Monday, July 27, 2009

The story behind the shoes...?

I've often wondered when I'm walking with the dogs, the stories behind various discarded items. Yesterday, I passed a white pair of flowered pumps that looked as though they may have once belonged to a teenager. The sole was torn out of the one and then, several feet away, lay the other in a small glass bus shelter.

What's the story there?

And why was the sole totally torn out of the one, yet the other was perfectly intact?

Did the young girl hop on a bus barefoot to get herself home? Or did she have a new pair for emergencies in her bag?

Further along was a man's blue hooded top discarded in a hedge.

A few weeks ago I even noticed a pair of Y-Fronts draped over a bush.

I'm even more bemused when I find one odd shoe. Like a red stiletto, discarded. Did someone lose it in the dark, or perform a Cinderella act at the stroke of midnight? And why leave one shoe behind? It must be mighty hard hobbling home on one five inch heel.

One day I was in the town and noticed a pair, of what looked like designer shoes on a flight of stairs, at the back of the shopping centre. Had someone tried them on and ran out of the store with them?

Who knows!

Lately I've been seeing odd rubber gloves on my travels. Usually blue. All sorts of explanations have come to mind regarding those! My son thinks it's more likely to be a dog walker cleaning up after their dog. But if that were the case, why clean the poo and leave the rubber glove behind?

The mind boggles...

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Women want to read more sex in novels?

According to an article in Marie Claire Magazine, Women Want to Read About Sex. I can well believe this.

I wondered and I worried when my first book, It Happened One Summer, was published that the content might put some readers off. I remember telling my husband, "What would the elderly ladies think of it?" He replied: "They'll love it!" And they did and they do. Not that my books are over explicit mind you. I had thought that three letter word would not slip into my books, but I let the characters take over and they had other ideas.

The ages ranges of my readers are anything from 19 to 90 and beyond! I was really surprised when my mother sold one of my books to a 93 year old at a senior citizen's meeting. She must have liked it as she came back to purchase my next book. Having said that, she must have been a game girl as she had a boyfriend.

I've even read of romance readers who say that reading that genre has helped them in the bedroom department. I can well believe that, too. There's nothing like a little spice and raunch to put you in the mood.

Some of my readers are men, which surprised me. We don't tend to think of men reading romance novels, but they do, perhaps though many don't care to admit it.

I'd like to see romance novels properly categorised in book stores instead of being slotted in with general fiction. In the US they celebrate romance writing whereas we seem to ridicule it in this country. Dame Barbara Cartland was often a figure of fun in comedy sketches and in articles, yet she was one of the most prolific writers of the twentieth century. Ms. Cartland got into the Guinness Book of Records by selling over 1,000 million books in over 36 countries.

I honestly don't know if the three letter word crept into any of her novels, I expect it didn't. I am going to have to read one one day to find out!

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Reviews for' It Happened One Summer'

"This is a comforting book, and I sensed that from the first page. Reading it is like curling up in a window seat on a cold gloomy day, with a fire crackling on the hearth, and a good book in your lap! The reader just instinctively knows that there will be a happily-ever-after conclusion, and instinctively that propels one forward through the book, with trust and optimism. Top recommendations for this one, and I anticipate future stories from this wonderful author!"

Reviewer: Annie Euro-Reviews 5 star excellent!

"Ms. Rees instills characters that leave a lasting impression with wonderful dialogue that enhances the story. The secondary characters are a welcome addition to the storyline. Ms. Rees knows how to hook the reader and fascinate in this compelling page-turner. It Happened One Summer is a phenomenal read that should not be missed."

~ The Romance Studio 5 hearts ~

"Ms. Rees fashions a tender romance with quick conversation that keeps everything flowing smoothly. The secondary characters are well-rounded and lend dimension to the story. She weaves a compelling story mixed with jealously, greed and betrayal that grabs the reader. This most refreshing read makes one feel good all the way down to the toes. This is one book that is truly a recommended read."

~ Fallen Angel Reviews, 5 Angels, Recommended Read ~

Purchase book here:

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Murdered for his money?

There are now reports from Michael Jackson's family, particularly La Toya Jackson, that he was murdered. She claims there was a circle of shadowy figures who kept him from his family. He supposedly kept around £ 1 million at his home, and that along with some jewellery, has now gone missing.

See here:

And what the LA police chief says here:

Maybe Michael Jackson was murdered, who knows? There is a second autopsy report and toxicology report due shortly. But I can't help thinking that all of this is reminding me of when Princess Diana died. There are still people around today who believe she was murdered by some sort of secret service or even members of the royal family.

Could it be that people, particularly Michael's family, don't want to accept that he might have died from a self induced drugs overload and would prefer to think there were 'shadowy figures' out there responsible for his death.

In one article I read, La Toya claims that Michael was 'the loneliest man in the world' and had no real friends. Yet, I know of at least one good friend he had and that was Mark Lester, the former child star from the movie, Oliver. Jackson often visited Mark's home and they did 'normalish' things together. Mark is a godparent to Michael's children, so he must have trusted him. I also noticed him at the the memorial service.

