Supermoon and Lunar Eclipse

I obviously have too much time on my hands.

Since we had a superman and a lunar eclipse in the same night I thought it would be a good idea to get my camera out and shoot a few frames.

First I went with Douggie the doggie down to the beach during the highest of high tides to get a picture of the supermoon and the waves. The plan was to use long exposures to get the sea looking like mist. Unfortunately, from my perch on the steps I managed to occasionally get drenched when an extra enthusiastic wave threw itself at the sea wall.  Poor Douggie, who normally loves the sea was most unhappy. Not only was it dark but it was wet and wild. After I’d got the shots I wanted I drove home with a wet arse while Douggie complained and moaned that he hadn’t got a proper walk and I still owed him. After a change of clothes I was happy to oblige and took him on a lot less eventful but also less stressful stroll round the church grounds.

At bedtime I set my alarm for 3.00 a.m. to try and get a few photos of the lunar eclipse. 3.00? Good Lord! First day off in five months and I decide to get up at 3 in the morning. Bonkers!

The moon, very obligingly hovered in a brilliant position where I could shoot it without having to get dressed and find a better location. Dougie, Lashes, Boofuls, and The Prof all stood on our patio in our nightwear marvelling at the moon. After a few minutes Lashes and The Prof got bored and went back to bed but Boofuls and I stayed up till 4.30 waiting for cloud banks to pass and allow me to get the perfect shot.

Here are a few photos from the evening. Enjoy.


Is there anybody there?

Some of you may remember that it’s roughly a year ago since my little brother shuffled off his mortal coil and put on his angel wings. Funny that, our Rick putting on angel wings because he was a little devil as a kid and a proper sod when he grew up.

The exact date of the anniversary of his death is the 9th September. As the date got closer it loomed over me like a dark spectre, I was dreading it.

Ideally we’d have had no guests in that day but as money is very much a consideration I didn’t think it would be prudent to close for a day so I could feel sorry for myself. Instead, I decided that I’d go to a local beauty spot and at the exact time we turned off his life support machines I’d listen to the music we played as he died while I reflected on his life, his death and the time since.

As I was cooking breakfast for the guests that morning  I was absorbed in my work ( it requires a lot of concentration turning out two dozen full English breakfasts with all it’s variations). I was standing at the grill watching the bacon turn crispy. There is a fine line between crispy (brown) and buggered (black) and there’s only a minute or so between the two. Anyway, as I watched the bacon I saw the light on my right hand side change – as if someone had drawn a curtain.  That’s a good trick on it’s own as we don’t have curtains or blinds at that window. I turned to look and of course there was nothing there and everything was normal. Shrugging my shoulders I carried on with what I was doing and the rest of breakfast service passed uneventfully.

A little while later I was in the middle of servicing one of the bedrooms. As normal I had my music playing on my iPhone. The music in question was ‘Down the dust pipe’ by Status Quo. Rick liked Status Quo, you can’t go wrong with a bit o’ eight bar blues. The track ended and the music stopped instead of moving straight onto the next track. ‘Odd’, I thought. I walked over to my phone to see why it had stopped and the next song was cued up ready to play  – on the screen in large letters read, “I’m not dead.”



That was all I needed to cheer me up for the rest of the day. As a firm believer in life after death I can now happily say my little bro has moved onto better things. Happy days.

That was the week that was

This week alone we have had no internet which is a bit of a blow when your diary and booking system is all on online.

We’ve had no  phone.  Useful when you’re running a business.

Also, terrifyingly, we discovered we had no insurance cover. We’d put in a claim for a tv and it was overturned. It seems that due to an item in the small print we’d actually not been covered for weeks. OMFG!!!!

Thank God it was only a tv we’d claimed for and not a major claim. I’m not sure if it was some sort of celestial joke that caused the fire alarms to go off that day for no reason but I can tell you that I nearly dropped dead of fright right there on the spot.

You’ll be glad to know that it’s all sorted out now. I fucking hate insurance companies!

