Going Back

I can hardly believe we are almost a third of the way through 2023. It’s scary when I consider what I have or haven’t achieved so far this year. With all that has gone on (nursing and worrying over my 97-year-old mum, looking after Dave pre and post his hip replacement, weeks without a washing machine, and so on) I’ve surprised myself by finally getting back into editing mode with my novel, two successful paintings completed, with another in progress, and one not so complete but will be soon.

What I have had problems with is reading. Considering how much I used to read, even known on Amazon as “AvidReader”, no matter what I started, I could not finish, either losing interest, the story didn’t engage me, or I was too tired to read anything. Most unlike me, normally having 2 if not 3 books on the go: 1 for reading in bed; another when there’s nothing decent on television, which is often; and in the summer, 1 in the garden. But for the past few months I can hold my hand up and say nothing I pick up inspires me to continue.

Truth is, I missed reading and determined to retrieve my lost mojo. Like my music tastes, I enjoy many genres but autobiographies are not ones I generally turn to. I can count on my hand the few that I have read: The Moon’s a Balloon, and Bring on the Empty Horses by David Niven; one about the composer Claude Debussy; and 2 years ago the autobiography of a close childhood friend, Peter Beaven, Director of Music at the Royal Military Chapel, Sandhurst, who sadly passed away suddenly this January.

Chance would have it, good old Amazon flashed up an autobiography on special offer. It was for Not Dead Yet, by Phil Collins, the singer/songwriter/drummer/actor. I enjoy his music and singing, and knew Phil came from my home town in West London. But apart from his music, that’s all I did know about him. Curious, I bought the book.

Although I am still reading it (I’m half-way through), I am so pleased I did. I learned that Phil, 2 years older than me, grew up a few streets away, his mother worked in a toy shop I knew well (I was probably served by her), and that teenage Phil frequented the same clubs, pubs bars and nightclubs I did. It is quite possible we were there at the same time on occasion.

Reading about familiar places and haunts, streets, cafes, incidents I remember came to life again, going back in time. He talks about the background to many of his songs and albums, the highs and lows of touring, his marriages and divorces, his children including the actress Lily Collins, how the music industry has changed since the 1970s, the concerts, the other bands and musicians he’s played with. His part in the film Buster, about the 1960s Great Train Robbery. His writing style is relaxed and full of humour, wit and sometimes with a sadness. In reading, it is his voice you hear, speaking as he would directly to you in normal conversation. I’m loving it. So much so, each night this week I’ve gone to bed early in order to delve into the world of music and rock&roll and visit memory lane.

My reading mojo has returned. Yay!

Kit Domino’s websites and blogs

November Madness and Music I’ve Become Obsessed With

Jillian here. Happy November. For those of us doing NaNoWriMo, we’re in the midst of the craziness right now. Last night, I accidently added a zero to my word count, so instead of 22,003, the website had me as 220,003, which is ludicrous. When I tried to fix it, it said I had like negative 199,000 words, so it has been even crazier trying to get it to register correctly now. It even has me as already winning it and that is certainly not true. 🙂 I confess, it is driving me bonkers! LOL

About two months ago, when I was watching an episode of Grantchester on PBS, Robson Green, who plays the detective, was walking around his office singing a little. Someone told me he used to sing with a partner and they were called Robson and Jerome. I had no idea even though I have loved Robson since he was in Wire in the Blood back in the early 2000s.

Of course, I had to find what he sang. You tube has a great selection of their songs and I have been obsessively listening while I work. One day recently, my son asked me who I was listening to and when I told him, he looked them up too. He recognized the Jerome guy from Game of Thrones. I only ever watched two episodes of that show as it didn’t appeal to me, but Jerome was also in Ripper Street which I did like. How cool is it that these guys are so talented? Acting and were also successful recording artists.

Here are links to a couple of songs: What Becomes of the Broken Hearted

If I can Dream.

Update on the bathroom renovation: It’s going slower than the hubs wanted but he is still feeling effects of the cancer treatments and not moving as fast as he wants. He has to rest a lot and has been going to bed super early. I am not stressed about it, but he is. He has also done a few things 2-3 times as he isn’t happy with how he did it the first time or two. He has reset the shower base three times. He thinks he can live with it now. LOL

This week, we honor our veterans here in the US with Veteran’s Day and my friends in the UK have Remembrance Sunday as well. Happy Thanksgiving in a couple of weeks.

