Interview with a Shopaholic.

Tags

Character traits in writing, heroes, London jewel theives, Shehanne Moore, Shopaholics, Splendor, The Starkadder Sisterhood, writing

 Stillmore  -Exist? You are looking at one.

 

Splendor. Don’t talk about yourself like that, darling.

Stillmore. I’m not talking about me.

Splendor. Well, I hope you are not  talking about me. But to answer your question, dear little dudes.

Oh. I never let the question of being able to afford something worry me. No No. And you know Shehanne loosely based part of the story on Cinderella. You would make the most marvelous mice.

How edifying for you all. Well, the thing is there is no such thing as a shopping addiction. It is all quite easily explained. Clothes, fans, stockings, petticoats are things I have a notion of when I am unhappy. Also they are unhappy too. Why should something that nice, that beautiful, be made to feel neglected? Well?

 

Splendor. Sorry? Yes. Yes, of course. Well I have to buy things  because if I hadn’t, for example bought  a lot of these items I bought  when I didn’t have the money to buy things,  my friend Topaz, who is a member of the Starkadder Sisterhood–thieves, in other words– would have stolen these things for me. She is a kleptomaniac.  Keeping her out of Newgate was of the utmost importance to me. It would have cost the state a fortune to hang or transport her. I saved them money.  Just think of the service you are doing for others every time  you treat yourself to something nice.

Splendor . Well, I did say  she’s a kleptomaniac and as you can see Stillmore wasn’t too troubled. Sort of not anyway. Unlike her, you need to think of what you resist. The three pairs of cherry-patterned stockings I bought on one occasion might seem excessive. But not when set against the fact I never bought the silk chemise. I wanted to but I didn’t.  It made me feel so much better that I had bought the stockings.

Splendor – and did I say it’s less to carry especially when you may feel you have over spent and your palms are sweating?

‘The white silk had been a necessity when he wanted her to accompany him to that supper party, the small, simple event given by some dear friend of Lady Kertouche’s.

Why he had insisted on attending when he never ate anything had not only been beyond her comprehension, it had been so far beyond her pocket that buckets of sweat glazed her palms just thinking about it.’

Splendor – Goodness yes. How many did we say? Well, I suppose Stillmore got a little excited about it on more than one occasion. My going out shopping that was.

Largely because HE didn’t understand that I was saving him money.

It is a principle I am sure many are familiar with.

Splendor . Well, not if he’s anything like Stillmore, although people will see you are trying to do something about it. You can also try buying things that are reduced because people don’t like the design, so these things you get for a snip. I got a very nice day dress that way once.  Again, what was I doing but giving a good home to something unloved? 

Now lastly? Lastly let’s say you have found yourself in the situation of spending over the odds, perhaps for three, of one thing. I mean serious odds here. Well you just go out and you buy another three of a far cheaper version. That way although your round total may be more……… per item it is less if you do the division and see the logic. So three hamsters at 30 pounds a piece would be 90 pounds. But if I then bought another three at 2 pounds each, bringing the total to 96–pounds, not hamsters– then divided the total  by 6,  well, that is only 16 pounds each, which is sure to be acceptable to everyone. And that is only 3 at two pounds, if you buy more at two pounds, you will bring the individual total down even more.

Now then hammies while it’s been very nice chewing the fat with you all. I really much dash. Madame Renare’s shuts at five you know and she has the most divine silk gloves in her window it would be a terrible crime to leave them there.

Extract ..after a certain night in a certain barn in a certain thunderstorm …..

Lady Kertouche’s velvet-gloved hand wavered in the direction of the he, looking even more diabolical than usual if that were possible, dark stubble dusting his jaw and upper lip, his eyes sunk so far beneath his brows she would need a team with pickaxes to excavate them. And she had thought he quite liked Lady Kertouche.

“If you mean the cat, do say so, Violetta,” he said.

“Oh, not at all, Kendall. I merely…well…”

Or was it because Babs Langley stood there? Babs Langley, who she would die rather than look stupid before. And he would too. It must be. Suddenly she saw it. He didn’t know what to do.

