Live, laugh, love, throw up violently…

It’s too much.

I’ve held this in for too long.

I can’t do this anymore.

If I see one more screen-printed cushion, wall decal, framed poster or ceramic bookends with this sort of pastel-hued inanity vomited over it, I’m going to take exothermic action to remove it from the planet.

That’s right: imagine those terrible pictures from Nazi Germany where huge piles of books were gathered and torched in the name of fascist dogma. Now, replace centuries of philosophy, political theory, social reform and just good stories with a pile of mass-manufactured tat that you can buy anywhere from Primark to Selfridges, depending on your ability to tolerate polyester.

You’ll know it when you see it. The font is always italicised, and the colour scheme runs from baby-girl pink all the way through to pale lilac, via buttercup yellow and mint green. (God forbid you show your thoughts on how to cope with life in a shade that can be seen easily against a white background.)

The sort of people that buy this crap are probably the sort of people who have an ornately stylised anchor tattooed on their ankle along with the phrase “I refuse to sink” while the irony passes them merrily by.

Why are the phrases on this rubbish so bland and so vague? “Best friends are like diamonds, precious and rare” – yes, and responsible for so much suffering in the lives of the poor people forced to work the diamond mines in Africa? Don’t even get me started on “Friends are angels that lift our feet when our wings are having trouble remembering how to fly”.

I can actually taste the vomit at the back of my throat.

I love my friends. They’re amazing, witty, intelligent, passionate, loving women. If I ever referred to them as foot-grabbing angels or chips of pressurised carbon, they’d be the first to show their support for me by throwing the nearest moderately heavy object at my head and telling me to stop being so bloody stupid. And to stop hogging the chocolate.

So, when I win the lottery and can get rid of the day job, I’m going to open one of those kitschy shops that sell overpriced home furnishings but instead of the vaccuous crap infecting our shops today, all of my cushions, throws, posters and ceramic objects will have far more realistic messages to guide you through the daily struggle of life. If you’re so in need of a motto emblazoned on your wall or sofa, I’d suggest a cushion with “Fuck off and leave me alone” on it, or a framed poster that says “If you bother me during Doctor Who, I will cut you”. I like the idea of a wall decal that greets you as you come home, exhausted from your commute, that says “Congratulations on not strangling the man-spreading fuckwit on the train!” Or one that says “I love my children, but I couldn’t eat a whole one.”

All in pastel italics, naturally.


New year, new bookcases!

I’ve done the unthinkable – I’ve streamlined my bookcases! 

Every room in the house has at least one bookcase in it, and with my Christmas haul they were groaning under the weight. Books were stacked haphazardly and blocked the view of other titles, and my carefully organised system was out of the window. A culling had to happen, and the bags in the picture show my progress so far. 

I’ve gone through my romance bookcase, my classics bookcase, my reference bookcase and my cookbooks, which now have a bookcase of their own as the classics have been shifted upstairs. I haven’t yet gone through my sci fi and fantasy bookcase, my detective fiction bookcase or my history and biography bookcase. I don’t think I’m going to lose many from those, to be honest. 

All of this was in aid of getting out of buying a new bookcase, but I honestly think I might need one despite the cull.  The only problem is, of course, is that I’ve got nowhere to put it! 

What’s the strangest thing you’ve experienced this year? – 31 days of writing prompts!

Odd things happen around me and to me far too often for me to register them as strange; once, in university, a friend said to me “Our lives are far more like an episode of Spaced than Sex In The City, aren’t they?” and then her housemate burst into the kitchen, sang the theme tune to Quincey and left again, without talking.

So yes, very much like Spaced.  I don’t think that this is a bad thing at all.

I think that the strangest thing that I’ve paid to experience this year has been the Shrinking Violet body wrap I indulged in a few days ago. My local beauty salon has been offering them for a while, but at £60 a pop, I had steered clear. However, there was a half price sale on, and I had received some royalty money, so I decided to indulge myself.

I was shown into the room where their massage lady has previously worked some very tricky knots out of my back. This time there was no plinky-plonky music but there was a veritable wall of heat. The wrap works in a hot room, so they had fired up their heaters and let rip! I was left alone to strip down to my bra and knickers, whereupon some very lovely smelling cool gel was smoothed into bits of my body that I wouldn’t normally show somebody until at least the third date.

