The ghosts amongst us...

Ghosts? What are they? I’m not sure either but for the last couple of days I have been writing two books – one about an older woman and a younger man and what they get up to - you know – playing cards, watching television and, oh yes, toe curling, hot sweaty sex. Okay they didn’t play cards but toes were curled amongst over things. And the other book is about hot sex with a ghost. A what you say? How is that even possible? You’ll have to read the book when it comes out to find out how.

To believe or not believe in ghosts is up to the individual. I personally think there is a lot of weird arsed stuff out there so I tend to think what the hey – ghosts are no sillier then fad diets, toy dogs in handbags or the media obsession with celebrities. I have had two ghost experiences in my life. The first one I have mentioned before. It is the basis for my Halloween Quickie called Maid for Death – strangely enough coming out at Halloween – spooky that. It was when I was working as a chambermaid in a hotel in London. You get to see some wild things doing that gig. Anyway there was this one room that gave me cold chills whenever I went into it. I discovered later that at man had died in that room years ago and no one had been aware of it for days. No, the cleaning service wasn’t that bad. The Do Not Disturb sign is best thing a chambermaid can see on a door knob as it means you can haul arse to the next room and finish the day earlier. That man was never disturbed again.

The second ghost experience was when I was driving along a highway. There had been a major car accident only weeks earlier near a small town I passed through. The grass was all burnt and wreaths still lay over the spot the people died on. No one was on the roads as it was very early morning. I could see clearly behind and clearly in front of me. As I passed by the accident, a car suddenly appeared behind me. It startled me but I figured they must have pulled off a side road but I could not think which one. The car was a matt grey colour, almost as if all the paint had been burnt off it. It followed me for a while and I watched it thinking this was all very Twilight Zone and then suddenly as I looked in the rear view mirror it disappeared before my eyes. Again there was no turn off for a car to go. Every time I pass that spot I look for that car. I never saw it again.

But there are other ghosts as well. You know when you see someone you used to know really well and for one moment you feel the same chemistry you once had but then those feelings are gone in a flash? Or when you hear a song and you get all pathetic thinking about the one that you let go out of your life? I think of them as living ghost moments. Or, I read once, that the sudden dimming of a light indicates a ghost is present. When this happens at my house I always say Hello as I read somewhere you should talk to a ghost if you see one. No one as yet has piped up and said hello back yet but you never know. Would I have a heart attack if a ghostly voice said Gidday Amarinda. I’m not sure. I do know I would probably break open my emergency bottle of chocolate liqueur and take a big swig to steady my nerves. And before you wonder, no, I am not some hippy-new age-dawning of Aquarius person. I am just opened minded. I read this good quote once. I can’t remember who said it but it was something along the lines off…To believe in superstition or the unknown is crazy and irrational but what does it hurt to knock on wood? I’m just knocking on wood.

Ethel, one of best friends, and no, not her real name, rang moments ago and reminded me of all the lies I have to say when I am rung for a reference check on her tomorrow. I was offended. As if I needed reminding on how to lie or as we like to call it embroider a truth that could be possible. Anyway I do quite a bit of skillful embroidery for Ethel as she does for me. I have two good friends that at the drop of a hat will tell the most outrageously believable lies to say my arse. That’s friendship – and I return the favour. Ethel and I have this game when it comes to reference checks. At the end of the check we will say “And please pass on my best wishes to Ethel/Amarinda as I really admire her.” Yes it is a load of crap but we like to see which referees ring back and pass on the ‘best wishes’. I am winning so far as I am far more charming than Ethel in getting people to believe I control multi-national companies and saying things like "I say this with all sincerity if I had my own business I would employ Ethel tomorrow.” Do I feel bad? No, because reference checks for jobs rarely mean anything. It’s mainly just a check to see the referee agrees with the prospective employers own opinion.

Now – did you check www.annycook.blogspot.com? If not get over there immediately and read Anny’s outrageous take on out Emmeline, twin, peeler, virgin saga. Then on Monday morning on www.kellykirch.blogsplot.com when Grasshopper adds her own mad spin to the tale. Thankfully I am the sane one. Shut up I am.

Swift of Heart - out now -it's all about love, honour, dimensions and chocolate.

When Stephanie Hart opens her front door to find long lost love Mackinley Swift on her doorstep so many thoughts rush through her mind. Anger, love and an overwhelming urge to slap him then eat a chocolate bar. Here is the man who taught her to love, to want and to need then he walked out on her without a word. Now Mac’s back, a year later, telling her he’s been away fighting a war in another dimension. Yeah, right, whatever. Stephanie is simply not that stupid.

Mac knows he has the fight of his life on his hands to convince the woman he loves that he had no choice when duty called him back to fight a war against his country’s old enemy. He did not want to go. Duty to his country called him home. But love has brought him back to Stephanie Hart. How hard could it be to convince her that they are meant to be together?

However an old enemy is watching the lover’s reunion. He hates Mackinley Swift for killing his brother. He has every intention of making him suffer. The woman Swift loves is the means to do it. Hurt the woman, hurt the man.

www.freewebs.com/janetdavies