I’m recently back from a wonderful holiday to Switzerland and Italy and will write more when I can…this is just a quick overview of my time away. Most photo’s are courtesy of my husband, bar 2 from outside the accommodation in Rome. Please click on the images to take a closer look.
We then drove south through the Gotthard Pass passing through some stunning scenery and made our way over the border into Italy, spending 3 nights in another apartment in Pianello del Lario, on Lake Como, Italy.
After 3 wonderful days there, we dropped the hire car off in Lugano (it’s just over the border, back into Switzerland) and took the train down from Lugano to Florence via Milan and stayed 8 nights in Florence… 1 night in a hotel and 1 week in a beautiful villa near Impruneta in Florence, Tuscany where we met up with friends from Australia.
At the end of our week in the villa, we kissed our friends goodbye and took the train from Florence to Rome for the final leg of our journey and stayed for 2 nights in an apartment, in central Rome, before flying back from Rome to Dublin…..again with Aer Lingus.
Hopefully, at some point, I’ll get the chance to write more in-depth posts about each location and individual property, adding corresponding links to accommodation and once I’ve had the opportunity to work my way through the thousands of photos, I’ll add a few additional pics from the holiday/vacation.
Thank you for taking the time to read this post and I hope you enjoyed the images.
Touch Of Cinnamon
Yasmin Levy – Firuze
Belted silver coins cascade, kissing flank and rounded thighs,
each step rousing a seductive melody; calling him to her.
Delicate fingers lost in sinew; reading the man….soothing….igniting,
half hidden by his thunder, a brooding body of stone.
A body desecrated by battle hungry men and rubbed smooth by her surrender….
female, honey sweet surrender…warm….soft….breathless.
Moving only for him, hips sway in unspoken beckoning,
a whisper of white against liquid amber flesh.
Blood thirsty cables trace their way under ochre skin….male….burnished and musky,
his heady scent still covering her, staking its claim.
A primal, unchallenged claim. Kneeling she offers her wrists in submission…
feminine, honey sweet submission…..total….delicate….unashamed.
Touch Of Cinnamon
Playing obsolete roles for the ignorant masses,
Too fat and complacent to catch the shift in us,
Too close to the stage to see the sleight of hand; the illusion.
All they can do now is clap on, unaware.
Confused when the lifeless thing in the corner is examined and pronounced dead.
Stunned when the rings are thrown into the crowd as they separate and take a bow.
Leaving by different exits to take up new roles, on a new stage.
Touch Of Cinnamon
I hadn’t, until now, got to grips with the Awards part of WordPress. So apologies if I make a hash of it. I received two nominations for this award.
One from My Silent Escapes: http://mysilentescapes.wordpress.com/
and one from Faith Family and Focaccia: http://faithfamilyandfocaccia.com/
Thank you both so much for the nomination, it’s very kind of you and much appreciated. :-)
I’m only going to deal with one of the nominations in this post. I’ll come back to the questions from Faith Family and Focaccia as the post would be incredibly long if I put their questions together. Anyway, for now I want to keep it light, fairly upbeat and not divulge anything too personal in such a public arena mainly to keep my better half happy.
11 Random Facts About Me
Random Fact 1.
I’m of Romani descent on my mother’s side.
Random Fact 2.
My most treasured possessions are a little leather cord and shark tooth necklace, given to me by my partner. It goes with me everywhere and still carries his scent. Also my fathers eternity ring that he gave to me when I moved to the States for three years.
Random Fact 3.
I love spicy food, in particular curries and chillies. Lamb madras being my favourite.
Random Fact 4.
I’m hoping to be as self-sufficient as possible down the line. Growing-up we grew our own fruit and veg, raised and ate our own livestock and their produce.
Random Fact 5.
Wisteria is my favourite plant/vine. Wisteria are so beautiful and literally scream romance to me.
Random Fact 6.
My preference is for period dramas and films. Dangerous Liaisons being my all time favourite film.
Random Fact 7.
I wasn’t allowed to colour my hair or cut it short, pierce my ears or wear make-up until I was over the age of 16. Boys didn’t exist as far as my father was concerned.
Random Fact 8.
I’m scared of going down on escalators.
Random Fact 9.
I have a tendency to get too deep, to reveal and care too much. Hence me trying to keep it light and fairly shallow.
Random Fact 10.
I’m not keen on nightwear with cutesy animals or teddy bears on for grown women…my partner loves them, especially a certain set with Snoopy on that he chose. Grrrr!