“Oh, it is not what it looks.”  In that second Splendor’s voice came to her. In fact, more than her voice came to her, breaking the awful morass holding her in slimy paws. “No, I do not know how you can think anything amiss.”

“Oh, my dear, I was not thinking—“

“His Grace and I eloped.”

“What?”

Lady Kertouche’s exclamation was arrested by the tray dropping from the earl’s hand and clanging off the ground, along with Lady Kertouche’s dropping jaw.

“Yes.” Splendor could see what a mistake it was to continue, but there was also the matter of the parties, the balls and the outings. So she did it anyway. These would grind to an immediate halt if it was known she had spent the night with a man in a barn. Besides, he could thank her for her genius later, just as she had him to thank for the ten thousand pounds that would make her continuance in that glittering world possible. “We…well, you know how it is, I am sure. We just decided to avoid all the fuss and then… Then there was the storm. It was so awful, it forced us to stop for the night.”

If the expression darkening his features was anything to go by, being forced to stop wasn’t the only thing that was awful. The idea to take her by the throat and put a stop to her was plainly running through his disordered head. When she had dug him out of a hole? What was wrong with it for goodness’ sake? Give him a second or so, and he would surely see the value of her claim. How it would inflame Babs Langley.

Besides, they could deny it, couldn’t they, when all the fuss had died down, and they were all back in London? A joke, whatever. So there really was no need for him to appear quite so mummified.

“Eloped?” Lady Kertouche was so beside herself her eyes matched her mouth in the soup bowl stakes. “My stars. Kendall… You?”

He tilted his jaw. Sparks glinted in his eyes.

“But Kendall, you don’t like… I mean, since Marietta you have been a confirmed bachelor.”

“Well.” His smile was so saturnine, it would have skinned lemons at forty paces had there been any on that tray. “There is a first time for everything. Or so it seems.”

——————————————————————————————-

 

 

 

It’s Hamstah week and the debt of Noelle Clark

Tags

Hamster food, heroes, heroines, Honor's Debt, Ireland, Noelle Clark, recipes, Romance, Secret Cravings Publishing

 

DERMOT

Brian

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Honor’s Debt

 On a quest to make amends for a long-ago indiscretion, Honor unexpectedly discovers the one thing she’s been missing in her life.

 

Honor Quirk arrives in Ireland excited—and a bit anxious—about meeting up with the estranged family of her late great-grandmother. The welcome from the residents of Robinhill Farm, Dermot and Bryan, is confusing and far from comforting. One is warm, the other aggressive. The outwardly antagonistic Bryan makes it very clear he doesn’t want her there, branding her a gold digger.

Dermot, on the other hand, is delighted to meet her.

But Honor is no pushover and stands up to Bryan, letting him know that his bad attitude and trail of baggage have nothing to do with her. Despite their confrontational and hostile relationship, an undeniable attraction to each other creeps insidiously into the house on Robinhill Farm. They both desperately try to stifle the sparks, but living under the same roof makes it impossible. Unable to cope with the turmoil of living with Bryan, Honor runs away, straight into the arms of a charming newfound friend, Sean, who offers her a home—and love.

Shattered, Bryan finally takes control of his irrational belief that all women are evil, and fights to bring back the woman he loves. But is it too late?

About Noelle Clark

Noelle Clark is an Australian author of contemporary romance and historical novels. Her books weave romance, intrigue, and adventure into colourful and often exotic locations around the world. Widely travelled, Noelle uses real life experience of places, culture, and people, as a backdrop to her stories, giving the reader an authentic taste of the location. Her novels feature strong, mature, heroines and heroes, who—often without knowing it—are ready for new beginnings. She lives close to the sea and shares her home with two cats and two dogs. She has two grown up children, and five very small grandchildren. When Noelle’s not writing and travelling, she plays guitar, tends her vegetable garden, enjoys the company of family and friends, and—of course—reading.