We had a gas leak, that was fun.

It’s a good job I clean behind the cooker at ridiculously regular intervals or it could all have been very nasty. While I was on the floor cleaning the pipes on ‘clean behind the cooker Monday’ which also turned into ‘clean behind the cooker Tuesday’ because I’d slopped food around that day. I heard hissing and noticed bubbles where the soapy water had touched the hole in the pipe.

The plumber was duly called who said he’ d come the following day. “The following day?!?” ” Can you smell gas?”  he enquired.

Well, no but…. “well it’s not gas then. It’ll be fine. Turns out it was gas and a bad one at that. The gas board’s emergency number was called and the genius gas man spent a good two hours fixing it while I made contingency plans about how to feed 26 people with no hob or oven to cook with.

While all that was going on we also had  guests keeping drugs in their room.  Boofuls had to have a word with them. Even he was a bit surprised when they said they’d store it at the parent’s house.

Electrical equipment has been falling over and dying like flies. We have about six vacuum cleaners and not one of them works properly.  It makes vacuuming ginormous bedrooms a bit of a pain to be honest.

Poor old Boofuls has spent far too much time this week holding, fixing and re-routing cables trying to make the tv in room 14 work.

We completely ran out of bedding as the laundry has consistently failed to return our linen to us. At one point they’d lost 20 double duvet covers. We suggested to them that we use their contract linen until they find our lost linen and they agreed to deliver it all the following day. Guess what? Yup. No linen.  We couldn’t make up a single matching bed set. Sigh. They turned up two days later at 8.45  this morning while we were serving breakfast. They couldn’t have picked a worse time to turn up. The driver just smirked when I voiced my discontent. I could have hit him round the head with a frying pan!

It’s not all doom and gloom though.  The breakfast order tickets coming into the kitchen often make me laugh out loud when I see the various abbreviations Lashes uses.

Generally we have B=bacon, E=egg, Be= beans, you get the idea, all very straight forward. The perfect breakfast is a FE, full English. Seven items, no messing about with fiddly stuff.

Of course it never goes that smoothly. It still makes me titter like a schoolboy when I get a ticket that says Nom  Nob. Can you guess what it means? This week we also had a Nom Not Nob. Teehee. Then of course we got the cryptic ticket which blew my brain.

Lashes had written:

Table 17


FE – no HB/M/Be

OK. EBTS that’s easy,  it’s egg, bacon, tomato,sausage

Next breakfast: I stared and stared at the ticket and the two plates. It wouldn’t compute.  FE without hash browns, mushrooms and beans. This shouldn’t be so difficult, get it together woman!


FE no hb/m/be is EXACTLY the same breakfast as EBTS!!! Oh my God! Write it the same way, woman! I was so confused!


On Tuesday we decided to have Prosecco Tuesday after we’d finished cleaning the rooms. Our little chambermaid can’t believe her luck! She’s never worked anywhere that has prosecco after work.

It’s not a bad old life, really.

Where’s the real one?

Driving round south Devon recently I saw a sign which pointed down a road and said Decoy town centre.  Funny, I thought. I wonder where the real town centre is? Then I saw another sign, this one said Decoy country park. 

Funny, I thought. I wonder where the real country park is? I know! They must  have a decoy one to keep all the tourists at bay, sending all of them to the fake while all the locals enjoy the real one in peace and quiet. What a great idea!

Life in B and B land is busier than a busy thing lately. Now I know how hoteliers mange to make enough money in the summer to see them through the winter. Boofuls, Lashes and I are knackered, and with no sign of a day off till the ned of September at least. It’s a good job we love it. So may lovely people pass through our little B and B, I’m always sorry to see them leave. They arrive as paying guests and leave as friends.

The down side is the workload in these few, lucrative weeks.

Staggering out of bed at 6.30 a.m. the other morning as is my habit recently,  I fell into the shower and attempted to wake up sufficiently enough to face the day.

