A Little Birdhouse In My Soul pic.twitter.com/XDLpb7RkGd

A ball of fluff against the cruel cuts of Nature

A couple of years ago I posted a blog here entitled “Are my tits out of proportion to my hole?” You cannot imagine the torrent of criticism that drowned my sensitive soul. The feature, which concerned the frustration of my empty nesting box, was reviled and despised by right minded people. Old friends and supporters turned away in disgust. I was forced to crawl away like the ugly duckling. The post went on to collect my biggest ever readership and topped the poll every day. Can you believe that pervy hornythologists search for such words on line? In the end I took it down out of shame and promised myself and the Devil that I would never ever use the T word again. Faust may have succumbed to an offer of knowledge and worldly pleasure but I am a chastened harlot. I am not the sort of big mamma mammal who would ever give suck to such conduct.

So it is that I can report that the smallest of the T word species has arrived in my box. Better known as Periparus ater by you academic Latin speakers, the little soul has moved in to claim his home. At dusk he pops in and immediately fluffs up his feathers to conserve heat. He/she is a miracle of beauty and of life. I cannot find the words to tell you how blessed I feel that this vulnerable little creature is in some way in my care. Folk I pass in the street have hopes, loves, losses and regrets that I cannot touch or share. Yet – a wisp of a bird, that demanding weightless heaviness of life itself – that flight and gravity of the universal soul, has come at last. Fragile bird – you carry the burden of my kisses and hopes. 

Emma Thinx: Only love gives you the weight to fly.

Should A Girl Spice It Up?

Shannon’s Law is out there. The critics are chewing it over. They seem happy. Some love the sex. Others think there is too much of it. In a way so do I….but I’m not Shannon – a hot blooded girl who has not indulged for a long time. Talking about such a person openly calls for a certain amount of, well, openness. There is no doubt that a lot of interaction between people expresses itself in their sexuality. Why would a writer hold back from a reader what that character did sexually while detailing every other aspect of the story? The answer possibly is to avoid making it seem like a “sex” book that would not succeed without the clinches. I mean, Jane Austen didn’t need that stuff. There weren’t over two and a half million competitors on Kindle in her day (74,000 new titles last month). OK – maybe sex no longer sells? Maybe a true literopathic practitioner wouldn’t take this route. (Yes, Literopathy exists).

About a year ago I learned a sad life lesson by way of this blog. I had been editing an audio book in my day job with Gallo-Romano Media. The story was a period romp filled with bawdy double entendres. As an illustrative joke I put out a post entitled “Are my tits out of proportion to my hole?” In fact it was a feature about my frustration at failing to attract birds to my nesting box. I went on to make some remarks about this old fashioned form of blunt humour.

The first thing that happened was that “friends” disowned me. In some literary circles I was reviled as a filth stained trollop. I felt like the ugly duckling and hid away. Some folk were so disgusted they have not spoken to me since. I thought that was the big lesson to learn. As usual, I was wrong.

Blogs have lost a lot of their penetration in my view. All the same in the clamour for attention and an ever bigger paddle on the Amazon, total views are significant. In my years of blogging I have battered folk with every form of discourse, some of it with photos. I have blurbed and spammed my readers into fixed smile comas. The fact is that the fascinating feature on the great-tits in my bird box has received four times the views of any other topic. All sorts of networks have picked it up. Every day ornithologists from all around the world flock to my site. A few of these viewers may be interested in low matters of the female flesh. Surely not!

There’s a lesson here somewhere. In Shannon’s Law there is hard crime, cars, motorcycles, cricket, romance, social comedy and SEX. If only I’d nailed up a bird-box somewhere.

Stop Press: While the novel does its caterpillar imitation up the sales slope, the companion cookbook, ‘Cop’s Kitchen‘ has streaked to number one in it’s category on Amazon. The idea was that if you bought the novel and reviewed it you got a cookbook. OK guys – My next novel will come free with my aphrodisiac cookbook. It will include a bird watcher’s recipe for frontal area of poultry.

Emma Thinx. You gotta tuck it in before you can let it hang out. 

Double Trouble – You Can Say That Again

Despised old bird hides head in shame

 What sorrow and trouble has befallen me! I’ve been despised, reviled and cast into godless outer darkness. Apparently, my last post about my disappointing experience in trying to provide a home for a couple of Cyanistes Caeruleus for the purposes of a DNA exchange, has been interpreted as vile sexual innuendo. 

The problem is that you can take the girl out of the gutter – but you can’t take the gutter out of the girl. And no one ever will!  Oooh – I’m a shameless depraved slut. 

My large open chest

Now, all this is  unfortunate because I was really warming to the overall subject of ornithology. I was going to tell you about my neighbour in France who has an enormous red male chicken that wakes up half the town in the morning. The fowl is quite famous and has been displayed at numerous country festivals. I asked the owner in for a cognac recently to chat about the morning behaviour. He turned out to be a cultured man from the furniture trade. At once his eyes fell upon my large English chest that I had accidentally left open. I explained that it was a family inheritance and that my mother had had an even larger one.  Fortunately we did not get on to discussing other English matters such as Dickens or Shakespeare.  So many names and twists of language are open to a range of interpretation in these high brow works. I would offer a couple of examples but I’ve had enough slamming and outer darkness for one week thank-you. 

Emma thinks: How can you repent if you haven’t pented?