Bull’s Balls,Bluebells and Bicycle Belles

Two Bicycle Belles – Oooh – the sighs of those thighs!

If you love great powerful pumping male thighs – nothing beats a good old cycle race sprint finish. I’ve just been watching Mark Cavendish win yet another stage in the Giro d’Italia. One day I’m gonna write the definitive tale of love in Lycra and passion in the peleton.  What I want to know is why are these guys thighs so much stronger than mine when mine are bigger?  

Don’t need your conversation – just hangin’ loose you old cow
Today, despite the North East wind and the bank breaking energy bill, the sun peeped out in the UK. As the central heating thermostat clicked on, I headed for the woods with my camera.(Ok – I do know I should have been turning out future English Literature exam syllabus material).  On the way I encountered a most magnificent beast. I was so excited I didn’t centre the shot. If I could have dressed him in a tux and given him a couple of horny lines he’d be my next hunk. I’ve read books with similar grunting heroes.

My real quest was the ethereal quality of Nature and mortality which are never far from my thoughts.Of course, the bluebells were out and pumping up the volume of their abstraction. No more and no less than these blooms, our lives have their hours set against the depth of Time past and the infinity of future. These flowers are a certain embodiment of a thing being nothing but its simple self but yet a transcendent path leading beyond presence into wordless meaning. I don’t really know what I mean but these flowers say it for me every time I see them physically or in my mind. 


I am so lucky to share my life between two beautiful places both here in the UK and in France. I’m sure that today the river Charente is pushing on to the Atlantic on the west coast of France. My last shot is of the famous (for trout fishing) River Test at Horsebridge as it approaches Romsey in Hampshire UK. 

Near here I once saw a hawk sweeping across an undulating meadow to snatch a rabbit. Its flight was a perfect poem of elegance and precision. The strike was an exploding synthesis of suffering, victory and hunger. If ever I understand what I felt I’ll be somewhere – but words won’t help me.My mind is a poor tool but it’s all I have.

Emma Thinx: A kite only soars because it is tethered.




I’m Fifty not Thrifty – Still Giving it all Away

First of all it was Woolworths. This wonderful shop from which I had purchased my first 45 rpm record (T Rex singing “Ride a white Swan“) closed a few years ago. Oooh – I was only 8years old but Marc Bolan was the prettiest bloke I had ever seen. I had been given a record token (who remembers them?) for my birthday. It was a few months later that I heard him singing and my love affair with men wearing tight pink clothing began. Ever since I’ve been addicted to the Giro d’Italia cycle race.


And now, 42 years later, as the Giro rolls across Italy, I am approaching the big Five Oh No. To coincide with this event “Clintons Cards” announces the closure of about half its outlets. Seemingly they are a victim of the e-card, rather in the way that dead tree books are becoming a victim of the e-book. I am not sure how I feel about any of this. In order to celebrate my birthday I’m giving away digital copies of “Knockout” on Amazon Worldwide ( USA UK FRANCE GERMANY ITALY & SPAIN) during Thursday 17th and Friday 18th May in the hope of reaching the big 50 in the charts as well as in my bones, teeth and soft components. As a special salute to “Clintons Cards” and the dead tree book industry, I am also giving away signed copies of my paperback on Goodreads – all entries to be in by Sunday 20th May.

Now, another year slips by and all that. I do just wanna say that I’ve had more fun and frolics since I turned forty than I had ever had before. Wow – let’s ratchet it up for the next decade. Maybe a little extra chilli and garlic, maybe a slightly deeper red wine over a longer lunch. Slower breaths and longer kisses have been the wisdom of my ageing.  Really truly, this is a deeply serious comment. The English summer is cold and wet so far. The Euro creaks. The money beast bellows. From Greece come stories of mounting suicides and new born babies being held as security in hospitals when mothers cannot pay. Let us not forget love, comradeship and pleasure. It is allowed.

Emma thinx: Comrade humans – if not us, then what is humanity?