Close Encounters

Sometimes, you just happen to be in the right place at the right time to catch something that would have simply passed you by…

Last night was such a moment, I’d randomly popped outside to check my middle rope (as you do) and had paused at the back door to admire the stars, it was a lovely clear sky, despite a low layer of smoke which hugged the ground.

At the back of my moorings is a large pond like puddle, frequented by friendly ducks and chatty geese… Though upon the night in question the geese had slipped off for their evening swim.

Before heading back inside the ducks gathered upon the pond became rather vocal, with some urgent quacking and flapping, which caught my attention.

The cause of which turned out to be a rather magnificent fox, happily strolling down the footpath. He paused to inspect the nearby bin and cast a wary eye over in my direction. I paused, watching,  admiring. Yet it was clearly of no interest to him as he trotted behind the thick bushes towards the bridge.

Still something, I felt, insisted that I paused longer and a moment later, Mr Fox reappeared right where I feed my birds… had a good long snuffle around for anything of interest before trotting right by my pontoon,  mere feet away, just so casually taking in the nights air.

I continued to watch until he had gone right up to the far car park and vanished into the darkness beyond …
I was left wondering how many times this magnificent beastie popped by on his evening stroll and I was too wrapped up starring at a little glowing screen to notice the wildlife at my own back door!?


Anne Harrison 12.01.18




As long as I can remember,  I have always created stories and been in love with stories. Especially those beyond this realm,  the fairy tales, the lands wrapped in fantasy,  the horrible,  the unique and macabre. I feel as though there is far more than the mundane, that we are just scratching the surface of reality.  That myths and legends have elements of facts tied up in the fantastical.

Having one foot in the beyond helps you to look at life differently, inspiration can be discovered in the waking world by shifting perspective. Overlapping the mysterious and the norm. But sometimes words escape me, sometimes you’re just left starring at a blank screen… like freshly fallen snow, that you feel reluctant to trample on, the words run away, the imagination dries up and under those circumstances.  I have learnt to let go, not to force the flow.  Just allow my dreams to take over unhindered.

Today,  today is one of those days …so  I wonder where my dreams will take me?


Anne Harrison 11.01.18


Ten days in, the year reaches double figures already, it’s near mid January and pay day feels so very far far away. Though that doesn’t stop plans evolving in my mind, trouble with a plan is, they have a way of being thrown into chaos. The unpredictable will notice a nice little plan and pop up when you least expect it, wave its little tentacles around in your face and turn your life topsy turvy.

At least that is how it feels at times and because a major unpredictable event is lingering over my head, I am finding myself being careful, thoughtful, mindful and thus less frantic. Doesn’t mean that I don’t *want* to fill every spare moment I can grasp on more adventures, just that I need to find a balance.

That, believe me, is work in progress.


So where do we go from here my friend?
How shall we start to unfold literature among musings?
Are you with me for the ride?
Along the tangled webs I weave inside my mind …


Kireina knew the exact moment that her Father died and wept. There would be no comfort for her tears, so she hid them away, saved them for solitude, when she could mourn in peace.

She had seen Vixen later that very day, but their lives were now far separated even within the walls they shared and Kireina was unable to inform her of the truth. For no one else knew, nor cared, it would seem. They were both captives, nay guests of the brutal King Fendor and his court.

The truth of Kane’s death was for his daughter to hold alone and the weight of attention from The King served to remind the frightened child, just how vulnerable she was  far from home, from her family, far from safe.

Her grief too gave her strength, for she knew only of her Father’s passing.

Somewhere, out there, beyond those frustrating solid grey walls, somewhere, her brother still drew breath. This she knew without a doubt, and this fragile fragment of hope was all she had to cling to as days dwindled into weeks, lingered into months and an uneasy atmosphere descended  over the city …


Anne Harrison 10.01.18





Sat back at a desk today and I find typing on a keyboard far more relaxing than tapping on a tablet screen. I want to delve back into writing again, by that, I mean beyond these little musings each day and regain the slipped harness of my tale.

Trouble is, I feel that my tale died when Kane died and to kill off a significant character, so deeply within the woven folds of intrigue, after watching him mature from a Guard, to Land Owner, Father and (dare I say) Hero. To write him die, such a savage pointless death in The Weight of a Name felt like such a desperate betrayal, that I have been unable (or unwilling) to follow on without him.

