Whil ethec atsa way…


Tom’s still slepeing off his earyl nihgt, soi t’s up to me, Fnigers (To’ms InnerT ypist), to wrtie toady’s post.

It’s scuh and honoru to be albe to do tihs at scuh shrot notice, but when nedes must nedes hs=ave to.

I’d like to wrtie about grapsing the moment. Jsut going for ir.  There’s nop oint humming and ahhing when an opoprutinty s=crops up. Opprotunitei such as these are lkie dooors to a magic knigdom opening. Once an opprotuntiy is grapsed, the Universe flods istelf around, more droos seem to open and even more fabluous opportnuities asire. Its’ like rolilng moos gathering no stones as you fnid yourslef in fnatastic situation after fnatastic situation.

You mya be plannnig to write a boko for exmaple. Then gof or it! Theres’ not ime like the pserent.

I awlays try to covney that to Tom, but he deosn’t seem to lsiten… orca tch myd rift, four some raeson.

Ah well. I’ll keep on keeing on. We’l lget there. Oned ay.

In the meantiem, it’s a cas e og when the catsa way.

It stlil Feels Good, thouhg, so it’s allgood in the long ru n.

(Image from Pixabay)

EDIT: Apologies. Normal blogging services will resume once again from tomorrow. For today, ot today, oops – or toady, as Fingers describes it, I’ll leave you with this post, representing thoughts from Inner Writers everywhere. Sometimes you just have to let them out, warts and all. For warts, however, read typos. Have a good weekend!

Miss McRee’s Permanently Single


Confidential memo to all staff

Numbers are down, people.
All the single people seem to be going somewhere else. We need them on our books. How can we make sure that they remain single if they go to other agencies? We need their funds, people.
When numbers are down our funds are down. When funds are down, profits are down. When profits are down, we have to scale down our wonderful lifestyles.

We can’t have that.

I can’t have that. I’ve already given up the beach villa and that is all I’m prepared to do.

Get those single people back on the books, get them paying monthly, get them meeting all the wrong types, keep them single.

But importantly, keep them happy.

Give them a free week. Show them we care.

The new flyers with the increased prices will be printed next week. We also need to recover the cost of printing the new range of cards, and the black roses.

And don’t forget I’ll be away on holiday for two months from February 5th.

If this agency fails, it will be down to you.

Happy Valentine’s.

Miss McRee.

Memo ends.

Something tells me that Miss McRee isn’t particularly keen on this time of the year. I really don’t know why…


…ah… now where was I?

Ah yes. Sorry about that little interlude!

I’d just got back into the Catacombs from Egypt – now there’s something I never thought I’d say – and I started to make my way back to the doorway to the Mansion when I noticed the area within the cave was lit up once again.

There was no indication as to where the light was coming from, yet only this part of the cave was illuminated fully… the rest of the cave was in very subdued light.

I thought that maybe there were a few fireflies knocking about. I don’t know if we even have fireflies in the UK, but now I wasn’t exactly sure where I was. Especially after coming across that new door.

This week, I’ve discovered an old wooden sign, three old postcards and a quick way into Egypt. Not bad going for a quick jaunt in the odd realm below the Mansion.

I walked back into one of the bigger caverns, away from the light, when I heard a noise behind me from the area where I’d just been.

Not a noise… a cough. And then a snigger.

I quickly turned around, with the sudden feeling that I hadn’t shut the door by the Sphinx properly, and someone had followed me into the Catacombs.

“You’ve closed it securely.” Said a voice.

Not aloud… in my head. Or so it seemed. How can you tell if a voice is in your head or not when you hear it surrounded by darkness? OK, there was a patch of light nearby which took the edge off the darkness somewhat… but the loud voice must have been in my head as there was nobody around.

And then, there was.

From the shadows, she emerged. It appeared she was creating the shadows as the light was emanating from her, but that is somewhat improbable. Not impossible, however, we are in the Catacombs, don’t forget. The Catacombs below the Mansion.

She spoke again. This time properly, not within my head.

“I’m Amazonia.” She introduced herself with a friendly smile. She must have been six foot tall if she was an inch, with broad, muscular shoulders. She was wearing a white loose-fitting frock, and a white band around her left arm.

Her piercing blue eyes shone brightly out of the shadow over her face that was caused by her red hair and the light she was apparently emitting.

“I’m” being polite, I went to introduce myself and she rather rudely lifted her left hand to stop me speaking.

“Hush” she said. “I know.” She smiled briefly, before continuing. “I’m here to let you know that I’m here. There are many of us. We’re all here. You’ll get to meet us and know us as time goes on. For now, all you need to know is we’re here. Take a photo of me with your mobile phone for proof.”

I did (posted above!) and in the instant it took me to take the photo she – and her light – had vanished.

