writing

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THE BOOK MAKER

Published September 2, 2016 by naomirettig

Michael fiddled with the button on his cardigan as he gazed out of the shop window into the narrow dusty alleyway. The few Denke Street traders were packing up for the day. Old Mrs Sampson had already closed and gone home, her vegetables long sold and bubbling away on customers’ stoves right now. Shivi yawned as he pulled the shutter down on his jewellers, Mr Bergen locked the door to his barbers and nodded his head at Michael, smiling briefly before turning and walking away. Mrs Klum hoisted up the awning over the cheese emporium while her daughter Freda smiled and waved at Michael. He half waved back, a hint of a smile flickered across his face as he retreated back from the window into the shadows of the shop.

Mother and daughter bustled away, Freda glancing over her shoulder toward Michaels’ direction, while winding her blonde ringlets absentmindedly around her fingers. Michael was about to turn away when the figure of a man came distantly into view. Dressed in a long billowing overcoat, topped with a fur hat with stray ear flaps, appearing to breathe smoke in the dusk autumn light, Michael recognised Mr Ingle. The dragon man.

As Mr Ingle grew larger Michael’s father entered the shop from the back workshop, wiping his hands on a tattered cloth. ‘Has everyone gone home Michael?’

‘Yes Papa.’ Michael turned to his father. ‘The Dra.., Mr Ingle is coming up the street.’

‘Ah, good. Go upstairs and wash up for supper, I won’t be long.’

Michael disappeared through the back door, closing it behind him as he always did when after-hours customers called. Before letting the latch slide into place he spied his father remove a wooden box from one of the cupboards and place it on the gleaming walnut counter. Michael knew that the wooden boxes were for the special books requested by the after-hours customers.

The regular books that were sold in the shop had hand stretched leather covers, binding together the palest of yellow parchment. Michael loved the comforting smell of leather and paper. He would watch for hours in silence as his father crafted the covers from pig or calf skin, whistling as he worked. The special books had soft leather pages as well as the leather covers, Michael’s father made those at night while Michael slept. But Michael always sought them out in their hiding cupboard to marvel at the workmanship.

The bell of the door jangled sharply as Mr Ingles entered. He looked directly to the crack in the door and through to Michael’s bones. Michael’s father turned his head, following Mr Ingles’ stare. Michael quickly closed the door.

‘No one else knows about my book Mr Jacobs?’ Mr Ingles said.

‘No, no.’ Mr Jacobs moved around the counter and locked the shop door, pulling the blind down before resuming his position behind the counter. ‘Just you and I.’ He slid the wooden box slightly towards Mr Ingles and removed the lid, placing it carefully on the counter. He gestured with open hands. ‘Your book.’

The stern expression dissolved from Mr Ingles and a greedy smile replaced it. His eyes devoured the book before he slowly reached in and picked it up. He held it to his face and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he exhaled. He then reopened his eyes and traced his fat fingers over the blank leather pages before placing the book back in the box and replacing the lid. Still smiling.

‘Excellent job Mr Jacobs.’

Mr Jacobs bowed his head a little, the light above him illuminating his new bald patch as he did. ‘Thank you.’

Mr Ingles removed a sealed brown envelope from inside his coat pocket and placed it on the counter. ‘As we agreed.’

‘Thank you. It was a pleasure.’ Mr Jacobs slid the envelope into his apron pocket and moved across to the door simultaneously with Mr Ingles.

‘Goodbye Mr Jacobs.’

‘Good night Sir.’ Mr Jacobs locked the door. ‘Come out Michael, I know you are still there.’

The door to the back slowly opened and Michael stepped into the shop. ‘I’m sorry Papa.’

His father sighed, then smiled. ‘That’s ok, it’s time I showed you the special orders. You’re a young man now. You’ll take over one day and need to know everything.’ He unlocked a display cabinet and took down an ornate carved leather book, placing it on the counter. ‘Here, come closer.’

Michael creaked across the floorboards.

His father fanned his hands out in a magician-like gesture. ‘Go ahead, touch, look.’

Michael gently let his fingertips trail over the embossed detailing on the cover, he opened the book and felt the silken texture of the blank pages, they felt comforting to him and as he turned the pages he rubbed them lightly between his fingers, like a child with the edge of a much loved blanket.

‘That Michael, is a special book. Our clients that order these are totally secret and expect privacy at all times. There is no paperwork, no records. You agree a price, in person, ask the details, remember it all, don’t write it down, and give them a date to come and collect.’

Michael continued to stroke the pages. ‘What details? What details do I need to ask and remember?’

‘Details such as where the carcass for the leather will be collected from, if we need to kill or are we just collecting. There will be a price difference of course for either options.’

‘So we don’t use Gwil’s butchers as usual then?’ Michael frowned slightly.

‘No son.’ Mr Jacobs smiled. ‘Specials are special due to what they are made from. Mr Ingles’ book was made from his wife.’

‘Made for?’

‘No, made from.’

Michael drew his hand back away from the book and took a couple of deep breaths. ‘Human leather?’ He stared at his father.

His father stared back. ‘Yes. Sometimes people don’t want to just bury their loved ones, alone and deep underground, they like to keep them closer by. On a bookshelf, on a table, by the bed. It’s the same way we use pig and calf, but with the specials we use all of the skin to make the pages too.’

‘You said ‘if we need to kill’. If peoples loved ones have died… I don’t understand.’ Michael ran his hands through his hair and then started to fiddle with his cardigan button again.

Mr Jacobs shrugged. ‘Sometimes someone wants a book made and the person they want to use hasn’t died yet. If they are too squeamish to do it themselves then I do it, for a much higher charge.’

The button fiddling stopped. ‘You murder people?’

‘I kill them humanely, just like the pigs and calves. It’s no different really. You use the captive bolt pistol into the head, then slit the throat to bleed out quickly before the stun wears off. I’ve only had two specials not bleed out and die before the stun wore off. I just stunned again. There was only a second or two of consciousness. I am a professional.’

‘I, I don’t, I can’t…’ Michael steadied himself on the counter with his trembling hands.

‘Of course you can my boy, it just takes time. That’s why we will start now. Build you up. It’s actually quite relaxing, watching someone die in front of you. Sometimes I even hold their hands, and more.’

Michael pushed his hair out of his eyes once more, the clammy sweat fixing it to the side.

Mr Jacobs laughed. ‘Don’t worry, you can work with me on the next one before doing your first solo one. You want your first one to be precious, memorable. And you want it to look exquisite, not shoddy.’ He cocked his head slightly to side. ‘I see the way you look at the young lady opposite. She would make a good first book. Soft pure pages.’

Michael stared down at the book on the counter. His face blank but his eyes tumultuously trying to process the unprocessable.

‘That is my first book. Beautiful isn’t it.’ The pride was clear in Mr Jacobs’ voice.

Michael continued to stare at the book. ‘Yes.’

After a small suffocating silence Mr Jacobs took off his apron. ‘It’s getting late, supper will be over cooked.’ He patted Michael on the shoulder as he walked past, heading towards the back. ‘Lock your Mother back up in the display cabinet and let’s go eat. I’m famished.’

 

 

 

 

THE FLORIST

Published September 2, 2016 by naomirettig

Jenna laced her boot up once again and repositioned her rucksack while standing back up and stretching. She looked at the map again, hoping that the mud covering it was dry enough to pick off to reveal her surroundings. It wasn’t. Tripping into a squelchy mud patch was the final straw in her nightmare day.

Three of them had set off that morning but only a mile into the trek Frances had sprained her ankle jumping off a style. Becky had insisted she would take her back while Jenna went on ahead to meet up with the others waiting at the Windy Tor youth hostel. ‘No point in all three of us missing out on the weekend.’ She’d said.

Jenna was wishing she’d gone back now too. The map was unreadable, her phone wasn’t getting any signal to use the GPS on there and it had just started to rain. She shoved the map in the rucksack and pulled the hood of her anorak up and tightened the cords, a pale round face in a cocoon of blue nylon. She ploughed on through the field, looking for any features in the landscape that would guide her in the right direction. Only trees and fields were visible through the hazy drizzle. Until she reached the top of a small hill and saw a farmhouse another field over.

Relief lifted Jenna’s weary legs. She would either go to the youth hostel or go back home, wherever was the nearest. Maybe if she was really lucky someone at the farmhouse would give her a lift instead of directions. And maybe something to eat, Jenna’s emergency cereal bar had been eaten a while ago. And a cup of hot tea. Jenna smiled at the thought of a hot cup of tea.

