Today is budget day in the Devolved United Kingdom. This annual ritual of political circus is when the Chancellor of the Spreadsheet hangs out his dirty washing. And the news is that we are BUST. Luckily there are other countries that are even bustier. That has allowed our leaders to reduce the price of a pint of warm English beer by one pence. In my limited and innocent experience, busts expand with beer – both as possessed and perceived. And ya boo sux to all those limp honourable members opposite.
http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/h8ejiG5-BtA&source=uds
I trust that my intellectual and astute readers will realise that my comments are merely a pastiche of that parliamentary pun and run style which is otherwise known as government and leadership.
A few days ago I was a guest in someone’s home where the family was gathered around the Sky TV Oracle at Murdoch to receive the noises of WWF. Now, I know that at once you think of the World Wildlife Fund. Oh no – I mean the World Wrestling Federation. For a moment I thought I was watching the Parliament channel. Here is a clip – you’ll see what I mean.
Emma Thinx: Keep the circus rings out of your nose.
Author Archives: emmacalin
Fast Food – Food Fast.
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| I’m just brazen with my grazin’ |
I’ve not been lounging about on these pages for a while. I’ve been writing, reading and dieting and to be frank, they don’t mix. I’m on the 5:2 fast diet since I thought it was about time I joined in a craze. Probably thousands of you are doing the same. 500 calories is not a lot but I can scrape by on it. I find it impossible to write because I feel so miserable and weak on the fast days. So far in three weeks I have lost 8 lbs. I have realised something important. I now see that on a normal day I graze so much that if I caught the eye of a farmer he’d put a tag in my ear and pull me in for milking.
All the same, today is a big eat day. Oooh – steak and kidney pie with chips! That’s what I call a diet. Tomorrow is an anchovy fillet and a carrot baton for lunch followed by an air kiss and a glass of water for dinner. Talking of air kisses let me just say that a certain amount of gas can arise…….oooh – I don’t want to think about it. To be fair, my impression is that this regime does work. If you’re on it too please let me know your experiences.
Far more pleasure has flowed from my reading “Never Alone” by Linn Halton (Amazon.com) (Amazon UK). I’ve posted my review and you can see it below.
Until I read “Never Alone” I had never considered that what we call paranormal might in fact be more normal than our conditioned tendency to ignore what we call intuition. At first Holly and her partner Will have a beautiful and successful life. Holly’s encounter with a mysterious supernatural entity poses a problem in their lives far beyond the trauma of the incident itself. She is forced to examine her values and her own true character. She finds a new companionship with with a completely different group of people who appreciate her mysterious talent for spiritual consciousness. She begins to see the flaws in her life of materialistic ambition. Understandably, her new behaviour perplexes those around her and conflicts multiply as the action proceeds. Finally, of course she makes choices whilst the narrative explores her reconciliation with the idea of contact with “the other side” as a natural part of her life. Just at the point where you can see the story playing out to a predictable outcome based on what you thought you understood – it doesn’t!
This is a good well paced read. The characters are believable and very much of our current times. The author has a light touch which makes the book very easy to read. I enjoyed “Never Alone” and for me it merits a five star rating.
Emma Thinx: Too much moral fibre can blow your mind.
Watercolour Postcard From Saint Savinien
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| A River Runs Through It |
Oh – do we have eau! Saint Savinien carries the tag line – village between water and stone. Well dear me – there sure is water and luckily plenty of stone for folk to stand on. Although I have not seen a drop of rain myself, the natives assure me that it only stopped about an hour before I arrived. Not even a cloud has entered my sky but seemingly this has been one of the wettest ever winters. Last year was definitely the coldest ever. Oooh – I’m starting to sound like some old granny over the garden fence.
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| Relax – put your feet up. |
Nothing can hide the beauty of this place and a slight surplus of water merely adds to the quality of reflected light. It is oddly comforting for me to know that the only way to travel between the village of Taillebourg and the opposite bank of La Charente is by means of a causeway built by the Romans using hand tools, eye sight and pots of red wine. The tarmac road built by helmeted sober technoids with lasers and 4G connection to Head Office is under water and crumbled into pebbles. It fully exonerates my Luddite follicles.
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| Time to reflect.while reflecting on Time. |
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| Which one is the real me? |
The French were of course, never conquered by Les Romans. They were merely a band of heavily armed civil engineers who were allowed to stay on condition that they did some building work in exchange for the recipe for Moules Marinieres. Believe me, the Romans got a good deal.
Oooh – last night we had the neighbours in for a sea food blow out. Today I feel like the last of the red hot mollusc mamas. If you’ve not tried harissa paste cuisine get some and get stuck in! I was gonna ask for advice on pruning my vines……but in the end I chickened out. I can’t deal with information overload. Vine pruning is a kinda genetic gift from the jolly green Gallo-God. I got up and just had a chop. Usually I do Oscar’s hair. He’s getting a bit woody but still alive.