Once I was out of the shower, dried and feeling much fresher, I reached for a tin of  deodorant. That one was empty so I reached for another one, and then another.  As I picked up each tin, shook it and then placed it back down it struck me that I was `playing  deodorant companology.  Kept me giggling all day that did and yes, I did throw away all the empty deodorant tins that had collected on my dressing table.

Ok. That’s my break over with. I’m off to polish some glass.  Whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re having a great time. 

Gi’ ‘n’ tonc dahling

It’s all a bit of a whirlwind lately. Here I am just about to tell you all about Boofuls’ birthday on 4th July and it’s nearly August! 

They weren’t fibbing when they told us July and August were busy, busy months, our feet haven’t touched the floor for weeks!

Anyway, without further ado…

The birthday bash.

Since it was Boofuls’ birthday it seemed a good idea to invite some of the local hoteliers around  for a few drinkies and to make a few new friends. Invitations were sent out and every single person accepted. In our wisdom we thought that we’d make it an afternoon ‘do’ as it was a hoteliers school night and we all had to be up early the next morning.

What on earth was I thinking? This lot can party like there’s no tomorrow.

The sun shone, the patio was decorated with tubs of flowers and umbrella’d tables. It all looked lovely. One by one the guests turned up – heavily laden with bottles of champagne, prosecco, wine, beer and cider. Why oh why did we buy so much booze? They all brought enough to sink a battleship. 

Or so I thought.

As the afternoon wore on I realised that everyone except me had drunk their own weight in alcohol. I’d decided several days earlier that I’d be staying on the wagon for this one. One of us needed a clear head in the morning. I was glad I stood by my decision. Fair to say that Boofuls had a great time.

There was much ribaldry, banter and laughter, the wine flowed like water.

One woman had to be carried home and half an hour later so did her husband.  they run a five star establishment round the corner.  I’m absolutely sure they managed to get a decent breakfast out to their guests as they are consummate professionals but I’m also pretty sure they would have gone straight back to bed after.

The afternoon turned into evening, the music played,  the conversation flowed as easily as the wine and a great time was had by all.  As the evening came to a close, Boofuls and I were sitting in the bar with a couple of German guests having a conversation via Google translate – which was hysterically funny.

Just after the clock struck 11.00 pm  two other guests walked into the bar. Two middle aged, knocking on the door of elderly, ladies who had been competing in a bridge tournament. I’m going to call them Strident and Curly.

Strident burst through the bar door; “Where’s the party? We know there’s a party, we saw it from our bedroom window. Where is it? HAVE WE MISSED IT? Oh Blahddy hell! Never mind. Get me drink!”

Clearly three sheets to the wind, I think it’s fair to say they’d also been partying.

The Germans looked at me unnerved by the somewhat wild and dishevelled looking woman shouting at me and staggering across the room.

Curly, waddled unsteadily behind her on her chubby, inebriated legs, collapsed on the sofa, and in a manner amazingly like Patsy Stone from Ab Fab, leaned off the chair arm, almost sliding to the floor and said wearily, “Gi’ ‘n’ tonc,  Dahling’.

“I’m sorry ladies. It’s gone eleven, I can’t serve you.”

Strident  answered, “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s only us, no one will know.  Just get us a drink!”

“Sorry ladies, can’t do it, we are only licensed till eleven.”

“Well don’t sell it to me, then  just GIVE me the blahddy drink” announced Strident stridently.

Once again I refused to serve them, at which point they took great umbrage, got unsteadily to their feet and declared;  “Oh, we might as well just go to Blahddy bed then, THEY’VE  (the Germans) have got a drink! So unfair!” They staggered angrily out of the bar. 

The Germans, who’d managed to get the gist of what was happening, and we ignored the complaining as it faded into the distance and carried on with our chat.

Before too long we trotted off to bed ready for a bright and early start the next morning to prepare breakfast for all of our lovely guests. Funnily enough, two of them didn’t make it down for breakfast. I wonder why?




May we photograph the strawberries?