The farmhouse looked a bit foreboding and neglected to Jenna, maybe it was just the rain and the failing daylight that was clouding her opinion. As she approached the weathered door she was desperately hoping someone was at home. She tapped with the rusty lion door knocker. And tapped again. No answer.

‘Hello!’ she shouted above the rain that was falling heavier now. ‘Anybody here?’ She looked around the yard, there were a couple of outbuildings and a barn but they looked quite deserted too. She knocked again, but louder. Still no answer. Jenna tried the handle of the door. It was unlocked. Biting the inside of her cheek she pushed the heavy door open. ‘Hello?’

Jenna stepped in out of the rain and onto a well-worn mat. ‘Is there anyone here?’

The only sound was the ticking of a grandfather clock in the hallway where she stood. She slipped her rucksack off and dropped it to the floor. Taking her phone out of her pocket she saw that there was still no mobile signal and slid it back away. Releasing the toggle of her hood and removing her wet anorak she told herself she would just find a phone and call Becky and to try and get a taxi, which was going to be a challenge as she didn’t know where she was. She placed her anorak on top of her rucksack and closed the door. Removing her muddy boots and leaving them neatly by the door too she moved into the next room.

A tatty floral sofa and armchairs filled the room as did a musty aroma of mildew and mincemeat. Dark wooden floorboards creaked as she walked across to a looming Welsh dresser; cluttered with paperwork, a book of pressed flowers, a half empty mug of tea and a half eaten pork pie. She tentatively picked up pieces of the paperwork, looking for a letter or something that would have an address on it to give to a taxi company.

‘What are you doing?’ A soft monotone voice behind her said.

Jenna spun around and saw a man stood in the doorway of the room. Black receding shiny hair, a double chin and a checked shirt that needed a wash months ago. His arms and hands hung loosely to his sides like they didn’t belong to him and his narrow eyes stared stagnantly at her.

‘I, I was looking for an address. I’m lost.’ Jenna said. ‘I’m sorry, I knocked and shouted.’

‘I was out the back. No one can hear you out here. There’s no one for miles. Mr Evans over at Croft Cottage is the nearest. But he’s deaf.’ The man just stood motionless and continued staring at Jenna.

‘Oh. Ok.’ Jenna’s stomach knotted. ‘Do you have a phone I can use?’

The man was vacantly fixed on her and Jenna wondered if he had heard her.

‘Don’t need a phone.’ He eventually said.

Jenna nodded, wishing she’d kept her boots on. ‘Can you tell me which direction the nearest town is then?’

The man took a step forward and Jenna instinctively stepped back, jolting the dresser. The mug fell to the floor and smashed, splashing cold tea over the dresser and the floor. The man howled and ran towards her with wide eyes, his hands now animated and holding his head.

‘I’m so sorry!’ Jenna stepped to the side behind one of the chairs, pulse racing.

He ignored the broken mug on the floor and picked up the book of pressed flowers, desperately wiping tea from it and its pages with his shirt. He looked up at Jenna, his icy eyes brimming with raging tears. ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

Jenna bolted from behind the chair and ran to the hallway, disregarding her boots and rucksack, she reached for the door. As her hand touched the latch her head was yanked backwards as the man pulled her hair by the roots and smashed her face into the solid wood door. Warm blackness covered her.

***

Jenna could taste the metallic iron of her blood. Her tongue explored and she winced as it aggravated a split in her top lip. She lifted her hands to her head and again flinched when her fingers touched her broken nose. She could only see out of her left eye, her right eye was puffy and closed. Levering herself up from the stone floor she was lying on, her one eye adjusted to the dim light. She saw she was shackled to the ground. A heavy chain bolted into the floor led to a solid metal cuff around her ankle. She reached down to it, it was attached securely with a padlock and was too tight to slip over her foot, but she did try. There was a faint noise across the room.

Jenna held her breath and listened. Nothing. She thought she had imagined it but then heard it again. A faint gasp. It sounded like someone struggling to breathe.

‘Hello?’ Jenna quietly whispered.

No reply. She held her breath and listened again, squinting through the shadows of the room with her one good eye. The faint gasping breath came again. Jenna’s breathing became more rapid. She crawled slowly in the direction of the noise, the metal of her ankle chain scraping across the floor.

As she got a little nearer she could make out a shape in the corner. It was small and round and seemed to be a bundle of rags or blankets. She edged closer but the chain tethering her had reached its full length and jolted her to a stop. She lay herself flat to the ground so she could reach out a little closer. Stretching her fingers she could just reach the hem of a blanket. Manoeuvring it with her finger tips she managed to grasp it. She pulled it towards her. It flowed freely, revealing the source of the strange soft sound. A child, foetal and motionless, emaciated, a small skeleton covered with pale paper skin like a decaying butterfly.

Jenna screamed then froze. Her eye and her brain not wanting to compute the image she was seeing. Thin matted hair clung to the head of the near dead child and she guessed an age of four or five.

‘Hello, can you hear me?’ As Jenna asked she knew there would be no answer, this poor little corpse was beyond help.

The door to the barn slid open. Dusk light silhouetted the man. He stood looking blankly at her, then turned his head to the child. He smiled.

‘You sick bastard!’ Jenna screamed at him.

He walked towards Jenna, she saw he was holding a flower, an iris. He kicked her in the face, pushing her away with his foot. She sprawled backwards, her nose and lip spurting blood again and the pain ricocheting through her body. He crouched over the small body in the corner.

Jenna spat blood out of her mouth. ‘Stop it! Stop it you fucking monster, stop it!’

‘It’s ok,’ the man looked over his shoulder at Jenna, ‘I’m just taking care of his soul.’ He turned back and placed the flower into the child’s mouth. He then rested his hand on the child’s neck, monitoring the pulse.

‘You’re crazy! What are you doing you fucking psycho?’ Jenna tugged at her chain constraint and frantically scanned the bare room for something to free herself. The man stayed silent and kept his back to her, his hand still gently resting on the child’s neck.

Jenna stopped fighting with the chain. Her breathing was rapid and laboured. She spat out more blood that was pooling in her mouth. She suddenly remembered her phone was still in her pocket. Hope only lasted three seconds. There was still no signal. She let the phone slide out of her hand next to her on the floor. She reached into her other pocket. Her hand closed around her metal nail file, she dared to hope again.

The man sighed and bowed his head. ‘He has gone, I have his soul.’

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ Jenna’s anguish and horror had turned to anger.

The man opened the dead boy’s mouth and retrieved the flower. ‘When they die I capture their souls in the flowers.’ He smiled at Jenna as if they were having a perfectly rational conversation. ‘I press the flowers and keep them in my book, the little children can stay pure and innocent forever then.’

‘There’s going to be a special place in hell for you.’ Jenna gritted her teeth and pulled herself upright, sliding the nail file out of her pocket. It was concealed in her hand, she was gripping it so tight it had started to cut into her hand.

The man stood up and frowned. ‘You nearly ruined my book. I have to kill you. I’ve never killed anyone before, you’ll be my first. I have to do it. I will kill you when I’ve pressed this soul.’ He held up the iris.

‘Never killed anyone before? What the fuck do you think you’ve just done?’

The man looked at Jenna and smiled again. ‘I didn’t kill him, you saw, he just died by himself.’

Jenna couldn’t comprehend the monstrosity in front of her. ‘How many ‘souls’ have you pressed?’

‘This is number twelve.’ He smiled proudly and started to walk towards the open door.

Jenna focused on not being sick, the urge to vomit was rising. She had to stop him leaving, she couldn’t let him abduct anyone else. She had to make him come close to her.

‘I’m going to burn your flower book.’

He stopped and turned to her, no longer smiling.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ continued Jenna, ‘I’m going to burn your flower book and set those souls free.’

The man placed the iris gently on the floor, balled his fists and strode towards her. Jenna backed up to the wall and crouched up on her feet. As the man swung his fist to her face she ducked and sprang to the side. The chain attached to her and the floor caught him just below his knees. It was enough to send him off balance and he crashed to the floor, landing on his back. Jenna quickly scrambled to him, taking advantage of his winded hesitation. She plunged the nail file into his neck with a force she didn’t know she possessed.

Blood spewed out and she stabbed again and again, raging for the twelve children that had a long and agonising death here. The man held his throat, gargling his blood.