 

Contact Links

• Website www.noelleclark.net
• Facebook https://www.facebook.com/NoelleClark.Author
• Twitter @noelle_clark
• Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Noelle-Clark/e/B00CENUDLC
• Goodreadshttps://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7046284.Noelle_Clark

 

Buy Links

Secret Cravings Publishing   http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=978

 

Amazon     http://www.amazon.com/Honors-Debt-Robinhill-Farm-Book-ebook/dp/B00P9G3QF6/ref=sr_1_17?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1415219200&sr=1-17&keywords=Honor%27s+Debt

 

B and N  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/honors-debt-noelle-clark/1120690761?ean=2940046390445

 

Kobo  http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/honor-s-debt

The Season of the Witch and the Hard to Forget Incy Black

Tags

Entangled Ignite, Entangled Publishing, Hard to Forget, heroes, heroines, Incy Black, Romance, Suspense

 

Incy Black scary? Just when Incy thought it was safe to come back on here? Oh come on dudes, hamster up. Seriously, we are going to have a little Halloween fun. But today is a special day. The release of Incy’s second book, Hard to Forget. What do you mean…ONLY…when she’s a best writing buddy? SO we’re not going to hang about. We’re going to welcome her AND the contents of her new hero’s pocket.

 

 

‘Jack Ballentyne (spy/viscount/hottie/hard bastard/Josh Holloway lookalike) is flat out, an uncommunicative bugger. So, to gain a little insight into what makes him a man, I slipped my hand into his trouser pocket (front facing) for a grope about…AND SCORED! Oh the treasure, pure manhood…a survival kit. Tidy in a hand-sized (big hand) tin box…….

Lets flick the lid:

Oooo…a neat little knife, a CRKT Ritter RSK Mk 5 Lightweight Survival Knife, to be exact,

handy for… well, cutting I guess. Maybe some stabbing, digging a grave, at a push.

 

And this? A condom? Jack was once an opportunist (randy bugger), but I assumed Lowry had calmed him the heck down. Now for uses—hmmm, a neat little skull wrap for when it’s raining in the woods.

Though, it’s a bit of a tight fit (and no, not attractive in the least—a dinky mirror is taped into the lid of the tin, so I checked and can confirm, the donning of a condom to one’s head gives an ‘emerging larva’ look.

And what’s this? Cotton wool balls? Well, I suppose a man must care for his complexion. “For bloody tinder”, snaps Jack, as I reach to stroke his cheek, just testing for silky smoothness… I couldn’t help myself. (I can confirm that beneath the three-day stubble, his skin felt lickable.)

Weather-proof matches,

  (yes, the heads have been dipped in candle wax. I need to remember that tip.

And I’ll used scented candles to cover the odours of…well, life in the wilds. Win-win.

Plaited parachute cord?…would never have pegged Jack for a closet finger-knitter. I notice he has a complicated plait of leather throngs tied round his rather delectable wrist, too—nice wrist, tanned, easily thicker than a thumb-forefinger span, light dusting of tiny bleached hairs where wrist becomes more arm, muscles curving, very touchable…sorry, I digress.

Coffee filters? Christ, the man likes his little luxuries. “Helps with water purification,” Jack growls…as do those tablets. “Oh, and here I was thinking those were for stomach cramps and PMT,” I mutter, not at all impressed at his implication that I’m a bit thick.

Super glue (for closing deep cuts, apparently), tweezers—not for his eyebrows, I suspect, though they are beautifully shaped, plasters (for those booboos when Lowry’s not around to kiss them better), alcohol wipes (well, I guess you could suck on them at a pinch, but it would seem they double for antiseptic and tinder). Dental floss? Seriously? Jack’s obviously got a penchant for cord, thread and restraint.

Oh, how sweet, a dinky little torch…and a whistle…didn’t know Jack was into music and laser shows.

An ugly looking nail, heavily taped with gorilla tape (bright yellow)…more bondage for Jack…shiny pins, needles, and a button compass. “I got one of those in a Christmas cracker,” I tell him, proudly, using the mirror fixed to the inside of the lid to check my lippy. “So with all that’s here, I could fend off the walkers, come the zombie apocalypse?” I ask, slipping the tin into my handbag—Fendi, very sweet.

