October 17, 2014

I like big books and I cannot lie...



I am a voracious reader. Always have been, always will be. I will forever thank my lucky stars I have a mother who recognised my thirst for the written word and encouraged it. It is my fervent hope that my boys will discover this joy for themselves too one day, outside of car/rugby/gaming magazines. (I suppose I should be thankful that at least they're reading something, right?) Because nothing beats the joy of losing yourself inside a story as it wends its way here and there, round and about, taking your imagination on a little journey to wherever and back. To be so engrossed in every word that time becomes irrelevant and your only priority is staying on board for the ride is a pretty cool thing, even by today's technologically advanced standards.

To this day, I am often found with my nose stuck inside the pages of a well-thumbed paperback (I'm still old school - haven't quite graduated to the Kindle. Yet.) For mine, paradise can often be an uninterrupted afternoon curled up on the couch getting lost in some alternate universe. Time well spent.

Naturally, as you'd expect, some books are turned into movies. Or TV shows. Results are a little hit and miss, I find. But every now and then, a show comes along that is captured almost as perfectly on screen as it is in your head. Game of Thrones would be one, excellent, example. 

And now, I have recently discovered another:




Diana Gabaldon has written a series of books that began with Cross Stitch and is still ongoing, Book #8 Written in my Hearts Blood has just been released! They tell the ever-evolving story of Claire, an English combat nurse from 1945 who falls through time to 1743 and falls in love with Jamie Fraser, a young Scottish soldier from the Highlands. When I began to read the story of Jamie and Claire, I was unprepared for how much their story would take hold in my head and in my heart. I couldn't stop reading! As Diana writes him, Jamie is the kind of man I wish to God I knew in real life. He's passionate, loyal, and honest. A man who can be fierce yet tender. Who speaks of love and honour and wields a sword like no other. And leaps off the page into my head hot and sexy as hell. The Scottish accent doesn't do any harm either, ye ken. And that, dear readers, was even BEFORE I saw him realised on TV. *coughs* Oh my.




Ladies, this is Sam Heughan. He is the EPITOME of Jamie Fraser. As Claire would say, "Jesus H Roosevelt Christ." Mark my words, he is going to be a STAR. 




I have watched the first 8 episodes of 'Outlander' as it's called, twice in the last week - we now have to wait until 2015 for more - and I am utterly transfixed. And not just because of Jamie, uh I mean, Sam (although I confess, I was more than a little taken with HIM. It's been a while since I've had anything remotely close to biblical relations so I'll take the eye candy when I can get it, ye ken?)

To see this wonderful story recreated so beautifully on television is a rare treat, so often TV execs ruin a great story with 'artistic licence'. Not this time though. Diana Gabaldon herself is involved in the production of the show, and clearly she's making sure her characters are treated right! 

So if you're keen for a bit of escapism, a great love story and something a million miles better than the shite regularly dished up on our screens as 'decent television', find some time to watch Outlander - or better yet, read the books and THEN watch it! I'll leave you with a little more food for thought, shall I?










Who's watching with me? Have any of you read the books? What's your favourite Jamie & Claire moment?

October 8, 2014

Closer...




I've been feeling my way along the parameters of this new life for a while, taking in the unfamiliar twists and turns similar to how you move about in the dark; slowly but surely. And then sometimes not so surely. It's just over a month since we moved to a new house and I'm finally at the point where I wake up without being jarred by the sight of my bedroom's new surroundings. It's hard to adjust to change after 14 odd years in the same house but I'm doing it, all the same. Isn't it funny what you get used to. And just as easily un-used to.

It's a lovely neighbourhood. Leafy, green, lots of people who take pride in their home and surrounds. We're close to pretty much everything we need, schools, shops, public transport, motorways, and more parks and walkways than you can poke a stick at! Spencer and I have enjoyed that, I must say. We're settling in. All boxes are unpacked. The noises of the house are becoming increasingly familiar - songbirds singing at sun up, the timber floor gently creaking just after 6am as my eldest boy quietly pads up the hallway on his way to work, the gentle click as he closes the front door.
The sound of a neighbour's truck half an hour later forewarns of the alarm clock's impending screech, the soft but insistent push of my cat's paw against my bare shoulder moments later as she realises I'm almost awake and can you get up and feed me NOW please? I lie there for a moment and savour the calm of another new day before throwing an arm out to silence the electronic slave driver before she barks.

Breathe in.... breathe out. You're okay... everything is okay.

And it is, for the most part. There are still a few little wrinkles to be ironed out, but ironed out they most certainly are going to be.

Like it says: "I may not be there yet, but I'm closer than I was yesterday." 








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