Random Fact 11.
I was classically trained for six years by Dr Vivien Pike. Singing in many national and international competitions and festivals as first soprano. Televised many times.
Ok now for Abhilasha’s questions to me:
What are three things you cannot live without?
Life would be unbearably bleak for me without my son, my querida, and music.
What is the one thing you are looking forward to doing this year?
My upcoming trip to Switzerland and Italy.
Cats or dogs? Why?
I’m a dog lover at heart, but choose cats because they take less looking after. Living in the middle of nowhere, they keep down the vermin from the near-by farms and barns, don’t need walking and keep themselves clean. I can just about cope with clearing the cat lit trays, but would hate having to clear the garden of dog mess.
Currently the song in your playlist you listen to over and over again?
I couldn’t choose just one and had trouble keeping it down to three.
Adriana Mezzadri – Marcas de Ayer
Apocalyptica – Nothing Else Matters
Yasmin Levy & Eleni Vitali – Porque
Which is your favourite quote? (there might be many, I just need one):
‘One night I dreamed that I did not love, and that night, released from all bonds, I lay as though in a kind of soothing death.’ ~Colette
If you could meet anyone dead or alive, who would it be?
On a completely shallow level, it would have to be Jason Momoa, particularly if he’s in character as Khal Drogo! *Swoons*
What is your favourite post that you’ve written? (Please provide link!)
It’s not on here, it’s on a private blog, but if I had to choose one out of the few I have on here, it’s a toss up between Discord and He. I’m going to go with He as it was the first poem I wrote on here: http://touchofcinnamon.com/2014/02/03/he/
How did you pick your blog’s name?
I love all things cinnamon. The spice features a lot in my cooking, oils that I make for my skin, hair and my home smells of it most of the time. I think it stems from really loving Christmas as a child. One of my partners pet names for me is ‘Cinnamon Girl.’
Knowing what you know now, what advice would you give your 13-year-old self?
Don’t go shaving your legs, they don’t need it and you really will regret it down the line….courtesy of mum.
Which blogger do you admire the most?
What is better: Spicy or sweet?
Now The Nominees:
Don’t fret if you see your name on here, I don’t expect you to go wading through all these questions…but you can if you want. This is just to let you know that I consider you and/or your blog worthy of a mention.
My 11 Questions For The Nominees:
I’m not going to go in for deep and meaningful questions. Most people don’t have the time for that. Answer if want to, ignore if you don’t. I won’t be insulted.
1. Who do you admire or look up to?
2. Who or what do you loath? …cue SOZ putting WordPress Awards :P
3. If I gave you £100,000 what would you buy with it? (I won’t, by the way)
4. If you could have chosen your name, what would it have been?
5. Where would you like to visit?
6. What are you good at?
7. What are you terrible at?
8. Which blog do you stalk the most?
9. Link a song or piece of music you really like.
10. What actor would you choose to play you?
11. Did you read any of the above? :D
There’s no rush if you choose to give it a go. Answer the questions if you want to, nominate some other bloggers and provide me the link once you’ve posted. Congratulations
She slips in through the ear; distended bladder full of discord,
she begins excreting unease in filthy piles.
Laying waste to great chunks of serenity,
before lifting her ragged petticoats, luridly;
revealing a thousand crimson, whispering mouths
Ms Trust pinches and gnaws at the softer parts,
picking at old scabs and vomiting confusion.
Thrusting a bony finger into stilled pools,
She swirls it around,
squeezing out gobs of doubt from her foetid teats.
Laughing, she lights up another cig
and taps her toes to the rhythm of discord.
Her crooked teeth blackened by malevolence,
She tears at the fabric of sweet memories,
wearing them brazenly upon her wasting frame.
Faint words brush past her and she stills,
her filthy head lolling to one side. Listening.
“Hush little one. I’m here now. Nothing can’t hurt you”
One by one, she packs away her cheap tricks and delusions
and skulks back to her shadowy pit…temporarily banished.
Do you remember these sweet messages, querida? Do you remember how you’d leave me something beautiful or funny to read each morning? I do. I miss them. I never thought to tell you that I miss them…I should have.
When and why did we replace these little, honey sweet gestures of tenderness with lists of ‘To Do?’ Is that what we are now…..pages of demands to relentlessly work through?
I mattered then, didn’t I? You saw the lover in me…do you ever catch a glimpse of her these days?