Then the woman broke out the wrap, which I am sure is a very sophisticated plastic inch-loss system, but looks for all the world like a giant roll of cling film you’d buy from Costco and take ten years to use.  I was wrapped fairly tightly in it, and then helped to lie back on the massage bed with a few nervous warnings about sweating being very normal and to drink the water she had put next to my head on a little trolley. With a promise to check in on me, she left the room to attend to other clients.

I tried to read for a bit, but holding my iPad above my head was a bit difficult, so I fired up a podcast to listen to. The next thing I knew, I was woken up by the nice salon lady telling me it had been an hour and that I  really should drink the water.

I had zonked right out! Apparently it’s quite common, and I can see why. The heat was quite oppressive, and if you’re a bit tired after the festive season it would be enough to send you to sleep.

She unwrapped me, measured me and noted my new measurements before making me drink another glass of water. I wasn’t to shower for at least 12 hours, 24 if I could help it. That was hard, because I like to wash my hair every morning and going without that made me feel grotty the next day. Smaller by several inches, but grotty!

Now, there’s a bit of a debate online about the validity of these wraps. What happens is that the company claims the gel essentially liquefies some of the fat cells and your body excretes them in urine. You’re encouraged to drink a lot of fluids before and after the wrap, and stick to a healthy diet and exercise plan between wraps. You won’t lose weight with the wraps, but they do claim that you lose inches.

The sceptic in me wonders if you’re just sweating out all the water you’ve drunk during the day, but there was something very relaxing about being smothered in gel, wrapped up firmly and left to slowly bake for an hour.

I did lose inches from my body – half an inch from my waist and my  hips, two and a half inches off my arms and an inch off my thighs. This was maintained overnight, and when I measured myself the next day I had lost another half-inch off all of those measurements.

Now, I’m a big girl, so any tightening up of my body would have been difficult to see compared to someone a lot smaller, but I can’t argue with the results. I ate three meals on the day of the wrap, and three meals the next day. I didn’t starve myself by any stretch of the imagination. I can’t imagine that the company would be allowed to make claims that couldn’t be supported, so I have to grudgingly admit that there might be something to these wraps, for short-term losses anyway. No amount of wraps will make a fat person thin – that takes a healthy diet and a sensible amount of exercise.

It was a very strange experience – who would voluntarily turn themselves into some kind of weird microwave meal? But the massage and the nap were nice, and I did lose some inches. I’m not sure if I’d do it again, but it was an interesting way to kick start my weight loss campaign for 2017!


A favourite book – 31 days of writing prompts!

Blue Heaven, by Joe Keenan!

I have a million and one favourite books, but this is one that I come back to when I need a pick-me-up. It’s hysterically funny, incredibly witty and speaks to me, somehow, which is strange when you think that it’s about the trials and tribulations of a gay Broadway writer who gets pulled into his old friend’s scheme to marry into the mafia for the wedding presents.

It’s written by Joe Keenan, who wrote some of Frasier’s best episodes and has been hailed as a new Wodehouse. I love Wodehouse, and I can see the comparison. Instead of Jeeves, the hapless Phillip Cavanaugh has his writing partner Claire, who is responsible for trying to extricate Phillip from his friend’s Gilbert’s ridiculous plans to fleece the mafia out of hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of wedding presents. Gilbert, you see is the sort of person that manages to create havoc wherever he goes. As Phillip says,

“Fate, and fate alone may place the banana peel in his path, but it is Gilbert who will every time make certain that at the moment of rendezvous he’s carrying a tray laden with Baccarat crystal which he has, in order to impress a date, borrowed without the permission or knowledge of its owner, and which he’d been hoping to return in secret.”

It’s fantastic, and I can’t recommend it highly enough. It has an equally amazing sequel, Putting On The Ritz, and a less than spectacular follow up, Lucky Star. I’ve only read that once, but I read the first two many time a year. They’re just that funny!


Which Hogwarts house are you? – 31 days of writing prompts!

Oh, the big question! As a die-hard Harry Potter nerd, this is something that I’ve spent far too long thinking about.

Everybody says Gryffindor, right? After all, that’s presented to us as the “best” house, as Harry, Hermione and Ron are all Gryffindors. Neville Longbottom, my favourite Potter character, is a Gryffindor and shows that bravery comes in different forms.

