After the equinox, before Halloween
October falls in that strange place between
And has become a time that means much to me
After the equinox, before Halloween.

The last month of long days before the clocks change
The last month for warm sunshine afore colder ways
The high month of autumn and her golden sheen
After the equinox, before Halloween.

But for me October holds some special glow
For of all the people I have come to know
October is when the birthdays seem to be
Of those friends I most cherish, who mean most to me.

So I think there’s a magic in October’s span
Something quite precious that makes me a huge fan
Of that enchanted time that falls in between
After the equinox, before Halloween.

E.M. Swift-Hook

It was scarcely a romantic meeting. Jenny was in the farm office, with her beloved collie, Meg, asleep across her feet. She had been alternating looking her fill at the house of her dreams on the other side of the valley with battling with the shoebox of receipts and bits of paper that constituted her parents’ idea of bookkeeping when she heard Mum call her name. She went to the office door.
“What is it, Mum? I’m trying to do the VAT and if you and Dad don’t want to be hailed off to prison for tax evasion I really need to get it sorted.”
“Sorry, love. It’s Bob. He’s..:”
“He’s what.”
“Concussed, it seems.”
Jenny ran downstairs, with Meg, at her heels. The blond bear that was her little brother Bob, aka Sorbo Man, stood in the kitchen swaying slightly and staring around him from unfocused eyes. A tall loose-limbed man she didn’t recognise stepped out from behind Bob and steered him to a chair beside the Aga. Seeing a stranger, Meg retired to one of the many dog beds that littered the house, and watched proceedings.
“Sit.” Bob obliged, which was, in itself alarming.
Jenny went and put a consoling arm around Mum.
“What’s he been up to now?”
The stranger laughed. “That’s been everybody’s reaction so far. But this really wasn’t his fault. He and Jack Hallett were standing at the edge of the running track around the park encouraging the under sixteen rugby boys to move faster when Bob was the victim of a freak accident. A kid sneaked onto the skateboard circuit on his BMX bike. Showing off. He came over the edge bike and all. Fortunately for him he hit Bob instead of the tarmac. Fortunately for Bob he’d parted company with the bicycle before he landed on Bob’s shoulders.”
Jenny winced. “Ouch. So what’s the damage?”
“Kid dislocated his shoulder and has a few abrasions from sliding down Bob’s back onto the tarmac. Sorbo Man here has concussion, but not of the serious sort so I brought him home. Shove him in bed and check on him hourly until, say, midnight. Then a couple of times in the night. Wake him up and as long as he swears at you he’s on the mend. If you have trouble waking him, or he seems to be getting more confused give me a call and l’ll come straight over. But for now I better phone myself a cab and get back to town. I’m on call.”
“Thank you so much, doctor.” Mum wrung her hands in distress. “I’d run you back to town but I’m not allowed to drive on the road. And anyway I’d better put this big dollop to bed.”
“No worries. I can just call a cab.” He took his phone out of his pocket and regarded it in some disgust. “Oops.”
“What’s up?”
He held out his two hands with half an iPhone in each. Jenny couldn’t help laughing at the comical dismay on his face.
“The little charmer who fell off his bike kicked and squirmed and screamed while I was trying to get him to keep still. He must have got my phone. At least it was in the line of duty so I can claim on the practice insurance, but for now can I use the house phone?”
Jenny laughed. “No need. I’ll run you back to town. And do you have a spare phone?”
He blushed. “No. I lost it awhile back and I haven’t replaced it.”
“Stay there.”
She ran upstairs and quickly unearthed her own spare from her travel bag. It was a second generation iPhone, and fully charged, if cosmetically rough. However, it worked and, provided the young doctor’s SIM card wasn’t bent or broken, it should do him until his insurance paid out. Back in the kitchen the stranger was on his own, Mum, Bob and Meg having disappeared upstairs, he looked a bit uncomfortable.
“You don’t need to do this.”
Jenny held out a hand without comment and he gave her the two halves of his broken phone. She had the card out in a second, and two minutes later the elderly iPhone was up and running.
“There. When you get your new phone you can give this one to Bob. He’ll probably remember to bring it home.”
The young doctor held up his hands in amazement. “How did you do that so fast? I might have got there eventually, but it would have taken me all day.”
Her grin was a bit twisted. “Oh. I’m Geeky Jenny. Has nobody told you about Bob’s odd sister?”
“Nope. I know your name is Jenny, and you live and work in Exeter, and you are the one person in the world Bob is properly scared of. Also a couple of the rugby guys reckon you are a genius at the quiz machine, and another one says to never play poker with you. But nobody said anything about anything else.”
“Sorry. It’s just that life around here became just about unbearable for me when my marriage fell apart.”
“That happens. I was all but hounded out of town when my fiancée found someone richer.”
Jenny knew a moment of empathy before snapping herself back to cool rational thought. She waved her car keys.
“Come on then fellow leftover, I’ll run you back to town. Where at is your car?”
“Practice car park.”
“Okay. And what’s your name. I can’t keep calling you ‘you’ or ‘leftover’. It sounds rude somehow.”
“The name is Mike. Mike MacLellan.”
“Okay, Doctor Mike.”
“Don’t you start that. Half the hair-brained females in this town call me Doctor Mike. With the addition of an inane giggle. Then they figure out I might be of Scottish extraction and start being coy and flirtatious about kilts. It’s coming close to doing my head in.”
Jenny grinned and led the way out to the side of the house where her dark green Discovery Sport was parked.
“Nice car,” he pushed out his lip in appreciation.
“Actually it’s not. The bloody thing is as temperamental as it can hold together. But it’s pretty, and when it deigns to work it’s great fun to drive.”
She flicked the unlock button and Mike folded himself into the passenger seat.
Jenny pressed start. “Pray,” she said, and the engine leapt into life. “Good car.” She patted the dash and turned a smiling face to her passenger. “We’re fine now. If it starts it’s as good as gold. Just doesn’t always start.”
“Oh. I had a car like that once.”
“What happened to it?”
“I beat it to death with a hunk of wood. I think I must have been influenced by Basil Fawlty.”
Jenny’s whole face was animated by sudden laughter, which brought a pair of dimples to life in her left cheek. Mike couldn’t help noticing the red HB pencil that was shoved into the curling mass of her hair. Something in his face must have alerted Jenny, who frowned.
“Oh no. I haven’t, have I? Will you take it out for me please?”
Mike put up a hand and pulled gently on the pencil. He carefully placed it on the dashboard but said nothing. Jenny snorted.
By this time they were at the end of the farm driveway and all of her attention was taken up by pulling out into the traffic. For some reason she elected to say no more, and he was a wise enough man to sit quiet as she drove the five miles into town.

