The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society...

“ I wonder how the book got to Guernsey? Perhaps there is some sort of secret homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers.”

January 1946, London is emerging from the shadow of the Second World War, and Juliet Ashton, a writer, is reading a letter from a man she's never met who lives on the island of Guernsey, which is recovering from Nazi wartime occupation...

He's found her name written in a book he loves by the writer, Charles Lamb and, over a series of letters, he introduces Juliet to the members, of the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, and their life-stories...



Juliet begins to receive letters full of their warmth, gossip and memories, as well as regular, lively, epistles from her agent and her best friend, his sister, and even a potential suitor...

...And the story gradually unfolds of love and loss and longing in wartime, which ultimately leads us into consideration of how fate can sometimes lead us to discover ourselves in the oddest of places, the strangest of circumstances, and somewhere we never dreamed to look.

Mad Manic Mamas (and Pops!)

Saz has been really clever, and picked up on the germ of an idea, and we now have a new blog-sanctuary, a bolt-hole, a hidey-hole...for moms/mums and dads of teens and tweens!

She's made us a padded cell, er blogspace, to go when it's all getting too much - When you feel your life-blood slipping from your fingers - Our youth slipping from our weak grasp on the reality of what we have created...

'Coz I know full well that my youth is being sucked from me, crow's foot by wrinkle, by this Motherhood of Teenage Terrorists Lark!

Here, we can be safe from prying teenage eyes that miss nothing... You know, those eyes that look you up and down disdainfully as you're leaving the house for work in the morning, clad in your finest ribbons and rags...

You've chosen a colour that suits you, which just so happens to be orange, and you feel that it is flattering to your pre-or-post-menopausal flushed complexion, and camouflages your lumpiest bits.

And he casts his heavy-lidded, half-closed eyes your way, for he's been up for most of the night, wibbling to his friends, and now he's scrunching his way through practically the entire pack of Kellogg's Cornflakes and a cow-full of milk, and he mutters,


"FFS mum, you're not going out in that are you?!

My friends might see you when you're dropping me off at school!

Honestly, you're such an embarrassment..."



So come along with us, to our safe haven from Napoleon Dynamites, our harbour from the Teenage Sturm und Drang... I swear you'll love it!

It's for any or all of us Mad Manic Mamas. ...I'll bet there's even room for the dads, the gramps and grumps, and anyone whose ever had the (dubious) pleasure of surviving Teen (- and those Tricky Tween-) Terrorists...

Please come in and have a chat and a laugh with us... United we stand. Come join us if you've still got the strength to post!

Don't let the buggers get the upper hand!

They can smell weakness, I swear...

Sshhh! Don't tell them where we've gone!

Love looks something like you...

And as the adorable KT Bush once said, "L'amour looks something like you..."

Six Word Saturday...

Segue-ing into Summer...


Winter finery beckons...



And if you want to participate in Six Word Saturday yourself, please go see Cate...

Groundhog Blues...

Ian Siegal (born 1971) is a British blues singer and guitarist, whose style reflects the more rootsy side of the genre, drawing on influences such as Howlin' Wolf, Muddy Waters, Bo Diddley, Junior Kimbrough and Tom Waits.

This is the second track of his 2008 album 'Swagger', and it's called Groundhog Blues.

(...My thoughts are with troubled musician, Michael Jackson - for the child that was, and the man that failed to be...and his children - With hopes for those children's futures...)





And here they are playing live with Mortal Coil Shuffle...

You might remember... La Fhina went with her family a few weeks ago, to see the Johnny Winter band at the Opera House in York.

And they were totally blown away by the performance of this support band, with Ian Siegal at the helm...

Ian, up close, (because I did get relatively close to the band - We were in the front row, and then I bought a CD, which neither of my men were brave enough to go up and have signed during the interval - So that task fell to moi! More of that jape laters!), reminds me of a young Mickey Rourke, and what a talent that actor had, demonstrated for me very much in the shocking movie Angel Heart...

When the band first came on stage and Ian addressed the audience, my husband, GJ, and I both believed that they hailed from the banks of the Mississippi, so cool did they look, so world-weary and road-worn-ragged-weary - Dolled up convincingly as age-old and timeless, American blues artists...