 

“No. You’d need a fucking baseball bat for that…

and preferably a gun, rapid firing, double loaded clips.” He digs (roughly) through my handbag to retrieve the little tin box, I’d tried to filch. “Lowry made that kit up for me. It’s precious,”

he shares, somewhat rudely. And then waves a sweetly wrapped tampon (no doubt, found at the bottom of my handbag) in my face. “I’ll keep this. Useful for bullet wounds.”

On which note, I beat a hasty retreat. “Nice growling with you, Jack. We must do it again sometime,” I lie.

Jack Ballentyne, hard bastard-hero, carves a place for himself in Lowry Fisk’s life in HARD TO FORGET. No small feat, it’s worth noting, given he’d shot her, and deliberately secured her dishonourable discharge from the British Intelligence Service. Their tale is best summarized in two short quotes

“He didn’t want her trust. What the hell would he do with it?” Jack Ballentyne

“Protective custody? What’s that a euphemism for, exactly.” Lowry Fisk

Hard to Forget

 

Free, Full Chapter 1 available here:Entangled Publishing

 

Buy links

 

Amazon

iTunes

Barnes & Noble

Connect with Incy Black

Website

Facebook

Twitter @IncyBlack

The June Author Interview…Getting steamed with Felicity Cates

Tags

Erotic Romance, Felicity Cates, Heart's Desire Press, heroes, heroines, Self publishing, Steam Bunny

Now firstly today, I did promise a certain gentleman a pink bow.

 

So…. Yes, I know other authors host giveaways and things for their commenters but he did ask…..

 

Besides Ralph does not accept awards and stuff. His blog is brill by the way.  http://bluefishway.com/ My weekly laugh.

Ok, so that’s that out the way. Hope you like it Ralpha…we come to today’s guest. OOOH, you can’t know how thrilled I am to have this lady here (it’s a secret.) No seriously, she’s a fan.

 

and she’s a fan who WRITES! Fabulously too.

Goodness…I see some cages coming on here. Cages with you lot in them… However, our guest is here with her new book, so we’ll wait….

Shey. So, Felicity, Steam Bunny?

Quite an unusual title. Knowing how busy these critters can get, are we talking actual rabbits here? A new take on Watership Down?

Felicity. Hi Shey. Ahhhhhhh, nope. No furries in this story.  The title’s a bit of a pun. It’s all about my heroine, Casey, dressing up all smexy-steamy in corsets and stilettos to drive her man insane with desire.

Here’s the blurb:

Business is all about pleasure for Casey Jackson. Helping Lucas Haskell promote his graphic novel, Steam Bunny, is an erotic dream job. Until he gives her the ultimate ultimatum; commit or leave. She doesn’t want his ring or the complications of marriage. But with a boss who knows what he wants and exactly how to get it, playing dress-up has never been so risky…or so much fun.

Shey. OOOOH! Spill a little.

Felicity. Spill? Wha-? Nooooooooo! Not my coffee…damn. Naughty little hamsters. Excuse me while I find a cloth to clean-up my keyboard. *mutter mutter*

Shey. The hell with all them. Any more of their nonsense and they go back in the cages. What we really want to know is do we have a hero to drool over?

Felicity. Lucas is HOT. Not only is he good looking, he also gives as good as he gets when it comes to fighting for what he wants. And what he wants is Casey. You can find a sneak peek of Lucas and Casey on June 24th when my dear writing friend, Zara Cox’s latest release, Spiral, comes out. She’s kindly featuring the full first chapter of Steam Bunny at the back of her book.

Shey. Yay! Fabulous. She’s one steamy, best selling lady from what I hear and see.

Felicity. To celebrate I’m hosting a Facebook giveaway. A random draw will be held from all the eligible entrants and one lucky winner will receive an art print of Lucas, signed by me. I’ve done a watercolour painting of him, with his blue eyes and intent stare and whooooo…that chest.