Jenny is the latest book from Jane Jago

I shall get off my ass and go now, to the place where the beer flows free
And find me a poolside hotel room
With a big wide bed and a mini bar, and sufficient space only for me
Thereby will I escape the gloom

Of Covid and Bullington made, for peace of mind and double gins
Come dropping from the sky
And I will feel the claws no more, of fake white fellows sins
And happily close my eyes

I shall get off my ass and go now, for always in my heart
I hear the sound of the lapping sea
While I stand in the midst of those who couldn’t give a fart
I’m going now. Do you see?

©jj 2021

Namaste you wonderful, desirable and aspiring individual! This bijou blog is here to help you achieve your best ever ‘you’. Here, I offer my help and assistance in reshaping your shape and doctoring your decor internally and externally, to bring your lifestyle into line with your aspirations.

Names

When you think about it your name is more than just the specific noise that someone makes to attract your attention. It is also the most intimate aspect of your public self. The core of your essence summed up in a single word. It stands to reason that your name should be the summation of your aspirations – it should express to the world the way in which you wish to be seen.
This means that the first step to the new, glorious, bountiferous and amazing YOU has to be setting that goal and reorienting your whole being towards it by making that name change.
You must, of course, meditate deeply and dwell on the matter in the consensual sanctity of your own unclouded consciousness, but here are some suggestions to show how this works:

Pianoforte – this, you might think, is a name for one for whom music is central to their lives, but on the contrary it is a name for one who strives for balance and harmony, who seeks to show how the dark and light of life’s path can be combined into an upright, a grand – or at least baby-grand – lifestyle.