I’ll leave you with a picture I took in Rhode Island when my son lived there.

In the Wee Hours

The mind and the brain can be a curious bedfellow at times, especially at night whether asleep and dreaming, or awake in the wee early hours trying your darnest to fall back to sleep. I’ve never been a great sleeper, the slightest unusual noise will wake me up, as will a sudden alteration in sound, which is why I dislike falling asleep listening to the radio or television or to audiobooks. As soon as a voice changes, the pitch or volume on music switches or the recording comes to an end, then bang – I’m wide awake. A solid 7-8 hour night’s sleep is a rarity; I get by on a broken 5 or six hours at most. I have no trouble going to sleep initially, it’s the staying there I struggle with. And if I do fall back into dreamland, I have the most peculiar dreams. I’ve always been like it.

But this has advantages, for it’s during this time I fix things. In my head. Like plot issues in my novel or have a marvellous idea for another book. Work out what my characters are going to do or say next. When I was doing the 9-5 life, I’d solve a dilemma or figure out a solution to problem in the office. In my head I’d rehearse what I need to say to someone. Finger out how to fix something broken. Decide on what we are going to eat for our Sunday lunch, even if it’s only Tuesday morning. I’m used to this and am sure I’m not the only one who experiences these things.

But lately, my mind has been working in an unexpected way. It seems for no reason I can fathom, I suddenly recall songs from my childhood, ones I’d forgotten about, surprising myself I can even remember the words. If it were pop songs of my teenage years, then I could perhaps understand it. I love music and that of the 60s and 70s especially, but these are songs often from further back.

Ones such as Cool Water “All day I face the barren waste without the taste of water. Cool water…” Old Shep “When I was a lad and Old Shep was a pup through the hilltops and meadows we’d stray…” “Carolina Moon …keep shining, shining on the one who waits for me…” Little Green Frog “There’s a little green frog, swimming in the water, a little green frog, doing what he oughta…” “Don’t You Worry …my little pet, don’t you worry now, don’t forget…” You get the jist. And I wonder how many of these you are singing right now. (Sorry)

These are just a few of them I hear, and many are the B side to records, ones rarely played, let alone remembered. Okay, so I know I grew up hearing these songs. With older siblings and parents who loved music, the radio or the gramophone playing, that is no small wonder. But why, I ask myself, should all these come flooding into my brain at 2 0’clock in the morning! Are they trying to tell me something?

I’ve tried thinking back to any incident or conversations recently that may have jogged open an old memory of them. Tried hard to recall hearing them on an advert on TV. Have I read any recent articles or books that might mention them or their singers? Nothing! So for the moment I have to content myself with “listening” to them, at least they are songs I like, and they in themselves are bringing back happy days memories of childhood and family. I just wonder what my brain will conjure up next to earworm me through the night.

Has anything like this happened to you?

Kit Domino’s websites and blogs

Coming Out of the Closet

Not a lot of people know this, but I am a closet keyboard player, and despite my electric keyboard being stored away in a cupboard for the past few years, this week I took the decision to bring it back out of hiding and start playing again.

It all started way back when as a child I wanted to play the piano. My grandparents had an upright in their lounge. My uncles played a little and my father could bash out a fair rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No.1 in B minor, but us grandchildren were never allowed to touch it. It was always kept locked, although we would lie underneath it and hit the strings till Nan appeared and we’d all run like hell into the garden, each blaming each other. Happy days.

Still the urge to play gnawed at me but my parents could not afford for me to have lessons, let alone buy a piano. To them, my weekly dance classes (ballroom and Latin American) were enough. A friend from infant and junior school, Peter, had a grand piano in the lounge at his house, I was always envious of such a highly-polished and large instrument. A few years ago, Peter and I found each other through Facebook. He has gone on to greater things with music – he’s Organist and Director of Music of the Royal Memorial Chapel, at the Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst in England as well as an accomplished accompanist, arranger, composer, conductor, and opera singer, with works performed on stage and radio. Oh, what I might have achieved too had I been able to play.