Yowza. Of course, there’s likely to be other fun draws that day for an Amazon gift card or two, so stop by my page and you could win something. To enter all you have to do is like my Felicity Kates author page on Facebook, and help me spread the word by sharing the event.

https://www.facebook.com/FelicityKatesFun

Shey. Okay, folks yah all know what to do here.

 

No. Not that. This is your first book. Is it the start of something?

Felicity. Okay. Steam Bunny is my debut into the publishing world. *Eeeek* But it’s the first in a series of fun, steamy, erotic novellas called Little Miss Kick-Ass.

They feature strong heroines who know what they want and heroes who aren’t afraid to play a bit dirty to get it. The next book in the series, which I’m currently writing, is called Fit To Be Tied. It features Casey’s BFF Astrid, and her nemesis/love interest, Race. I’m hoping to have it out by Christmas.

Shey. In this changing by the day world of publishing, you decided to self publish. Why was this?

Felicity. I had always planned to go the traditional route of signing on with a publishing house if one would have me. But after doing some heavy soul searching, lots of research, and many late night conversations with my writing gal-pals, I decided to go out on a limb, screw up my courage and jump in with both feet myself.

We live in a very exciting time in the publishing world where there are options for getting work directly into the hands readers that didn’t exist ten years ago. I decided that for me, and my heavy work schedule, the flexibility of setting my own deadlines was the only way I could make it work as an author.

That decision comes at the expense of having the publicity and backing of an established publishing house. But at this point in my life, it seemed to make the most sense for me. Had I gone with a publisher it would have been Hearts Desire Press. They are new and seriously rock solid.

Shey. Yes, they look seriously good for new players on the park and are actively seeking submissions. Here’s the addy folks… http://heartsdesirepress.com/

A lot of aspiring writers read this blog Felicity. Any advice for those considering self pubbing?

Felicity. Don’t do it because it seems trendy. Don’t do it because you think you’re getting ahead by skipping the submission process with publishers and churning your stuff out faster. Do it only if after careful consideration you’ve decided it’s what’s right for you. Research what is needed. Hire a good editor. Pay for a decent cover artist. Make friends and be a good friend in return. Publishing, self or otherwise, is a business. If you want to be successful, you need to treat the process and everyone you meet with respect. This is not a job to be treated lightly.

Shey. I couldn’t agree more. What about you though? Apart from writing steamy novels that is?

Felicity. Summer is almost here. So that’s beach time and vacation from my day job.

Which means more time for writing (yay!) And painting pictures, taking photos, going for hikes. Spending time with my husband and son and insane geriatric cat. All the things I love. 

Shey. So what’s next for you?
Felciity. More coffee  Less hamsters.

Shey. Any advice to give aspiring writers?
Felicity. Dream big. Work hard. Write a bit each day. Read as often as you can. Try new things. If you let it, your voice will happen all on it’s own. You aren’t JK Rowling or Nora Roberts or Stephen King. So why try to be? Listen to their advice, but you have your own story to tell. Just be you.

Thanks very much for having me on your blog today, Shehanne. It’s been great to visit with you and the hamsters.

blogger: http://katereedwood.blogspot.ca/

FB: https://www.facebook.com/FelicityKatesFun

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Fun_Felicity

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/KateReedwood/

The Necessity of Seconds.

Tags

heroes, heroines, secondary characters, writing

 That vital bit of Sir Galahad – his gast (I don’t know what you think I was going to write) –  was flabbered. Just when he thought it was safe….not to get back into the water again, was this not a bar after all?…to appear of assistance to the Lady Lorraine and her friend once again. No matter both had begged to be excused in the matter of the Nina Simone CDs he had helpfully shown them from behind the bar.. Nina Simone for God’s sake? What was wrong with them? But now, the friend having taken herself away on the promise from him of a connecting lead,(now) reappeared from yonder distant horizon. Not only did she lug, not just a household’s worth of CDs in the form of the wooden cabinet that held them, plus a CD system, she…. hailed him. Warmly at that.

