Today’s post is a cautionary tale, but a tale not yet ended.
I have been taking my eldest to high school for 3 years now and in all that time, I have spoken to the ladies on reception only once. They didn’t know my name and I didn’t know theirs.
     Cue youngest starting and less than a term in, we are already on first name terms. This is not to say we go out for drinks, but some weeks it feels like we should. As a result of this, they know my son, they talk to him and they now know that I write, because ‘Mum will be in; she’s only writing’!
     “Oooh, how would you fancy coming in to talk to some of our kids about writing?” they asked.
     I think my face said it all.
     “Well, what about a small group? Just an informal chat?”
     Okay, so at this point I decided to put my big girl knickers on and be brave, so I thought about it and after I got home (from one of my many calls-in to sort out youngest’s latest crisis) I said yes.
     A couple of weeks passed and I had relaxed about the whole thing and then I got a call from school – not reception! – from someone in the English department… about my agreeing to take an entire year group for an hour.
     Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!      
     With my heart racing, this teacher talks me through what she wants me to achieve and I swallow and say okay, and she leaves me to think about it for a few weeks.
     So I tell myself I can do this and start to plan my hour … with a whole year of 12-13 year olds … in one room … on my own…
     But I do it. I remember all she has asked for and work out what I could do and after a few more Malibus I think I’ve managed it.
     And then the other day she rang and left a message on my answering machine, to discuss how I was getting along with my ‘workshop’.
     !?!

Today I have the pleasure of welcoming Robyn Roze onto the blog. Need a look? Here is her  Website. Robyn and I first met over a hot hero at an online party a couple of years ago – a well known way to make friends if you’re a romance author! It was for this reason I dragged her across the pond to talk men on here today; I knew she would have an opinion. So, Robyn, tell me, who would be your ideal man?

My ideal man is fit, muscular, broad-shouldered, square-jawed with the perfect amount of stubble, and sprinkled with just the right amount of man fur on his chest that funnels down to a sexy happy trail over his chiselled abs. The hint of grey at the sides is fine by me in the thick, wavy dark hair that crowns his striking blue eyes. And his smile is killer, makes me melt, along with the fantasies of what he’s going to do with those wide, strong man hands...

He’s Elon Musk smart and Robert Downey, Jr. funny, with the bedroom voice of actor Sam Elliott. He has the heart of a good guy and the imagination of a bad boy. He’s perfect, of course, and at my beck and call.
    And as I searched Pinterest to stitch together my ‘Franken-man’, I came across a photo that stopped me dead. This real man embodies many of the physical characteristics I’ve described. You might’ve heard of him...

I may have...

Aaaaand I’m back in the room.
   
Haven't given it much thought then, huh?
Okay, so we have the alpha male kind of guy you’d have today, but was this always the case? Tell me, who did you fancy as a teen?

Do I have to admit this?

Afraid so. :-)

Okay, okay . . . Rick Springfield.

Who?

Him...

:-O

Yes, I would’ve dumped ‘Jessie’ for Rick in a heartbeat. I had the posters, albums, and crumpled Tiger Beat issues to feed my obsession back in the day. And since I’ve just horribly dated myself, and am now questioning (and cringing at) my youthful judgment, here’s a link to the once popular song I referenced above: Jessie’s Girl by Rick Springfield
Good god what was I thinking . . . ?

I know the picture you sent was ... dubious to say the least, but this one looks pretty good. Possibly a little older? Did you plan to become a groupie or did you have slightly higher aspirations at that age?

I wanted to be a traveling vet, saving animals, domestic and wild, big and small, around the globe. I envisioned myself writing books and magazine articles about my exotic and, oftentimes, treacherous adventures, all the while managing to find time to schedule talk show appearances and university lectures. But my dream didn’t stop there. I grew up watching Wild Kingdom, with Marlin Perkins, and wanted my own TV show too, from the vet’s perspective. It would’ve been similar to contemporary reality television.
    I would’ve been quite the trailblazer, burning my candle at both ends. But my hormones and untimely Rick Springfield obsession derailed my youthful dreams.  *sigh*

So, groupie it was. LOL  And what books were you reading in your younger years? Can you pick 3 for me?