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| Baguette in the flow of life in search of a back story |
When I was a young temp in London I once worked in the art world. I actually helped to organise a surrealist exhibition. It was a difficult job because the gallery owner thought he was a fish and only communicated in speech bubbles. I made up the last sentence because I’ve allowed a couple of glasses of Chablis to pass my lips. The memory entered my sozzled brain as I snapped a passing baguette. You know in any narrative there is the problem of back story….
Emma Thinx: Stop wine on empty stomachs. Prohibit stomachs.
Springtime Postcard From Saint Savinien
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| My wonderful home. |
I cannot hide my joy at just being alive here in France. Springtime is special of course, wherever you are. It represents something of a forgiveness to me – that the great generous heart of the universe has once again let me have its warmth. Surely, this is how pagan folk must have felt.
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| Brave tiny blooms – your beauty is stronger than my self important life |
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| Oh – thank you thank you for your gorgeous push and pulse |
I set out into Saint Savinien with my camera to take some pix of the first push of Spring. Oooh – it made me feel quite frisky – and at my age….no risky. God knows how many progeny I would have borne if I’d not lived in Republic Bar of Urbania. Springtime in South London was when they changed the revolving lamb kebab lump-a-stuff in the Istanbul Delite Tonite Takeaway window. Here, the season pushes out its cry of new life. It’s orgasmic and I love it!
So, all in all it’s romantic novelist and poet goes OTT with vernal lust. Here are a few images:
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| Reach and reach and reach and reach. I offer only my open shouting beauty. I AM ALIVE. |
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| LOOK AT ME – I AM A MIRACLE |
You just cannot beat these simple little blooms. I think of them as cherub kisses planted with a wink. Oh – joy joy joy!
Emma Thinx: Life sometimes shit. You always seed. GROW!
My Valentine Love Poem
A a writer of Romance, Valentine’s day is kinda like Christmas eve in Walmart and Santa’s place at the North Pole. I am a real sucker for Saint Valentine’s day. Well, yes I know all the teddy bears, hearts, flowers and chocolates are a commerce-fest crossed with an orgy of kitsch.
Yet, among it all the festival has that wonderful power to give permission for anyone to go completely over the top in the knowledge that…..you just cannot go over the top. No rose is too red, no teddy bear is too big, no card has too much sentiment.
It was in this frame of mind that I have written my Valentine’s love poem. I write of love because I have had much of it and of course, it not all hearts and flowers. But when it is – then it is the most wonderful and dizzying thing in this universe. I have said in a previous Emma Thinx – anyone who can talk sensibly of love is not in it. On Valentine’s day, the gloves are off and the wits are out. Why be sensible or bother with taste when you can let go and love?
Emma Thinx: If you can’t exaggerate your fantasy – it’s love.
Don’t Look A Gift Lasagna In The Mouth
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| 100% meat.Where can I get some? |
Right, this has nothing to do with anything OK. I’m sick and tired of news news news about utter rubbish. The latest scandal here in the UK is that Findus frozen lasagna contains 100% horse meat. Experts are on the box wringing their blue plastic gloved hands in their Ministry Of Spin hygienic hairnets. Ooooh – it’s all so terrible.
Well comrades, I givest not a stuff. The fact that any burgers or lasagnas contain 100% meat is wonderful and astonishing. The very fact that there is any meat content is staggering.
And you know who is to blame don’t you? Yes – it’s the bloody French. The vile Gauls have impregnated our pure Anglo Saxon palates with viande de cheval. And bloody lovely it is too! And it is 100% pure meat contamination! Why can’t I get my normal saw-dust, ground bone and bowel offal burgers? That’s what I demand to know.
Very probably some crooks have fed some horse meat into the system and that is all very tut tut. Many folk in the world would fight to the death for some 100% horse mince. Let’s get real eh?
Not the normal Romantic writer stuff – but remember I’ve worked in meat processing and slaughtering.
Emma thinx: There’s nothing as pure as an empty belly.
Escape To Love Goes Live
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| Escape on a CD |
Well, there it goes – out into the cyber-dome to suffer the slings and arrows of Amazoneous fortune or to take arms against a sea of bubbles. Once they’re gone – there is only one thing to do. Yes – write another one, or rather crack on with the one on the slipway.
Here is the Worldwide Amazon link to ESCAPE TO LOVE. The Kindle Edition includes a FREE 80 minute audiobook download.
As promised I have attached the sound file for Chapter One of the audio book. The voice of course, is mine.
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| Escape with an iPod – let me read it for you! |
I am out on the first stop of my mini book launch blog tour at
Anneli’s Place in CANADA today. Drop over and leave a message about where you would chose for your great escape get your chance to win a copy of Escape To Love!
