I'm now living in Portugal with my husband John and have travelled extensively all over the world writing for children. Working on the children’s page of the Kuwaiti times for about a year. Just before the first Gulf conflict in 1989. And the storyteller's page for the Dumfries and Galloway standard, and the press and journal Banff Standard, plus numerous other papers, and short story books to my credit. I am drafting a few novels and taking things one day at a time... I am almost ready with a fantasy novel, which will be due out in the winter.
Published with Opera Omnia Publishers and CDB and Chave Book Publishers.
Empath Warrior....
De um admirável mundo novo, Juno, um menino corajoso, enfrenta um desafio para testar a sua inteligência. Ele conhece os lendários Windwalkers, uma raça de seres que nunca antes vistos. Apenas se conheciam algumas histórias sobre essas criaturas. Em Mallum, o seu fiel cavalo, ele parte para as suas aventuras. A árvore de Yggdrassil estende as suas maravilhas diante dele, exigindo que Juno use a sua inteligência e não a sua força, testando-o para além da sua imaginação.
From a brave new world, Juno, a brave little boy, faces a challenge to test his wits. He meets the legendary Windwalkers, a race of beings that had never been seen. Only stories were told about these creatures. On Mallum, his trusty horse, he sets out on his adventures. The tree of Yggdrasil stretches out its wonders before him, requiring Juno to use his intelligence, not his strength, testing this young man beyond his imagination.
Sexåriga Jonas var inte så stor och inte smart nog för att kunna slå sina tvillingsystrar i kampen om lekstugan. Så nu satt han här i en för liten stol med en blöja gjord av en dockfilt, en rosett i håret och blev matad med en låtsassked från en rosa servis. Lekstugan hade byggts längst ner i trädgården när tvillingarna var små men nu, med tre av de där samtidigt var rummet med de rosa väggarna fyllt till bristningsgränsen. Med sina två åttaåriga systrar på varsin sida om sig, insåg Jonas att hans tidigare planer för dagen, njuta av solen med sin nya fotboll och gräva en jättestor tunnel i jorden, var som bortblåsta.
”Nej, Sara, jag ska mata bebisen och så får du diska sen”, utropade Tiffany. De flesta meningarna började med ’Nej, Sara’ och följdes av en tystnad medan Sara försökte tänka ut ett bra svar, vilket oftast misslyckades.
”Men det är ju alltid du som matar bebisen.”
”Det är för att jag är 10 minuter äldre än du, Sara. Och jag ska få honom att rapa sen.”
”Jag behöver inte rapas”, sa Jonas buttert med sin söta glugg i tänderna efter att ha fått uppleva tandfén för första gången. Han försökte dra sig upp från stolen men blev nedtryckt av båda sina systrars händer mot sitt bröst. Varför sig var tvillingarna små till växten, med ett typiskt flickaktigt utseende med långa ljusa flätor, ett gulligt barnsligt leende och med en förkärlek till Disney T-shirts. Varför sig skulle Josh ha en chans mot de, men tillsamman var de en rosa oslagbar enhet och medan han höll armarna i kors tvingade Tiffany in en tom sked i munnen på honom.
”Bläää! Är smutsig, Tiffy.”
Det visste han för den hade han grävt med skeden i trädgården innan systrarna hade rövat bort honom.
”Shhhh!” sa Tiffany till honom. ”Så jag är mamman, Jonas är min bebis och du kan vara socialarbetaren, Sara.”
Det här var en ny lek.
”Vad är en socialarbetare?”
”Det är en tant som kommer för att diska. Det har min kompis berättat.”
”Men jag vill vara mamma. Varför måste jag vara socialarbetare?”
”För att du kan vara mamma i morgon”.
”Men det kommer du inte låta mig vara.”
”Vi pratar om det i morgon, Sara. Gapa stort nu, Jonas.”
”Nej, Tiffy! Snälla. Är smutsig.”
”Gapa!”
”Blää!”
”Jag vill vara mamma nu.”