And then the veneer began to peel away, like the layers of an eye-wateringly ripe onion, and we learned that Ian is from London, and Andy Graham, a man who moves his body and shimmies - magically, mesmerisingly - across the stage like a bass-player who was born to play the blues for his bread and butter, is an osteopath, who puts people's backs right for a living..., and who keeps a Great Dane who is frightened of thunder... And I think the drummer is Danish.

I am coming back to music again, mes bloggy blues-notes..., after years of raising Grizzler, we now have some time and a little spending money, (very little, such is the shame!), to trot off to see bands play live again...

I am becoming the ageing rock chick I always feared I might, and although I won't be taking any plaster casts of musicians' extremeties, Pamela des Barres is one of my favourite women!



I hope Ian and the band have a big future ahead of them. One that does not involve drugs and drink, boxing, tiny dogs, (no disrespect to tiny dogs anywhere, of course!), and allegations of violence and madness...

If you enjoy the blues, do look out for Ian and his band - They have la Fhina's rollicking and rocking blues-groupie stamp of approval...

For the children...

My father and me...

When my dad died in the year 2006, I felt like one drifting out at sea.

The world for a time held no meaning.

No rhythm, only watery tears...

And when I had to find the right words to write on the stark white card I would leave with the pure white, lemon-flecked, lilies to adorn his last resting spot, I found Stevie Nicks' words on her father, Jess's, recent sudden passing, said all that I needed to say about my love and my hope...

Can I share them with you, my bloggy treasures?!

"In my father’s painting,
The house by the sea...
In the dream house,
By the water
Go my father and me..."

Uplifting Blog Award - Go check out Artist Unplugged, please?

Mes dahlinks! I am ever so sorry it has taken me so long to get around to posting your wondrous awards and gifts to me. Sometimes I am surrounded by too much love... And sometimes, the technical challenges provided by Blogger do me head in...

Stay with me, mes amours et, en passant, I just spent over an hour on the 'phone to a technical helpline at work the other day... Lovely it was, and it means my pc now has to be rebuilt from scratch - Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Anyhoo, I have warmly gathered your lovely awards and gifts, recognition of the Blog-Groupie that I am, to my ample, jewel-encrusted bosom, (newly corseted, of course!), and I have sprinkled them out into the wondrous bloggy-vastness...

There are around nine million of us, you know?!

And I value your gifts and your love and your affection. I do. You give me reason to be here, and to breathe.

You raise me up - Much as that picture I have chosen up above does too...

This latest wonderful award, over there on the right - With the beautiful blue sky and beach-wandering woman, came to me from Artist Unplugged, who shares with us fragments of her lovely life, her children, animals, family and creative endeavours.

She just took part in an exhibition sale of her art, and I'm very proud of what she achieves every day she gets up and breathes in, mes bloggy heart-beats...

Love always to you, AU, and thank you so much for such a wonderful gift from your wild and vast heart!

Bless you, and be blessed my friends, fiends, family, followers, relatives, lurkers, mortal enemies and strangers...

May angels dance attendance upon you, and answer your honest dreams...



And please think today, if you may spare the time, how you can inspire someone near to you who just needs a little boost, as we all do from time to time... n'est-ce pas?!

It's just so easy to do, and I know you have the skills, even if some days you doubt even yourself...

To coach, to comfort, to gently cajole and to cosset...

You can all do at least one of those things, and you probably do all of them every day... I know you, I do, I do, I swear!!

Go out into the Bloguniverse, inspire and be inspired, mes dahlinks...

You are fabulous!

Mwah! Mwah!

Gotcha!



Just a quickie word too, about Braja at Lost and found in India... Braja is asking us to consider visiting and supporting this lady, Joanie M, whose partner is in chemo at the mo', and who's struggling a little with all the cost implications that naturally brings, never mind the emotional distress and pressures...

Our thoughts are with Joanie, (which was my late mother's name, so doubly poignant for me...), and if you are able to spare a few coppers, please check out the Paypal link chez my brilliant bloggy buddy Braja, please?

Another, Gratefully-Received Award...

This award I shall open the golden envelope for today came to me from the beautiful writer that is Rosaria, Lakeviewer...and it is a lovely golden book with light leaves called Palabras como rosas, which translates into "Words Like Roses" (isn't Spanish (as well as Rosaria's native Italian), a lovely language?).

