads)

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Pied Piper review

Pied PiperPied Piper by Nevil Shute

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Nice little read was this one. The story is about an elderly man embarking on a fishing trip to France. Once there, the inevitable happens, WWII erupts, and feeling the need to be home to do his bit, decides to return to the UK as soon as possible.

Heading home on his own would be easy, but having befriended an English couple living in Switzerland, he is requested to take their 2 young children with him. Believing this would hamper him only slightly, and with little knowledge of how quickly the Germans are moving, he agrees. Within hours things start to go wrong, and quickly the number of children in his charge grows from 2 to 3, and eventually to 7.

As war intensifies, so the routes and transport they need become non-existent. Food too. And of course safety. Left to little more than a broken pram and determination to keep the children safe, John Howard sets out to achieve what many will see as unachievable.

Pied Piper


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