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Keep Calm and Carry On

Contemporary rendering of a poster from the Un...
Contemporary rendering of a poster from the United Kingdom reading “Keep Calm and Carry On”, created during World War II. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Wow. I’ve seen this meme bandied about over the last couple of years… never bothered to look up its origin. But there you go. According to Wikipedia, the British Government popped it up on posters at the beginning of the Second World War, to help ease the concerns of the public… or rather, to tell the publc to “get over it”.

I was so sure it was a mother’s mantra.

It is, isn’t it?

Well, it sure was for me yesterday… and so I thought I’d share.

The inciting incident for this story happened back at the start of February… day after my book released, to be exact. I was heading out for dinner and a movie with a bunch of friends (absolutely nothing to do with my book launch, by the way, which I was very happy with… I usually like to quietly make my way in life until I can say BAM! Here I am!). It all started with my choice of footwear. Usually, when I go out, I wear my high heals. Lovely shoes (and I tend to only have one pair until they’re so worn I must replace them), but this time, I had decided to pull out an old pair of wedge-style shoes. Now, when wedges seemed to be all the rage last year or so I screwed up my face at them, because I think they look horrid — forgetting, of course, that I actually had a pair of my own. The difference is that the “classy” high heels with a filled in sole are just not my thing. These ones look like little pink sparkly ballet shoes; they are covered in beads (that were probably hand sewn on by some poor girl in India who didn’t get paid nearly enough, but I’m so grateful because I could actually afford them… I’m so sorry!), and they tie up my legs with pink ribbon… see… sometimes I’m a girl! Woah.

Anyway, recovering…

So, I was wearing these wedge-style shoes… I know, shoot me now.

After buying our tickets to Django Unchained, we crossed the road to the nearest Thai restaurant, and my wedge-style sole found the chipped edge of a broken bit of tarseal…

Read more…Keep Calm and Carry On

5 Common Writing Hazards

Hey fellow writers, check this out 5 Common Writing Hazards.  Handy stuff.

And now to go completely off topic… thought I’d take the time to share my experience of Boxing Day morning.

I own a miniature horse who, unfortunately, has to live elsewhere. I try to get there as often as possible, it’s just a touch tricky with a small non-walking child. Anyhoo, I do insist on keeping up with basic foot care (for everything else, he does live on a property where the property-owners also live, so he survives okay). So, yesterday that was my task – hoof-filing.

Topaz, the other mini I look after for part of my paddock rent, was the easiest to find, so I did his feet & a good grooming first.  He’s older & pretty well behaved, so all was well. To get to Chino (my mini) I had a choice…  I could go back to the closed gate I had come through, followed by another  closed gate.   Or, I could cross the paddock I was in and loop up through the open gate between the paddocks.  All I had to do was cross a wet patch where water from two or three springs flow down the paddock.  I wear boots when I work with the horses, so all good. Open gate won.

& the result?

Spring 1 Deb 0

I headed across the paddock, assessed the wet patch to find the driest-looking part and put my foot down… & down.  Luckily my jeans bunched over the top of my boots, keeping my foot dry, cos I was in it up to a little below my knee. My left foot didn’t go quite as deep, but its boot, too, was well stuck.

First step:  throw all my gear onto some dryish ground.

Step two: Pull left boot free, as it was the closest to somewhat firm ground.  This required gripping the top of the boot with my fingers, since there was no way it was coming with my foot of its own accord.

Step three: With left hand offering some balance on the soft, soaking ground, & right hand under water & pulling boot, I managed to, eventually, pull my foot  (boot still attached!) free & clamber onto dryer ground.


I even managed to keep my temper in check.  I was pretty peeved through the whole process (esp as the property-owner watched the whole process. But there wasn’t anything he could do to help, anyway –  I think it was just embarrassment temper).  My jean leg was soaked through with mud, but so be it. Nothing a washing machine can’t take care of.  But, I did still have four hooves to file, & a disagreeable horse on the other end of them, albeit small.  Ah, such is life.  A couple of scraped knuckles later, (I forgot my gloves the rasp is SHARP)  & a bruise on my thigh from Chino getting away on me once, I returned to motherhood – the land of dirty nappies & food everywhere.  Joy.

Well, if nothing else, I hope this gives someone a chuckle.

OK, you lot, go learn writing stuff…