Category Archives: whelks

Biting The Bulot

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The torments of the juicy fishy flesh!

So, the party’s over. The Bloggers Book Fair has ended. I hope all you guys out there enjoyed the breath of new air on these pages. My thanks to all the contributors.

While all that was going on I have been moving myself back to France. Oh – the endless torment of wine, 400 cheeses, moules marinieres and not forgetting kilos of bulots. These wonderful sea molluscs are sold as whelks in the UK and USA but you sure can’t buy them in Walmart in England.  Oooh – You just can’t beat a nice bit of firm flesh and juice. 

An amazingly non photo shopped pic de famille

As all you historians out there will know, the French dealt with their issues of class, wage differentials and royal deference by inventing the guillotine. Ever since then they have been inventing media to borrow everyone else’s royals. Michelle and Barack count equally: (the dog buying story played well here).  Everyone in France wants to know how excited I am by the birth of THE Royal babe. Every French magazine headlines royal baby stories. The UK press has reverted to sensational stories about Killer Heat Waves (three days without rain) and JK Rowling pen names. In my little village there are racks of royal baby mags with William and Kate souvenir oyster knives. The little soul’s third name is Louis which might please them I guess, although we did fight wars with many French kings of that name. I know from an inside source that the Queen has read “Knockout!” and wanted him named after Joe Louis, the great American boxer but you’ll never convince the French. 

Smile though your legs are breaking. No photo shop here!


Nursing my wounded knee,I mounted the tandem yesterday and knocked out 51 kilometres (about 30 miles). It wasn’t too bad. I think the old Sparrow is still smiling a bit but poets have to have gravitas he tells me!

And finally, the Love In A hopeless Place Collection launched. I’ll be frank – even though I’m emma. These are literary stories and I had no hopes of sales or even interest. They are part of my own history and experience and I wanted to write them. Two reviewers have picked them up and been most generous. The reviews are here and I just want to say that readers make this quest so wonderful. Both these guys spotted what this was all about and took the trouble to reward me. Gentlemen you do most genuinely have my heart. I love you as fellow literati. 


Emma Thinx: You’ll never get up off your knees if you can’t get down on them. 












Coming Out Of My Shell

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Someone once mocked a political opponent by saying that they “could not run a whelk stall”. I don’t think I could either – because I’d eat them all. Whelks are far too good to serve or sell to other people. I’m not too sure how well known they are in the USA but I think Italians may call them Scungilli. If you fancy some nice juicy yet chewy snail type food here is a link to a NY Times article. 

http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/QBi4FfRmYI0&source=uds

Here in France they are called “bulot”. As I write this little blog a background fantasy of sea food is playing in the middle of my mind.  The attached You Tube clip is just to show you how to be sure to add enough salt to oxidise your cardiac pacemaker.

The only reason Fruits de Mer and bulots are going round in my head is that I have just seen some at la poissonnerie and denied myself even a single lick. Today is a fasting day  on the 5:2 diet so it’s all about sacrifice. I still don’t think I could run a whelk stall though.

http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/tg00YEETFzg&source=uds

Allowing myself to look at whelks was a special treat to celebrate the completion of the final story for my forthcoming collection of shorts and novelettes which will go out under the banner Love In A Hopeless Place. They are all stories of love among poorer people in urban settings. The final story has probably been the most difficult thing I have ever tried to do. I know it will shock and appal many people. In the end I thought I had to write it because it is more or less a re-creation of true events without too much intervention by me. I’m never afraid of putting sex in my stories and in cases where this is what motivates characters, you just cannot avoid it. I am a bit nervous of the contents. There are advisers around me of the Disney tendency who have turned a ghostly pale on first reading. Might be a good sign eh?  Good job I’m an orphan. The title is indeed a lift of the Rihanna song because in the story, a couple of the characters sing it. 

Emma thinx: Freedom Air – calorie free seafood to inhale.