Jenna leaned over him. ‘No one is going to save your soul you sick bastard.’ She stabbed the nail file into his right eye. He stopped writhing, his left eye stared motionless at the ceiling. The blood from his neck flowed to the open door, carrying the iris with it.

Jenna rolled off of him exhausted. The adrenalin surge in her had powered down. She led back on the concrete and wept.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Breakdown

Published August 14, 2016 by naomirettig

I’m aware of someone looming over me. I feel the weight of their shadow hover across my chest. I hear the someone swallow, a natural reflex, but alarmingly sinister as I hide behind the dark of my eyelids. I try to steady my breathing. Whoever, whatever, lurks, seems to be in no hurry to attack. The presence sits on the end of my bed. I don’t know what is going to surrender first, my heart or my bladder.

I launch open my eyes. Judd Nelson is perched on the bed by my feet. In navy blue pajamas. Sexy navy blue pajamas. He smiles. I don’t smile back, this is a dream, there is no other logical explanation. I study his face closely, I’ve never had such a high definition dream before, every wrinkle, every handsome, gorgeous wrinkle…

‘Hello.’ He smiles again.

I am mesmerized by his eyes, his deep dark brown eyes like pools of delicious chocolate…

‘Oh, this isn’t a dream.’ Judd interrupts my thoughts again.

I play along with my dream. ‘I’m struggling with this being reality.’

‘It isn’t reality.’

I sit more upright in my bed. ‘Hallucination?’

‘Nope.’ He shakes his head. ‘Nervous breakdown.’

‘I’m having a nervous breakdown?’

‘Yes.’

I smooth down the duvet covering my lap. ‘I feel quite calm for someone having a nervous breakdown.’

‘That’s because you’re in your breakdown assessment zone. Or BAZ.’

‘Are you sure this isn’t a dream?’

‘You’re definitely having a breakdown.’ He smiles again. ‘Your physical body has gone into a coma, only your mind is functioning.’

I survey my body and my surroundings. Everything is clearer and in more detail than a dream, but I can’t feel the duvet as I’m touching it.

‘You can’t feel anything physically,’ says Judd, ‘but you can feel emotions.’

‘So what happens now? We stay here in my bedroom until my body repairs itself? You are staying with me aren’t you?’

‘I’m staying for as long as you want, you created me here. And it’s not your body that needs repairing it’s your mind.’

‘How do I do that?’

‘You just need some time out, to refocus your mind, it’s a very powerful tool and can correct itself. If you want it to.’ He stares intently at me.

‘Well of course I want it to,’ his gaze is melting my internal organs, I can’t feel this physically but I know it’s happening, ‘although being trapped in my bedroom forever with you is quite tempting.’

He laughs. Loudly.

‘Oh, obviously not for you then.’ I know I’m blushing. ‘Are you even allowed your own opinion? I mean if I’ve created you shouldn’t you agree with me?’

‘I’m here as your voice of reason, subconsciously you’ve created me that way. And I didn’t laugh at the thought of being with you for eternity, that would give me the greatest pleasure.’

I don’t even care if he’s saying that because I’m making him say it. My internal organs are continuing to melt. I think I just lost a kidney.

‘I laughed because we’re not trapped in your bedroom.’ He stands and pushes his arm through the wall. It just glides through and back, like a plane through a cloud. ‘We can be anywhere you imagine. Just concentrate and focus.’

‘Concentrate and focus?’

He stands by the side of my bed. ‘Yep. Try it. Where do you want us to be?’

‘A beach.’

‘Great. Now think about the beach you want us to be at. Is it deserted or are there other people there? What season is it, hot or cold? You won’t be able to feel the temperature but it will affect the look.’

I start to imagine. My pink carpet subtly undulates. The carpet fibers change into sand, the palest beige sand, almost white. ‘Oh wow.’ The walls of my bedroom slowly dissolve revealing a beautiful blue skyline meeting an equally majestic turquoise sea that I can hear gently lapping close by. My bed morphs beneath me and I’m reclining on a padded wooden sun lounger with an identical one next to me. ‘This is amazing.’ I see a figure in the sea. ‘Is that Jenson Ackles waving at me?’

‘It is if you want it to be.’ Judd is still stood next to me. ‘Can I suggest you imagine me into beach wear, these pajamas are a bit warm.’ He winks at me.

I concentrate and imagine him to be wearing a pair of shorts and a kitsch Hawaiian shirt, bright pink and yellow. He is instantly transformed. I will save the speedo look for later.

He looks down at himself. ‘That’s better.’ He gestures to me.

I glance at my Minion pajamas, hardly suitable for this beach. I imagine a black swimming costume with a pretty floral sarong wrapped around me. I am instantly wearing this. I rearrange to sarong over my legs.

‘You look a bit self-conscious.’ Judd sits on the spare lounger. ‘I should point out that you can imagine yourself to be any shape that you want, and alter yourself in any way if it makes you feel better.’

‘Really?’

‘Yep.’ He shrugs.

I imagine myself thinner. I watch as my body neatly deflates to a smaller size, but stays taut and reveals nicely defined muscles. ‘Oh wow!’ I convert my black swimsuit into a gold bikini. I inflate my breasts a little. And a little more. ‘Is this what heaven feels like?’

‘Yes,’ Judd stops looking at my chest and makes eye contact with me, ‘I mean I don’t know, I’ve not been there.’

‘It must be. I am in heaven right now.’ I lie back on the lounger.

‘You are feeling happy? Content? Relaxed?’

‘Yes, yes, and yes. And we can stay here for as long as I want?’

‘Yes. Well…’

I sit back up. ‘What’s the well for?’

‘Well the longer you are not mentally connected with your physical body, I’m not sure how easy it will be to go back.’

‘I’m on a beach with you, Judd Nelson, why would I want to go back?’

‘For all that you have in your real life.’

‘Let me think about that. I’m a waitress in a dingy bar surviving day to day on tips, I’ve been single forever as I don’t trust anyone, I have no family that I speak to, and my social life consists of playing online scrabble with strangers and posting photos of food on Instagram. It kind of seems like a no brainer. What am I going to miss out on if I stay here?’

‘Food. You can create whatever food you want here but you can’t taste it. You can give us cocktails here but you can’t drink them.’

‘I can live without that.’

‘Ok, Smells. You can’t smell flowers, coffee, the sea.’

‘So, I also can’t smell nasty smells. Not a problem.’

‘Touch. You can’t feel physical touch here.’ He touches my arm, his fingers caressing my skin. ‘See.’

‘Yes, exactly, I can see you touching my arm, that makes me feel emotions, and that’s enough for me.’

‘For the rest of your life? No touching, tasting or smelling?’

‘I can see and I can hear and I can go anywhere I want and imagine anything I want. That is enough for me. This is the reality I want now.’

‘Shall I flick the switch then?’

‘What switch?’

‘There’s a switch that will cut off your mind from your body permanently, you will remain physically catatonic in hospital but exist permanently here.’

‘But won’t the hospital switch life support off?’

‘No, they will still detect brain activity so keep your body plugged in.’

‘Ok then, let’s do it.’

‘You sure?’

‘Never been surer.’ I settle back down on the lounger. ‘Flick that switch, let’s get this adventure started with a bang!’

Judd clicks his fingers. ‘Done.’

A cascade of pretty firework explosions fills the sky, but silently as I don’t like the loud noises that accompany them. A Caribbean steel band plays in the distance. I jump up to dance. My toes fall off.

‘What the…?’

Judd looks at my feet casually. ‘Ah, you’d forgotten your imagination can be a bit of a prat sometimes.’ He smiles. ‘Put them back on then.’

I look down at my feet stumps and scattered toes. I imagine them back on. My toes wriggle through the sand and back into place.

Judd stands up and moves in close to me. He wraps his arms around me, I can’t feel them but it feels good. ‘Can I kiss you?’

‘Of course.’

Melt. There goes my spleen.

 

 

 

Touch

Published July 17, 2016 by naomirettig

A stranger on a train made me cry. They didn’t say anything to me, they didn’t look at me, they were probably completely unaware of my existence, yet they had a profound effect on me.

