August blog
The month of August was certainly busy for me, one way or another. There were good moments and not so good moments: a trip to the dentist for one and remembering my lovely Pat’s passing on August 18th; always a difficult date for me. The highlight of the month on the domestic front was bringing my friend, Pauline, down here for a week. It meant a total of four days on our sadly overcrowded roads of course to bring her down here and take her home again. But that had to be endured. We spent time visiting of course, but with two dogs, my Tuppence and Pauline’s Chihuahua, Daisy, it meant we were limited in what we could do. I organised a Garden Party — ten of us, all singles except for my neighbours, Rick and Anne. I discovered that afternoon the alcohol limit I was once used to no longer applies!
Another highlight was being over at my son, John’s, to watch the Cardiff Speedway Grand Prix on TV and stay overnight. John and I used to go to Cardiff regularly for the SGP. I would travel over from Spain for that.
On the domestic front, it was nothing more than the usual. I get no pleasure out of weeding, cutting the grass, pruning and hedge trimming, but like most of us, there’s little choice. The bonus comes often in getting to chat to people passing by, even if it’s only for a few minutes. I’m usually on my knees when they walk by, but it gives me an excuse to stand up and leave the work for a while.
One of mine and Pauline’s visits was to Christine, an ex-sister-in-law of mine and Pat’s. She’s on her own now and uses a mobility scooter to get about. We were teenagers together (years ago). Chris brought some old photos out, a couple of which were of her when she was sixteen. I told her I fancied her then, but it was no more than a teenage boy fancying all the girls anyway. It made us both laugh. Happy memories.
Which kind of brings me on to my latest Emma Carney Romance, Dare to Dream. The story is about ten young people, five boys and five girls at their College Prom night. They are all eighteen years of age and, like most youngsters, have their fancies and their dreams. I set the scene in the first couple of chapters and then take the story forward fifteen years. That’s where the reality of life and our expectations, our dreams, reflect very little connection to the hopes we may all have had as youngsters. When I was eighteen, I was engaged to Pat — we’d been courting for about three years. Happily my dreams became a permanent reality I glad to say. Anyway, I’m digressing. Once Pauline’s visit was over, I got down to writing and managed to finish the book and publish it. I’ve set the price at £0.99, simply because I’m hoping people will buy it and maybe want to buy the other three Emma Carney Romances I’ve published. And since then I have picked up the War story I started at the beginning of the year, Shadow Over Paris, and have started getting back into the extensive research I’ve already done. With luck I might have that finished by the
end of the year. You can find Dare to Dream at
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DDYGYQMG. Why not have a look?
Now that I am well into my senior years, I find myself lamenting the loss to the youngsters in our country of the kind of life I enjoyed as a young lad. I won’t get into a political diatribe here, but I found myself wishing I could have been involved in the protest marches — not the riots, I hasten to add — and waved my English flag along with the hundreds of other like-minded people. Well, it looks like I may have a chance. There’s a March for Britain to be held in Portsmouth on September 7th, and I’m going with my neighbour. I’ve ordered my flag and am really looking forward to it. Does that make me a “Far Right” thug? I think not; just an Octogenarian who dreams of better things for his family. Dare to Dream?
Wish me luck!
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