You’d go out running each morning….’roadwork’ you called it, but you’d take a moment to leave a few words for me..that was back in the beginning.
Why didn’t I save them? I should have saved them. I should have coveted them fiercely. Is it too late to claw back that same intensity or has it always been fates intention to mellow and maybe rub out what we felt for one another?
They didn’t take up much room in the drawer. The notes, they didn’t take up much room. I should have saved them. I wish I’d saved them.
You’ve always been the one skilled at creating something beautiful out of words, my attempts, clumsy and full of…what was it you called them? Malapropisms. Malapropisms and dreadful grammar. You’d say it was endearing and tease me mercilessly but it was never said with any malice….never meant to be hurtful.
You’re sleeping now and I’m here, in the kitchen, trying hard to think of the words to give you. It was so much easier in the beginning. They flowed far more naturally. Why is it harder to write this way to you now? Why does it feel awkward, like trying to write with my left hand?
I need you back. Let me try to win you back. You never physically left, but the notes stopped…. slowly, bit by bit, we succumbed to apathy; gave in to the mundane…forgetting the little things….the beautiful things.
Love me the way you did….if you can.
Tonight baby, I ripped up all the lists, threw them in the fire. I sat here with a blank notebook and let myself try for us. Maybe a few words can start to put us back together……..maybe….
Goodnight my heart.
I love you….I always have.
The Warrior & The Nymph
Music: To Zucchabar
“Flee daughter of the lake, for today begins the battle of all battles,
Hide among the shadows and blackened reeds,
Run from me for a thousand years,
Drink the air from mine lungs, if thou will,
But little Naiad, thou WILL be mine to possess.”
No more hidden meanings, a revelation of intent,
A whispered proclamation, not a tentative confession.
“Little Naiad, thou WILL me mine to possess.”
Relishing the kiss of her scent as she takes flight.
“Flee daughter of the lake, let the lovers dance begin,
Hide among the shadows and blackened reeds,
Run from me for a thousand years,
Drink the air from mine lungs, until I am no more,
But little Naiad, thou WILL be mine to possess.”
No more chivalrous restraint, weapons drawn in pursuit,
Dark pools deplore, echoing out his defiant cry.
“Little Naiad, thou WILL be mine to possess”
Exquisite is the hunt; delicious is thy resistance.
“So flee daughter of the lake, the chase almost as sweet as thy submission,
Hide among the shadows and blackened reeds,
Run from me for a thousand years,
Drink the air from mine lungs, watch me perish,
But little Naiad, thou WILL be mine to possess”
Find shelter in devotion; the warming kiss from loving lips,
Thou have mine heart, mine blood I spill for thee.
“Little Naiad, please be mine to possess”
Pallid is mine flesh; fear and pleading fill mine eyes.
“Don’t flee daughter of the lake, stay close so I might see thee before I cease,
Don’t hide among the shadows or blackened reeds,
Don’t run from me for a thousand years,
Don’t drink the air from mine lungs, hold me in thine embrace,
Please little Naiad, be mine to possess.”
His tender words tumble, creating a breach in her defence,
Reasoning unfolding, his arsenal shattering her sensibilities
“Warrior man, I WILL be thine to possess.”
Throw down thine arms, cover me in forever and ever words.
“No more fleeing, daughter of the lake; bind thine wrists together with mine,
Walk along the shallows and gilded lilies’s,
Love me for TEN thousand years,
Kiss sweet breath into mine lungs, I beseech thee,
But little Naiad, I AM thine to possess.”
Touch Of Cinnamon
I’ve been pretty busy this week being ‘crafty’…..making plaques/wall hangings.
Keep scrolling down to see more pics.
My son had a school business project to do and being a typical teenager, he left it until the last-minute to start working on it. It appears that a few weeks back (it could be months back, knowing my son) he was given instructions to set up a company, put together a business plan, design, make or indeed outsource the making of a product that he then had to sell. He came up with the idea of making plaques as he’d done this before, last year, at a previous school. Unfortunately, he never got on with it and found himself swamped with work that actually goes towards his leaving cert results, which this particular business project doesn’t.
Anyway, he ‘outsourced’ the making of these plaques to you know who! So that’s what I’ve done this week. I won’t have time to sell them, so it looks like I’ll be sticking a few euro in an envelope for him to hand into school and then be giving the plaques away to friends and relatives. If nothing else, it’s been a great experience at doing something I’ve not tried before.