On a busy train to London the carriages filled up. I tend to avoid having someone sit next to me by letting my face drop into ‘resting mode’. My resting mode face is a serial killer/prison warder combo. Plus, it helps that I am large, not many people want to squeeze into a seat next to the fattest person in the carriage. Especially on a warm day. Anyway, this particular day all the seats had filled up so I stared into space out of the window as we pulled into Reading station, resigned to the fact that I would have to share my personal space for the final half hour of my journey. I hate having someone in the seat next to me as I usually get people with foul aromas that smell of fish, urine, garlic, rancid armpits, or a combination of those. Or people who eat. But not pleasant things like mints or lemon sherbets, I get people sitting next to me who eat egg sandwiches, and, I kid you not, some woman once ate pilchards next to me, heads and everything. I had to close my eyes and coat my nostrils in peach lip balm to avoid vomit rising.

On this occasion though the only odor that wafted my way, as a man sat down next to me, was a delicious aftershave.  Lap tray down, laptop out, head down, answering his emails. I don’t think he even gave me a first glance let alone a second. I was pleased I hadn’t been joined by a reeker, an eater, or indeed a reeky eater. I carried on watching the countryside whizz by. Then something strange happened.

I was suddenly aware of the warmth from the strangers’ arm. Our arms were touching, aligned. Nothing remarkable, nothing exceptional, just two people squished together on a busy train. To someone else that may have been the end of the experience. But I felt an emotional surge. Feeling the warmth from another human being was quite overwhelming.

I have been single for a long time and those closest to me (my mum and my daughter) are non-touchy feely people, no I love you’s, or hugs or affection. Which is fine for them, that is who they are. I however am a touchy feely person. But I have lived without physical human contact for such a long time that I’d actually forgotten how it felt. And I don’t mean in a sexual way, just in the sensory form of touch. Sat next to the man on the train, absorbing his body heat I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry because it felt good and I remembered the feeling of being physically close with a loved one. The random thought that went through my head was ‘if I was sat on a sofa with a partner this is what it would feel like’. (It’s irrelevant that I don’t have a sofa to go with a non-existent partner). I also wanted to cry because I thought of everyone else having someone they love to hold and touch, yet all I had was this random stranger on a train. I felt sorry for myself and I hated that.

The experience has passed. I’m now back to feeling fine with my unwritten no contact clause. It now doesn’t bother me again, just that one moment on the train. Obviously it made a difference that the man on the train was good looking and wore a wonderful aftershave, if it had been the lady in tweed from a few weeks earlier who smelled of onions and eels I don’t think I would have had the same experience.

So the moral of my tale is enjoy your human contact, be it on the sofa next to a loved one or sat next to a stranger on a train. But don’t go touching random people or holding hands with strangers, that might get you into trouble. Just be thankful.

Emmerdead

Published May 22, 2016 by naomirettig

Emmerdead.

When characters in the soap Emmerdale die they disappear from our screens, but secretly they have the choice of moving on to the afterlife or moving into Emmerdead which is a replica of the village, but just full of dead characters going about their daily lives. Residents in Emmerdale are unaware of the Emmerdead village, they might not be so scared of dying if they did, but Emmerdead residents regularly watch Emmerdale on their TV’s to keep an eye on any loved ones left in village. Or to just be nosey. Current residents in Emmerdead are:

 

The Dingles live at the traditional Dingle dwelling, Wishing Well Cottage. Head of the household is Shadrach, still drinking and avoiding soap, of the washing kind. His daughter Gennie is with him. She is a mobile hairdresser, zipping around the countryside on a pink scooter. Shadrach’s nephews Butch and Ben farm pigs to sell to the village butchers. The brothers constantly vie with each other to get Gennie’s attention. She keeps pointing out they’re cousins but they say that doesn’t matter as they didn’t grow up together. Alice Dingle watches over Sam and their son Samson in Emmerdale via the TV, she approved of Rachel but wishes Sam would stop mooning over Megan. Alice rears chickens and sells the eggs.

 

Pollard’s Barn is inhabited by two of Eric’s wives, Val and Elizabeth, and Dave Glover. Val and Elizabeth both constantly argue over who Eric will choose when he gets there. Dave hopes Eric will choose to go straight to the afterlife as he is currently Val’s toy-boy and won’t be giving her up without a fight. Val has a massage studio set up at the barn, ‘Valerie’s Heavenly Bodies’, and works as a masseuse alongside Dave. They regularly practice on each other. Elizabeth is a seamstress, making and repairing clothes. She is very disapproving of Val and Dave.

 

Butler’s Farm is home to one of the Sugden families. Joe runs the farm here with his wife Kate. Kates children Rachel and Mark Hughes help on the farm. Pete Whiteley also lives here and works on the farm. Kate felt guilty for killing him so employed him. Pete is now back in a relationship with Rachel, although enjoys flirting with Kate in private, taking advantage of her guilt.

 

Holdgate farm is home to the Tate’s. Frank and his two sons Chris Tate and Liam Hammond living under the same roof leads to a lot of tension at times. Liam is finally starting to bond with his estranged dad but Chris is very territorial in the son department. They own the factory next door and run a brewery from there. Their top selling beers are ‘Emmerdale Elite’, ‘Franks Feisty First’ and ‘The Knobbly Nob’. Liam gets his hair cut more than he needs to as he has a crush on Gennie Dingle. Chris wants Gennie to go out with him just so he can get one up on his half-brother.

 

Home Farm is back in the hands of the King’s. Tom King and Rosemary King rule the roost with Tom’s sons Matthew and Carl running the estate. Tom has forgiven Carl for killing him but favours Matthew at all times. Carl is now married to DCI Grace Barraclough and she lives there too. She clashes quite a lot with Rosemary. Frank Tate flirts with Rosemary King at every opportunity he gets, sometimes she flirts back.

 

Seth and Meg Armstrong live at Tall Trees cottage and Archie Brooks is their lodger. Archie is the gamekeeper at Home Farm, Seth often accompanies him to escape from Meg’s nagging at home. Smokey the dog is always by Seth’s side. When not tagging along with Archie at Home Farm Seth can be found in the pub.

 

Donald De Souza lives in The Mill. He is the village vicar now after finding God. He has forgiven Matthew King for withholding his heart pills when he was having a heart attack and then subsequently died. Donald’s church services are regularly busy, there are a lot of people looking for redemption in Emmerdead.

 

David’s Shop doesn’t exist here in Emmerdead, instead it is ‘Woods & Windsor’, shop and post office. The post office side is run by Vic Windsor; the shop is run by Terry Woods. Viv Hope works in both sides alongside each of her husbands. Donna Windsor works in the post office with her dad, and Dawn Woods works in the shop with her dad. They all live together next door in Farrers Barn. Viv spends alternative nights with Terry and Vic, this works well most of the time but does cause some friction between the two husbands.

 

Viv’s first husband Reg Dawson lives in Keepers Cottage. He doesn’t live with her like the others but watches from a distance and is quite reclusive. He tries to avoid bumping into Shirley Turner around the village as he feels guilty for shooting her.

 

Tenants cottage is occupied by Robbie Lawson. He watches over his mum Megan and baby sister Eliza on Emmerdale via his TV. He is the village postman and there is a fledgling romance between him and Donna, which started in the village Post Office. Donna watches Emmerdale with Robbie so she can check on her daughter April.

 

Cameron Murray lives at Jacobs Fold. He runs the garage, called ‘Murray’s Motors’ here. He offers free servicing for anyone he has murdered. Gennie brings her scooter here and Carl King brings all the Home farm vehicles in. Alex Moss chose to go straight to the afterlife so Cameron is saved a little extra work there, but he is still kept very busy.

 

Pear tree cottage is not Beuaty and Bernice here, but a butchers. It’s owned by Brian Addyman and his daughter Katie Sugden. They live above it but Katie is fed up smelling like raw meat so is trying to persuade the Kings to have a stables back at Home farm so she can work there. She also has the hots for matthew King and quite fancies living at Home farm too.

 

Dale View is home to Nick Henshall. He is still a policeman, partnered with DCI Grace Barraclough. He is still smitten with Katie Sugden but she does her best to ignore him here. He buys a lot of meat. Every day.

 

Connelton View is the home and practice of the village doctor Adam Forsythe. Even though he’s technically not a doctor as he was using his fathers’ certification to practice in Emmerdale, the villagers here don’t seem to mind. They just keep an eye on the fire extinguisher when being examined.

 

Graham Clark lives at Victoria Cottage. He is devastated that Rachel Hughes is in a relationship with Pete Whiteley, but she obviously doesn’t want anything to do with Graham as he murdered her. Graham no longer teaches; he is the delivery driver for the Tate’s brewery.