I wonder why we become so attached to imaginary characters? Especially characters from books and films, we create idols from other peoples imaginary characters, they adorn posters, decorate our lives, become cosplay, transformed by actors and even re-written in fan-fiction. The lives of characters turn into an adventure all of their own, way beyond their initial story/concept to the point of creating slogans such as:


… Not that he was even in the initial graphic novels … But this is just a simple example of how caught up we get over characters as they develop throughout a series.

However, I am by no means a professional writer, I would never claim to be, I write to give life to my words and therefore my characters. In my mind I knew Kane, knew how he looked, the style of clothes he wore, if he smoked, any tattoos… Details left out of tales, for they add no depth to the story itself, but I could even tell you that up close and personal you’d catch the faint scent of worn leather and pipe smoke on his person.

How do I go on when I’m leaving him behind and why do we get emotionally attached to some characters and not others? Even to the point of really hating writing their death.

Perhaps there is a way to consult the deceased imaginary? Some way to ask permission to go on writing without them? For what would Kane say to me, were I to say, I want to carry on, I want to give your son your name and pick up the adventure, to tie up all those tangled loose ends and find my passion in writing again…

… I’m kinda hoping he would say:



Anne Harrison  09.01.18


Enforced rest day …

This goes out to anyone who has been stricken with this awful flu that’s making everyone miserable.  I think I’ve just lost three days of my life in a snot filled delirium and I’m not even sure how that is even possible? I should have been back to work today,  I would rather be in work… but I’m in a self imposed quarantine, dosed up on anything I can lay my hands on in a desperate attempt to feel normal again.

My log burner had gone out in the night and the weather is cold enough to freeze the marina water over, but I hadn’t noticed,  I was burning hot, restless,  in and out of sleep.
When the fever finally broke, I gobbled down like half a punnet of grapes and promptly fell asleep again. I hope this means I’m through the worst and I can get myself back to health.

Grumpy cat has not left my side since yesterday despite my restlessness,  providing purrs and cuddles a plenty.


Being able to sit and watch the birds this morning has helped me to rest and relax. So many of my beautiful feathered friends pop down to eat, it’s a real pleasure to hear their song and watch them dance.

I’m just hoping my anxiety about missing work today eases up, for anxiety doesn’t help one vanquish germs.

Sometimes there is so much contentment from the mundane.


Anne Harrison 08.01.18


The adventure of Casper and the fallen Bat

My cat caught a bat, happily Casper is rather soft and didn’t know what to make of his flapping prey. Thanks to the bats constant squeaking I was alerted from my slumber to its fate and was able to gently rescue said bat from  the paws of said soppy cat…

A swift Google to the bats rescue website guided me to the correct care and attention for my batty friend and with a blanket of kitchen towel, a milk cap full of water and a cosy little box the little bat spent the day, out of the sunshine,  away from sharp claws, in his box in the cupboard until dusk approached.

Throughput the day we were greeted with shrill chirping sounds from the cupboard,  indication that our nocturnal guest was still alive and when we started seeing other bats coming out to play that night, we took his box over to the batty tree and carefully released him back to his family, un-shaken from his cat/cupboard ordeal.  We kept in touch with the lovely bat rescue people,  who helped us with this mission and rang them to report his safe return.

Casper had Dreamies and no hysteria was involved.


Anne Harrison 07.01.18



Just how long does that New Year feeling last?
2018 is not yet one week old and yet the festivities are swiftly swept away, decorations packed up for another year and normality returns with this lingering feeling that you need to strive hard to make positive changes,  because that is what’s expected.

It feels like my old school report … could do better … must try harder … lacks focus …
But instead of constantly beating ourselves up about what we can’t do, or failed to do, or struggle to get done. How about what we have achieved?


I saw this on Twitter and really loved the concept. To share something fabulous that happened throughout the last year.  The more I thought about it, the longer my list swelled and it soon became a dictionary of events! To choose one thing … that became a good challenge.  Making the list … well that helped me understand just how much I had achieved and that I should never really doubt myself,  instead I can proudly say … “I did that!”






Dinosnores… sleep over at the National History Museum

Anne Harrison 06.01.18