The thing is, though, that if I were a teenager, and surrounded by other teenager Gryffindors for any length of time, I think I’d go mental. Yes, they’re brave and noble, but let’s face it, apart from the notable exception of Hermione they’re not exactly…well…smart. They’re the sort of people who blindly charge into things, knowing that it’s the right thing to do, without stopping to think about whether it’s the smart thing to do. Think about all the times Harry and Ron could have killed themselves – the flying car, the frozen lake, the attack on the Department of Mysteries – and think about why they didn’t!  The car’s magic protected them from crashing, and the acromantulas! Harry’s urge to get the sword in the lake would have killed him had Ron not been there to fish him out. Harry’s blind desire to protect Sirius, no matter how well-intentioned, was used against him, resulting in the death of Sirius, a near-death experience for Ron and the destruction of the prophecy.

Quite frankly, I think the books should have been called Hermione Granger And The Two Idiots She Dragged Through Six Years Of Formal Education!

Anyway, I’m not that brave. I haven’t had my ears pierced yet despite years of wanting to do it. The thought of it freaks me out!

Hufflepuffs are fantastic. Everybody should have a Hufflepuff or five in their lives. Newt Scamander was a Hufflepuff! I wouldn’t have had a problem being Sorted into Hufflepuff because if they’re anything like Helga Hufflepuff, they’re accepting and kind.

The thing is, I know that I’m incredibly judgmental, and I don’t think that’s a very Hufflepuff trait. In fact, I know that I can be downright sneaky and duplicitous, which are very Slytherin characteristics. I couldn’t – I wouldn’t – go all-out Death Eater like so many of them seemed to do, but I’m not as good as a Hufflepuff. I’m just not.

I have always tested well, and I do pride myself on my intelligence. Of all the houses, I think it’s most likely that the Sorting Hat would have put eleven year old me into Ravenclaw. The thought of solving a riddle to get into Ravenclaw Tower actually makes me quite nerdily excited!

The thing is, the point that Rowling makes in the books, especially by the end, is that pupils shouldn’t be sorted into Houses so rigidly. People are more than just brave, or clever, or kind, or sly. I know from many years of experience how teenagers change as they grow, and how their personalities are developed. Is it any wonder that Slytherins turn out badly if they’re only allowed to socialise with other teens with the same personality traits? That Ravenclaws become obsessive about studying?  I don’t think that anybody is purely one House or another – look at Hermione, who should really have been a shoe-in for Ravenclaw but was bumped to Gryffindor instead, or Neville, who has Hufflepuff stamped all over him but again, was put in Gryffindor. Look at Harry, who could have so easily ended up in Slytherin.

So, perhaps I should be a hybrid. A Slytherclaw, perhaps. Sneaky, but too smart to get caught doing it? Sounds about right…



Three things you do well -31 days of journal prompts!

You know, I picked this journal post idea because I thought it would be easy, but now that I sit down to do it, I’m having trouble gathering my thoughts! Writing journal posts really shouldn’t be part of the list, obviously.

Alright. Three things.

Number one – logic puzzles. Not so much the ones where there are two guards, and one will always tell you the truth, and the other one will always lie, and you have to pick a door, etc, but the ones that are printed in a grid and you have to put ticks and crosses next to the right answers. I love those! I started doing them when I was seven or eight on holiday in Spain, next to the pool. My father could see that I was bored, and started me off on the really easy ones at the start of the magazine.

Not to brag or anything, but I haven’t come across one of those that I couldn’t complete and I always do them in pen, not pencil, that’s how confident I am!


Number two – baking. I’m not great at decorating cakes, but I bake a mean sponge! Actually, I bake a light, golden sponge that is moist and delicious, but you get the general idea. I love puttering about in the kitchen, trying new recipes. My go-to recipe is from The Hummingbird Bakery’s first book, but my favourite cake to make for someone’s birthday is Nigella Lawson’s Boston Creme Pie sponge cake. The trick is to get the consistency of the creme patisserie right and to do that you can’t refrigerate it once it’s cooked. It has to cool naturally, which is why making the cake takes such a long time!


Number three – writing. I feel a bit self-congratulatory saying that, but what the hell. I’m a published author with royalties and fans! I must be pretty good for that to happen. I get some really lovely reviews that always make me feel better about myself when I read them. The fanfiction that’s still hanging about the internet has over one hundred thousand hits, and nobody knows that I wrote that, so I must have some talent. I’m constantly reading some really talented authors, though, so I’m always comparing myself to them and I don’t come out favourably!




Guest author – Paige Parsons, Taking The Stage

This strange, hazy week between Christmas and New Year is the perfect time to get lost in a book, and there can be none better than Taking The Stage by Paige Parsons!