 

The Café is ‘Wyldes Wine Cellar’ here in Emmerdead. Owned and run by Mark Wylde who lives above it. During the day it is a wine shop and by evening it is a wine bar.

 

Brook Cottage has a reputation as a party house. Parties happen quite regularly and quite loudly. The residents are Linda Fowler, Luke McAllister, and Paul Marsden. All four work at the Tate’s brewery and have a habit of smuggling booze home with them. Linda disapproves of her brother Dave’s relationship with Val and tries to get him to party with ‘the younger crowd’ whenever she can. Luke has a crush on Linda but she has a crush on Paul. Paul just likes to party.

 

The veterinary surgery is run by Max King. He lives next door in Smithy Cottage with Mia Macey, they are madly and sickeningly in love. They bonded over their shared experience of being killed in car accidents. Mia is receptionist at the vet’s. They have a pet cat called Maurice and regularly go for Sunday lunch at Home Farm with Max’s family.

 

Mulberry Cottage has Jackson Walsh and Hilary Potts living in it. Hilary is Jackson’s personal assistant and they have a lot of fun and adventures together. Currently they are learning French.

 

The Grange is a B&B here too in Emmerdead. It is run by Tess Harris and Ruby Haswell. They also share a room, Tess discovered she was bi-sexual after meeting and falling in love with Ruby. They are very romantic and leave each other poems and messages around the B&B. When Ruby cooks breakfast for Tess and the guests she cuts the toast into heart shapes and fries eggs in heart shapes too.

 

Alan Turner is the landlord of The Woolpack. His son Terrence does all the heavy manual work while his granddaughter Tricia Dingle is everyone’s favourite barmaid. Alan’s wife Shirley also works behind the bar, as does his girlfriend Shelley Williams. This causes some tension. They all live in the pub but Shirley shares Alans bed, not Shelley. Shelley and Alan have a purely platonic relationship now. Reg Dawson is banned from the pub as he killed Shirley and Alan hasn’t forgiven him, but Dr. Adam Forsythe isn’t banned, even though he killed Terrence, as Alan thinks that wasn’t such a bad thing to do considering Terrence had sexually abused his sister Steph.

 

Edna is back in Woodbine Cottage, reunited with Batley the dog. When she arrived in Emmerdead she found Len Reynolds living in the cottage with his daughter-in-law Angie Reynolds. She agreed to move in with them but on a strict understanding that her and Len would be just friends. Len thinks this will change. Angie works in Wylde’s Wine Cellar and there is a great deal of sexual tension between her and her boss Mark Wylde.

 

Henry Wilks’ old house Inglebrook is occupied once again by Henry Wilks. Henry spends most of his time in The Woolpack though. He has a soft spot for new resident Edna and that is causing tension between him and Len.

 

Tug Ghyll Cottage is home to Peggy Skillbeck and her twins Sam and Sally. She is a regular visitor to both her brothers Jack and Joe’s farms, having a secret crush on Jack’s employee John Barton. Also living with Peggy and the twins is Sharon Crossthwaite. She was Peggy’s mum Annie’s cousin. Even though she is only seventeen years old she is Emmerdead’s longest residing villager, being the first murder victim over in Emmerdale back in 1973. She is the housekeeper at Home Farm and babysitter for Peggy. Peggy cleans at the brewery.

 

The Malt Shovel is featured in Emmerdead and is run by Gordon Livesy. It is not a popular pub but Gordon thinks he can turn things around. His main customer is Reg Dawson, Reg hasn’t told Gordon he is banned from The Woolpack. Other regular customers include Cameron Murray and Graham Clarke. Terrence Turner prefers to drink here than in his own family pub The Woolpack. Illegal gambling and after hours drinking occurs regularly.

 

The original Emmerdale farm is a working farm here in Emmerdead and is the other Sugden farm, in slightly healthy competition with Joe Sugden at Butlers farm. Joes brother Jack runs Emmerdale Farm. His two wives Pat and Sarah live with him, but neither share his bed as he can’t choose between them. His son Jackie Merrick, also Pat’s son, lives with them and works on the farm. Jacks granddad Sam Pearson lives there and so does Jacks father-in-law Leonard Kempinski. Leonard is waiting for his lovely Annie to join him. The two men are grumpy and cantankerous, think Statler and Waldorf from The Muppets, but enjoy each other’s company and misbehave quite a lot. John Barton works for Jack, and lives there too. John is having a secret affair with Sarah Sugden and often shares her bed at night. If Jack were to find out it would probably make his mind up about which wife to choose!

DeadEnders

Published May 20, 2016 by naomirettig

DeadEnders

When characters die in Eastenders they disappear from our screens, but, unseen by us the viewer, they actually have the choice of moving to the Dead End. It’s a complete replica of the Eastenders set but just inhabited by deceased characters. Their day to day lives carry on in this separate ectoplasmic soap opera. While the characters in Eastenders are unaware of this alternative Square, the characters of DeadEnders regularly watch Eastenders on their televisions; to keep an eye on their loved ones, take bets on who will be joining them next, and enjoy catching up on all the gossip. Here are the current residents of DeadEnders:

Number 1 Albert Square is still three separate dwellings, not the converted house that Kim and Vincent currently live in. 1a is a doctors’ surgery where Dr. May Wright practices as she is no longer struck off. She lives in 1c, with Eddie Royal, who likes being kept on his toes by the unhinged GP. Eddie runs the local bookmakers. He likes a gamble.

The 1b flat is occupied by Ethel Skinner and her little Willie, the pug. She is now married to Reg Cox. Reg was never seen animated in Eastenders as he was the body found in the opening episode, so he jumped at the opportunity to set up residence here. Now Ethel has a Willie and Cox keeping her company. Snigger.

In flat 3a you’ll find Jase Dyer, constantly watching over his son Jay in Eastenders via his TV. He is the local builder and handyman and has been single ever since being here.

Flat 3b homes Johnny Allen and Andy Hunter. Even though Johnny murdered Andy they have decided that keeping enemies closer is the best practice here. They’ve even gone into business together running ‘The Barbed Whip’, a members only gentleman’s club ‘up west’.

Flat 3c, currently occupied by Stacey and Martin in Eastenders, is the home of Steve Owen, Saskia Duncan and Steve’s mum Barbara. Saskia waited here for Steve, and feeling guilty for killing her, he moved in with her. He was surprised to find his mum already living with Saskia and wishes she would move out and on to the afterlife. Barbara Owen enjoys tormenting her son too much though. Steve now works at a funeral directors and regularly volunteers for overtime.

Number 5 (being turned into flats by Jack in Eastenders) houses Jim and Reenie Branning, reunited after many years. Reenie gets jealous when she finds Jim watching Dot on Eastenders. Their son Derek Branning, and grandsons Bradley Branning and Billie Jackson live with them. Derek is a taxi driver. Bradley is a teacher and Billie works on the market on a butchers’ stall. Wellard the dog is there too; he likes to hang out by Billie’s stall.

Numbers 18-20 are a B&B run by Owen Turner and Trina Johnson. They hooked up together after bonding over both being victims of Lucas Johnson. Their reputation and grisly deaths puts punters off staying at the B&B though so their only current residents are evil Harry Slater and the equally despicable Trevor Morgan. Both unemployed and both thinking they are victims.

Number 23 (currently flats, Shirley and Buster live in one) is a house here. Charlie and Viv Slater have reunited, along with Charlie’s sister Vi Slater. It’s a house full of tension, the two women are constantly clashing, and with Harry and Trevor on the square too there are quite a lot of fisticuffs.

Number 25 (Dot, Jack, Amy and Abi live here in Eastenders) is occupied by Cottons. Three generations. Charlie, Nick and Ashley. Think Steptoe and Son. And Son. There is always a dodgy deal going on here.

Number 27 (Ronnie and Sharon’s home in Eastenders) is a happy home. Nana Moon, Danny Moon and Michael Moon live here. Michael has mellowed a lot after dying, and him and Danny are Estate Agents. They are always competing for both sales and women. In a fun, light hearted way. Nana Moon dotes on the boys and always has tea on the table ready for them.

Flat 29a is home to Arthur ‘Fatboy’ Chubb. He is a full time DJ and events coordinator and has a string of beautiful women turning up on his doorstep.

His neighbour in flat 29b is Dennis Rickman. He works as a barman and has an equal amount of gorgeous ladies toing and froing from the flat. Dennis and Fatboy go on regular nights out together when not working.