I have been given an obligation to give this award to 9 people whose words are truly like the lingering and sweetly scented petals of a perfect rose, and so I choose these bloggers:

Artist Unplugged
Cynthia
Butler & Bagman Chronicles
Moannie at The View From This End
French Fancy
Both Clayrn and Rab
Maternal Tales from the South Coast and
French Fancy, returning from tough exams...

Please feel free to cast these golden leaves out into the blog-waters of the world, like the treasures that they, and Rosaria, are, mes bloggy grand-dames et messieurs...

And always, have this in your heart...



And please click HERE to see if you received an award yesterday, just in case you weren't around... Merci mille!

Fhina Bounce-Juggles Some Awards!

DANGER! DANGER!

Did you know:

Potassium hydroxide is extremely dangerous to breathe and fatal to eat. It causes deep ulcers if it touches the skin and irreversible damage if it gets in the eyes. It is widely used to wash fruit and vegetables; in the manufacture of chocolate, ice cream, caramel, soft drinks, paper and textiles; to form a skin on pretzels before baking; and as a wart-remover. It is also used by vets for disbudding calves horns and for dissolving scales and hair and is a common ingredient of washing powder, denture cleaner, detergent, drain cleaners and soap.


Never was anything great achieved without danger.
NICCOLO MACCHIAVELLI

And so, without further ado, on to the golden envelopes...



If you've not been to see Carma yet, or to see her cart a jar of Utz Cheeseballs across the globe and photograph it, please go and visit, and leave a cheeseball or two, just so's she knows you were there, and I sent ya! I think Wotsits are the closest we get to Cheeseballs...

Carma offered this wonderful thing on the right -- The Adorable Blog Award, which came to her via BIBI, who is a frequent commenter on Carma's blog.

So, in this spirit, I offer up this sweet award to those of you who come in here so often and leave your love.

It is always much appreciated and I love you with all the parts of my bloggerifique heart! And you know I really mean that...



You have got to be:

Saz - No words, just heartbeats!
Derrick - Never knowingly undersold!
Bloggus Nuttus - The one and the only...
Diane at Diane's Addled Ramblings - Never addled, rarely rambling...
kapgaf - No blog, no pack-drill
Joanne at Reasons To Be Cheerful...1, 2, 3 - Say no more?
Michelle at Raw, Cool - My NYC Soul-Sistah...

And the rules for this nomination are as follows:-

Include the award logo in your blog or post.
Nominate as many blogs you like.
Be sure to link to your nominees within your post.
Share the love and link to this post and to the person from whom you received your award.



Next up, is the very sweet, artfull and heartfull-clever, Cynthia at OWL - Oasis Writing Link... She lives in a wonderfully exotic location and works her fingers to the bone in her garden and in her working and private life... Cynthia is an inspiration.

And on 21 April, she was kind enough to award a number of us this beautiful acorn Renee Award, as one of the most meaningful awards in blogworld because it honors someone who is incredibly inspirational in her intelligent and witty writing. This award celebrates women's smart, strong and inspirational spirit.

It honors women who spread joy and love like an acorn...a small package growing into a tall and sturdy oak tree which gives more acorns that continue growing into tall and sturdy oak trees. ..

I am instructed that award is to be passed on to one or many women blogger(s) who are noted for their loving and encouraging words. This is a difficult one to offer up, as there are so many of you that I would gladly share it with, however, it is looking like a Fhina-Love Fest on your blogs, so I shall honour those that I might not have awarded much to, but who have my heart...with their kind words and their bold bloggy deeds:

Dedene
Protege
Ribbon
Midlife, menopauses, mistakes and random stuff...
Artist Unplugged
Bee (Drunken)
Lola
Erin - Woman In A Window...
and, last but never least, Carma!

And, from the lovely Liz at A Mom On Spin, who juggles family love and commitments with faith and her demanding job comes an award that I am very proud to display. It signifies that I am a Trainwreck, and serves to confirm what I already knew. Except now, I've a badge to wear to kind of warn other folk - And Ann's Rants knows all about that too!