You couldn’t make this stuff up! Our amazing and lovely neighbours came round for drinkies a  few days ago and suggested that we start to write down all the stories as by the time we’ve retired we’ll be able to write a book. Well, just to kick it all off, here are the tales from the last few days:

Last week Mr Creepy booked a double room at our lodging emporium. He turned up on his own even though he’s booked a super king size room. Odd.  One person. Maybe he just liked to spread out a bit, I mean they are six foot beds.

“Are you on your own then?” “At the moment.” came back the answer with a little smile. he didn’t offer any more information and we didn’t ask.  We didn’t think anything about it, we just thought his companion/friend/partner would be along later.

Around 10pm Mr Creepy came into the bar for a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Looks like his companion/friend/partner turned up then.” Didn’t think any more about it. Mr Creepy didn’t come down for breakfast.  Didn’t really think too much about it. People quite often don’t make it down for breakfast.

After we’d finished service, Boofuls was sitting at his desk and watching the CCTV monitors – as he does. You have to love cctv. Boofuls was watching and calling me in a stage whisper: “Be quick! Look! LOOK! LOOKA’ THAT! He’s ‘ad two women in their all night.” Boofuls watched with incredulity as Mr Creepy sneaked two young, attractive black girls out of his room and into his car.

Mr Creepy came to hand in his room key. Boofuls asked him in a completely deadpan manner if he’d enjoyed his stay. Mr Creepy smirked and ensured him that he had indeed enjoyed his stay. *shudder*

As the summer has progressed we’ve discovered that our garden provides an abundance of luverley fruit. Strawberries are growing faster than we can pick them and now the blackberries, raspberries and plums are joining in. We’ve got so much fruit I’ve had to start making jam. First I made some jam with the rhubarb. It was delicious, if I do say so myself. We put it out on the breakfast display along with a bowlful of strawberries freshly picked from the garden that morning.  Obviously we told all the guests that they were our own. Well. What a to do that caused.

The chinese people wanted to photograph the strawberry plants in the garden.  They were told that they could go into the garden directly after breakfast ( the real reason for that being that Lashes had time to puck up the poo from the lawn).

The Chinese family finished their breakfast as fast as they could and then asked us  if it was ok to go to the garden now. They were almost bouncing in their seats with excitement.   Lashes escorted them round to the garden and they oo-ed and ah-ed and photographed every single plant. There’s nowt so queer as folk.

Then we had the Canadian couple. Well, I’m going to call them Mr & Mrs Enthusiastic. They enthused at length about EVERYTHING. You’d think they’d never eaten an egg before. The man would talk your ears off and all the time he talked he laughed and enthused and cheered up everyone in the room – except for the old couple who sit quietly at the back. I could tell he pissed them right off.

That brings me nicely to last night. Boofuls and I had been out for most of the day. We’d gone to Cockington Country Park with Douggie the Doggie for afternoon tea. Then we went out for an early dinner at a local steak house and after that we went to the theatre courtesy of Lashes and an early father’s day gift. Thanks, Lashes.

All of this of course meant that Lashes was holding the fort back at the hotel. At some point in the evening one of the guests, a young man, came down to ask how to get on the internet. Lashes showed him but he seemed not to understand her instructions. “Come on, I’ll show you where your instructions are” and she followed him up to his room.

Ladies and gentlemen. This is the point where we have to decide if there was any ulterior motive on the part of the couple. The jury is still out. You decide based on the testimony I am about to give you.

Lashes followed the man into the room. At this point a lady’s voice cried out from the bathroom, “Excuse me!” Lashes turned round to apologise for disturbing them, only to be greeted with an eyeful of stark naked female. “I’m so sorry!” Lashes said as she turned away and hurriedly showed the man the internet instructions before leaving  the room as fast as was humanly possible. The man seemed unperturbed by the whole event and the woman continued with her ablutions. Poor old Lashes was mortified. However, I must ask: If you were in a hotel bathroom and a stranger walked into your room, would you not just close the bathroom door rather than stand there stark bollock naked? Add to that the fact that the lady in question spoke and caused Lashes to turn round makes me feel that the there was more to this close encounter than meets the eye. Again. There’s nowt so queer as folk.

