A Watched Pot Never Boils

This proverb strikes a chord with me and, no doubt, with many of you, too (even if it is a slightly daft saying – I mean, come on, unless you forget to switch on the heat beneath it, if you watch it long enough it will boil).

How many of you have had an idea for writing a book, or starting a small business? Did you worry it around in your mind, plan, scrap that plan and re-think, plan again, and finally, finally, try dipping a toe in foreign waters?

Was the result what you imagined?

Did fame and/or fortune come knocking at your door?

Were you an instant runaway success?

Me neither!

 

I guess the meaning is that to build up anything worthwhile takes time and you can’t sit and wait for it to magically happen.

*Sigh*

*Where’s my magic wand?*

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Crop Circles

Interesting and thought-provoking.

Lurking In The Shadows

I love things that are “unexplained”.  The scientist in me loves this sort of thing; not to mention the conspiracy theorist that has taken residence in my brain.

A friend at work saw my crop circle background on my computer and said he needed to send me a video.  It is very cool.  Potentially a way to understand what crop circles really are.

Possibly a 2D representation of a 3D image…maybe a way to communicate???

You have to check these out!

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Lumps, bumps, and Trouble at Christmas

Hi all!

This last month has been – well, let’s just say that different is a good descriptive word (that actually doesn’t really cover anything, much).

So what’s been going on? New Puppy (‘NP’) has started asking to use the great outdoors (aka our garden) as a toilet, unless, of course, we’re busy and not paying him attention wherein he’ll bypass the asking and simply carefully avoid all the pads and paper put down to catch his little ‘accidents’ and pee in the six square inches left uncovered, the defiant little sod!

He’s actually really bright – sits on command, lays down on command, plays fetch (and is learning to let go of whatever we’ve thrown for him so we can throw it again), comes to us when called (if we have something he wants… otherwise he’s great at cocking a deaf’un – think toddlers, pre-schoolers, school-age – hell, just about any age of kid in reality – or husband…).

He’s learned that if he pushes it in a certain way, his water bowl comes loose and when it’s empty he dislodges it and chucks it at our feet wearing a look of utter disdain that says, ‘See what you’ve made me do? Water me, now!’ He’s obviously seen me laughing at  ‘Simon’s Cat’.

All plants in the house are now raised from the floor – NP’s developed a penchant for digging out the mud and chucking it all over the floor which, despite him thinking differently, is not in the least amusing.

The cat’s slightly more tolerant of him. Now she sits at a height he can’t quite reach watching him with contempt as he goes nuts trying to get her to play with him (front paws down, bum in the air, wagging tail) – her tail twitches in annoyance and he reads it that she’s telling him he’s now her new best friend – until she’s had enough of his gentle persuasion and hisses at him like a demon and swipes out. (Claws retracted – she’s not evil.) Funnily enough, her growl is way louder and more dog-like than his – who knew? Yet, when both are hungry, she’ll wind around his legs while he licks her and they both delight in tripping us up while we rush to attend to their needs. I swear they share a look and snicker – every, damn time.

A few years ago we bought musical dogs as Christmas decorations (we inherited one, if truth be told, and bought the second because – well, just because). They look remarkably like NP and he finds them a bit freaky – possibly because one sings Slade and the other sings Wizzard. After the initial ‘What the hell?’ moment, he carefully ignored them until I went into the kitchen a day or so after we’d put them out and came back in to find him dragging one around by its Christmas hat. Slade now sounds like they’ve hit the bottle. Hard.

Health wise? Hmmn – I was punched by a student (not the best of days), and like many others, the sickness bug is currently visiting our house. Nuff said on that score.

Finally, my latest book for children has been released – it’s called ‘Trouble at Christmas’ and you can get a copy for your own ankle-biters kiddliwinks here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B077XN1GCV (if you’re in the UK), or here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077XN1GCV (if you’re over the pond).

Make an author happy and read it with your kids in the build-up to the big day – they’ll thank you for it. And if you really want to make an author happy, please leave a review of the book.

‘Til next time, take care!

Jill

Trouble at Christmas

Mason doesn’t want to visit his grandparents this Christmas. His grandad never shows his face because he’s too tired, and Mason is convinced the real reason is that he doesn’t like him. But his grandad has a secret, one that Mason can’t know until he turns 18. But secrets have a way of being discovered, especially when there is one careless elf and a whole lot more who are ill…

Here’s a sneak peak of the first chapter:

The North Pole

Father Christmas sniffed and wiped away a tear.

“What on earth’s the matter with you now?” sighed Mrs. Claussen. “Honestly, it’s the same every year – you have to go to work, there’s no way out of it. So pull yourself together, get the elves to sort the reindeer out and get those presents on the sleigh before it’s too late.”

“It’s all right for you,” Father Christmas snapped. “You get to spend the happiest time of the year with our grandson while I’m out doing all the work. It would be nice to be able to see him open his presents is all I’m saying.”

“You didn’t say that when his mother was little, did you? Oh no! Then it was all, ‘See you later, try not to let her open them all in one go – wake me up on Boxing Day’, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Claussen put the finishing touches to the ribbons that surrounded the final gift she’d had the elves make for the boy. “There,” she said with satisfaction.

“That was because Christmas Eve was the only time I got away from you both,” Father Christmas muttered under his breath.