Sir Galahad realized one thing of a sudden. Did she not call him her Heroine….?  Plainly he had undergone a sex change. 

Like my hero it’s been a while since I rigged a deck.  His decks are, of course, more of the sailing ship variety. We actually don’t have a lot in common, except perhaps the ability to tell when something doesn’t look quite right. And seeing this deck, in advance of the other half’s birthday party, I couldn’t help thinking decks had plainly changed a lot since last I blithely stuck a few amps here and there.  And so they had, we discovered later…. as in just as the party-was-now-starting later…  And hadn’t I decided to leave it all to the experts into the bargain, later?

Yes. The deck didn’t have anything to play the music on. My instincts were right.  As the guests poured in, like water onto the boat deck of the Titanic, I wondered if we could simply clap and stamp our way a la Strictly Ballroom, through the music.  Please let us be clear, I am one of Nina Simone’s biggest fans. I just wasn’t sure if an entire evening spent dancing on the loop to one solitary CD of hers, played over the bar sound system, was going to appease the eager masses.  Enter la heroine. 

In fiction, the hero and the heroine have these roles laid out for them although they might not do anything especially heroic. They are the leads. But the leads of this particular evening, while being pretty heroic, I have to say…  Why for example didn’t we just play, the compiled CDs on the bar sound system…well because they were mp3 conversions and they wouldn’t play…   Anyway while the leads ran daft and an hour ticked by, it was the secondary characters who saved the day. 

In romance writing secondary characters are tricky. They have, but must know, their place. They mustn’t drive the action. But they are really necessary, often as foils. I know my heroine, Fury, could have survived without the woman who is her maid, but her life would have been a lot poorer. She would not be able to stand out there and put on any kind of show without Susan.  Although their relationship is always mistress and servant, Susan isn’t averse to pointing out Fury’s faults. Mirroring her flaws. Or pawning the odd candlestick to keep them. Most of all, knowing her headstrong mistress for what she is, Susan does what is right when it really matters, rather than what she is told. Fury might lose her life at this stage otherwise.

You might be wondering if secondary characters are really necessary. But the depth they give a story, is something you can’t do without. You can also use them to show your hero or heroine’s thoughts, or state of mind, as when Fury thinks what would Susan really think of this, she is really showing the reader the mess she is in. When Fury, in her quest for an heir, considers how Susan will think the deed’s accomplished and how lucky she is having the sex-god hero in her bed, she’s really showing her hurt and humiliation that the deed’s not and how she’s not lucky at all. Not given her past with him. When Fury notices how even Susan isn’t immune to Flint’s charms, look at her a dumpy woman of fifty plus, thinking…woah… she’s showing how sexy Flint is, and how little she trusts him because of it…always part of the problem for her and a big part of his learning curve.

So give them depth, layers of interest, allow them to enhance your leads and to show what they are really like deep down, always taking care to play to the main theme of your story. That way they won’t take over.

She had seduced him……

Tags

British Columbia, Glencoe, Glencoe Lochan, heroes, writing

and made him love her and he had never stopped doing so.’

I just finished editing what is in essence my first book. Long story the second has been contracted while the first was still in the throes… But I read these words yesterday and did the double take.

Since that’s what the heroine of my first book does, to save her son..oh and herself…the hell with anybody else, like his people, something he tries most unsuccessfully not to come to terms with… that might have been why I did the double take. It wasn’t. It was because they were connected with a favourite place…the Glencoe Lochan.

Bonnie eh? And so inspiring…in all weathers. After a wee trip up the hills, just the place for a quiet walk, though I have been known to sprawl all my length here. But enough of that and the fact Glencoe under another name is the setting for that book. Lord Strathcona, one of the organizers of the Canadian Pacific Railway, built the Lochan. In case you’re wondering how that came about, well, long before he was chosen to drive the last spike at Craigellachie, British Columbia. he was born in Forres in Scotland. But his wife wasn’t. At least she became his wife after being just that to him in every way that counted for forty years. Quite a convention breaker for the time. And what a love story.