I’ll pop up the images of the finished plaques and as I do more I’ll try to remember to take some pics of the entire process, from beginning to end. I was so intent on getting some done, I forgot to do that. Ooops..sorry!
Hope you like them.
This is my baby girl, Sofia Ava. She’s my very sweet Chinchilla Persian kitty. Sofia is one of 4 cats that I have.
These first pics are from the day we brought her home, over a year ago. She’s 3 months old in these shots and still very very tiny. Ratty, her little cuddly toy, is smaller than the length of my hand and I have small hands.
I named her Sofia as this is the name I’d give my daughter, if I were ever blessed enough to have one. Ava is the Persian name for ‘sweet melody’ or ‘little voice’ She had the sweetest little voice when we first got her.
Here Sofia is a little older, around 6-9 months, I think.
I’ll add more images when I can, but right now, she looks like a mental patient. She’s refusing to let me brush her very long hair and has a ridiculous amount of knots that can only be removed, at this stage, by cutting them out. My poor hands and arms are ripped to pieces by the little mare. She may have the face of an angel, but she’s a scorpie, strong-willed, Diva in reality :-D
Sorry to bore you with kitty pics, but I do love my little girl.
I’m very much in love with this woman’s voice. I listen to her music when I can and find her sound inspires me when I’m writing.
She’s predominately a Ladino singer, Ladino being a Romance language derived from old Spanish (Judaeo-Spanish).
Have a listen and see what you think. She’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but I find her sound beautiful, evocative and passionate.
Yasmin Levy – Una Noche Mas – One More Night
This next song she sung live on Dutch TV. The opening sound of the duduk always sends shivers down my spine and is one of the instruments I intend to learn to play. Beautiful.
Yasmin Levy – Mano Suave – Gentle Hands
I stumbled upon her when writing a piece about the madness of love and wanted an accompanying piece of music.
The piece below is entitled Locura (Madness), the beginning is lovely, but it does tend to get a little mad at the end and could do with finishing about a minute earlier, but still worth a listen.
Yasmin Levy – Locura – Madness
“When love is not madness, it is not love.” ~ Pedro Calderón de la Barca
I’ll put her under her own heading, under my music section, for those that want to listen further.
Friends and I were discussing ‘Romance’ and what it means to us. Whether we see it as being over-rated or undernourished. This led to a lively and interesting discussion.
We all agreed that the notion of romance is purely individual. A personal ideal. What one finds romantic another may consider a cliché or even an overtly contrite expression.
Is what some consider to be romance or romantic not some capitalist ploy dreamt up by our wonderful marketing division to separate us from our cash?
We’re constantly bombarded by advertisements telling us that flowers, music, chocolates are a romantic gift and yet are they? We’re assailed by images of couples strolling languidly hand in hand across sandy shorelines, obviously in love (because they are very well-trained actors paid to be in love for that particular 90 second commercial), and told that the only way we can express our inner love is by travelling to exotic climes, involving vast expenditure.
In a day and age where such gifts are common place, can they truly be said to contain any more romantic notion within them than the plastic wrapper or glossy brochure they are delivered in? Maybe, once, such overtures could be considered to be a heart warming gift. When the notion of obtaining such was, in itself, a task to be reckoned with. But these days? Maybe when the notion of courting or wooing a lady or even a man (gasp – the scandal that would cause) such things as sonnets and fancies were appropriate and heartfelt. But now, one can wonder into any Hallmark cards shop and pick up a standard piece of tat knocked out by some oike in an office on his personal computer with a software package. Can that be considered a show of romance, when the most difficult thing is deciding which crap verse you find more pleasing than the rest? Also, gone are the days of long-term courting and relationship. The chase. The verbal fencing with your heart’s desire, as you grow to know each other. These days the pursuit of the apple of your eye (or at least of that moment) seems to consist of no more than “grab your coat you’ve pulled”. Maybe this is a result of the instantaneous gratification culture that appears to be ever increasing…..and thus is reflected in our need of high-speed “microwave romance”. 2 minutes and it’s done. And of course, when most relationships are over as quickly as they began, who can afford to spend time being truly romantic?
Surely what we should be concentrating on is the notion. What moves the individual at the time to express themselves. Maybe not even that. Maybe we should look at that which is carried out without any ulterior motive or attempts to carry favour. The common place, everyday occurrence that says “I care for this person” and that their very existence motivates and colours all that I do or care to do.