And now I get to bestow this award on three of my disaster-prone, awkward-situation-inclined bloggy friends. . . and so the nomination goes to:

Ann at Ann's Rants...
Braja at Lost and Found in India, and
VodkaMom at I Need A Martini Mom blogspot...

Many of those folk I nominate do not show or display awards, and that is perfectly fine, but the award is still deserved...

And finally, but not least, comes this wonderfully pink and fabulous award from the fantastic shop-owner, poet, writer and artist, Derrick at Melrose Musings...

I love to visit Derrick each day, for his take on life, the weather, art and music, among so many other things... If you're ever in Melrose (as I aim to be this summer - I shall warn you now, Derrick, do drop in to see him at his lovely lighting and gift shop... As recommended by Fhina, famous arbiter of good taste!)

This is for new blogs... And so I nominate you:

I Didn't Get The Message

Suldog's new blog, The Talkback Button, and I know he'll just chew me up and spit me out and doesn't do awards, but I don't care...So there!

Butler & Bagman Chronicles, for these men are new to me, but I know they are far from new to blogging, and to life's wild and wonderful experiences...

Pinklea for the same reasons as Bagman and because she is my Stevie-Sister in the north countries..., and finally this one, again, because she is new to moi,

Because The Crazy Is All Part Of My Charm - Gotta love the crazies - It takes one to know one, my precious!

Drollgirl, for she is a true artist and inspiration.

Byezeebye, mes dahlinks! Mwah! Mwah!

Beauty is in the eye...

I've just been and bought two new bras... What a trauma that is!

Searching through racks of pretty, pastel, frilly fripperies, that I couldn't get an arm or a leg in...

Then the tiny assistant offers to help, and I am man-handled into a beech coffin-like waiting area, waiting for a fitting room to be free.

And then you are stripped, as naked as the day you were born, well almost, and levered into a variety of flimsy, lacy concoctions, or instruments of mediaeval torture...

Maybe that's why I feel today as if I've been clamped in an iron lung for days...



That's the price we pay for our beauty, non?! And I am sooooooooo worth it!

Six Word Saturday

Knackered, naked...



Timeless in my finery!

Eric Cantona - Legend of the Silver Screen?

I've been to see La Wiki... You must admit, it's been a while. And I needed her advice about this one - "Eric Daniel Pierre Cantona (born 24 May 1966), a French former footie player of the late 1980s and 1990s.

He ended his professional footballing career at Manchester United, and is often regarded as having played a major talismanic role in the revival of the team as a footballing powerhouse and he enjoys iconic status at the club. In 2001, he was voted their player of the century, and to this day United fans refer to him as "King Eric".

Following his retirement from football, he took up a career in cinema and had a cameo role in the 1998 film Elizabeth, starring Cate Blanchett", one of la Fhina's favourite actresses.

Many of Fhina's friends met Eric, (and found him to be a very gracious and decent chap), when they acted as Tudor Mob extras in the crowd scenes where Elizabeth comes out to see the French King, her suitor, sailing in her royal barge along the river Thames, which was actually filmed around Alnwick Castle, also famous for the Harry Potter films...

At a presser, Cantona gave what is perhaps his most famous quotation. Referring to how journos would monitor his behaviour, Cantona said, in a slow and deliberate manner:

“

When the seagulls follow the trawler, it's because they think sardines will be thrown in to the sea.

”

And then he left the press conference...

In 1998, the Football League, as part of its centenary season celebrations, included Cantona on its list of 100 League Legends.

In 2007, he performed a spoken-word role on an album, which translates as, Mechanic of the Heart, by French rock band Dionysos.

In 2009, he featured in an British television advert for a new model of the Renault Laguna. Fhina used to have a wonderful, racing green, Renault Laguna, and actually cried when it was man-handled onto the back of the beautifully gargantuan, scrap-dealer's truck when it finally gasped its last...

And I just watched Cantona a couple of weeks ago on our, sort of, equivalent to Jay Leno's show, Friday Night with Jonathan Ross...

I had actually collected all these thoughts and pictures months ago, so it was serendipitous, (I do love that word), that 'Ooh, aah, Cantona' (as they used to chant on the footie terraces) was on Wossie's show... and that he had been recently feted at the Cannes Film Festival in the south of France.