Avocado – once upon a time this beautiful green shade was the height of fashion for bathroom suites and as such the name is a wonderful reminder of the importance of history – and good plumbing – in our lives. Avocado is someone who wants to show they have strong connections with their roots and is seeking to live an ever greener lifestyle.

Serendipity – the perfect name for one who wants to let go of trying to organise their life, keep a good job, maintain relationships and have a tidy house. Instead they will allow blind faith in good fortune to determine their life, and let the world know that they have abandoned such old-fashioned notions as personal responsibility. Serendipity is a child of the universe and floating free on the breeze of random happenstance.

Prosecco – no, not a name for a wine lover, but for someone who seeks to bring cheer, laughter and bubbles to all around them. After all, who does not love Prosecco? Just to have your name on their guest list will bring a smile to someone’s face.

Lucida – and no, you may not take this one as it is all my own, chosen to express my fluid and fluent ability to communicate the essentials of improving your lifestyle and decorated with a charming letter ‘a’ to show that I am an A lister in my art.

So once you have made your new name choice, how do you tell the world that you have made this momentous step?
The best way is of course to have a reveal party and invite all your family and friends.
Picture the scene, you are all gathered around a pinata shaped to resemble you, and all your favourite people beat that old you with sticks until it bursts open and frees a rain of multicoloured cards each with your new name inscribed in a flourish of expensive calligraphy!
Could there be a more magical moment?
And once you have your new, motivational, name, you are ready to take on the challenge of changing your lifestyle to become the you that you always wanted to be!

Namaste!
Lucida the Lateral Lifestyle Coach

Space is a vacuum, so what the smeg was the guy tapping on the window of my flitter even breathing. I was deeply rattled and that must have been why I opened communication with the hull.

“Who are you?”

“Adam.”

I laughed.

“My name is Eve.”

“You? Eve?”

“Yes.”

He put his hands on the airlock door and just pulled it open. He appeared on the bridge, threw me over his shoulder and walked out of the ship – into the unexpected.

This planetoid is called Eden, and all on it belongs to us save for the tree and the snake…

©️Jane Jago  

‘Right, back to the job in hand. Hakim has been given a week to come up with the train ticket. The decoy crew is already in place in Tashkent and spending money like water, as is the ‘slave buyers’ caravan that is slowly crossing the desert. As soon as the Alban princess arrives here, we can begin arranging our own city-bound caravan. Only problem so far could be the black ninjas, who are already spoiling for a fight.’
‘They need a job. Send them out to look for Hakim and his men. They won’t find anyone, but it’ll keep them out of mischief.’ ‘That’s a good notion. Otherwise, as far as I can see everything is on schedule. Have you become aware of any hitches?’
‘No. Other than my personal boredom, which I’ll just have to put up with.’
‘You will, love. And it does have the fringe benefit of you not bothering to dress, which makes you nice and available.’
She made a very rude noise at him, and he looked at her with the slightly crooked grin that turned her knees to water. Then he leaned over and patted her hand, which she interpreted as sarcasm, which, in turn, could have earned him a broken wrist on another day.
‘You shit’ she said conversationally ‘you know I won’t damage you when we’re working. But don’t push your luck. I have a long memory.’
‘I know you do. But this time I honestly wasn’t winding you up. It just hit me that you are actually pregnant, and I wanted to touch you to make sure I’m not dreaming.’
‘Idiot! This ain’t no dream. But I kind of understand, so I won’t put that one on your account.’
‘Thanks love. I’ll add it to the list of favours I owe you instead.’
‘You do that. And where’s my dinner? Is Cookie catching a goat himself, or warming the food between his thighs?’
‘That’s a revolting image, and almost makes me want to cancel your dinner. However, I hear the sound of Cookie’s delicate feet so it’s too late.’
The flap of leather in the corner lifted to disclose a hugely fat man followed by a couple of boys.
‘Food’ he said in a high treble voice. ‘Excuse the delay. Boris tipped up. Hungry. I had to protect the kitchen maids from his wandering hands while I waited to get bread out of the oven.’
While he was speaking the two boys set bowls of savoury smelling stew, plus a basket of hot bread and another of preserved dates and sharp, salty cheese on a low table.
Ida laughed. ‘Okay Cookie. In that case you are forgiven. When you go back to the kitchen you can tell my cousin that I’ll personally castrate him with a blunt knife if any of my staff turn up pregnant on his account.’
Cookie bowed as low as his bulk permitted before taking himself and his helpers back to his domain.
As they went, Grendal grinned at his lady.
‘Cookie versus Boris. That I’d like to see.’
‘No contest Cookie would just sit on Boris.’