Number 31 (where Sonia, Tina and Rebecca live in Eastenders) is home to Lou Beale, her son Pete Beale and her great granddaughter Lucy Beale. Pete is in his element back on his fruit and veg stall, where Lucy also helps out. Lou still gives advice to everyone even when they don’t want it.

Number 41 is quite empty now in Eastenders with just Masood living there, but here in DeadEnders it’s a lively house with Pat and Frank Butcher, and Frank’s mum Mo Butcher. Frank and Pat run their car lot on the square while Mo supervises everything. Much to Pat’s annoyance.

Flat 43a is inhabited by Cindy Beale. Her daughter Lucy wanted to live there with her but Cindy runs an escort agency from home so insisted Lucy live with her Grandad and Great Grandma across the road. Mum and daughter are still getting to know each other and are enjoying bonding again with regular trips up west, lunch and shopping.

Flat 43b is always full of the sound of George Michael. Heather Trott lives here and, strangely, gets on very well with her neighbour Cindy. This unlikely duo often pop into each other’s flats for drinks and chit chat. Heather works in the café for the Fowlers. She likes to make her George Michael special, which is just cheese on toast with ‘wham’ written across it in tomato sauce.

The third flat in a trio of girly flats, 43c, is occupied by Laura Beale. She is envious of Cindy and Heathers friendship and is always trying to tag along with them. She is the cleaner at The Queen Vic. She is always pestering Pete Beale to let her work on the stall with him.

Number 45 (where Ian Beale lives in Eastenders) is occupied here by the original tenants Pauline and Arthur Fowler. Their son Mark and his wife Gill live with them. They own the café. Pauline, Mark and Gill work there, along with Heather. Arthur grows veg for Pete’s stall on his allotment.

The Queen Vic (number 46) has Peggy Mitchell back behind the bar. Archie Mitchell was waiting for her and runs the pub with her but she still keeps her eye on Frank Butcher. Jamie Mitchell lives there too; he is a mechanic and runs the garage. Peggy’s daughter in law Tiffany Mitchell lives with them too, she is a barmaid there and also runs her own mobile beauty business. Tiffany has an on/off relationship with Dennis Rickman who is a barman there.

Flat 47a is occupied by Stan Carter. Stan had an epiphany after dying and moving here, he now regularly attends church and is often quoting from the bible. He regular gives sermons in the gardens in the square. Usually to an audience of zero.

His neighbours in Flat 47b are his ex-son-in-law Kevin Wicks and his grandson Jimbo Wicks. Kevin was delighted to find his son Jimbo waiting for him. Kevin runs a hardware stall in the market and Jimbo helps out when he can. Kevin is not having much luck with the ladies, despite trying hard.

Number 89 George Street (Billy Mitchell currently lives there in Eastenders) is home to Ronnie Mitchell’s daughter Danielle Jones and Ronnie’s baby son James Branning. Danielle looks after her half-brother as if he is her own. Archie keeps asking for them to move into the Vic with him but Danielle can’t forgive him for putting her up for adoption when she was a baby. She does some child minding from home. She has a crush on Billie Jackson.

Number 91 George Street is home to Barry and Roy Evans. Father and son run a solar panel company called ‘Evans Above’. Roy is still in love with Pat Butcher. Barry and Heather Trott keep having one night stands together. Heather would like a more permanent relationship but Barry keeps thinking someone better will come along, not realizing the gem that Heather is.

Number 53a Turpin Road is the flat above the undertakers where the Coker’s live in Eastenders. Here in DeadEnders Paul and Audrey Trueman live above a florist. Audrey runs the shop and does the flower arranging while her son Paul does the deliveries, and skives in the pub and the bookies. He fancies Cindy Beale.

Number 55 Victoria Road (where Phil Mitchell, Jay, Ben and Louise live in Eastenders) is the home of Den and Angie Watts. They run a dating agency together, ‘Watts Love’. Occasionally sleeping with their clients behind each other’s backs. Roly the dog is with them. He is depressed.

Eurovision Top 10 -2016

Published March 31, 2016 by naomirettig

After listening to all entries again and again, I have narrowed down my top ten Eurovision songs for this year’s contest. (To save anyone feeling compelled to read through my reviews on all 43).

  1. Finland – I just love this song so much! I think I’m in the minority though as it’s 100/1 with William Hill (other betting sites are available) right now. I love the energy, the sentiment, the tune you can dance to, Sandhja the artist – I love her, her hair and the fringing on her leisurewear in the video. I’ve even ordered an electric blue swimsuit with heavy fringing on it to wear on Eurovision night in tribute. Yes, after repeat playing repeatedly, this is my favourite song this year.
  2. Russia – This is tipped by the bookies at 6/4 favourite and I can see why. Catchy tune, dance factor high, Sergey is gorgeous, eye-catching video. I just wonder if it’s too much like Mans Zelmerlow’s winning song last year. Gorgeous bloke, upbeat dance track, clever digital stage animation. I’m not complaining with that, but maybe something different for this year? (Like a girl, with shaved hair, and fringed clothing).
  3. Armenia – This is now on my mp3 player too. This is very Eurovision to me, beautiful lady, eastern European sounding stringed instruments, dramatic, and when the beat drops at 49 seconds in – I get a tingly spine. Tingly spines are good. 25/1 with the bookies. I’m predicting a wind machine on stage.
  4. France – Now I don’t normally like the French entry, I just don’t seem to be on a musical level with France, but I really like this one. It has a catchy chorus in English I can sing along to, verses in French I can pretend to sing along to, and some ooh’s. Good oohing in a song works for me. No fringing, but I’m happy with the ooh’s. 12/1 with the bookies.
  5. Belgium – An upbeat cheery song, good to dance to and sing along with. Cute singer Laura, but not overly cute. I think she will bring great energy to the stage in Sweden. No fringing but a sparkly silver jacket I am a little envious of. 100/1 odds at the bookies so not many people sharing my choice here.
  6. Iceland – Extreme fringing alert, combined with a wind machine. Excellent. Has a lovely Celtic feel to it, Greta has a lovely voice, slow bits and dancy bits, something for everyone. I think this will be staged very well. Wind machine or smoke machine? That will be my question on the night. If it’s both I don’t think my excitement levels will cope. 50/1 odds, the same as us in the UK so not much chance of winning.
  7. San Marino – When I first heard this song I think I scored it one of my least favorites’ but this is a grower for me. Serhat has a voice like gravel coated in treacle, rolled in oats and shoved deep in a volcano. At first listen I found this menacing and creepy and it came across, not as a love song, but as someone I would get a restraining order for. It has now grown on me, helped by the disco backing. In fact, it’s the disco backing that saved it for me. 100/1 odds but I don’t think this will make it past the semi-final stage unfortunately.
  8. Netherlands – Now I didn’t think I’d like this one, it has a country music twang to it, which is not normally my cup of tea. However, this is catchy and the chap singing and playing guitar is easy on the eye. Although I do get distracted by his name, Douwe Bob. I just think of the coffee Douwe Egberts. Other coffees are available, although Nescafe Jim didn’t make this year’s contest. 66/1 at the bookies, not looking good considering the UK is 50/1 and we all know there’s zero chance of us winning.
  9. Denmark – Three lovely men with three good voices. No fringing, wind machine or smoke machine but a good chorus with a bit that makes you want to punch the air. You’ll know when. 100/1 odds at present, I don’t think Denmark will be hosting next year.
  10. Cyprus – Something a bit different, gravelly rock with euro-pop vibes. Could Eurovision viewers want something alternative this year? I certainly enjoyed it and with odds of 25/1 it seems to stand a fair chance.

 

So there’s my top 10 of Eurovision 2016. I want Finland to win so much I am tempting fate by saying that if they make it through the semi-final I will record my dance routine to ‘Sing it Away’ while wearing my fringed swimsuit. If they then go on and win I shall post it online! But before a petition starts up to stop this happening (I’m well aware it won’t be a pretty sight) let me remind you it’s 100/1 odds. The UK is 50/1. We’ve got more chance of winning twice in one night than I have appearing on Youtube in an electric blue fringed swimsuit.