I am sure some people will still feel there is a place for the extravagant overt and often vulgar gushing shows of “romance”. But is that because they have now linked romance to expenditure? Could we now be looking at a generation who subscribe to the notion of pecuniary romance?
Ok, what if you’re not embroiled in a microwave romance and are in for the long haul, does that change the notion and nature of romance? Do you substitute long stemmed roses for doing the ironing or allowing your partner certain liberties in a quid pro quo sort of arrangement (and I leave you to decide what kind of liberties)? Or is it the absence of romance that is to blame for the short-term nature of many relationships? In other words, are we so sold on the notion of romance as an idealistic (and arguably unrealistic) dream that consigns so many ‘real’ relationships to the scrap heap?
The question though “Is the art of romance dead?” is also an interesting thought. Just what is the art of romance? Is it in the physical or mental? Is it in what we offer or what we do? Or in all of these things?
The actual word “art” would imply something that is learned and practiced to achieve a certain level or degree of aptitude. Can you learn romance? Surely if you learn it then it becomes a lesson in the ability to manipulate emotions and that, to my mind, is a rather malicious thought. To manipulate another to achieve your own goals by “playing with their emotions”, and whilst there are an awful lot of people of this nature in life – does that make them Romantic? Would you honestly want to date or have a relationship with someone who has practiced to be romantic? Wouldn’t practicing said skills actually make you a Lothario (or female equivalent)? Maybe it would seem to be ideal, that there should almost be a lack of art thus rendering what is carried out as romance is indeed genuine and sincere.
Once, in times gone by, man used to woo his chattel. To ensnare her with words and poems of love and devotion. To cry from the very roof tops that his love was purest and mightiest of all that should grace or walk this planet. Who could not be enthralled by such moving oratory? It certainly seems the ladies were, and interestingly enough up-sprang a new market for all those out of work poets and writers. It is well documented that for a small fee a love poem or letter could be penned by a professional for your lady love (is this the earliest documentation of the “hallmark” cards franchise I wonder) Even Shakespeare himself did this. Who could blame them? Out of work and starving, you take whatever you can get and damn the morality of it. Let the others figure it out for themselves. It would be very evident when the young lady hoped to hear words of love drip from her betrotheds lips only to receive “There once was a woman from Ealing”. So could it be that even our idealistic view that, when compared with the past, “romance is dying out” could be a false one?
But going back to my earlier point if an art is to be learnt, then it needs to be taught. If we are to assume that the “art” is dying then are we to also to assume that the teachers, who were eager to impart their knowledge, are not in such abundance anymore. Are the masters of the “art” dying out? Could it be that as society and cultural demands have evolved we now have a new endangered species? Ladies and gentleman I present to you the “Beast of Romance”, soon to be extinct!
Or is it? Are we, even now, not seeing a return to letter writing? With the advent of email we have never seemed to communicate as much. Putting the abhorrence of text speak aside, it seems we are slowly returning to flirting by mail. This in itself is an aged tradition. But there is a lot to be said for being able to write a message to someone. You can be inventive, you can consider, you can be loquacious to a degree never before seen. In short a message can be so much more a representation of you and your inner thoughts than can be instilled into a stammering tongue tied conversation.
In my opinion women are as much to blame as men for the death of romance but then given that society wants most women to look like undernourished 12 year old Japanese boys, is it any surprise that we are acting more and more mannish? Honestly, some women diet to the point where there are probably more hormones in an 8 ounce steak than in their entire bodies.
Having said that, the laddette culture is a relatively recent phenomenon and romance was fatally wounded long before its inception. If I am honest, I blame the women’s lib or, to be more precise, the world’s knee jerk reaction to it. Many women reject romance as some sort of ‘honey trap’ in which if you accept a bunch of flowers you will be instantly chained to the kitchen sink, loosed only to pop out the odd sprog now and then. Many men are either scared to be romantic for fear of this extreme reaction OR think ‘well if women want to be equal then we don’t have to give them romance and they can do all the running’.
The most damning nail in the coffin of romance is for me cult of individualism whereby people think that the world revolves entirely around themselves and will do nothing unless it has immediate and real benefits for them – an approach which is not conducive to thoughtfulness and loving gestures. This of course ignores the fact that a relationship, ANY relationship, is hard work and requires effort from both parties if it is to thrive and survive.