Over the years the urge never left me. In the 1980s, at home full time through long-term illness, I was determined to learn to play so purchased an old wreck of an upright from a dealer. It sat in our dining room, often out of tune but good enough for practice. I found a piano teacher and began to learn, this was necessary as I couldn’t even read music. She doubted I would be able to master the instrument as I have small hands and hand span but I managed. I wasn’t keen on the type of music she taught, after all who wants to play The Merry Widow all day long? Soon she thought I was ready to take my Grade 1 exam. For this she wanted me to sing. Why, I have no idea but that was a big no no. I cannot sing. Never could, never can and no one will ever be able to teach me. After that, I never went back.

A short while after, I overheard a conversation with a lady I knew vaguely talking about an electric piano she had bought. We chatted, and invited me to see it. I was hooked. I wanted one, and she offered to help me play. After several months, I went out and bought my own. Not an electric piano, I couldn’t afford that, but a six octave electric, all singing, all dancing (well not quite), multi instrument and tempo keyboard. And thank goodness for headphones. I could now play at my heart’s content without disturbing Dave or the neighbours. I was never brilliant at it, had no intention of playing for anyone but I enjoyed it, which was and is the main thing.

So now it is sitting back in the office/art studio/Kit’s cave/spare room where it belongs and I am starting over learning again by going back to basics with the help of online lessons on YouTube. Just need to buy some new headphones now. Who knows, I could be playing at a venue near you some day. No, I doubt it either.

Happy August

Jillian here. I’m looking around and wondering exactly where this year has gone. Can’t believe it’s August already. Zipping along through 2019 for sure.

My August started nicely with a fun wedding. As y’all know, I have two sons. I’ve been blessed with having one best friend of each of them work for me for a time while they were in college. One went on to be a lawyer (the older one) and the other one works in the governor’s office (the younger one). I like to think I had a little something to do with their successes, but that just may be my ego talking. Lol.

Anyway, the older one has been married a while and is the father of two adorable children. The younger one got married this past weekend. There was a a lot of laughter and love in the room. He’s Hispanic and his mother sang for him and his bride and also had some lovely Spanish dancers perform and there was a red ribbon they danced with and then wrapped around the couple. It was an interesting insight into their culture.

The mother of the bride was a different story. The bride herself is charming and shy and doesn’t say much. The mother offended a number of people by her rude behavior. Even my son, who thinks I overreact and see rudeness where there isn’t any, thought this lady was rude.

A number of people were walking down the entry hall toward the chairs set up for the service—we’d literally just walked in the door—and this woman starting yelling at us all to “Turn around, turn around. Stop right there and face the wall.” (Like we were bad schoolchildren).

Stunned, we did as ordered and in about a minute, she said, “Turn back around. The bride was in the area. You can do what you want now.”

I thought she was the wedding planner who was full of herself, but my son pointed out she was the mother of the bride. People talked about it all night. It was that weird.

Other than that, we had a nice time, some people overindulged in the wine which was kind of surprising. I’m always amazed that some folks take the risk in over doing it with no designated driver. Not that I’m preachy or anything, but that can lead to tragedy. It’s irresponsible.

The venue was the Mission San Luis. An interesting museum in Tallahassee that encompasses a lot of history of the state. They even have a virtual tour on line. Check it out if you have the time.

Here are a few photos. Oh, and the cake picture reminds me that I saved the groom from his first marital faux pas. The ladies cutting the cake asked him if they were saving the top and he said no and they could cut it. I told him he better check as they are supposed to save it for the first anniversary. He told me they didn’t have room in the freezer and turned to the ladies and told them just to save two pieces. I reiterated that he better go check and that he was no longer autonomous and had to confer with his wife. He returned a few moments later and told them to save the top. He hugged me for saving him.  😁

Atlanta, RT and Booker T.