Rage of Angels by Sidney Sheldon
A Woman of Substance by Barbara Taylor Bradford
The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss

The Cat In The Hat. Classic.
     Tell me, Robyn, what sort of books do you write these days?

HellKat is my most recent release.

Romantic Suspense, and very well from what I've read in your reviews.

Men and relationships have always disappointed Kat James. Not that it matters, because she doesn't believe a woman can have it all, not without giving up her independence and identity; something Kat will not do. If there is such a thing as having it all, it's going to be on Kat's terms. And if there's a man out there who can deal with that, she hasn't met him yet.

Enter Tucker Williams. A cowboy who knows all too well about life's ups and downs. He's learned the hard way that control is illusory. So he meets whatever happens head-on, confronts it without flinching. Because he knows that's his only chance of having control over anything, no matter how brief.

When his eyes set on Kat James, he glimpses a woman who believes she's in control. A woman who feels like a force of nature. A woman who should be wild and free.

A woman who has forgotten how to be either.

When dangerous family secrets surface, Kat will confront the people who've irrevocably changed her life. But in the end, she and Tucker will battle a union of madness they could not have seen coming.

Family is supposed to watch your back, but sometimes they stab you in it instead. Feisty passionate heroines with plenty of suspense. What's not to love?
     Best of luck with HellKat, Robyn and thank you so much for dropping by.

You can find Robyn on Facebook and Twitter or visit her on her website (link above).

It's two years now since I braved starting up a blog. Such expectations upon you. How will you come up with something interesting to say every week? I struggle most days with being interesting at all, let alone that often. But I did it. It's character-building!
    And so I started, Remembrance Day two years ago to be precise and began to write down my thoughts. There were times when I wondered where the next post was coming from, but something always turned up. Friends helped enormously. And that's what this community is all about; we share. We share our thoughts on books, on life and debate the hottest man alive and that's a wonderful thing. We are a community, a community of readers and writers, and although reading is a solitary thing, as writing can be, the coming together of our lives and experiences, I feel, is something to be treasured.
    So thank you to everyone who has taken this journey with me and here's hoping I can pretend to be interesting a little longer.

Remembrance Day. A day to remember the fallen and not just of the 2 world wars, all wars. All soldiers. And it goes farther than that. Anybody who risked their life to save others, protect others, help others, are our heroes. The animals who serve alongside them; the medics, the engineers, the support staff, all of those who fight our corner to keep us safe.

What does it take to put your life on the line to protect the weak – and I include most of us in that - ? It takes courage, faith, strength and a determination greater than I have never known.
I looked up how many wars and conflicts the military of this country have been involved in since WW1 and apart from WW2, I counted 30 others. Thirty! Most of which I’ve never even heard of. All these times men and women have fought in our name and I never knew. So many times. So many lives. I may not understand; I may not remember them, but I can take a moment to appreciate those who’ve played their part, the living as well as the dead, because the living were prepared to give just as much, and be thankful.

This week, in our house, sees the Saddest Firework competition. Bonfire night, fireworks, jacket potatoes and mulled wine – it’s the same every year and we love that. And that got me thinking about why we love it and I realised it came down to one thing – we know it; we feel comfortable.
   As life trundles on, our family, like many others I’m sure, picks up little sayings, words misspoken and memories of silly things gone wrong. All these things become part of our lives. We all know the words to chant to finish a certain sentence, the story of how one of the kids said something totally outrageous, quite innocently, and will never be allowed to forget it. We rejoice in reminding each other of the silly things we’ve done or said, like setting fire to the microwave, or breaking the door off the garage. (You know who you are, youngest!) We can reminisce about holidays that went hideously wrong and laugh, because we lived through them together. It's this joint history that binds us.
   Each bonfire night, we eat the same food, light the same cheap fireworks in the back garden and cheer and laugh and battle to pick the worst one – you know, the one that lights to produce a plume of coloured smoke, with nothing but a hiss and then with a phut 3 sparks fly out and it's all over.  We collapse inside at the end of the evening, happy and secure that the life we know, that we understand and is understood by all those around us, is good.
   I hope you have a great Bonfire Night, too.