Of course – I could be wrong…
Let’s look at it slightly differently; surely, romance should not be used to control emotions but to please the other, to make them happy if you will. It is not some form of rudimentary mind control and if the object of the art was not fond of romanticism then they could of course reject it. In many ways then, the art of romance is the art of pleasing someone, not the art of manipulating them.
And it is an art in much the same way that lovemaking is an art. No one suggests that you attend your local college and get a Btec in shagging however!! The skills of lovemaking are learned when one is attentive to their lover. Taking note of what pleases and displeases and then using that information to good effect in the next encounter. Romance then is much the same. Some people may find flowers or chocolates or mucking in with the chores romantic whilst for others it might be something as simple as cooking them a favourite meal or remembering an anniversary. The trick then is in identifying what pleases and then elaborating on this in the future. And like lovemaking, variety is an essential element. You might like a bunch of flowers but a duty posy every birthday and anniversary is NOT a romantic gesture!
In this sense then Romance cannot be taught as it is a matter of individualism, both for the object and subject. Whenever someone steps outside of their comfort zone to please the other, that is romantic. Taking the effort to act out of character is romantic. Listening and understanding and responding to what has been said is also romantic. But these things have to be contextualised. Otherwise they are diminished or rendered irrelevant.
Finally, whether the gesture stems from the heart or from hard work, both will be equally appreciated I suggest. If you cannot write prose but have the sense to go out and seek out someone who can help, then so long as it is personalised (and not your stamped out Hallmark tat) then you will have put the thought and effort in to make it special. Having said that, there are no doubt hordes of love starved individuals out there that would happily welcome the hallmark stuff but this says more about the abject lack of romance in their life than it does about the quality of the gesture. In the kingdom of the blind, the one eyed man is king….
Contributors: Myself and A & D Waldram.
Wisteria Keepsake Box
This little box has a special place in my heart. Wisteria Cottage is an imaginary place that I’ve written about in the past. This keepsake box was mentioned in one of those tales and I’m hoping to make more pieces from those stories over the coming months.
Why Wisteria Cottage? The flowering wisteria vine is my favourite flowering plant and I have two growing over an archway in my garden. My stories are/were set around a fictional cottage, so when creating the box, I used my favourite flower/plant.
The box is my first attempt at decorating a paper mache box. I prefer the inside to the outside and would like to redo the lid in particular. The purple crocheted flower on the inside of the lid is the first one I crocheted for a marriage blanket I’m making. This blanket also features in one of my stories. There’s a false bottom inside to place letters, cards and photo’s.
I’ve drawn inspiration for my crafts from past words that I’ve written. Hopefully I’ll continue to draw on this source to create and develop my little crafts and curios.
For anyone that’s interested, if you want a closer look at the detail, just click on the image and it should enlarge.
Touch Of Cinnamon
He moves on all fours,
malevolence igniting fervour,
delicious in his maleness, unrelenting in his pursuit.
He circles me,
bellowing his intent,
stomping out boundaries; ominous warnings fired at other males.
He savours each battle,
bathes in their defeat,
worthy of each bloodied form; deserving of the heart he already possesses.
He captures the sweetness,
conquers with calloused fingers and tender persuasion,
whispering words, beautiful and rapturous. Fracturing me to a kneel.
He makes me feel extraordinarily female,
delicate and tiny,
hiding among sinew, distended veins and protective menace.
He’s unfolding before me,
gentleness seeping from his soul, cleansing; atoning,
this is what makes him beautiful. He’s vulnerable; like me, he’s caught by the heart.
He’s earned the right,
Don’t go into battle, you WILL lose,
for we are armed….we are armed with love.
Bliss – Wish You Were Here:
As you can see there’s very little in here as yet. It’s early days and the format will probably change many times before I settle on something that suits.
I should say, straight off the bat, that I’m no writer, a fact that will become glaringly obvious the more I attempt to put my thoughts into words. Please forgive me and simply smile if and when you stumble upon any of my embarrassing faux pas.
I guess this place will be somewhere for me to drop thoughts, music, images, basically anything I like. I’m of the opinion that most blogs are usually places to be a little self-indulgent, mine will be no exception.
Right, I guess I’d better get moving and start putting things in here that I like, maybe stick a few additional words in here today and if I’m brave enough, I might even take down my security so those that have the misfortune to stumble upon this place can actually come in and take a look. :-D
So welcome to my blog.