Jillian here.  I just got back from Atlanta, Ga where I attended the Romantic Times Convention. The convention itself was fun and it was good to see other writer friends as well as chat and interact with readers. I had two pretty awesome things happen in the reader arena – with the same book. I wrote a story called Rex, the Ex and the Hex– first draft was done in 12 days – it was such a fun story to write as the hero believes himself to be hexed and visits a number of hoo-doo folks to try to get rid of the hex (like a witch doctor, a haruspex, a tarot reader, etc).

One reader mentioned she read it and thought it was really good and she could tell I was having a blast as I wrote it. That made me happy as I was glad that shone through.

Another reader saw the cover on a magnet on my table at the signing. She grabbed it and said, “You wrote that?” When I said yes, she said, “I loved it so much, I read it twice and I never do that.” – Her words were worth the trip to Atlanta for me.

The other best thing about the conference wasn’t really related to the conference. My friend Sandra and I went to a concert at a local winery/cafe where they serve tapas and their own wines. I love 1960s music and when she said she wanted to go see a man named Booker T. Jones, a Grammy winner, I was all on board for that. I said, “Booker T. and the M.G.s?”

Well, these days, he travels with his son and two other guys. The music is still wonderful. He and his son played a ballad version of Purple Rain by Prince and it was so moving it brought me to tears.

We got a chance to chat with him in the lobby afterward. What a nice, humble, kind man he was. I could’ve stayed there all night. It was that amazing.  If you get a chance to go, do!

here’s one famous song  and another with his son on guitar.  I tried to upload one of the videos I made but for some reason, the computer said no.  We were seated right by the piano. It was awesome.

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Happy December!

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Jillian here- nope. I haven’t fallen off the edge of the world. It just seems that way. Laurie is always telling me she doesn’t see how I can do all I do and alas, she is right. I can’t. Things … Continue reading →

A Wee Bit O’ Fluff by Valerie J Patterson

I thought it would be good to just write a fluff piece this month, so I hope you enjoy the lighter side!

I find it amazing how different my day is if I wake up with a song in my head.  I have found out that there are mornings the song in my head is apropos to whatever I have to face that day, and other mornings it’s completely bizarre.  For instance, one day last week the hymn You’ll Never Walk Alone played on an endless loop in my head all day, and that evening I found it to be a comfort.  Some of you may recall, I have an elderly aunt with Alzheimer’s who I moved down to an assisted living residence near me after it was determined she could no longer live alone.  This day, I went to see my Aunt Sis and she wasn’t able to use my name.    This particular visit, she recognized me but was unable to tell one of the nurses there that I am her niece and that my name is Valerie.  That evening, while we visited, she struggled to converse with me as well.  So, on my way home while I was lamenting the fact that her Alzheimer’s is progressing, I once again could hear the lyrics to the hymn in my head, reminding me that neither my aunt nor I were walking through this storm alone.

Then there are those songs which seem to be replayed over and over simply to torture me!  They have no relevance to anything going on in my life, but merely seem to be stuck there either because someone planted the song in my mind or I heard it on the radio and it got lodged there.  For instance, not long ago the lyrics to I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas were playing in my mind as soon as my feet hit the floor one morning.  At first I thought, “Cool, I really like this song.”  Never mind that Christmas had long past and it was springtime.  However, by mid morning I was like, “Get out!  Get out!  Get out!”  I would hear myself singing it or humming it and those around me would frown and respond, “Thanks!  Now it’s stuck in my head!”

I rather like when that happens because then I’m not alone in my madness!

Songs centered around a female name are generally complimentary and are usually popular.  There is an older gentleman who frequently has business in my office.  Instantly upon seeing me he breaks out into song, and the song he is singing is Valleri by The Monkees.  He really belts it out, and I always, always smile or laugh and instantly feel my mood lighten.  He’s been serenading me with this tune since 2007.

One day I asked him how come he never sang Valerie by Steve Winwood and he said because The Monkees’ tune was better.  So, a debate ensued, but was never settled.  He was just in my office a few days ago and still we have not reached a conclusive end to the debate.  So, here are videos of both songs.  Please have a listen and cast your vote and the reason for your vote.  I’ll take my findings to work for the next time he serenades me!

Oh, and what’s the wackiest song you’ve had stuck in your head?

Until next time…may the song in your head brighten your day and lighten your mood.