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

Almost a year on

It’s been almost a year since we left Cape Town for the UK. It’s a been a tough one. And only now are we going to be moving into our own home – 10 days time.

During this past year there has been reflection a-plenty. It still continues, and it brings me to a point where big and small changes to my life have happened, and will continue to happen. And as they do so they will be embraced or kicked into touch.

Writing has been a big one – completely lost the will to do so. Maybe the new house will have me inspired.

Sunday morning it is then.  Sunday lunch needs to be prepared, and a visit to the local pub for  pre-lunch drink with my Dad is calling.

Happy Sunday all




Barbie got real

Can you believe it, Barbie has had a make-over!  She comes in all different sizes now, curvy, petite, tall and so on and so on.

What do you think?

I can’t help wondering how many little girls will notice the difference. Or will it be more the mummy’s nodding and sighing, and agreeing or not?

Photo – Twitter feed


curvy barbie cover

Readers Panic 2016

Phew, so many books, so little time.

Home of Jedland

I’ve been looking through the many sites where bloggers have listed the books they will read for 2016. Have to say I am mighty impressed, and applaud all for doing so.

As for me, well I wouldn’t know where to begin with creating a list. My Want to Read shelf on Goodreads is updated every now again, as is my Amazon Wishlist. But list the books to read for a year. Phew, I just couldn’t.

It would be like making a list of what to wear each day for a month. Or what to eat for a week. The mind would shut down.

Readers panic perhaps?


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Now what is this thing called Feminazi? Must admit I’d not heard of it until about a week ago when a lady solicitor in the UK was labelled as such, after outing a man for complementing her picture on LinkedIn.

She claimed all sorts of things, inappropriate, sexist etc. However, what she failed to remember, I understand, is that she too has left flattering comments on images of both men and women of whom she barely knows. Does this not smack of I can do, but don’t you dare?

Said lady solicitor received a huge backlash and was subsequently labelled a Feminazi. She in turn claimed her career was ruined over this. Are we seeing sour grapes? Possibly, maybe not. What I do think is she was rather silly and should have yawned the compliment off. If the man in question pursued her, then a nice official letter telling him where to park himself would have sufficed.

I like to think of myself as a bit of a feminist, certainly not radical, but equally certainly pro-women’s rights. That said, if any women feels they would prefer to be a homemaker, then I salute them and say good for you, go for it. A choice is a choice, and who am I to tell you or anybody else that they are wrong? Correct a nobody.

So I went searching on the WWW and found this:

Definition of FEMINAZI

usually disparaging

:  an extreme or militant feminist
On Urban Dictionary, they sum it up like this:

A feminazi is a sexist. A feminist is a supporter of womens’ rights.

Old Urban say a lot more too, I hasten to add.

In closing I ask then, is she or isn’t she? Read more here: Dailymail

Here she is, photo source: Dailymail