The Catacombs were back to as they were originally. Dark and creepy.

I could hear the Lava River below. I decided to head back to the Mansion.

I did say that things around here are odd, didn’t I?

Can I now say that they seem to be a little odder? Or is that just me?

Strange Voices on St Valentine’s Eve

Or Friday 13th, if you’re superstitious about such things. I was born on a 13th, so I’m OK with things like that.

In the Mansion in my mind, Thomasina’s decking the halls and singing her current favourite song. If ever an ear-worm was ever needed, I’d have to say ‘Mickey’ by Toni Basil would most certainly be one. She’s even dressed like a cheerleader, which is more off-putting. Thomasina, that is, not Toni Basil.

And now, I’m dancing like a robot as I’m typing. Thanks, Thomasina. Chair-dancing. Can’t be beaten for the sheer fun value… even better when out driving, however!

You take me by the heart when you take me by the hand…

The Grand Hall is a room within the Mansion that isn’t used very often, in fact dust sheets cover all furniture in there. And dust covers the dust sheets. The Grand Hall Grandfather Clock in the corner, hidden beneath its own sheet, still chimes away every hour, plus one. So, one o’clock, it’ll chime twice. At 12 o’clock, thirteen chimes will be heard. In fact, the Grand Hall would be a great venue for a Halloween party… at the stroke of the thirteenth hour. Mwahahaha!

Anyway, I need to run away from the Grand Hall as fast as I can. Come with me. Quickly. Keep up!

We’re running just as fast as we can, holding onto one another’s hand.

Quickly, along this corridor, and into the West Wing. And the Manor Parlour. Where, we meet…


I think we’re alone now. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.

Tomanova should be here somewhere. Tiffany’s playing in the distance, but that’s not Tomanova’s favourite singer. I’m sure he’ll turn up.

Someone’s been here, though. They’ve left one of the best china cups out on the sideboard. I’ll take it back to the Kitchen. It’ll probably be my Inner Cook, always lurking somewhere around the West Wing.

I head back out of the Parlour, and run straight into Tomanova.

Don’t push too far’ he sings. Sings! ‘Your dreams are china in your hand… don’t wish too hard because they may come true… China in your hand’ Tomanova Pau; whatever next?


My Inner Cook.

I don’t know what’s going on around here today, but it feels more like April Fool’s Day rather than the day before St Valentine’s Day.

Cook is singing. Tomanova’s singing. Thomasina’s singing. Are the whole bloomin’ lot singing?

I hear a lot of stories, I suppose they could be true. All about love and what it can do to you.

Cook’s actually quite a good singer, don’t you know? I actually could have an Inner Choir going here… mind you, with my singing, better in than out any day!

A good heart these days, is hard to find, so please be gentle with this heart of mine…

I hand Cook Sharkey the cup, and head back to the normal part of the Mansion. I can’t remember what I needed to see Tomanova for now, and I never knew I had an Inner Cook. It’s strange the things you find out when you least expect it.

It’s a mystery, oh, it’s a mystery, I’m still searching for a clue…’ Who’s this? Ah, Fingers. My Inner Typist. He’s a singer too? Fingers Willcox? Blimey. ‘The big question mark in history is it a mystery to you?

Would I be lying if I said it was? I jave no idea what’s going on around here right now. Fingers!

I don’t believe it. Not now. Noooo…. My Inner Zombie. Dancing. And grunting in tune.

You stretched for the stars, and you know how it feels to reach too high. Too far. Too soon. You saw the whole of the moon.

Luckily the Water-Zombie-Boy didn’t stretch and managed to keep himself in tact. I think I’ll go and have a quick lie down upstairs. Recover from the madness that’s going on all around here.

Don’t leave me this way. I can’t survive, I can’t stay alive. Without you love, oh baby. Don’t leave me this way



In and out between my legs he weaves, singing constantly, ‘So come down and satisfy the need in me, cos only your good loving can set me free

Thankfully, Thomasina coaches Splodge the Communard away. And as I reach my Bedroom, to have a well earned rest after all these shenanigans, I sneeze.

I open my eyes. I’m in bed already.

It was all a dream; mayhap a nightmare with that lot singing.

Now, what date is it? Oh, Friday 13th. The day before Valentine’s…

Roses and stuff

Roses are red
And violets are blue
So Valentine’s here yet again.
Time to write words
Featuring loved up lovebirds
Or commonly, a cock and a hen.

I walk on cloud nine
As I wait for the time
When my lover and I get together
But being lovebirds
Means I must use these words
As we’re literally birds of a feather

Opposites attract
Is sometimes a fact
But in my case that’s just not true
My reflection’s the same
And it will never change
And with that I’m cock-a-hoop

Tomanova, 2015. My Inner Romantic, who likes the romance to start from within.