Isabella Hardisty did one stupid thing in her life. That was to take up with a hot-tempered and abusive man called, James Grant. But she had the courage to leave him and, along with their small son, Jamesie, seek the protection of the then young, Lord Strathcona.

He built the Lochan in Glencoe, after acquiring the estate there and he did it, to remind her of the homeland she so pined for. Despite that the couple returned to Canada, because her home was her home.  But the Lochan exists to this day. What a symbol of, and testament to, everlasting love.

The Lochan in November

Holding Out For A Hero?

Tags

heroes

The Lady Lorraine was flummoxed. It was something to do with standing in the middle of a fast flowing river. So not only was she flummoxed, she was very wet. The edges of her gown were anyway. For, being fortunate enough to stand upon a stone, her feet were dry. Even if she could not go on and she could not go back.

“Damsel,” quoth Sir Galahad, who, as chance would have it, just happened to be poncing about the countryside on his milk-white steed, looking like a cross between Brad Pitt, Gerard Butler and Josh Holloway, all rolled into one.  “It is very singular you should stand there, in mortal peril. Will you not get upon my back, so I can carry you across yonder raging torrent?”

Lady Lorraine took one look at this sex-god. Long of leg and delicious of body.  Wonderfully hunky and all these things wherefore to the eye a damsel would go. Woah. Her lips parted.

 “Absolutely not,” she said.

 I’ve just got back from another fabulous stay in Glencoe, which as you can see involved a lot of hard walking.

Mainly to the Boots Bar. Blame the weather, which explains why one  of us is drinking sun cream. Although our party did make a trip out – apologies right now if your car windscreen was one of the ones getting the smacking on Saturday afternoon, when we hit Ballachulish with various items of hill-gear flapping from our car windows.  It needed drying. We did too, which brings me to the river story, before you go thinking it ain’t valid.

 The bridge to the Hidden Valley was shut, and the other half, being a bit of a map stickler since the time I took him up Aonach Eagach by mistake, insisted we stick to the reference offered. This was even if we didn’t know what one it was, as none of the four of us had a map between us. Or obviously a brain either by the finish. Anyway, lots of people seemed to be on the other side. How hard could it be? 

Well, many hours and half a trip up one of the Three Sisters later, we saw the answer to this question. Finally we  were within striking distance of………..Wooh, you’ve guessed it,  the shut bridge. On the side we wished to be though. Yep. If nothing else, we had crossed the gorge. Hallelujah!

Obviously though, you can understand the dissent that arose within our party at this stage, with another 90 minutes underfoot still to go, including nice things like the rake. Not to mention the trip all the way back again. Especially when the car park at which we had parked our car, could now be viewed across said river. Roughly a five minute howk away.  

Over the River Coe, I hasten to add. Where my pal, Lora, stuck on a stone in the middle. And her hubby, waded all the way back in, to offer the immortal words, ‘Get on my back. Aye. Come on.’  Now maybe in fairy tales that happens and maybe in fairy tales, the lady obeys. But this was real life, where domestics ensue. His legs did not look safe to her, she said.  I shamefully confess I told her they were. But then  I was standing right there behind her absorbing the shock of being in eighteen inches of freezing water, torn between thinking I was going to die and maybe I could get used to this.  I would have told her the Titanic couldn’t have been safer.

I also said, what is a hero doll, if not the man standing there in front of you. My man too, since he had also waded back in, thinking her hubby’s legs did not look safe either and we didn’t want the mountain rescue called out in full view of the carpark, and try living that down later on in the Boots Bar, now did we? Although, having been struck by a flying rucksack…when in doubt, always save the camera and the mobiles first…his judgement may have been impaired.  Anyway, we did all live to domestic another day. But it does make you wonder? What is a hero?  Cos let’s face it, we all have this notion of the knight in shining armour. Well ladies, would we have refused Sir Galahad? Or are we just wise?Le hero……. Trying to behave here and not show le hunk