Candles burning bright

Candle light

In my witchy kitchen…

Winter’s night

Candle light

Burns bright


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Angel of the North

A story of Divine Intervention…

“Angel of the North” is a work of pure fiction. It was inspired by a true story of a young woman rescued from domestic abuse, told to me by someone for whom I have huge respect. With kindness, compassion, humour and integrity he has spent his career helping others feel safe and protected. Many have been blessed  he has been there for them, making a real difference to their lives…He is one of the Police Service’s finest Officers.

Keith Evans [CC BY-SA 2.0 (], via Wikimedia Commons

Keith Evans [CC BY-SA 2.0 (, via Wikimedia Commons

The sun was low in the Western sky. Warm fingers of pink and gold gently spread out across a sleepy sky.  It wouldn’t be long until it vanished in a blaze of glory behind the imposing steel sculpture of the Angel of the North. Another day on Earth nearly done and the promise of a new dawn still a distant dream. A woman sat on the grass beneath the Angel’s outstretched wings, her gaze fixed on the far horizon yet her thoughts were lost in a place even further away. A stranger stood watching her, unobserved. She didn’t see the stranger or the steady stream of people descending the path back to the road below, nor did she see the flashing blue lights of the emergency services weaving through the traffic on the dual carriageway of the busy A167. The light was fading fast and night would soon come riding in. Resolve crossed the man’s face and he approached her.

“Hi, how are you?” he asked.

The woman jolted out of her reverie looked up. A man, dressed in a crisp white linen shirt and deep blue jeans stood by her at a respectful distance. Instantly she knew she could trust him implicitly.

“I think I am in pain…” She answered, her voice barely a whisper. A tear rolled down her face.

He reached out and gently wiped it away. A flicker of gratitude in her eyes showed she had welcomed the gentle gesture.

“Cassie…” she held out a slender hand, he noted long sensitive fingers. The angry purple bruising around her wrists and the faded one on her cheek, cleverly hidden by her make-up, did not go unnoticed either. She was indeed in pain, and not of her own making.

“D.I North.” His grip was electric, his smile dazzling.

“Detective Inspector? No Uniform? Your day off?”

” I prefer to work plain clothes, find it’s easier to help those in need.”

“So do you have a first name?” he saw she was intrigued. He saw her tears had stopped. She didn’t pull her hand away, although he saw the thought crossed her mind.

“Reuel,” voice as warm as the rays of the setting sun.

“Are you from around here?” both his name and golden looks spoke of a faraway place.

“Yes and No.” Cassie noted where he was economical with words he was generous with the heat emanating from his hands. Healing hands. The concern of a stranger was too much to bear and Cassie grabbed her hand away and blinked away hot treacherous tears.

“So what has brought you to Gateshead, Reuel?”

“Work. You...” It took a moment for his words to register.


“You!” his smile was a warm benediction.

” D.I – Detective Inspector? What have you detected about me? Why would you even concern yourself about me? ” She searched his intelligent eyes for an answer and saw only compassion reflected back.

“Cassie you said you were in pain, I detect your pain is emotional. You have been hurt. You do not need to be ever again. Your heart is lost and lonely and you search for something you cannot find.”

“Yes… I seem to have lost my way, Reuel. I feel like I have been abandoned, a stranger in a strange land and I just don’t understand the protocols of this world. There is nothing but pain in this place. People hurt each other just because they can… Those who say they love you lie and cheat and beat. They harm where they could heal. I have had enough suffering and pain and my heart aches.”

“Yet the heartache brings with it a great gift Cassie. It brings empathy for others. It brings the gift of healing and Divine Grace. It is the path to home.”

“I wish that were true Reuel. I am searching for home, I look at the stars at night, searching, longing…I know home isn’t here and I so want to go home.”

“Cassie home is not a place!”

“If it isn’t a place then where do I find it?”

 “It is the very essence of Love and it dwells within your own heart. When others hurt you and lie to you or cheat or beat you then the sin is on their soul, not yours. It is not a reflection of you – it is a reflection of them. Time on Earth is finite. When one human seeks to diminish or degrade another, in truth, they only diminish or degrade themselves. Be the best person you can and always be true to yourself. Every act of kindness, no matter how small, is important and is recorded, as is every act of unkindness, nothing is unseen. In the fullness of time the scales of Justice are always balanced.