 

Now, what shoes would match my swimwear….just in case 😉

Eurovision Song Contest 2016 Preview

Published March 24, 2016 by naomirettig

I’ve listened to and watched (via the official Eurovision videos) all forty-three entries for Eurovision this year. I know, sad, mad or dedicated, take your pick. Here’s my summary and my scores. The scores are out of thirty. I’ve scored them on their videos but during the contest that will change to scoring on their stage performance. So my winner is not set in stone yet! It’s also worth pointing out that my winner last year was Austria, who actually came last. I’ve also listed them in the order that they will perform in the two semi-finals, with the automatic finalists listed last. Wave your flags and get your dance pants on, here we go:

Semi-final 1:

Armenia – (LoveWave by Iveta Mukuchyan) 49 seconds in and I feel like I’m on a jet plane with g-force tugging at my sequins. Lots of oohs to sing along with. Wind machine usage in the video that I’m sure will be transferred to the stage. Beautiful singer. Arty video. Lovely man with long hair too in the video, he doesn’t sing but looks pretty and moody at the same time, I hope he’s on stage. Scores: Song 8, Artist 9, Video 8. Total: 25

Croatia – (Lighthouse by Nina Kraljic) The time lapse video of the coast by the lighthouse looks like the idents they play between songs on the night itself. Typical ballad, nothing new or exciting. Don’t know what Nina looks like as she wasn’t in the video, a surprise for the night. Scores: Song 5, Artist 5, Video 2. Total: 12

Finland – (Sing it Away by Sandhja) Leisure wear with fringes, a smoke machine in kids’ park, horses on a beach and in the woods. Interesting video. A small selection of sad kids in said video not so depressed after ‘singing it away’. Upbeat song. Scores: Song 9, Artist 9, Video 8. Total: 26

Greece – (Utopian land by Argo) Haunting stringed instruments, a Greek rapper that wouldn’t be out of place in Goldie Lookin’ Chain, as I swear I heard a Newport accent. Sung in Greek. Black and white video of a topless man running which got tedious after a while, this is Eurovision, not Baywatch. Scores: Song 6, Artist 4, Video 5. Total: 15

Hungary – (Pioneer by Freddie) Air traffic control glow sticks and a drumming monk, a gravelly voice on a handsome man. Nice song, too average though. Scores: Song 6, Artist 8, Video 6. Total: 20

Moldova – (Falling Stars by Lidia Isac) Wind machine usage high. Pretty Lidia reminds me of Paris Hilton. Typical sounding Eurovision uplifting song. Nice drum at the end. Scores: Song 7, Artist 7, Video 4. Total: 18

Netherlands – (Slow down by Douwe Bob) Good looking chap playing guitar with a country music twang. Video is of him and friends hanging about in a bar. I’d have a drink with him. Scores: Song 8, Artist 9, Video 7. Total: 24

Russia – (You are the only one by Sergey Lazarev) Love this one but is it too much like last years’ winner? Fantastic video, digital trickery, very creative. Interesting to see if they stage it like last years on the night. Hot bloke. Dancy tune. Scores: Song 9, Artist 9, Video 10. Total: 28

San Marino – (I didn’t know by Serhat) This has a seventies vibe for me. Serhat has such a deep voice he makes Barry White sound falsetto. I actually found his voice quite menacing though rather than seducing. Scores: Song 5, Artist 5, Video 4. Total: 14

Austria – (Loin D’ici by Zoe) A pretty redhead singing a pretty song, and a pretty video of her walking through the seasons. With a wind machine. Scores: Song 6, Artist 7, Video 6. Total: 19

Azerbaijan – (Miracle by Samra) An upbeat dancy song. Catchy. Scores: Song 7, Artist 8, Video 6. Total: 21

Bosnia & Herzegovina – (Ljubav Je by Dalal and Deen feat Ana Rucner and Jala) Very rustic and charming, good electric cello usage. Ambushed in middle though by a performance by a rapper which didn’t fit for me. I would have called security. Scores: Song 4, Artist 4, Video 4. Total: 12

Cyprus – (Alter Ego by Minus One) Ooh rock and euro vibes combo. A gravelly voiced rock band but good to dance to. Fun desert video. Scores: Song 8, Artist 9, Video 8. Total: 25

Czech Republic – (I Stand by Gabriela Guncikova) Beautiful lady with an amazing voice. Good solid ballad. Fun video, I loved the flowers at the end. Scores: Song 6, Artist 8, Video 7. Total: 21

Estonia – (Play by Juri Pootsmann) Very smart young man. Catchy tune. Another deep voice but not a scary one. Scores: Song 7, Artist 8, Video 5. Totals: 20

Iceland – (Hear Them Calling by Greta Salome) Extreme fringing and a wind machine! Celtic feel. Slow bits and dancy bits. Great energy. Scores: song 8, Artist 8, video 6. Totals: 22

Malta – (Walk on Water by Ira Losco) Good dance track. Middle of the road for me. Scores: Song 6, Artist 7, Video 6. Total: 19

Montenegro – (The Real Thing by Highway) Grungy, more hardcore. Lady dancing in a leotard was distracting as it was mismatched with the song. Different but not my cup of tea, too much of a downer for Eurovision. Scores: Song 4, Artist 5, Video 5. Total: 14

Semi-final 2:

Australia – (Sound of Silence by Dami Im) Ballad, beautiful lady, smoke machine, topless man dancing. Average. Scores: Song 6, Artist 8, Video 6. Total: 20

Belarus – (Help You Fly by Ivan) Didn’t grab me. Nice enough song but it doesn’t stick in my mind. Scores: Song 6, Artist 6, Video 5. Total: 17

Ireland – (Sunlight by Nicky Byrne) They kindly put the lyrics on the video so that you can sing along. Nice tune and Nicky, formally of Westlife, has a great voice but not shouting winner at me. Scores: Song 7, Artist 8, Video 7. Total: 22

Israel – (Made of Stars by Hovi Star) Nice but nothing special. Scores: Song 6, Artist 6, Video 6. Total 18

Latvia – (Heartbeat by Justs) Felt that this was missing something. Had potential but didn’t deliver for me. It could be a grower. Scores: Song 6, Artist 6, Video 6. Total: 18

Lithuania – (I’ve Been Waiting for this Night by Donny Montell) Uplifting song, fun video, fit bloke. Scores: Song 7, Artist 8, Video 7. Total: 22

Macedonia – (Dona by Kaliopi) I didn’t enjoy this one, too screechy for me. Scores: Song 4, Artist 5, Video 5. Total: 14

Poland – (Colour of Your Life by Michal Szpak) Ballad. Michal is a man with long hair and a wind machine. He gave lots of Zoolander looks. Found this song a bit cheesy. Scores: Song 5, Artist 5, Video 5. Total: 15

Serbia – (Goodbye by ZAA Sanja Vucic) The singer looks like she’s possessed, or had too much caffeine, lots of jerky movements. Quite dramatic. Nice orchestra. Scores: Song 6, Artist 6, Video 5. Total: 17

Switzerland – (The Last of Our Kind by Rykka) Dull ballad. Scores: Song 5, Artist 5, Video 5. Total: 15

Albania – (Fairytale by Eneda Tarifa) Average. Didn’t grab me. Although I liked her hood at the end of the video, she looked like a Venus flytrap closing. Scores: Song 4, Artist 5, Video 6. Total: 15

Belgium – (What’s The Pressure by Laura Tesoro) I thought it was ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ when it started. The video looks like an ad for GAP clothing range. It reminds me of another song too that I can’t put my finger on. Lively, upbeat, funky with high energy. Scores: Song 8, Artist 8, Video 7. Total: 23

Bulgaria – (If Love Was a Crime by Poli Genova) I liked the bits that sound like helium was used and some bits reminded me of the Clangers. Catchy. Dancy. Scores: Song 8, Artist 8, Video 7. Total 23

Denmark – (Soldiers of Love by Lighthouse X) They can be my soldiers of love, handsome men with good voices. Catchy tune. Uplifting. Has a bit where you want to jump up and punch the air. Scores: Song 8, Artist 9, Video 7. Total: 24

Georgia – (Midnight Gold by Nika Kocharov and Young Georgian Lolitaz) Nighties Manchester just arrived in Georgia with a synth-pop back up. Scores: Song 6, Artist 7, Video 8. Total: 21

Norway – (Icebreaker by Agnete) Sparkly blonde with a smoke machine and laser beams, but it didn’t do anything for me. Scores: Song 5, Artist 5, Video 5. Total 15

Romania – (Moment of Silence by Ovidiu Anton) Melodramatic West End Musical meets rock opera. Not for me. Scores: Song 4, Artist 4, Video 4. Total: 12