From Billion Dollar Mountain by Jane Jago

The sun rose over the meadow, painting the horizon in crimson and gold.
Leaning on the fence, Reuben watched, as he had every day for fifty years. He should have been overseeing his small flock, sold last year when there was no money left to keep them. He’d had to sell his handful of acres too.
With a roar heavy plant began tearing up his old meadow. A luxury development the sign said.
Sighing, Reuben headed home.
Thank goodness he’d sold with planning permission. Maybe, after he got back from the cruise, he’d put a jacuzzi in his refurbished cottage…

E.M. Swift-Hook

… or ‘How To Speak Typo’ by Jane Jago

acupe (noun) – very small brassiere 

anumle (adjective) – of eggs being in that state when they may be edible or wholly rotten

bsaterd (noun) – unpleasant man with a motorcycle 

dtoard (adjective) – half shaven

ehro (noun) – the sound a politician makes when trying to avoid a question

evrsion (noun) – not a tree book

forule (noun) – committee of four 

gunad (noun) – single testicle hanging at a very strange angle

muther (noun) – female dog of dubious parentage 

panster (noun) – crap cook

promambly (verb) – walking to a school dance

realstionship (noun) – a small boat loaded with inebriated picnickers which is in imminent danger of capsize

sogra (noun) – toast that has been dropped into a cup of tea

snadle (noun) – twentieth century scolds bridle

thimk (adjective) – slow of thought and easily goshswoggled 

vorgun (noun) – little-known species of Star Trek villain

vxie (adjective) – of young women, spirited and liable to bite

The boat collided with reality at a mooring in a backwater. Beauty stepped aboard and the crew cast off in silence. 

He took her hands.

“Two days,” he said brokenly, “I can only give you two days. And what if we make a child?”

“Then it will be the glory of my life.”

Three hard years of duty and he was free. He stood outside her house hardly daring to breathe. As he lifted his hand to knock, the door opened and he found himself looking down into the eyes of a girl child.

“Hello,” she said, “my name’s Glory”.

©️Jane Jago  

The old woman was quick to return. She brought with her a younger woman who, although long past the first flush of youth, was attractive, plump and dark haired. She wore heavy bangles on her wrists and ankles which clattered with the slightest movement. The man stood up as they entered, dropping the blanket back and said something to the younger of the two women who bobbed meekly and then turned to Avilon.
“The Captain say I speak for him to you,” she told him in a thickly accented and ungrammatical version of Coalition Standard Speech. Avilon smiled at her with real warmth.
“That’s so good to hear. Will you please ask the Captain if he can give me news of the other people who were in – “
The man spoke roughly across him and the dark haired woman muttered something back, then said to Avilon: “The Captain say you to get strong and do as told. No fighting or he beat you.”
Anger flowed in Avilon and he banished it before it could find any visible expression.
“Tell the Captain that I will get strong a lot quicker if the old woman stops feeding me drugs and if I am not kept chained.”
As the woman translated quickly the man frowned at her, snapping out a curt reply. “The Captain say the Kashlihk will stay with chains until he does as says.”
Avilon was about to reply, when the man said something more and the dark haired woman looked suddenly more nervous.
“The Captain say tomorrow you walk and he see how strong are you. He say I to stay with you and speak for you.”
“How long does he intend to keep me like this?”
She asked his question hesitantly and the man looked at Avilon with an almost contemptuous coldness as he replied.
“The Captain say we keep you until the caravan reach Alfor. You be to sell in Alfor.”
To sell.
He had his answer and it chilled his blood. Now he understood why they were taking such care over his treatment – it was not from any compassion, it was from simple greed. To these people he was not a person: he was livestock – nothing more than an object to be sold.
A thing.
Even to his enemies in the Coalition he was more than that. At least they regarded him as an individual and a human being worthy of hate and fear, if nothing else.

From The Fated Sky part one of Fortune’s Fools Transgressor Trilogy by E.M. Swift-Hook