Escape To Love Book Trailer
I’ve no idea at all what has been happening in the world beyond the screen of my computer. Regulars will know that yesterday I promised a SoundCloud chapter from Escape To Love on today’s blog. As things have worked out, I have actually been able to complete the video book trailer and I’m gonna put that up instead.
I’ve had Oscar in the bedroom all day doing his male thing. Poor lad is exhausted. You see maidens may exercise power by appearing gentle. Knights have to raise up their swords. Oooh – It’s nice to lie back and be overwhelmed.
Now – I know what you’re thinking – but I’m talking about the voice-over track. He did the first one in a kinda soft English poet mode. Then he tried all levels of Hollywood dramatosis. In the end we went for poet heavy/Hollywood-lite. If I’m honest I would have liked that 90% dark chocolate guy who always tells you at the cinema that you’re a mug and the best film is next week. They have those scripts that go: “A man with no nose never knows the purr – fume of a rose ……OR FEAR. A man where apartment block meets mountain…They call him…. Flat-face”.
So – it’s up and it’s hanging out. What do you think of my vid?
Emma thinx: No voice is deeper than a mind that truly listens.
Escape To Love On Tour.
You would have thought that by now a media pro like me would have gone on display somewhere. Perhaps a tour with beasts in an old fashioned circus or starring as a fortune teller on the end of a pier somewhere would have been glamorous. As a kid I always longed for such a life – but it was not to be.
I can now set aside all my previous disappointments. I am going on my first ever blog tour. It was only recently that I really found out what a blog tour is. I guess all of you out there knew already. Since I’m something of a virgin, I’m only doing five stops with the following kind hosts:
Anneli Purchase on 4th Feb.
Gallo-Romano Media on 6th Feb.
Laurie Jenkins On 10th Feb.
Sheryl Browne on 11th Feb.
Mandy Baggot on 12th Feb.
There will be a chance to win a prize at each stop.
I am hoping not to destroy their readership. Of course, the purpose of the tour is to announce the publication of my latest story “Escape To Love”, which will be out on Monday 4th February. This novelette is a further addition to my urban love series. There will be two more after this which will then form a collection under the banner “Love In A Hopeless Place” – all with full free audio book narrated by me (female roles) or Oscar Sparrow (male roles).
If you tune in tomorrow there will be a SoundCloud link to the audio of chapter one. Hope to see you there.
Emma thinx: The rose of love blooms and dies in water – but it thrives in a nice bit of dirt.
His Mistress’s Voice
One of the staple foods on the radio DJ chat menu is the “Do you remember your first record?” item. ” Well, I do remember, but more importantly, I remember where I bought it. It was at the HMV shop.
Sadly, the digital digit of fate has pointed at the HMV retail chain and they are no more. They join many other traditional shops removed to desktop trash bin icon land. The accountants push the permanently delete button and the plywood goes up at the windows ready for the fly posters, aerosolled gang tags and for some reason, huge felt tip penises.
Last week-end I was in a branch of a national chain bookshop. From their stock and the amount of business going through their tills, my guess is that there’s a van load of plywood awaiting around the corner, along with the giant penis artist. Both in France and in the UK it’s a low time for the High Street.
Now here is an idea for some entrepreneur out there. How about pre-designed retail close-down plywood? Old Master landscapes or Rothko expressionisms- (they could be done live with a paint roller) could adorn the failed store-fronts. Commercial ads for insolvency specialists, ambulance chasers and pay day loan sharks could be sold by the administrators. Come on guys – this is the winner that could drag Britannia back to our rightful world place of ruling the waves.
Anyway, all of this tosh sprung to my mind as I finished the audio recording of “Escape to Love”. To all other writers thinking of reading their own material, my advice is to work out how long it will take you and multiply by 47.5. (as a minimum). If you have a family to feed, get down to Walmart and stock up with ready meals so that the poor dears can micro wave their lonely dinners senza una donna.
There were two distinct problems. One was sibilance. Yesss Ssssir, I’m a bit heavy on the Esssses. Various filters have solved the worst of it. The second problem was the Boris Johnson factor. The male character is posh upper class. Despite all my efforts, Boris superimposed himself in my mind each time the guy spoke. I’m not sure that’s what I had in mind as I wrote the story. The female is something of a London Gor blimey guv’nor girlie. No trouble there……
Thinking of HMV, I went up into the attic and dug out my family heirloom 78rpm records in order to get a photo. I wonder if my future inheritors will gather round great granny’s i pod. By then, all sensual inputs will be wired straight into their brains and lovemaking will be part of their file-share menu. Marriage will be a password exchange. I’m not sure if this is the future or the present.
On the record sleeve was an ad for Mario Lanza singing I’ll walk with God. My parents loved this song and if you’re too young to have heard him, here is a link to a feast.
Emma thinx: If you hanker for the past, you’re in it.
