“If only that were true…”

“The power of Light is far stronger than the forces of darkness. Divine justice will take care of everything.” He fixed her with his benevolent gaze, eyes deep with the wisdom of the ages.

“We know he hurt you, he never will again. It is over. The scales have been balanced.”

“Who? How?” confusion reigned in her face and voice and she started to shake violently.

Reuel reached out and drew Cassie to him into a strong, protective embrace, almost as if an Angel had wrapped her in the pure essence of unconditional love. Understanding permeated Cassie’s consciousness and she unequivocally knew that Reuel spoke the Truth and she would never need to search in vain for home again, home was within her own heart.


The rapidly approaching blue lights came to an abrupt standstill, whilst their continuing flashing signalled ‘emergency’ on the road below. Cassie finally took note of what was happening. An open topped deep blue BMW lay overturned on its side and the paramedics were attending to a young woman slumped unconscious on the dashboard of the passenger side, her long black hair hid her face. The driver’s seat was empty.

“That’s my husband’s car! Where has he gone? What’s happened? Who is that in my seat?” Confusion and fear tore across her face as her questions tumbled out into the chill of the evening air.

“There was an accident, he was speeding and the car skidded out of control hitting the trees. Cassie, you were lost, trying to find your way home. I was assigned to help just you; he is now beyond my assistance. The Watchers have taken care of him.”

“What am I doing up here and shouldn’t you be down there with the other Police Officers?” Panic gripping.

“I’m not an Officer, but you are right, my work here is done and you need to join them on the road below before the light grows too bright and you are unable to go back.”

“What light? Who are you?” As Cassie drowned in bewilderment, a multi faceted, beautiful and luminous light surrounded Reuel. Then the darkness closed in and all was nothing.


Somewhere in the distance the plaintive wail of an ambulance siren tore through the cool evening air, as it urgently wound its way down the Durham Road towards the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. The paramedic deftly held his casualty’s hand offering reassurance, whilst discreetly reading the vital signs on his monitors.

“Incredibly lucky to be alive and thrown clear of the wreckage. A miracle. Heart rate 62 and Blood pressure 110/70 so all good, nothing more serious than just a concussion and some old bruising by the looks of it,” matter of fact as he filled the driver in as to their patient’s status as the other deftly negotiated the road ahead.

“You saw the state of the car, there had to have been an Angel by her side to walk away alive from that one. The husband wasn’t so lucky, dead on impact. This one is a definite case of Divine Intervention!” The sense of awe in the driver’s voice was perceptible.

As the ambulance pulled into the emergency bay of the hospital, through a haze of semi consciousness, Cassie sent a silent “thank you” from her heart to her own special Guardian Angel, D.I North.

The last rays of the setting sun illuminated in glorious red and gold the majesty of the imposing steel structure that is the “Angel of the North”.

With his vast wings stretched out over the surrounding landscape Reuel sent a silent blessing out through the ethers to all those seeking their way home…

(C) Eily Nash 2015

Note:  The meaning of the name Reuel (Raguel) – Archangel of justice, fairness, harmony, and vengeance.

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Wine of Desire

1985-Ary Sceffer The Ghosts of Paolo and Francesca appear to Dante & Virgil

1985-Ary Scheffer
The Ghosts of Paolo and Francesca appear to Dante & Virgil

By the light of a fire burning bright

The Lady sought love in the night

Desire ignited within her dark eyes

She went to him with innocent guise

In his chamber her Lord did wait

With his black heart full of hate

After Hearts and bodies did entwine

He gave her a goblet of ruby wine

The venom brought her to the floor

He told his wife he loved her no more

It was another who set him aflame

He was callous and without shame

As the poisoned wine her life did take

A final promise she did make

Beyond the grave, his cruel crime

He would rue until the end of time

© Eily Nash

…A little halloween offering…

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Kissed By the Rain

ROSE I love yellow roses, these beauties live in a bed of Lavender in my magical garden. How lovely to see the rain has kissed leaves of green and petals of gold!