“I heard that, darling.” Mrs. Claussen put the gift to one side and thumped on the table with a small fist, making her husband jump. “If you’d only go into the real world more than once a year, you’d see more of both Mason and Lili, wouldn’t you!”

Father Christmas squirmed in his chair. “You know I can’t do that – I’d be too easily recognised.”

“Pah!” said Mrs. Claussen. “By who, exactly?”

“The children, of course!” Father Christmas stared at his wife in astonishment.

“The children who all think you’re a big, jolly fellow with white hair and a long white beard?” Mrs. Claussen raised an eyebrow.

Her husband was currently sporting a pair of jeans and a white tee-shirt with a rude slogan on it. He had been on a diet during this past year and had lost so much weight none of his Christmas clothes fitted him any longer. He’d also taken up weight lifting and running, shaved off his beard, cut his hair and dyed it a rather snazzy chestnut colour.

“I still think you’re having some kind of mid-life crisis,” she said, even as she admired his biceps.

“You have to be middle aged to have that kind of crisis,” her husband told her. “And as I’m only one-hundred and sixty-six…”

“Seven,” his wife corrected.

Father Christmas tutted. “Sixty-seven, then, I’m nowhere near the middle of my life, am I?”

“No,” Mrs. Claussen agreed. “Not unless you’re planning on living to three-hundred and thirty-four, you’re not.”

Father Christmas jumped to his feet, sending the kitchen chair he’d been sitting on skidding across the floor. “I’ve had enough of this!” he shouted.

“There’s a good fellow,” Mrs. Claussen ignored his mini-tantrum. “Go and put the toys on the sleigh.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Due for release 5.12.2017 for less than the price of a cup of coffee.

The Deaf, Warm, Duck (and other misunderstandings)

When I was a kid and feeling under the weather, my mother used to tell me I looked like a deaf, warm, duck. I never queried it – in my head a tiny little duck, wearing a woolly hat, waddled to and fro’ our local brook – and it always made me feel better. Just as well, really. When I grew up, I realised I had misheard her – she was actually saying I looked like death, warmed up.

I was reminded of this today when my friend told me she needed to nip into the chemist. “I want suppose it is’s,” she cheerfully said.

“Suppose what is?” I asked, thinking it was some kind of gift she wanted to give someone (seeing as we were Christmas shopping).

“You know what I mean,” she said, nudging me in the ribs.

“Sorry, nope. I really don’t.” Was my normally sedate friend buying something a little naughty perhaps?

She blushed profusely. “You know, what you shove up your bum when you’ve got piles.” (That’s hemorrhoids, to you across the pond.)

She meant suppositories. I didn’t ask who was going to be on the, ahem, receiving end of them, but as she was walking a bit tenderly, I suspect I know.

My daughter always thought there was a place called Bomb-sit. That’s down to me yelling, “Your room looks like a bomb’s hit,” my way of asking her to tidy it up.

Recently, a kid I know told me he wanted a ‘Git-hard’ for Christmas. I puzzled over that one for a while, until another kid told me he meant he wanted a guitar.

Ah, the English language! Let me know anything you’ve misheard…

Back to Writing

I’ve been so busy promoting other people’s work, editing, proofing (and completing the day job) that I failed to realise I haven’t posted anything about what I’m writing in a while.

Yes, I am still writing, in fact I have several on the go, but the one I’ve been asked to concentrate on is more in the vein of ‘Nan Nose Best’ in that it’s got romance, heartbreak, babies and comedy, all under one roof.

The characters are endearing, the story is realistic (in that this stuff could happen…) and you’ll (I hope) be rooting for Jenny to come out on top by the end.

I’m having a ball writing it and I hope you’ll enjoy it when it comes out, just in time for Valentine’s Day next year.

Here’s a sneaky look at a possible cover…

Free Fall (8)

If you’d like to read any of my other books in the meantime, please follow the links and make an author happy by buying one!

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Jill-Turner/e/B0142S490M

USA: https://www.amazon.com/Jill-Turner/e/B0142S490M

‘Til next time – take care,

Jill

Furry friends

There’s a new addition to the Turner household – a tiny, furry, 10-week-old fiend of a Cavapoo – with (sadly) poo being the operative word at present. He’d been wormed the night before we collected him and the wormer didn’t agree with him. Not one little bit! Cue a very runny botty, blood-stained poop and a trip to the vets on his first day with us.

We were advised to give him bland food; chicken, rice, scrambled eggs, and pasta, to try to settle him down and it’s definitely helping – but he’s still showing signs of blood in it (we collected him on Thursday). We’re hoping it’s just because his tummy was so upset and it isn’t worrying him as his personality is shining through and he’s not acting ill in the slightest. (At the moment he’s running around having gleefully nicked a sheet of newspaper!)

I have to say I never thought having a new puppy would involve warm water, cotton wool and me wiping clean a tiny bum while my teenager gags and holds him!

Apart from that, he’s a bundle of fun – chewing everything he can get his gums around (and he has a penchant for my toes…) – why is it that a pup can have bundles of new toys to play with, yet prefer the bottom of a dressing gown, slippers and feet? He bounces about all over the place, inevitably with one of our slippers or shoes in his mouth, running so fast he trips and does a roly-poly then gazes up at us in surprise.

Yep, it’s love!