Apparently the new film that Cantona is in, Looking for Eric, is directed by the fabulous Ken Loach, and concerns a Mancunian postie, Eric Bishop, who is depressed and disenchanted with his lot in life, and envisions Cantona, his footballing idol, as his life-coach...

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Eric has apparently said the character is, "a part of myself which is very close to what I am."

Loach's comedy-drama, which has proved a commercially appealing picture from a director better known for gritty social realism — Remember 'Kes'? - will bring Cantona to the attention of new audiences, perhaps even in America, where you might never have heard of this legend...

"He is both athlete and icon, a football philosopher as famed for his cryptic pronouncements as for his stunning goals.

"Looking for Eric" plays on that reputation to comic effect. Cantona is the idol of central character Eric Bishop (British actor Steve Evets), a middle-aged Manchester mailman who pulls himself out of depression through imagined conversations with his hero. Cantona appears in Eric's bedroom for motivational chats, dispensing nuggets of wisdom such as, "He who is afraid to throw the dice will never throw a six."

"We live in a world of image," Cantona said. "I've tried to be just myself — which is an image also."

It's a satisfyingly cryptic answer from a man who became a favorite at Manchester United in the 1990s. He helped the team win four league titles in five years but also gained a reputation for volatility (Fhina says, for volatility, read passion!), and was suspended for nine months after landing a flying kick on a fan who heckled him". (Some snippets of text borrowed from TheInsider.com)

What a life-coach he would be, non?!

Addicted to Rehab?

What is it, about ourselves and addictions...



I have a dear friend, who is addicted to the gym, and jitters if she does not go often enough. She says it keeps her this side of Sane, as you do me, mes bloggy therapeuts! If she does not rigorously and regularly exercise, she feels her vent for anger is missing, and stress and lethargy overcome her senses... This same lady is addicted to controlling her food intake, to never allow herself to over-indulge, or to feel the sensual pleasure of just plain eating...



I had a colleague once who seemed addicted to shopping... Married to a millionaire of some variety (and why was she still in the Civil Service??!), I once jostled her shallow consciousness with the words, "Ah, but there are only so many cardigans or trousers you could wish to ever own..." She glared me down, as if I were an imbecile... Of course, her need for numerous trousers and jackets, shoes and handbags, could never be sated. It's fashion, dahlink, n'est-ce pas?!



My closest friend is addicted to drama... This means that she will always get into some kind of scrape or trouble, wherever she goes, and whatever she does in life... She appears to feed on tumult and intrigue, seeing conspiracy wheresoe'er she wanders.

She might befriend you as a neighbour one minute, offering you wine and choccies, and be chucking used teabags over your fence in the dead of night the next!



My late Mutti was addicted to smoking. She had smoked since the age of fourteen, and even when she knew the damage it was doing to her heart, she puffed on... She said she'd cut back, but the kitchen drawer full of 'light' and menthol cigarettes told me a different story...

Of course, she was very much of that generation, where smoking was the norm, and film and advertising glamourised the addiction...



My husband is addicted to going mad in traffic, it feels to me... My short stays in Liverpool gave me such a sensation of peace and freedom from that, I must admit. And just being able to walk to work each morning was such a pleasure for me...

Our daily commute lasts around one and a half hours each way most days, so I am used to his rants and raves, and understand his frustration, but just wish he could get better at handling his road-rage stress and stressors...



Am I addicted to blogging, mes bloggy auteurs??! I felt the prickles rise all the time I was in Liverpool, unable to read your words and laugh along with you at your trials, tribulations and fun-times...

I am also addicted to your comments, and to you - I wonder sometimes if I might be deterring you to comment, by being haughty and Fhina-like... Or as absent as I have been of late, mes bloggy strip-lights...

I'd love to hear from you, and to learn what makes you tick, and what you'd like from me dans l'avenir, in the future??!

All comments left today will be entered into a prize draw - to win a wicked insight into la Wiki's trials and tribulations, or a quarter pound of bloggy sweet pink shrimps... Whichever you'd prefer!

...Please don't ask, on the other hand, whether Fhina is addicted to sweet things...

That would just be too close to the funny-bone...

And where would I ever find Cake Rehab anyway? Eh?!