Luck : Be A Knight To A Lady

Best tea bags in the world but hopeless for fortune telling

My mother used to read the tea leaves for friends, neighbours and a few paying clients. The family income dived when tea bags came in. Such is the cruel shrug of progress. I am only mildly superstitious except for anything to do with shoes on tables, harming of spiders,greeting of magpies, ladders, saying the word rabbits on the first of the month, spilling of salt, breaking mirrors, umbrellas indoors, changing a garment if inside out, my supernatural connection with rooks and general odd persons carrying scythes. I think I’m in the normal range.  

blessed by a winged messenger

Of course, there are always the omens. My whole family needed a healthy daily dose of soothsaying omens. My mother and her sister would often see shapes in clouds or interpret the cluck of a chicken or growl of a dog as a guiding word. Richer people had psychoanalysts and stockbrokers to advise them.  My aunt was once struck by a huge squirt of pigeon poo as she walked into the Bingo Hall. She won the regional jackpot that night and bought a colour television. She loved it so much she hardly left the house again. Needless to say, the winged excremental messenger never chose her again. 

The hand of the Universe strokes me

Imagine my feelings today as these memories flood back. As I walked to the shops a sight greeted me from the pavement. It was a supernatural and inexplicable omen. There on the pavement was a dice, face up showing a score of six. Come on guys – tell me that is not an omen! How did the bloody thing get there? 

I picked up the dice and of course it will always be with me. I needed to cross the road and for once there was no traffic. As I scampered across the tarmac a great dollop of bird shit splattered on my tracksuit bottoms.Tell me that the Universe has not twisted itself into position to show me these omens. I just know that in the next little while something astounding is going to happen. Perhaps I’ll sell a book or someone who isn’t a spammer will read this blog. If this be not an omen, never was there fate nor no bird ever shat. (Apologies to the bard’s sonnet 116).

Emma Thinx: Before you chance your arm – arm your chances.

The Queen Of Hearts, She Made Some Tarts

Queen Tea. She’s a Yorkshire Lass who loves a proper brew. Bloxington Manor in the background.

Well – we launched it. The queen smashed the champagne on the bow and she slid away. So far Shannon’s Law floats on a sea of good reviews. (More please). Soon, I just know, someone will buy a copy. It has to happen.

Mug shot

Thanks so much to all the lovely folk who dropped by. I had tremendous fun making and photographing the scones, buns and sandwiches. I had even more fun chatting about the male hunks who could have displayed on the cover of Shannon’s Law. One day all these guys are gonna rise up and tell us they’re not merely sex objects. My man tells me he’s happy to be seen as a sex subject provided I’m prepared to cooperate on the other side of a transitive verb. I think that means he still desires me. I’ve got a fab editor (Anneli Purchase) who does the hardcore grammar stuff.

Sex Subject.

I asked for your cakes and boy – take a look at these. This is a library! Thanks to Sharon Goodwin of Fiction Addiction Book Tours for sending me her treat. My lovely friend Petra Rovere let me into her poppy seed sensation secrets. What troubles me is that Petra is in Slovenia and knows more English than me. 

Try making an e book to taste better.

Thanks also to Claude Nougat (novelist, linguist, poet, artist, economist, philosopher) for popping in with her ‘vite et bon’ sponge. How does she get time to cook?

With Poppies from Petra.
Claude’s Vite et Bon gateau. 

The whole theme of course was good old fashioned English tea. In the novel, Shannon takes tea with the Earl Spencer as she begins to enter his private world of aristocracy and tradition. He is a troubled and reserved man. Once upon a time he sang Elvis songs and played saxophone. A new sun has come to thaw his blue blood. And yes – it’s a warm red after all.

Whatever the fate of my book I’ve had a lovely time with the launch. I’ve made contact with folk – critics, writers, editors and readers who have helped me all the way. I’ve also had contact with the guys who produce Yorkshire Gold tea. This is not a commercial placement. I adore their tea. It is my day time fuel. OK – after five o’ clock maybe I can slip in the odd vin rouge, or two…… Just like Shannon in my book. 

I went to Bloxington Manor to do some publicity shots. Above is a little link to my tea by the lake.

And that’s a wrap. Shannon’s Law has been a year of my life. I write by hand and it’s a four times edit before it goes to my editor. OK – I know, it needs another edit! Too late, there’s another passion patrol keel on the slipway.

Emma Thinx: Life is a perfect rising cake –  that sticks.