Fried Pickle?

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I’m sixty-one, where did the years go?
There were things I used to do that I can’t anymore.
I can’t stay awake late!
I can’t sleep through the night!

There are many things I don’t have to worry about.
Like the pain of getting my bikini line waxed.
Don’t do that anymore!
I don’t have to worry about making myself look good for the young men at work.
They don’t care!
I do have a better friendship with them though.
They look after this old girl!

I don’t worry about my figure so much.
You can’t fight gravity.
No need to worry about the latest fashions.
Walking became easier.
Why?
No more heels!

Don’t have to worry about getting my bottom pinched in Italy anymore.
Or getting hit on at the bar.
An old guy at the bar did take a shine to me a couple of years ago.
Sent me a fried pickle???
Didn’t eat it!

Getting old isn’t all bad, you just have to embrace it, and remember its better than what comes next. Won’t be able to blog about that!!!!!

(Or maybe I will)

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Colledimezzo

Can’t wait to call this place home!

Guy at the Bar – Brompton on Swale

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I lived in Brompton in the late sixties/early seventies. I’d love to list the names of the kids I went to school with and hung out with, but there’s a thing called privacy. They might not like the exposure.
I wrote “Guy at the Bar” about ten years ago. My husband travelled a great deal with work and I had a lot of time on my hands. When ebooks became popular, I released my first writing attempt on Amazon, also published a paperback. I was pleased with myself. I’ve always loved to write, and there I was, a (self) published author. I didn’t make any money from the book, maybe just covered my expenses, but it got the story out of my brain. Right after Guy at the Bar, I wrote “Girl on the Beach”, which I also released as a short story.

SandraBookCoverGhostsOnTheSandNow, as a more experienced writer, I’ve re-written both of these books and put them in a compilation of short stories called “Ghosts on the Sand and other Chilling Tales.” The third story in this compilation is called “Camera.” The creepy events of Camera take place on Richmond Road near Easby Abbey and then by the river Swale.

I’d love to share my stories with the folks who inspired me to write them. Thanks to Alan Bond, (oops, mentioned a name, hope that was OK) I can.  He invited me to join Brompton-on-Swale Banter. I love being part of that group and reconnecting with the village life I loved.  Even met up with a long-lost friend on my last trip to England. I currently live in Colorado, but am retiring to Abruzzo. in a few years. Always been in love with Italy, so I may as well spend my last few years there. Where better to write that in a small Italian village?

I hope this blog gets to the folks in Brompton, please pass it on if you read it. My stories are ghost stories set in the North of England. They are all based on real events that happened to me. Seems I’m open to visitations and it’s not something I can control. I’m not looking for sales, just tell folks about me. I’ll be sending some paperbacks to those of you who’d like one. The ebook will be for sale on Amazon, and very cheaply. I’d love to make money (who wouldn’t), but more than anything…I love to write. If you want to connect with me, you can IM me on Facebook.

About four years ago I published another book “Dead of July” I actually made some money on this one so for now, because I’m pleased with myself, I’m giving this book away on Amazon.

Take a look at it, and my bio. It will give you an idea of what to expect.

Dead of July – Amazon

Take Care folks!

This Old Heart of Mine

Oh what a life! We are born, hit our teens and become emotional time bombs.
We get married, have kids (everyone’s emotions explode). The kids go to college, get married and then there is this weird void!
I feel like I’ve been emotionally paralyzed for a while. Yes, I have feelings and cry occasionally, but controlled tears.
All of a sudden, the floodgates have opened again and tears are flowing at the slightest thing. It started on Wednesday evening at the Cyndi Lauper/Rod Stewart Concert. Cyndi was a powerful performer, funny, cute and sang with a vengeance.
But when Rod Stewart took the stage my heart became open and vulnerable. Three songs into his show the tears started to stream down my face. It was the same old Rod from the seventies. The one I saw at a Rock Festival in Reading.
Was I crying because I remembered I was once young? No, I think I was crying from sheer pleasure. I remembered my life and all I’ve done. All I’m still doing. Maybe I remembered how lucky I am and cried tears of happiness. Who knows, but I’m grateful!