6 weeks of rehearsal, 6 weeks to get the lead actress on stage, and 6 weeks to fall in love. The only consistent thing in her life was time.

Her lying, cheating husband betrayed her. Devastated, she quit her teaching job. Now Robyn Rose isn’t sure she has it in her to start over again in the only job she ever really enjoyed—the theatre.

But support for her penniless artistic future is limited, until she meets Joseph James Davis. He is the director of Robyn’s last-chance gig, and has some unique, over-his-lap sorts of ideas about what it takes to keep his stage manager on her best behavior. He also might just be her last chance at love.

Now, if only they can get their lead actress (who is also his ex-girlfriend) to take the stage without destroying their possibility at a future together…

Buy Links


Excerpt #1

“She’s not just actor crazy! She’s beyond psycho-diva-drama-queen crazy! She’s the kind of crazy that has an actual diagnosis. It comes with pills, twenty-four-hour watches, and small padded rooms. That bitch practically took my head off!”

Joseph stood next to the door, blocking escape by the ranting bundle bouncing around his office. He’d wrangled her into it after he came up on a scene right out of a movie—two beautiful women in the throes of an anything but beautiful cat fight. It was rounded out with co-stars and deck hands pulling the two of them apart.

“Don’t you stand there like I’m overreacting, because you know that I’m not. This has been coming for weeks! I blame you.”

“Excuse me?”

Joseph knew Roby’s feelings on just about everything, but he was still more than curious to see where she was going with this particular proclamation. She often had a poker face, but never a poker mouth, facts that usually led to heated discussions, and often her to a heated backside. This was not a new argument. He knew what she wanted. It was what she’d wanted since the first week Kat showed up. Roby wanted her gone. So, in that regard, he supposed she was right that it was his fault, because he had zero intent of sending their lead actress packing.

Excerpt #2

“Where are those hands?” Her sigh was deep as the double sized mitts he considered hands reached over to rub the tops of both breasts. The water he scooped and let drizzle down her front was silky from the oil she always used.

“Don’t be a tease. Get in here with me.”

“I’m here to hurry you along, make sure you don’t drown, and get you out here with me.”

He leaned over to nibble on her ear as he took his frontal assault to the round under curve of her breast and up to nipples that met the pads of his fingertips in rock hard readiness.

“That’s not the way to get me out. Why would I want this to stop?”

“Sit up.” Leaning forward Robyn enjoyed his trailing hands that soaped, massaged, and caressed her from the nape of her neck to the dip in her back that met the start of the shapely rear end.

“This isn’t like any bath I’ve ever gotten.”

“And I better be the only one giving you this kind from here on. Rest back.”

He moved to the side of the bath and dipped his long arms deep under the bubbles. The luxurious rubbing continued from the tops of her thighs to the tips of her toes. As he ran his palms along the base of her feet, she felt giggles bubbling up in her in childlike fashion.

Excerpt #3

“Anything you say—Joey. So, is it safe to say that your relationship—”

“Is absolutely none of your business? Yes, that’s an extremely safe thing for you to say, and do not call me Joey again. Please go over all of the documents that Robyn sent you. You’re welcome to use the studio or the black box theatre to work until Bosch comes in for us to start working on the Act I blocking.”

“Retribution dismissal?”


“I asked her to leave us alone for a moment, and she wasn’t happy that you went along with it. You want to be able to tell her you paid me back a little, huh?”

“Kat, I agreed to this. Your being here can’t uproot our process or our team. Can you please try to get along with everyone? Sean said you’d be on your best behavior.”

“You know how I feel about those sort of phrases, Joseph.”


Author Bio:

Paige Parsons is a creative Joan of all Trades, with her first love being theatre. However, theatre rarely paid the bills so, she’s also worked as an educator, journalist, UPS customer service representative, and a receptionist at a record label.

Now living and working in Asia, Paige, a native New Yorker, has always loved the world of make believe and was a voracious reader and wild storyteller growing up.

She has been making up stories and getting them on paper for as long as she can remember and is always thrilled when someone expresses love for something she’s written. After years of fear, and waiting for the right moment, she finished, submitted, and is thrilled to present her first full length novel.

She holds an undergraduate degree in Communication/English-Creative Writing and a graduate degree in Education and has spent the last 25 years collecting stories around the stage as an actress, stage manager, and production manager.

Paige loves to tell stories, read stories, and put stories up on the stage.





passionate about the past