”Är smutsig, Tiffy! Jag kommer få en ’fektion!”
”Om jag låter dig vara tanten från barnavårdscentralen då?” föreslog Tiffany i sin mer dominanta roll, likt en drottning i leken som alltid.
”Vad är en tant från barnavårdscentralen?”
”Blää! Sluta Tiffy!”
”Det är en tant som kommer och talar om för mamma att hon är en jättebra mamma och sen diskar”.
”Aha!” Sara funderade en stund på detta nya jobberbjudande medan Tiffany fortsatte att ge bebisen låtsasmat med en smutsig sked.
”Bläh, sluta Tiffy!” Jonas slickade sig om läpparnas för att bli av med smutsen och kände hur tårarna började brännas bakom ögonen. Men han visste att tårar inte var bra nu, då skulle Tiffany bara säga något i stil med ” Såja, såja baby Jonas! Kom så ska vi rapa lite” eller
”Jonas är trött. Kom ska vi sova en stund”. Tårar var bara ett förtydligande av hans babyroll, så den här gången kom det inga. Det var inget medvetet beslut han tog, det var som om hans kropp hade tagit över och styrde hans vilja och de kom bara inte. Istället kände han något annat växa inom sig, något kraftfullt som han inte riktigt visste hur han skulle kontrollera.
Samtidigt hade Sara kommit fram till vad hon ville. ”Det är faktiskt så att jag ska vara barnvakten, eftersom mamma måste gå till jobbet”, sa hon plötsligt överlägset, nästan på samma dominanta sätt som sin syster.
”Nej, det ska du inte!” sa Tiffany bestämt och tvingade in ännu en sked i Jonas mun.
”Sluta, Tiffany!”
Men Sara hade redan börjat spela sin roll. ”Knack! Knack! Knack! Hej Fru Mamma. Barnvaktsförmedlingen skickade mig. Jag är här för att ta hand om Jonas medan du går till jobbet.”
”Men….hm…Oj, då har du åkt hit i onödan tyvärr, barnvakten.” Nu pratade båda två med en amerikans dialekt som de brukade använda när de var mitt inne i någon lek. ”Jag ringde just förmedlingen. Jonas är sjuk så jag kan inte gå till jobbet”. Hon log ett överlägset leende mot sin syster och stoppade en sista gång in den smutsiga skeden i sin brors mun – något hon skulle komma att ångra för alltid, då den bubblande ilskan i Jonas nu växte sig enorm. ”Gör det en gång till!” skrek den. ”Kom igen, en gång till!” När hon gjorde det kunde inte Jonas stoppa den kraft som tog tag i den rosa tekannan, som också var smutsig runt kanten, och slå den rakt i huvudet på Tiffany. ”Jag sa ju att du skulle sluta!” skrek han samtidigt som han gjorde det. Sen blev det tyst.
Jonas och Saras ögon var vidöppna när de tittade på sin storasyster och väntade på vilket håll hon skulle titta. Var hon allvarligt skadad? Skulle hon döda Jonas? Var det här sista gången de lekte så här? De fick svar på alla sina frågor när den chockade Tiffanys uttryckslösa ansikte kom till liv igen med ett vrål.
”Mammmaaaaaaaa!!” Hennes flämtande ansikte, tomatrött till färgen, såg ut som en explosion av tårar och snor.
”Mammmaaaaaaaa!!” Hon kravlade sig upp och ut ur lekstugan.
Sen såg Sara nästan lika upprörd ut som sin syster. ”Nu ligger du illa till,” sa hon bestämt och så sprang hon också iväg och in i huset, med sin lillebror ensam kvar.
Det tog inte mer än några minuter innan den riktiga mamman – en tjugoåttaårig lärarassistent – kom marscherande längs krigsstigen (trädgårdsgången), förbi rosorna och prästkragarna, dragandes med den något äldre tvillingen bakom sig, som nu hade en liten droppe blod som uppkommit efter skadan.
