The other day I was poked by a male on Facebook asking me to be his friend. I didn’t recognise his name and couldn’t link him to any of my friends, Swedish or otherwise, as he alleged his nationality was Western European, but worked in England. After mentioning this request to my son, and curious as I was, I accepted, thinking there might be some tenuous link to someone I already knew. But, immediately after hitting the ‘yes’ button, I received a message from him.

Alarm bells immediately began to peel, loud and clear, as I read the message. He said, ‘Hi, I really appreciate your beauty,’ whereupon I had to wipe the puke from my keyboard with a few baby-wipes before I could read the rest of his message. He then went on to say, ‘Can we get to know each other better, if you don’t mind? My name is…’

Of course I bloody minded. First of all, didn’t anyone tell him you don’t use a sledge-hammer to crack a nut. His approach was so ‘in your face’ it was laughable, and it would take more than a few mellifluous words to get into my knickers: and as for my bank account, Hubby still can’t get into that, and I’ve known him for fifty years.

I’ve had predators hitting on me before, usually on Skype, but never on Facebook which I thought was more secure. But if this man thought I was gullible, well, how wrong he was. I immediately ‘unfriended’ the jerk in the hope his cohones shrivelled up and dropped off.

N.B. I apologise to any Spanish speaking person reading this blog if I have spelled ‘balls’ incorrectly, but it’s the only foreign word I know relating to that area of a man’s anatomy.



Haven’t written anything, or even shared my thoughts for a few weeks as things have gone ‘tits-up’ as they say. Hubby became ill and had to be hospitalised. He’s now well and home again: but a few days after Hubby was admitted to hospital, my nephew died, losing his long battle against malignant brain tumours. He was 37 years old. He died peacefully in his sleep one sunny afternoon with his parents at his side, my sister-in-law and my youngest brother were holding his hands. My nephew’s wife had just nipped out to the shops, and his two children were at school.

The death of my nephew has hit the family very hard. As a child of four he battled leukaemia, then at the age of thirty he began to get brain tumours, which at first were operable. This last one though was so aggressive it grew to the size of a lemon and protruded through his skull because the surgeon didn’t replace the top of his skull after my nephew’s last operation as the surgeon thought he might have to operate again. Because of my nephew’s long battle against cancer of varying sorts, I dedicated my last book to him. He actually was the bravest and nicest man one could ever meet. We will never forget him.

He leaves a young wife and two children – a son aged 9 and a daughter aged 11. As for the Magpie reference? He supported a local football team called Notts County – the Magpies – whose strip is black and white. I think there will be many at the funeral dressed in those colours.