Can you tell what it is yet?

It's simple.  It's straightforward.  It has a quirky reddish tinge about it.

I'm saying no more.

Happy holidays!

And the Award for the Person Most Delighted to be Awarded an Award goes to...

I'm just very grateful I'm not receiving it from either Wossy or David Brent 'cos they'd both make me feel so inferior that I'd probably wet the red carpet with fear.

So my thanks go to the incomparably gorgeous Suz Korb who blogs  at Bang Out The Prose for awarding me with this honour.  Stylish... pfft! Really? Me?!

Anyway, as per instructions, here are 7 things you might not (want to) know about me, and my list of ten other pretty spectacular blogs that I LOVE reading...and also pass on this award to...

1. I've lied about my age since turning 39.  That will be... um.. ten years ago next week.  For the mathematicians amongst you.
2. I'm never quite sure if fancying David Walliams is 'wrong' or not.
3. Since starting the Menopause (which proves I'm OLD) I can't eat enough bread, cakes and crumpets.  'Fifty and Nifty' I will NOT be. And I quite like a 'reason' to be a grouch.
4. I'm scared of getting published in case it turns me into a Prima-donna.
5. I get irritated if anyone pronounces the letter *H* with a soft 'huh'.  It's pronounced 'Aitch' - okay, it SAYS so in the flippin' Dictionary - get a copy!
6. I pick my lips until they're sore.  My dad used to tell me one day they'd be like curtains flapping every time I spoke. 
7. I miss my daughter living here like I'm missing a limb. 

BELTER BLOGS:

Keris Stainton

Novelista

Deborah Durbin

Not Waving But Ironing

The Virtual Victorian 
Talli Roland

Strictly Writing

Keeping it Real... Keeping it Relative

Helen Redfern

Almost True

Apologies...

As you can see, my methods of procrastination have no limits.... I cannot tell a lie, I have spent the majority of today on a faffing expedition of mammoth proportions.

Hence yet another new blog design.
But the other one was taking so long to load that even I was bored waiting.

So faffcrastination was the order of the day, of course, when I wasn't working out the UK/USA time difference and fretting over The Girl's blog from New York where she tells the world and her mother that she nearly drowned yesterday... I KNOW!
AND... And....
the Husband returns from a 'quick job' (that's carpentry, not any other kind of 'job... well, none that I'm aware of... see... extreme digression... aka faffing...) with stitches on a split upper lip...
I KNOW!
I mean, don't bother letting me know you're in A&E darling; no, no I'm quite happy lying here in bed reading my book and scoffing Philly-covered bagels whilst you're having your bloody top lip stitched.
Talk about stiff uppers...!
Talk about weepy!
Actually, let's not.
It's just a good job I'm on some medication that's all I can say.

Happy Easter - and Happy First Birthday to my Blog!

Yes, one year ago today, on Saturday 4th April 2009, I took a big leap into the world of blogging, egged on (did you see what I did there?!) by my fabulous writerly friend, Keris - she's got a book coming out on 6th May called "Della Says OMG!" - I may have mentioned this - and I haven't looked back since. It's one of my better decisions I have to say, and I've met some lovely people during the course of my first 12 months of blogging. To anyone who doesn't have one Id say - go get. You'll be glad you did *wink*.
So thanks to everyone who reads it and still pops back for more of the same - it's great knowing that you're out there in blogland having a bit of read and even greater getting your comments - come on you lot who still haven't signed up to leave them - I must make you want to say something back at times!
And, of course, A very Happy Easter Holiday to you all - may the Easter Bunny bring you everything your little hearts desire - here's to the next 12 months!

It *was*n't me!

One of the mildly annoying things about having a Blog and maintaining the damn thing and trying to come up with interesting things to say two or three times a week (and they're a few mildly annoying things too, come to think of it) is the fact that you're never quite sure Who's Reading In on it.
There's the very handy visitor counter/site meter thingy at the bottom which tells me what part of the world/country each visitor hails from (mostly via Facebook and a particularly Elite Writing Group I belong to, which is nice to know) and occasionally I'll get a hint at what words were searched for resulting in the visitor... um, visiting... but unless I get a proper 'follower' person joining my happy band of readers, or somebody making a comment (in English please) then I'm really none the wiser.
The oddest search words I've had were lick my boots. And before you go trying that one at home, I've deleted that post anyway because when I changed my background colour it made the whole post go a funny shade of puce.  As Paddy McGuinness (don't you just love him-but-don't-know-why?) would say... "no likey"  not at all.
Because generally  the things that make me laugh and make me seethe and make me squirm and make me want to blog about the most are people -   people I work with, people I live with, people I meet in the street - okay then, Sainsburys.  And people I'm family with.
I know I can safely get away with having a sly dig at the Hubby because he wouldn't do anything so remotely out of character as wanting to read, voluntarily and with mounting excitement in his bones, anything that I've written.  Oh dear me, no.  He's a proper Husband and proper husbands don't read stuff their wives laughingly call 'books.'
Not until they're signing the six figure advance, I'm guessing.
And if I DID mention an incident or a conversation or something that made me white with rage/hilarity/disgust, then it might be pursued by the inevitable query (and let's face it, nobody wants to be persued by a query - inevitable or otherwise) "Was that me?  Was it?  Go on - you can tell me...was that me you were blogging about?"

I've just realised that maybe I should just blog and be done with it because once I'm published *and I will be* I will still be persued by the inevitable queries then, won't I?

Anyway, my point was that I don't want to upset anybody (apart from the Hubby and he should have read the small print on the Marriage certificate if he's got a problem with that, shouldn't he?).   So I do as my Nan used to tell me and if I "can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all".
Mind you I've done that in the past, and it's still risen up and bitten me squarely on the arse.
Sometimes you just can't win.
I'm saying nowt.

*This is a visualisation technique brought to you via several self-help manuals, some lovely writer friends and a lot of Notes from the Universe*