”Så här behandlar vi inte våra systrar!” dundrade hon när hon stack in sitt huvud i lekstugan…men det fanns igen Jonas där. ”Kom genast ut därifrån, min unge man!” sa hon medan hon reste sig upp. ”Du kan inte gömma dig för alltid”, la hon till och tittade sig omkring i trädgården, men det fanns faktiskt ingenstans där han kunde gömma sig. Bakom lekstugan var enda stället. Staketet på båda sidorna av trädgården var så högt att han inte skulle kunna klättra över det och grinden var låst med ett hänglås så att de tre skulle kunna leka där säkert utan att mamma eller pappa skulle behöva oroa sig.
”Jonas! Jonas!” skrek hon nu och släppte taget om Tiffanys hand.
”Vad är det?” kom det bestämt från en dundrade röst, och Jonas pappas huvud syntes plötsligt i dörren, med den nedre delen av ansiktet täckt av raklödder och med bar överkropp.
Just out my Elven fantasy novel, complete with a dragon called tally is flying off the shelves and is now, as I write it is at number 6 on the best sellers list.
I received its first review last week, pre-launch.
Here is it …
Reviewed by Cloie Belle Daffon for Readers’ Favorite 5 Stars
Life in the Enclave was much slower than in the cities, especially since Elves took their time because they have plenty of it; however, something seems to have happened. For once, the people of the Enclave seemed to be in a hurry. After the Rebellion, most Seeker Families were killed and in the Thrudore Enclave, only Sellusa’s family, the Natanus family, survived. Seekers were strong, courageous, and loyal and they arose in times of need. Selli has the blood of an adventurer in her and she was determined to carry out her duties and avenge her father too. She was summoned by Lady T’Serra because of urgent business – she found out that children have been going missing for the past two weeks. They have no idea who was behind this and it is up to her to look into the matter. Where will her adventures lead her to? What truths will she discover along the way? Read Whispers of the Gone by Julie Hodgson to find out! Whispers of the Gone is a young adult fantasy book by Julie Hodgson and illustrated by Mona Lena. Selli is a determined and brave fifteen-year-old who carries a heavy legacy on her shoulder as the last remaining Samúð in Haltasia. Her quest to find the missing children uncovered surprising truths and the mission was fraught with danger. Her distinctive character captured my attention from the get-go. I was drawn deeper into the story because of Hodgson’s amazing ability to capture the reader’s interest from the very first page and I was also hooked by the substantial plot and surprising twists along the way. The tale is filled with a healthy dose of adventure, conflict, mystery, and so much more! Hodgson created a unique world through detailed world-building and I couldn’t wait to explore every crevice of it as I read Selli’s story! Mona Lena’s illustrations of the characters and events add vision to this world and help the story come to life. The art adds a bright perspective to the already fantastic and engrossing tale. Fantastic work!
It’s also free for a few days on Amazon… So grab a copy while you can…
“Years ago, anthropologist Margaret Mead was asked by a student what she considered to be the first sign of civilization in a culture. The student expected Mead to talk about fishhooks or clay pots or grinding stones.
But no. Mead said that the first sign of civilization in an ancient culture was a femur (thigh bone) that had been broken and then healed. Mead explained that in the animal kingdom if you break your leg, you die. You cannot run from danger, get to the river for a drink or hunt for food. You are meat for prowling beasts. No animal survives a broken leg long enough for the bone to heal.
A broken femur that has healed is evidence that someone has taken time to stay with the one who fell, has bound up the wound, has carried the person to safety and has tended the person through recovery. Helping someone else through difficulty is where civilization starts, Mead said.”
We are at our best when we serve others. Be civilized.
“This is, apparently, what the actual Jesus of Nazareth looked like, according to an artist and an algorithm and actual, historical, data (as opposed to a story that white people tell each other).