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William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905) - La Nuit (1883)

William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905) – La Nuit (1883)

Darkness shyly approached the Castle walls and the woman welcomed its soothing cloak, gratefully draping shades of night over her unquiet Soul. A chill as fine as the threads of a spider’s web graced the night air. Silence hung heavy. Although dusk had fallen, ancient tombstones, cold and grey, were visible through mullioned windows. They proudly stood as silent sentinels in the graveyard below. The swish of a gossamer gown broke the silence as her wraithlike form moved through the all-pervading gloom.

Lady Eleanor shivered with a quiet thrill of anticipation. For it is said that on All Hallows Eve the Souls of the dead walk among men. Her velvet clad feet kept quiet counsel as she glided across familiar flagstones. Walking the length of the hallowed halls she allowed her thoughts to dance ahead to her Chamber. In darkness she reached the spiral stone staircase. Each familiar and well worn step taking her nearer to her heart’s desire. A faint glow of candlelight pierced the shroud of night. As a moth to a flame she drew near…

Bid by flickering flames of fire she knelt before a small bronze statue, which graced an altar fashioned from black marble. Taking a pinch of Rosemary from a velvet pouch she sprinkled the dried herb into the flames. And waited. As the flame grew higher she whispered an incantation to the Immortal Ones. Nyx, goddess of the night and her celestial son, Morus, quintessence of impending doom. With arcane words she sought their intercession in her quest. Momentarily her chamber was cast into deep shadow. The gods had heard. It had begun.

Entranced, Eleanor watched a story unfold in the dancing light. Bodies entwined in synergies of love and of lust, of passion and obsession, of hate and desire. The flame danced in abandon, gold and red and blue, until unseen fingers snuffed the candle out and a thin spiral of smoke faded into oblivion. The acrid smell of tallow hung heavy in the air. Tonight, the fate of mere mortals was in the hands of her gods and the story would have a different ending.

Taking a vial from her gown, Eleanor drank droplets of the morning dew infused with a sprig of Wormwood, which had been purified over Sandalwood. And once more blood coursed through her veins and she blessed the life-giving potion for allowing her to walk between two Worlds. As Night came riding in she lit another candle. With occult words she chanted a spell to call her beloved husband Helios to her, for she was his Lady and he was her Lord and this castle their home. She conjured through the night, calling, calling. He had loved her deeply before the Stranger came and sang her Siren’s song and so he would again. Helios would be with her once more. She willed it be so before the breaking of a new day took her ephemeral power, bestowed by the grace of the goddess of night, away.

“So Mote It be,” whispered Eleanor, a glimmer of hope dancing in her broken heart.

And as she waited by flickering candle light she remembered the love and the betrayal. She remembered she had held forgiveness in her heart. That was then…

In the midst of winter a stranger had arrived at the Castle Keep, penniless, alone and adrift in the World. She came seeking sanctuary. Eleanor had embraced the lost and lonely stranger and welcomed her into the warmth and safety of the Castle, giving her food and sustenance, shelter and friendship and a place in her retinue as a favoured handmaiden. Sybilla with her long flaxen hair, eyes of innocent blue and comely face had a cold, black heart in which twin snakes of jealousy and hate lay coiled, waiting to strike at her benefactress. Helios fell for her charms and enchantment. Eleanor had let the stranger into their home and her husband had let the stranger into his heart and his bed. He had lain with Sybilla, cruelly banishing his lawful Lady from his bedchamber. Eleanor had pleaded with her Lord for the sake of their holy marriage vows to renounce his beguiling Mistress. She saw remorse and guilt in his eyes, she saw he was under enchantment and she saw that in time he would do as she bid. He would be hers once more.

Yet Eleanor had a powerful foe, for Sybilla, having sought sanctuary within the castle walls desired to be more than a handmaiden. She coveted the title of Chatelaine and wanted to possess both Helios and the keys to his castle. With deadly intent she plotted and schemed. Practiced in the dark arts, she soon came between the Lord and his Lady. Having come so far, Sybilla was not willing to let it all slip away and give back the heart she had stolen from Lady Eleanor. Something would have to be done to enable her to become Lady Sybilla…

And so it came to pass on a moonless night, with wicked whispers ringing in his ear, Lord Helios bade Lady Eleanor join him in his bedchamber. With protestations of eternal love he reassured her that the small matter of his fidelity would be resolved once and for all.

