When technology fucks you over

We moved house last week (on the Saturday).

So I saved my open documents (on OpenOffice) and then I shut down my computer. We didn’t have the internet until Wednesday, I didn’t turn my laptop back on until Thursday morning, because we were busy with other things.

Tonight I decided to open the document that has chapter 3 of the story of Wade and Celia.

I was faced with 8 pages of ####################.

The file is corrupted because, according to the internet after I googled my issue when I tried to open the file, I didn’t wait 10 minutes for OpenOffice to do its thing before I shut down my laptop.

I’ve lost a whole chapter because I’d taken it down from GoogleDocs and not backed it up on anything (or sent the file to my wife).

FML

An Open Letter To Donald Trump From Some Angry Women.

Drifting Through My Open Mind

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Dear Mr. Trump… can I call you Mr. Trump? Is that ok? I want you to be happy, that’s very important to me.

Before I get started, let me say this letter isn’t from all women. The Trumpettes surely won’t approve of this message. But this is from most women.

We see right through you. We have all known you at some point. Your ways are not unfamiliar to us. We see through you because we’ve been dealing with you our whole lives.

We heard you call women pigs. And disgusting. And stupid. And bimbos.

We watched as you called a former Ms. Universe “Ms. Piggy” and then spent four days continuing to insult her.

We see your weakness. Your lust for attention at any cost, your need to denigrate women. We see all of it. And we’re mad.

Yes. We’re mad. And fired up. And here’s the thing about us……

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Updatey thing

Hello *waves*

I started back at art school and we have to pack because we’re moving in two weeks so things are getting a bit hectic.

I’m part way through the new (possibly last) chapter of Selina and Donovan, and going well with part 4 of my collaboration story with all the babies.

I will post part 3 (when Wade finds out) soon I think.

Two lines can change a lot of lives (Part 2)

Make sure you’ve read Part 1 or this won’t make much sense.


There was no way she could say anything to Wade until after the boys went to bed and since it was only around 6pm, the next two and a bit hours promised to be trying.

She got home, taking a deep calming breath before she opened the front door.
“I’m home!” she called out as she walked in, hearing a chorus of voices answer back from the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway to take in the scene. Wade had taken the time to change out of his suit and he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, which was an equally good look on him.

He was still the hottest man she’d ever seen, eighteen years on, and if anything he was only getting hotter with age. He still had that little smirk that made her knees weak and Celia loved nothing more than to be wrapped in his strong arms, where she felt safe. Continue reading

Two lines can change a lot of lives (Part 1)

My wife, over at Emma Jane Writes, started telling the story of Alessandra and Xavier.

Single mum Alessandra and her best friend of many years, Xavier, finally got together when her son was 13. You can read the bit from that story that Em has shared here.

Three years on, Alessandra’s son Nico has a girlfriend, Abi, who is also 16. I started writing from Abi’s mum’s point of view. This is the first part.

Enjoy.


“Mum?”

Celia looked up from the patient file she was updating to see her sixteen-year-old daughter Abi hovering in the doorway. She looked nervous and it was not a look Celia was used to seeing on her eldest child’s face.

“Honey? Is everything ok? Was I supposed to come pick you up? What’s the time anyway?” Celia stopped her rambling and checked the time on her phone as Abi made her way into the exam room.

No, she definitely wasn’t late to pick up anyone but Abi looked close to tears which meant something was definitely wrong.

She walked around the desk to her daughter and wrapped her arms around her, starting to really worry when the teenager hugged her back tightly and gave no sign of wanting to let go.

Celia stroked her daughter’s hair in an attempt to soothe the teenager who was now sobbing against her chest. It reminded her of when Abi was little and would come to her for comfort.

The two had always been close and it hadn’t changed when Abi had hit puberty or when she’d started going out with Celia’s friend Alessandra’s son Nico about six months earlier.

“Aww baby girl, what’s wrong? Did something happen at school?” Abi shook her head then looked up at her mother, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I’m scared, Mum,” Abi whispered and Celia took her over to the chairs and sat her down, taking the chair next to her and keeping her daughter’s hands in hers.

“Talk to me, baby,” she encouraged gently and was rewarded when Abi took a calming breath before looking her mother in the eye.

“You know how me and Nico decided we were ready to… to have sex a few months ago?” Continue reading

My Best Friend, the Rapist

It all boils down to consent, doesn’t it? And respect.

She said no but he said yes. This, right there.

Afternoon of Sundries


I knew him, a bright and cheerful bashful fellow; slender limbed, yet short, deep eyes a beautiful chocolate brown fringed with lashes any girl would envy and unruly hair seemingly trying to escape gravity- he was possibly the first man I ever loved.

We talked for hours. We hung out. We were free the first time in our lives- college, oh boy! Watch out! Perfectly like siblings, even though we had opposing views and often argued our points passionately over a beer. We loved revolving sushi bars and loud punk rock.

After a good while of juggling books, classes, schedules and music I introduced him to a lovely girl I had known not as long surely, but someone I thought he could appreciate.

I was of course right, after all I loved him best and I just knew (in that stupid prideful youthful way). They dated a long time. Differences…

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