Slovenia – (Blue and Red by ManuElla) Vibes of country music and The Corrs. Spoiler: I knew she had another outfit on underneath her first outfit as she was an odd shape. It was no Bucks fizz moment. Scores: Song 6, Artist 6, Video 5. Total: 17

Ukraine – (1944 by Jamala) Crikey! The song starts with the line ‘when strangers come to you house and kill you all’. Cheery little number it is not. Wailing and miserable. Jamala sings ‘our souls’ but it sounds like arseholes to me. Scores: Song 2, Artist 2, Video 3. Total: 7

Finalists:

Sweden – (If I Were Sorry by Frans) Starts with talking which I dislike. Sweet but underwhelming. Scores: Song 5, Artist 5, Video 5. Total 15

France – (J’ai Cherche by Amir) Catchy. Bi-lingual. The singer reminds me of James Purefoy. Uplifting. Scores: Song 7, Artist 8, Video 8. Total: 23

Germany – (Ghost by Jamie-Lee) I was far too distracted by the weird outfit Jamie-Lee was wearing, this was just as well as I found the song quite dull. Scores: Song 4, Artist 4, Video 5. Total: 13

Italy – (No Degree of Separation by Fancesca Michielin) Not my cup of tea. Average song. Scores: Song 5, Artist 5, Video 0. Total: 10

Spain – (Say Yay by Barei) Good dance tune, cracking voice. Score: Song 7, Artist 8, Video 7.  Total: 22

UK – (You’re Not Alone by Joe and Jake) I like this one, I picked it in the UK vote when it was chosen for the contest. Catchy tune, nice lads, but we won’t score high. Scores: Song 7, Artist 8, Video 7.  Total: 22

So there you go, my opinions on the Eurovision entries for 2016. My results are: 1st Russia, 2nd Finland, 3rd Armenia & Cyprus, and 5th Netherlands & Denmark. Roll on May 10th, 12th and 14th! Get your Eurovision party started!

Lesser Known Disappointing Book Sequels

Published November 22, 2015 by naomirettig

1. The Portrait of a Lady – The Selfie of a Ladette
2. Cold Mountain – Chilly Hill
3. Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café – Baked Red Peppers at the Hum Go Tearoom
4. Three Men in a Boat – Five Men in a Canoe
5. The Thirty Nine Steps – The Forty Steps
6. Brave New World – Cowardly Old World
7. The Quiet American – The Noisy Canadian
8. The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie – The Retirement of Miss Jean Brodie
9. Catch 22 – Catch 23
10. Far From The Madding Crowd – In the Midst of a Quiet Gathering
11. P.S. I Love You – P.P.S. Divorce Papers are in the Post
12. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe – The Lion, the Witch, and the Sideboard
13. The Very Hungry Caterpillar – The Full Up Butterfly
14. The Grapes of Wrath – The Sultanas of Anger
15. Life of Pi – Death of Quiche
16. Lord of the Rings – Lord of the Bangles
17. Little Women – Bigger Women
18. Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy – Hitchhikers Guide to the Toblerone
19. Wuthering Heights – Wuthering Lows
20. The Da Vinci code – The Pollock Code
21. The Picture of Dorian Gray – The Snapchat of Dorian Gray
22. Lord of the Flies – Duke of the Spiders
23. Fahrenheit 451 – Celsius 15
24. Trainspotting – Buswatching
25. Of Mice and Men – Of Gerbils and Girls
26. The Lovely Bones – The Quite Nice Veins
27. Middlemarch – Endstroll
28. Catcher in the Rye – Tosser in the Wheat
29. The Firm – The Wobbly
30. Watership Down – Fireboat Up
31. Breakfast at Tiffany’s – Lunch at Bianca’s
32. Great Expectations – Mild Assumptions
33. The Secret Life of Bees – The Exhibitionist Life of Wasps
34. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil – Midday in the Allotment of Shallots and Chives
35. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time – The Mundane Appearance of the Cat in the Day Time
36. Lonesome Dove – Popular Pigeon
37. In Cold Blood – In Warm Saliva
38. And Then There Were None – And Then There Were a Few More Found
39. A Walk to Remember – A Jog to Forget
40. Eat, Pray, Love – Starve, Swear, Loathe
41. It – That
42. The Virgin Suicides – The Loose Women Murders
43. Heart of Darkness – Liver of Light
44. Oliver Twist – Oliver Jive
45. Flowers in the Attic – Potpourri in the Basement
46. David Copperfield – David Silvermeadow
47. Shogun – Hideknife
48. A Room With a View – A Back Bedroom With No Windows
49. The Neverending Story – The End of the Story
50. Girl with a Pearl Earring – Woman with a Pearl Necklace
51. The Velveteen Rabbit – The Velcro Hedgehog
52. I, Robot – You, Human
53. The Secret – The Well Known Fact
54. A Streetcar Named Desire – A Pushbike Named Passion
55. Roots – Split Ends
56. The House of Spirits – The Apartment of Soft Drinks
57. The Cider House Rules – The Gin Shed Anarchy
58. The Green Mile – The Purple Kilometre
59. Never let me Go – F**k Off
60. Howl’s Moving Castle – Howl’s Static Caravan

Valentine’s Day for Singles

Published February 9, 2015 by naomirettig

It’s that annoying time of the year again when shop windows fill with a sea of red love hearts and loved up smug couples flaunt their sickly sweet soulmate status, while feeling sorry for singletons and their miserable lonely existences. Yes, I’m not a fan of the over commercialised event of Valentine’s Day.
I don’t like the fact that florists, hotels and restaurants hike up their prices for this day – I know they are in business and need to make money but I still find it distasteful. I don’t like the assumption that it’s just this one day of the year that you show the person that you love you care – you don’t need a special day to do this. I don’t like couples who send vomit inducing messages on social media for all to see –tell each other privately, why do you need to tell everyone/show off about it.
Now don’t get me wrong, I am surprisingly an eternal romantic even though I’ve been single for many years now. I’m more in love with the idea of being in love than actually being in love though. It’s exciting to imagine that my soulmate is out there somewhere and that fate will guide us together in some mysterious circumstance, our eyes will meet and we will instantly know we are destined to be together for eternity. But in reality I know the chances of this happening are a slither of slim. I manage to hide this hope of ‘my soulmate is out there’ at the back of my brain, filed away with ‘someone will invent calorie free chocolate’ and ‘if I mentally promise to donate half to charity I will win the lottery jackpot’.
Maybe that’s why I don’t like Valentine’s Day too, a reminder of another year sailed by without bumping into said soulmate (and another year without calorie free chocolate and a lottery win). So when I see the sea of red and pink hearts surging up the high street I have to remind myself how good it is to be single to stop myself sinking in the suffocating waves of organised romance.
There are wonderful advantages to being single. Your legs are warmer in winter as there is no need to shave them, although when you shave for summer dresses it will appear that you’ve massacred Chewbacca in your bath tub. You can watch whatever television you like and when you like, no having to put up with silly sports channels or being tutted at when watching hours of soap operas. There are no tedious in-laws to dutifully visit or partner’s friends that you have to tolerate when you would really like to smack them across the face with a wet haddock. You can starfish in bed at night, fidget away and keep all the duvet to yourself, not to mention the bliss of a quiet night’s sleep with no snoring or heaving breathing next to you that leaves you contemplating first degree murder. You can also have lovely lazy days where you don’t have to bother brushing your hair and applying your face and you can feel happy lounging around in the nude without constantly holding your tummy in. Also you will have healthier intestines too as there is no need to hold wind in, extra beneficial being a vegetarian.
I unfortunately can’t banish Valentine’s Day so instead I will celebrate with the current soulmate in my life – me. I will treat myself to some lovely gifts perfect for me (Erica Spindler’s new thriller book, the Fawlty Towers scripts and Monty Python’s Holy Grail script) and spoil myself with a luxurious candlelit bath after work while sipping non-alcoholic pina colada (my tipple of choice) before watching a Judd Nelson movie (getting to spend the evening with the most handsome man on the planet) and enjoying a Marks & Spencer meal for one.
I suppose I have fallen into the consumer trap of this day. And that little seed of hope will be waiting for flowers from a secret admirer to be delivered in work and an array of admirer’s cards waiting on my doormat on return from work. They won’t, and I shall be momentarily disappointed before reminding myself that I’m spending the evening with someone that loves me unconditionally and forever. Me. So if you are single on Valentine’s Day: love yourself, be kind to yourself and remind yourself how special you are, too special to share in fact!