With joy in her heart Eleanor had heeded her beloved Lord’s call. He had sent for her once more! With great care she dressed in a becoming gown of blue velvet trimmed with gold brocade. Her long raven black hair hung loose around her shoulders and placing a diadem of red Jasper and a veil of finest gossamer upon her innocent head, the bride prepared to go to her groom.

The Lord’s bedchamber was candlelit with a thousand dancing flames. Her Lord bid his Lady come sip from a silver loving cup he had prepared for her. She lifted the goblet filled with deep blood red wine to her lips and sipped. The wine tasted bitter. Helios smiled and vowed eternal love to his beloved wife.

The candles cast dancing shadows upon the rich damask wall hangings. Eleanor shivered and asked if they were alone? Laughing, Helios reassured her there were no unseen foes hiding in the shadows. He urged her to drink another draught of wine. To please him, she drank deeply from the loving cup. The chamber began to spin wildly. One of the amorphous dancing shadows appeared to step out from the wall hanging and began moving menacingly towards her. Eleanor gasped as the malevolent shadow took solid form.

Sybilla took Helios’s outstretched hand. Fire raged in Eleanor’s throat as the goblet of malice, filled with the fruit of the vine and a rage of Monkshood did it’s deadly deed and she fell into Death’s dark embrace.


By candlelight  Lady Eleanor remembered as she waited patiently in her chamber for her Lord to heed her summons. Kneeling reverently before the altar of black marble she placed an offering  of simple purple flowers before the bronze statuette of Nyx.  The bouquet of Monkshood had been gathered from the graveyard this moonless night. The poison within the delicate bells held no malice, only retribution. She watched in quiet satisfaction as the dancing candle light danced as it was reflected in a silver chalice  filled with her ruby red blood. Twin flames dancing in abandon, blue and red and gold.  Her loving cup awaited him. He would come, he would drink and  by the intercession of the gods of night, justice would be done.

Helios was doomed to meet his deadly fate that very night and accompany his lawful Lady back beyond the veil where a silent grave awaited their quiet repose. Eleanor would rest in peace with her Lord by her side through the passage of thirteen moon tides, until she once more walked in darkness to her chamber. Evil intent had stolen her husband, her title and her castle. Lady Sybilla would sip from a potent brew of retribution and revenge. There would be no quiet repose within hallowed halls for her, only an unmarked grave far beyond these castle walls.

For it is said that on All Hallows Eve the Souls of the dead walk among men.

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Torn From My Heart

In which Angel erroneously thinks a fated love story is about herand gets quite cross and takes matters into her own paws when she finds out it isnt about her rather shady shenanigans!


The Falsely Accused…

I  was feeling a tad miffed, My Lovelies.  I have fallen out, again, with my Boyfriend. It is all his fault. I am totally innocent and refute all his unfounded and unkind allegations in their entirety!

‘O.M.G Angel, what could he possibly accuse a dog with such an unblemished character as yourself of doing?’

Humph, you may well ask, My Lovelies. He accused me of Cheating…Again… as if! So I slammed the phone down on him and grabbed Grannie and went to the bookshop. I needed a quiet space in order to think up a plausible excuse as to why I was spotted having afternoon tea in Fortnum & Mason’s with  dapper dog about town,Teddy Hot Paws. Oh my, that boy is sooo cute and he does provide a jolly good  posh nosh up.  I had promised Hamish never to see him again after getting caught out on a riverside walkies by moonlight last Monday night. (Teddy brought Champagne and cake and as Hamish was busy watching the rugby I was at a loose end. I ask you what was a girl to do, how could I refuse?!)