So there we are.  It’s often knackering, it’s frustrating, it’s challenging but it’s never boring being in the hotel trade.

Fancy a quickie?

Have you got a mo? I’ll quickly fill you in on what’s been happening at Boofuls Towers Boutique Guest House. Last week we got through 45 pounds of bacon and 45 pounds of sausages, hundreds of eggs and many, many changes of bedding. That’s what’s been going on.  We had to do an emergency bedding shop and spend £650 at Dunelm to restock before the next guests arrived. It’s fair to say the season has started with a vengeance.

I thought they were joking when these seasoned hoteliers told us to brace ourselves for a 16 hour working day. Smart arses, I thought. Trying to scare the newbies. How wrong can you be?

It’s non stop from the second my feet hit the floor at 6.30 in the morning till the minute I lay my head down to sleep around 11pm. I’ve worked out that if I don’t roll out of bed and get straight into the shower then the shower doesn’t happen because before I know it it’s bedtime again.

Once we’ve cooked and served breakfast then we clean the kitchen and dining room. Lashes and me then go and service the rooms, then we can start on the washing. Then the guests start to arrive and we spend we next little while settling them in and getting a bite to eat. Then one of us mans the bar while I get on with prepping the next day’s breakfast.

Boofuls spends his days being handyman, receptionist, telephonist, waiter, and anything else that comes up on a daily basis. Boring it is not. Don’t take all that as meaning we aren’t enjoying ourselves because we’re having a ball! Jus for now though, we have a quiet few days to regroup and recharge our batteries. Bliss.  I might even fins the time to get to Exeter to get my phone fixed after dropping it down the loo. I’ve been without it for three weeks now.

Munki is settling in a her new school. The other day she came in and asked us how to say ‘ball’. lashes looked at her a bit bemused and said ‘ball’ how else can you say it?

Well, it would appear that there is more then one way. Munki told her that her teacher pronounces it as ‘bawl’ and so does the man next door. Once we sat and thought about it we realised that we would say it more like ‘barl.’ Munich’s accent has been changing by the day. Suddenly she has become terribly well spoken. I love it!

Right. That’s the end of the quickie. I’m off to put the washing machine on for the umpteenth time today. Have a great day, folks.

I flippin’ love apples, me!


I found this in the archives earlier. The photos made me smile, I hope they make you smile too.

Originally posted on Tripping Over Pebbles No More:

Lashes has been redecorating her kitchen and decided that the perfect thing to finish it off would be a large photograph of Munki munching on an apple.”Get to it Mum.” Came the instruction.

God! If I charged this lot the going rate I’d be a bloody millionaire by now!

Anyway, we discussed how she wanted it to look and Len was dispatched to get the correct accessories; apples. “Green not red. Goddit? Green. Don’t get red, yellow or a combination, we only want green. Bright green. What colour are you going for?”

I’m not saying that she didn’t trust him to get the correct apples but she certainly drummed it in to him. Poor Len just looked at me ruefully before replying with that ‘covers everything’ comment, ‘Yes, love.” to Lashes and going off on his mission.

We did the shoot in the studio yesterday.  Munki immediately  grasped what we…

View original 53 more words

Sunday Morning

It’s a peaceful Sunday today. A light misty rain is falling and it feels calm and relaxed.

As you’ve probably guessed, we have no guests in at the moment. It’s been a scarily quiet week, let’s hope we don’t get too many of those.

On the plus side, we’ve got loads of jobs done. The awful smoked glass, light sucking in an already dark room, mirrors have come off the pillars in the dining room. It used to be a coaching hotel here with 30 bedrooms. You know, the pile ’em high and sell ’em cheap  type of hotel. The dining room/bar/dance floor were all located in the basement.