I am an atheist. I do not believe in god, or the devil, or heaven, or hell. But I like and respect this guy. He was a rebel, he was an antiauthoritarian, he dedicated his life to helping the poor, the sick, the indigent, the people who were discarded and rejected by society. He hung out with sex workers and lepers, and gave comfort to the sick and suffering, and he loudly and relentlessly called out the hypocrisy of the church and its leaders. As I understand it, he was like, “Hey, you’re a sinner. That’s a bummer. Let me help you be a better person. No, I don’t expect anything from you for that. I just want to be as loving as I can be.” He was a really cool guy.
This guy, in this picture, is not the Jesus I was introduced to in parochial school. The Jesus I was introduced to was soooooo white, like super super super white, and he was keeping an eye on you so he could snitch on you to his dad, who was SUPER PISSED AT EVERYTHING YOU DID all the time for some reason. The Jesus I knew was, like, maybe going to be okay with you, as long as you knew what a giant fuck up you were. And he was absolutely not accepting of anyone who didn’t do exactly what the authority figures at school told us we had to do. And Reagan was essentially his avatar sent to Earth. If we didn’t worship Reagan the same way we were supposed to worship white Jesus, we were going to have a REALLY bad time. Did I mention that I was, like, 8 when all of this was drilled into me?
I deeply resent the way that American “Evangelical” Christianity turned this guy in this picture, who was reportedly a cool, loving, gentle, dude, who was a legit rebel, into someone who hates all the same things they hate, and who LOVES authoritarians the same way they do. I despise the people who do all sorts of cruel, hurtful, hateful things in this guy’s name. And they are EVERYWHERE in America.
I don’t know what it’s like in the rest of the world. What I do know is that, in America, this person has been perverted into a weapon, a cudgel, to be used against the same people the actual Jesus loved and stood up for. It’s disgusting.
And, look, if someone professes to follow the teachings of this dude, whose WHOLE FUCKING THING was “love everyone. Period. No exceptions”, and they don’t, like, do that? They are as bad as the money changers in the temple. I know that this dude loves them, because that’s his whole thing, but I suspect that, if this dude exists, he is disappointed and maybe a little embarrassed by them.
As an afterthought: I can’t stop thinking about how this dude was an immigrant, and poor. I keep thinking that, if he showed up in … let’s say Texas, today, how badly he would be treated by the very same people who use his name and pervert his teachings to exert control over the very same people Jesus spent his entire life looking after.
And, honestly, none of this would even matter if the American Christian extremists would keep their white Jesus out of our laws and government.
– Wil Wheaton, actor
This a brilliant take on what is happening in the USA at the moment… Thanks Wil Wheaton.
I have noticed an alarming trend of people being incarcerated for life for doing a minor crime. The United States claims to be a 1st world country yet the actions and treatment of prisoners and the elderly and the poor in fact, give us a whole new picture!
What are prisoners’ rights in America?
Although prisoners do not have full constitutional rights, they are protected by the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition against cruel and unusual punishment. This protection also requires that prisoners be afforded a minimum standard of living. The word Minimum? must mean a bare existence? I know there is no privacy, whether you are in for a low crime or murder, I know you are chained like an animal, and subjected to unknown types of violence and not just by the prisoners.
The next blog will be about a man called M. A. Glaros CDCR#55488, Michael, who is married and has been incarcerated for 24 years for a minor crime? Why has he been in so long? why has he been forgotten? Why has he had hardly any parole hearings? Lots of WHYS but no answers. Could it be that prisoners work for a pittance? Could it be that prisoners are cheap/slave labour, that big companies use instead of paying a decent wage? The answer could be YES, and an alarming YES… A YES that could bring fear into the heart of an inmate that is in prison for a minor offence knowing that he would NOT get rehabilitation or help to make sure he goes back into society a changed man. But quite the opposite, a man that has been tortured and not cared for will most certainly have nightmares for the rest of his life! A man that could have been home with his loving wife, only to be ignored by parole panels, who don’t really give a damn about anyone? Is this true? so why do they have that job?
The world lost a very wonderful person on the 8th of September, a Queen that I had grown up with and spent my entire life watching how she changed, and how kind she was to everyone she met.