 

Living the Dream

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A year ago we were on our way back from an Italian vacation with thoughts of buying a very expensive house on the Amalfi Coast. A beautiful tumble-down house that needed a lot of work. It was a great dream, but would have made us broke. However, it made us determined to find a house we could afford. I searched long and hard and found Abruzzo. I was captivated by its beauty, its reasonable property prices (and its lack of tourism). So captivated that by the end of August 2017 I was on my way back to Italy to find my retirement home.

I remember the first time I walked through this door into the kitchen area of the Old Olive Mill in Colledimezzo. Without even seeing the rest of the house I knew it was the one! My daughter was with me and she felt the same.

Now, less than a year later, this house is ours. We’ve been back a couple of times, but not able to stay there because there was work to be done. A kitchen to build, a boiler and radiators to put in, and of course furniture to buy, but now its ready. When we fly out in October, we can make it our home.

Having a dream is great, but living that dream is much, much better!

Coronation Street

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Seriously ITV, is this the best you can do? Coronation street has become and abysmal predictable, depressing show. I’m 61 years old and have been watching Coronation Street since I was a child, most likely since the very first episode. Ena Sharples, Minnie Caldwell, Albert Tatlock!!!! Elsie Tanner (Swinging Dodgy). I’ve sympathized with Hilda Ogden. Laughed with Eddie Yates, Stan Ogden, Curly Watts, Jack and Vera Duckworth. It was ALWAYS a pleasure. Annie and Jack Walker, Bet Lynch! All of these people had personality.
Now, the enjoyable characters in the street are overshadowed by the nasty unlikable predictably awful folks. The unbearable Kayla, dear lord, who thought that one up? Most of the recent additions in the ill-fated street have personality or add value to the show.
Like many folks, after over fifty years, I picked up the remote and said ENOUGH! My husband gave a sigh of relief!
What will make me watch again? Hard to say but getting rid of Kayla, Peter Barlow, Tracy Barlow (in fact the whole damn Barlow Family) would be a great improvement. The show would be much better without sappy Toya, whining Maria and the terrible acting of Simon, the ridiculous broody teenager. Kevin doesn’t add much and for heavens sake can someone get him to wash. Also are folks in the Manchester area always that tanned?
A new plot would help, not sad repetitions of previous ones. Coronation is a like a very bad Groundhog day. Endless, mindless and depressing.

The Old Olive Mill in Colledimezzo

An old stone building in a quaint old village. From the moment I set eyes on it, I knew it was special. A building that had been restored with loving care. In years gone by, it produced olive oil. From now on, it’s going to produce happiness and lots of laughter.

It’s my new home in Italy and I can’t wait to share it with friends and family.

The Old Olive Mill in Colledimezzo!

David Bowie’s Tribute to John Lennon

Imagine if guns weren’t so accessible!

We’s still have John Lennon.

RIP David Bowie. The world misses you!

The Day of Rest

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I’m sure my schedule is much the same as yours. On weekdays I rise and shine at 5:30 and work out. Then do a few chores before setting off to work for eight o clock.
On the way home from work I run errands, then maybe a few more chores when I get home. An evening walk is usually on the schedule too. At around 7:30 or 8:00 pm (if I’m lucky). I sit down and relax.

Saturday and Sunday aren’t much better. Why do we do this to ourselves? Today I woke up and mentally listed what I needed to do. Immediately I became stressed.

So instead, I made myself some coffee and asked myself how I’d like to spend the day! These are the answer’s I came up with.
I’d like to:
Work on my current short story (The Engineer)
Make some cookies
Meet my daughter for Happy Hour
Have another cup of coffee and…relax.

I believe someone much more important than me decreed Sunday be a day of rest.

Rome

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In 2010 I went to Rome for the very first time. I’d been to Italy many times but never Rome. This was the view from my hotel, the Marriott Grand Flora, at the top of Via Veneto.
I was hooked as soon as my feet touched the ground. The smell, the chatter, the atmosphere.
I remember standing on the banks of the Tiber with Castel Sant’angelo behind me, looking across the bridge towards the city, gasping for breath. It was almost too much to take in. I couldn’t even lift my arms to take a photo. I glanced at my husband, who stood next to me, and saw he felt it too.

Rome isn’t just a trip, it’s an experience, its something you feel.

 

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