Some years ago a wise person decided to halve the number of rooms. Now we have 15 large and comfortable letting rooms of which Boofuls and I use one and three others are used for storage. What the wise person didn’t do though was change the basement. It still has its 1970’s brown mirror wall, its brick wall and its dark, mirrors on the pillars, along with the shiny white and pink 1980’s bedroom paper which adorns the walls and the, make your eyeballs roll round in your head, busy hotel carpet which is probably at least thirty years old but has another thirty years left in it.

It’s fair to say that the dining room is my least favourite place in the entire house.

We have got rid of the twee burgundy and pink tablecloths and the frilly,  more than a little bit dirty net curtains. Boofuls has moved the kitchen worktop from its previous position in the middle of the dining room to make an actual bar with it as there wasn’t one in the ACTUAL bar. It already looks a whole lot better and this week it’s going to get the paintbrush treatment. I’m looking forward to that.

I really should be taking before and after photographs shouldn’t I? The trouble is that all may cameras are still in storage. we’ve been over several times to get things out but still haven’t been able to get as far as the cameras. I only got my clothes last week.

Talking of last week: I only went and dropped my phone down the loo. I never put my phone in my back pocket but on this occasion I did. I  completely forgot about it and down it went. Before rather than after the onset of micturition you’ll be glad to know. Even though I fished it out, dried it off and put it straight into a bowl of silica, my poor phone has died. All I can get from it now is a picture imploring me to plug it in to iTunes. When I do it tells me it has an unknown error. It’s not unknown to me – I know exactly what the error was.

Ok. That’s enough chat. Time to get the dog walked and then get back to the painting. have a nice day y’all.


We’ve done it!  Young farmer’s week has finished. Actually, that was well over a week ago but this is the first chance I’ve had to tell you about it so pretend it’s about ten days ago. *going back in time * wOOooOOooOO Our group of twenty three  young farmers, male and female descended about two hours earlier than expected on Friday. Rowdy lot. I opened the front door to see one chap bending over and with half his arse on show. He looked like a baboon. Actually, he kind of acted like one too.

I invited them down into the bar to fill in their registration forms. They didn’t need asking twice. Lashes was in her element. She ran the bar and ran the farmers with military precision. Don’t mess with Lashes in barmaid mode. She was a natural. Funny, efficient and definitely in control.  Boofuls and I pretty much left her to it.

At one point I went in to hear her telling one of them off while he gazed at her all doe eyed and agreeing to behave. One in particular took a  massive shine to here. Every time he looked at her he blushed – and he looked at her a lot. He’d have agreed to anything she said. At one point I walked into the bar to find two farmers dressed as hula girls with multi coloured grass skirts and leis asking Lashes to dye their hair blonde. She was happy to oblige. Half an hour later they were sat drinking beer in the bar with shower caps on their heads as the dye took.  I pretended I hadn’t seen anything, turned round and left. I did however fall about laughing when they came back to show off their new ‘do’s’,  both of them a fetching shade of ginger! Apparently the girlfriend of one of them wasn’t best pleased.

On the second night Lashes was busily making pitchers of cocktails for them all and  I popped a bowl of peanuts on the bar in between washing glasses and generally keeping order. “Nuts! Nuts! These nuts contain nuts!” They didn’t hang around for long. The farmers devoured them instantly. Ten minutes later Lashes came looking for me. “Mum. We might have an issue. One of the farmers has eaten the nuts and is going bright red.” “Oh crap!” I went in to see for myself. Sure enough, this young farmer was going blotchier and redder as I watched.  “Giles, are you allergic to nuts?” He answered me  with a negative. “I’ve been eating nuts all my life, I’m not allergic to them.” Hhhmmm I begged to differ. While we were having the conversation one of his friends had picked up a peanut and was writing on Giles with it to see if he could get his name to come up in red.  Bloody hell! Friends like that you don’t need. As a precaution I phoned 111 for advice. After waiting on the phone for ten minutes I decided that if anaphylaxis was going to strike him down it would have already done it so I gave up. After half and hour or so the redness started to subside, with the help of some ice packs and a lot of fussing from Lashes and myself. I thing Giles quite liked all the attention.