I saw her when I was just a little girl in my hometown. An experience I have never forgotten.
Elizabeth II was Queen of the United Kingdom from 6 February 1952 until her death on 8 September 2022. Her reign of 70 years and 214 days was the longest of any British monarch and the second-longest recorded of any monarch of a sovereign country.
She worked tirelessly until she passed, never complaining, never faltering from her duty and promise she made when she first came on the throne.
“I have in sincerity pledged myself to your service, as so many of you are pledged to mine. Throughout all my life and with all my heart I shall strive to be worthy of your trust. In this resolve, I have my husband to support me. He shares all my ideals and all my affection for you.”
Queen Elizabeth 2nd
Now her firstborn son takes the helm with this proclamation…
Whereas it has pleased Almighty God to call to His Mercy our late Sovereign Lady Queen Elizabeth the Second of Blessed and Glorious Memory, by whose Decease the Crown of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland is solely and rightfully come to The Prince Charles Philip Arthur George: We, therefore, the Lords Spiritual and Temporal of this Realm and Members of the House of Commons, together with other members of Her late Majesty’s Privy Council and representatives of the Realms and Territories, Aldermen and Citizens of London, and others, do now hereby with one voice and Consent of Tongue and Heart publish and proclaim that The Prince Charles Philip Arthur George is now, by the Death of our late Sovereign of Happy Memory, become our only lawful and rightful Liege Lord Charles the Third, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of His other Realms and Territories, King, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith, to whom we do acknowledge all Faith and Obedience with humble Affection; beseeching God by whom Kings and Queens do reign to bless His Majesty with long and happy Years to reign over us.
Given at St. James’s Palace this Tenth day of September in the year of Our Lord Two thousand and twenty-two.
GOD SAVE THE KING
As a new era emerges, we will still miss our wonderful Queen…
Before the Nazis seized control of Germany, American journalist Dorothy Thompson described Adolf Hitler as a “little man.” She said he was impossible to talk to because he spoke as if he was addressing a crowd. “… a hysterical note creeps into his voice, which rises sometimes almost to a scream.”
Hitler did not forget Thompson’s portrayal when he became chancellor of Germany in January 1933. He personally ordered her removal from the country the next time she visited. Within days of Thompson’s arrival in August 1934, the German Secret Police, the Gestapo, presented her with an expulsion order to leave within 24 hours.
“My offence was to think that Hitler is just an ordinary man, after all,” Thompson said later. “That is a crime in the reigning cult in Germany, which says Mr Hitler is a messiah sent of God to save the German people.”
After leaving Germany, Thompson travelled to France, where she gave a speech about the importance of freedom of the press. She railed against the treatment of foreign correspondents in Germany and said that the domestic press was only allowed to publish news “in support of the present regime.”
“It’s the business of journalism to report everything that happens regardless of whether it’s to the glory or not of one regime or another …”
Photo: USHMM, courtesy of National Archives and Records Administration, College Park, source Holocaust Museum.
A stone slab with 3,000-year-old writing, known as the Cascajal Block, was discovered in the Mexican state of Veracruz and is an example of the oldest script in the Western Hemisphere, preceding the oldest Zapotec writing by approximately 500 years. It is thought to be Olmec.
IMPOSSIBILITIES IN THE WORLD 1) You can’t count your hair.
2) You can’t wash your eyes with soap.
3) You can’t breathe when your tongue is out.
Put your tongue back in your mouth, you silly person.
Ten (10) Things I know about you….
1) You are reading this
2) You are human.
3) You can’t say the letter ”P” without separating your lips.
4) You just attempted to do it.
6) You are laughing at yourself.
7) You have a smile on your face and you skipped No. 5.
8) You just checked to see if there is a No. 5.
9) You laugh at this because you are a fun loving person & everyone does it too.
10) You are probably going to send this to see who else falls for it.
Have a great Day. Laugh, and then laugh some more and sing “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” – even when it’s not.
“Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many.”
Julan62 