Could it be that most of his family were so out of touch with Michael that they had no idea what was going on in his life? After all, it's often the case when someone dies that the people who did the least have the most to say. I hope I'm wrong about that though...

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Me and my purse

I don't know what it is about me and purses, but I can never keep one for long. It's not so much that I lose them, although that has happened before now. More that I end up breaking into so many notes that there's always a lot of change in my purse which eventually starts busting out through the sides. It wasn't until I was going for the bus yesterday and could hear coins chinking against the pavement that I realised it was my purse bulging at the seams again.

The problem is that I get so used to the particular purse I have that no other one compares. I searched around town all afternoon looking for the perfect purse. They were either much too small without a section for credit/debit cards etc., or they were far too large. I managed though finally to find the perfect purse in New Look of all places. I wouldn't normally think to look in there. There was also the added bonus that it was half price, so I had it for £3.00 instead of £6.00. So I am one happy bunny until all those coins mount up again and split my purse open. If only I were more organised!

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

shaheen sings at micheal jackson's memorial. best quality upload

This was the amazing performance of Shaheen Jafargholi from Swansea, at Michael Jackson's memorial on the 7th of August, 2009.

Monday, July 06, 2009

It Happened One Summer is back in print!

It Happened One Summer, my first novel, is now back in print! The Wild Rose Press now has their own book store and it's more economical for them to sell books via that than Amazon. Copies of the book can be purchased here:

Here's a short excerpt:

And some reviews:

Saturday, July 04, 2009

Over Heated

I went to work on Wednesday, and have to admit to feeling uncomfortably hot that day, but kept a bottle of water by my side and took frequent sips. I was dressed reasonably cool in a cotton short sleeve blouse and denim skirt and sandals. I waited at the bus stop to go home for around 10 -15 minutes, in the hot sun. I wore sun glasses but there was no shade. The bus when it turned up, felt like a green house inside. I walked around the town and did some shopping before ringing my husband from Wilkinsons to pick me up. I purposely chose that store as it's air conditioned and I could sit down and sip my bottle of water.

During the evening I felt pretty up beat. I sat outside in the shade for a short period of time and then cooked the evening meal. I went to bed before midnight with a mug of tea but couldn't drink much of it. This is usually a good indication with me if my stomach is playing up as I love my cup of tea.

I awoke early the next day with a splitting headache and extreme nausea. I rang in sick for work. I spent the majority of the day retching, nursing a sore head [that I couldn't take pain killers for because of the nausea], and extreme drowsiness. It was quite scary -- my husband was at work and my son was out for the day.

When I got up to go to the bathroom I felt giddy.

I rested as much as I could, took sips of water and put a cold compress on my head. There was nothing else I could do.

I realised by now it was heat exhaustion. I developed this back in 1976 during that extremely hot summer, but then I was out in the sun most of the time. This time I wasn't. The following day I still felt slightly head achy but able to eat a little.

Today, I am still off my food a bit and developed a sore neck for some reason when out shopping this afternoon.

What scares me is why I developed heat exhaustion this time when I wasn't doing anything particularly wrong? I kept as cool as I could, sipped water, kept in the shade when I could.

I am worried in case it happens again.

Maybe I am one of those people who is more prone to temperature rise and fall as I once fainted after being in the snow as a child.

Next time it's a hot day maybe I need to avoid hot drinks, drink double the amount of water, carry around a portable fan and if possible, avoid the bus altogether!

Wednesday, July 01, 2009

Forty Years Ago Today

Forty years ago today is the anniversary of the Investiture of Prince Charles at Caernarfon Castle, North Wales, when Prince Charles was crowned the Prince of Wales.

There was a lot of excitement going on at that time. I was eight years old and part of it. For weeks before there were preparations for street parties. In our street, Gladstone Terrace, the mothers got together with mothers from nearby streets to plan the party that was to be held in Hankey Place, a nearby side street. We lived on the main road, so a street party outside the front door was unthinkable.

It was a great day as tables and chairs were set out in the street. Mothers brought sandwiches, sausages on sticks, cakes, jellies and blancmanges.

Games were played and silly hats worn. The games that stick in my mind though are the ones the adults took part in like the mothers' races. My mother came joint first with another one, but I think it was ruled that the other child's mother had won by a hair's breadth. I was disappointed for my mother though. It would have been nice for her to have won something.

When the adults were busy playing bingo, I sneaked back home, probably to use the loo, and discovered that for the first time our duck had laid an egg. I remember being surprised at how big it was and took it to show my mother. Luckily I didn't drop it.

The sun shone all day that day.

When the events slowed down and people drifted away to go home, we were given a party bag with a toffee apple, sweets and a special commemorative mug to mark the prince's special day. I still have it on a shelf at home.

It was a day I'll never forget. A day when all the community got together to celebrate a very special event.