If this doesnt work, here’s another link
https://booksirens.com/bundle/family-drama-arcs-you-ll-love-march-2024-batch/P2HNUS9
Watch out for AI
An author friend of mine shared this, I’ve updated my settings!
I came across a post about WordPress allowing AI users to copy any posts on WordPress accounts. Sorry I forgot the ladies name as I went straight to checking with them. After a conversation I discovered that hasn’t yet been put into action but is due to be. However, if you have a WordPress account you can pre-empt them by opening your WordPress account and then clicking on this link https://wordpress.com/support/privacy-settings/#public and then clicking the View Settings button. Go to Coming Soon section of your Privacy settings and tick the box that mentions not allowing third party to share your content as this includes AI users. Remember your content is your copyright.
Thanks to the lady for the heads up.
An English Funeral
A long time ago, I wrote about our first funeral in Austria, which had may responses, and this is an account of one which deeply touched us here in England.
We recently lost one of our little but growing church family, and Dave and I went along to the funeral. We knew him in his final years and it was awe-inspiring to hear of his life in Mountain Ash and what he had done for the Lord and the Community. It seems that we can’t see the past in older people, only the remnant of what was, but nevertheless, we feel honoured to have known him.
The service took part in the main Anglican church in the next village and as we walked in, it was a little like returning to Austria. An old stone building with a beautiful barrelled roof, and that smell of much used incense. We sat and took in the atmosphere. It was soon clear to me that this had been a place of prayer for many years, probably before the mines took over the valleys, but it might just as well have been a catholic church. All around were the stations of the Cross, Saint Mary in the windows, along with Winifrid, an altar with tall candle sticks, a lectern of an eagle. There was a hidden organist mixed with a mixing desk, so it wasn’t entirely in the past.
The chairs filled and a little afternoon light trickled in by the altar. and it was the same almost spiritual light that would illuminate the altars in Austria. Dave turned to me and asked if I was havering to go back to traditional. I said no, this felt a special place, but maybe this was because this was the first time we had been in a traditional church since our return from Austria.
An older man came and sat next to us and told us a little about our friend, but the service was now starting. This man had the most amazing tenor voice, and it was an utter joy to sing next him and imagine my awful voice was actually joining with his.
The service was a wonderful tribute. In the sight of grief, I prayed for God’s peace and comfort to engulf with such strength that his arms would be felt.
Then we got to the Mass, which was familiar in many ways to my Catholic childhood, and our days in St Mary’s in New Milton. It was the communion which had me wondering. I had already decided not to go up. I somehow didn’t feel at ease with it, especially where part of it was sung by the priest in an almost hurried manner, and he appeared to be reading the words. Surely not, how many times would he have said them? Then the waving of the incense and ringing of bells had me feeling no, this popery wasn’t for me.
When it came to the altar call, he said, after many instructions, that it wasn’t allowed to dip the host in the wine, it’s not allowed in Wales. I barely stifled a snort. The singer next to me said it was because there was a concern that fingers were going in the wine. I bit my lip.
After the communion, I regretted not going up and apologised to God. This service wasn’t about my hangups. I didn’t get another chance to talk to the singer, I’d have loved to know if he was a minister or a professional singer. He had belted out all the sung responses with familiarity.
Several of us wondered what our friend would have thought of all this, as he was a lifelong Baptist, but this service was for his family. He himself must be having a ball up in heaven, meeting all the people he brought to the Lord.
Then that call came again, to return to the Catholic church, or is it to the memories of my childhood. I feel this pull when I talk to my Catholic friend, read her books and it worries me. What is this all about? The Catholic church has got religion down to a fine art and has tied people in knots to be saved. Corrupted the Bible and turned it into a law as bad as the Old Testament, which was set up to make people fail and realise that God Loves us. Every thing has been done on the Cross, no regulations needed. If the Truth was discernible in today’s Catholicism, maybe I would turn back, but I see no sign today. Why do I get this pull?
This funeral will stay in my mind for a long time, especially as where I was praying for others, God came along and showered me with his peace, too. Maybe one day, I will return to this special church to sit on my own and talk to God about all my quandaries.
My drug addict dog!
Boxing day was actually dry, so Dave and I, our son George and the dogs, Swingle and Dizzy took ourselves off for a walk at the Dare Country Park in nearby Aberdare. We parked in the town and walked up the old railway line to the park and had a pleasant stroll around the lakes and streams then came back.
As many of you know, Swingle’s middle name is dustbin and this has got her into many scrapes and trips to the vets over the years. She still hasn’t learnt cause and effect at nine and never will.
As we got in the car, she was missing, so I yelled and she re-appeared, to jump into the car and belch. It stank the car out as it was clearly poo – yes, really. She literally wasn’t flavour of the month and we were all glad when once home, she went off for her post walk snooze.
A couple of hours later, she came downstairs, and swaggered into the sitting room, and began to wobble in the most odd way and was clearly not focused. My immediate reaction was that she had been poisoned, so after several calls to the vets, it was off to Treforest to have her checked out.
On telling the Vet the tale, she said she didn’t think it was poison, but needed a wee sample. I spent half an hour walking around the car park with a wobbly, unfocused dog, who dragged her claws the whole time. No luck we sat and waited for the vet, and as Swingle sat, she peed. The vet took a sample.
‘I’m afraid your dog has ingested marijuana and cocaine,’ she spluttered with laughter, ‘she’s stoned.’
So after paying a large bill and clutching bottles of charcoal to help absorb the drugs, we dragged my hippie dog home, there was nothing to be done but let her sleep it off. She spent a lot of time that evening watching things walk around the room that we couldn’t see. The next morning she was fine.
George did suggest we go back to the carpark and see if there was a stash there, but I didn’t fancy it. Swingle is now officailly a drug dog, but for all the wrong reasons.
Sob, sniffle!
Sadly Legacy didn’t get into the third round of the AllAuthor cover contest, but a GINORMOUS thank you to everyone who supported me with votes.
The book itself is doing extremely well, and I promise to get back to some more normal posting! It’s picked up some lovely reviews on Good reads.
I’m now looking forward to the first Pontypridd Book Fair which I am organising with my friend Lin, and seeing what sales I can get to this summer…and I’ve a tale to tell about my drug addict dog!
Legacy made it to the second round!
I’m bouncing that Legacy has got to the second round! If I win, I’ll get some much needed marketing help!
If you voted before, pretty please VOTE AGAIN. It looks like you will be able to vote in each round, the next one is the Top 50 next week. Here’s the new link again, just log in with Facebook
So where's the snow? 