The doorbell rang in the early hours more times than I could count. Of course every time it ran I had to get up to answer it. They’d either forgotten their key, had left it with their room mate or  were simply too drunk to manage the lock. I went to reception for about the eighteenth time one night. It was about 3.00 a.m.  A female guest was standing there with the door wide open.  I confess I may have suffered sense of humour failure at that point   “Are you bloody kidding me? What did you ring the bloody bell for?” The girl looked at me horrified. “I didn’t.” Her companion,  Spiderman – complete with mask, put his head down and quickly walked off . “See you then.” Culprit found.

The only time I got really annoyed though was when I realised that one of them had learnt how to disable the automatic lock on the door and left it unlocked all night. I was totally unimpressed with that. Luckily Boofuls caught her red handed the next day and registered our discontent. I think she may have got the message. Doorbells, doorbells, bloody doorbells at all hours of the day and night. I got about three hours sleep a night – when I finally got to sleep on Saturday, Boofuls then decided to start snoring. After all that I was expected to get up at 6.30 to cook breakfast for 23!

When we went in to service the rooms  we walked into one room to find half a dozen condoms on the floor. “OH NO!”  Closer inspection revealed that there had obviously been no women involved with these condoms. It turned out that the lads had been blowing them up with the hairdryer. I can only wonder why.

A hotel in town got spray painted.  A bar in town was closed for the evening after a tosser made threats. It was noisy, rude, lewd and awful. Doors banged, voices were raised. Friends were sneaked in to our hotel, much alcohol was consumed – including quite a bit in our own bar.

Now we are all so tired our eyes are looking at each other. The farmers are leaving in the morning and I can tell you without any shadow of a doubt that they won’t be coming back. We will belonging the 40% of local hoteliers who won’t touch them with a barge pole.

*Back to present day* WOOooOOooOOO

Since then we have have had a full hotel of real guests and done a comparison.  It was so much nicer. The people were lovely and polite and  didn’t keep us awake all night. Even though Boofuls did have to sit in the bar with one chap and discuss Iraqi politics all night. We didn’t feel like we were under siege. It was exactly how we thought it would be and we all enjoyed it immensely.  Have we changed our minds about taking the farmers again next time now that we’ve had time to reflect on it ? Nope.  My nerves wouldn’t stand it.

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Writes Novels About Women Who Find the Courage to Change Their Lives... EMPOWERMENT

Life is ON

Mapping aging & living, one word at a time


21st century Policing from a Ninja's point of view

Explore Newness

My quest to do or learn something NEW as often as I can!

Medium Large

"I gotta say, it's brilliant stuff."--Dan Piraro, Bizarro

Storytime with John

Pull up and listen...I've got a funny one for ya...

Peak Perspective

Trying to climb out of the fog.


The Cricket Pages

Captured With My Phone

An iphoneography blog written, shot and composed from my iphone

Hart Helps

explore ways to win the wars waged within the mind

The Learner's Prerogative

a Vincy Abraham blog

The Golden Limoncello

If life gives you lemons...then make some limoncello

She's a Maineiac

just another plaid-wearin' java-sippin' girl

The Person Next to You

... we're not alone in the journey of life!

yes even this too will pass

Peace Be Unto Us All...


Debunking pseudo-neuroscience so you don't have to


|: attention must be paid :|

Properly Ridiculous

Mostly Pleasant [Possibly Offensive] Perceptions

Dystopia Photography

Combining drama with beauty

Christine R

Trying to keep the brain cells alive.


I guess I'll go ahead and count the ways.

home is what you make it

a blog inspired by real life

Not A Punk Rocker

Embracing my dorkiness, embarrassing my kid & blogging for the hell of it.


finding new homes for old goodies

A Word in Your Ear

Stories and Photographs of my travels, Tales of friends, family, animals and my life

The Reluctant Retiree

Stories from Garrulous Gwendoline - a baby boomer surviving retirement


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