Hmm…I would need a cast iron alibi to wriggle my way out of this one.  That’s where Grannie came in… Erm I mean my old girl needed an outing…We were enjoying a frothy Cappuccino and a big plate of those crunchy Biscotti biscuits in the cosy little bookshop cafe. I like books and I like Biscotti. I like them, a lot…so I ate the lot. Whilst having a good old crunch and munch a book caught my eye, not surprising since I was in a bookstore, you may observe I have cleverly deduced, but there was something about this particular book.

‘Was it one of your own woofilicious Bestsellers, Angel?’ I hear you solicitously ask.

Well no, surprisingly it was one of Grannie’s offerings! I picked it up and had a browse and I was delighted to see it was obviously all about me! I must say I was rather touched that Grannie had totally taken seriously just how deeply affected I was when my True Love falsely accused me of cheating an hour ago. Imagine how pleased I was to see she had put the pedal to the metal and written and had published and distributed a whole book all about my experiences, poignantly titled Torn from the Heart’.

‘Ohhh Angel, how could your own True Love be so cruel!’ I hear you exclaim in shocked disbelief.

Indeed. It pains me, My Lovelies, to share that I am suffering considerable heartbreak, following his totally scurrilous and unfounded allegations of infidelity.It was with trembling paws I picked up my book, deliciously anticipating to be blown away by a  sensitive rendition of my emotive tale, something perhaps evocative of Anna Karenina? I was expecting that Grannie’s pen flew across the pages painting an eloquent picture of a beautiful Westie fighting for the boy she loved, convincing him of her pure and unblemished character. I admit the cover did not grab me. It did not exactly blow me away. I mean what was it about? It was a red heart with a crack down the middle?! What was that going to convey to the reader? Surely a picture of Moi would have painted a thousand words in a far more elegant and flattering manner?

Torn from the Heart

Hmm…I had a good chew on my last Biscotti and puzzled it out. Those of you know me, know I have a considerable and unrivalled intellect having  the equivalent of several doggy PhD’s and an hour or two later I got it! It was one of those metaphor thingies to do with my recent heartache, I guess…But it should have been me on that cover, a far more effective, aesthetically pleasing and compelling choice. What reader would not fail to be touched by a nicely ‘photo -shopped’ image of the tender young Westie with a faraway look in her beautiful black eyes. Maybe a tear  delicately rolling over my soft, white fur? Sadness oozing from my charismatic pores. Totally emotive stuff…  So I thoughtfully took numerous “selfies” looking suitably sad and poignant, and when she popped to the Loo I got my paws on her MacBook and submitted the new,much improved, cover to her publishers.

So, it was with a great deal of disgust I found out there was not one word about me in the whole book. I mean, how could she? The Paws is not amused!Reviewers with comments like this, led me to believe the book was indeed about my recent upset with my beloved:-

‘A Book Filled With The Passion Of Twin Flame, Soul Mate Love And Destruction…’

You can see why I was led into the false assumption this book was indeed My book, and with delicious reviews like this one, ‘Hypnotically Addictive Can’t Put Down Novel…’ Who else but Moi would receive such an accolade, I ask you??? Don’t answer, the question is purely rhetorical. We all know it is Moi! Humph…I voiced my opinions in that bookshop. I voiced them loud and clear. I howled in disgust. I barked in anger. Grrr…To be honest I cannot see what the problem was, just because I aired my grievances and urged the assembled crowd to boycott her rotten old misleading book we were unceremoniously thrown out of the bookshop. For some unknown reason Grannie got her baggy old knickers in a right twist about my quite reasonable advice to the assembled crowd.Humphh. Unreasonable or what, I ask you?! Don’t answer. We all know she is unreasonable. Grrr…And when her publishers sent her the proof of her new cover, she went on a total rampage. Ohhh the ingratitude of it all…

Beguiling Beauty and cover girl, Angel!

Beguiling Beauty and cover girl, Angel!


“ANGEL!!!! You are a very naughty girl, you had no right to change the cover on MY book! I feel I have to clarify that ‘Torn From the Heart’ was written and published waaaaayyyyy before your long suffering True Love Hamish caught you out skanking with Teddy Hot Paws. And if you had taken a moment to read the description, perhaps you would have realised that the ‘Cruel Heartbreaker’ Adam Knight was not based on your very forgiving B.F and the Beguiling raven haired Witch Evelyn, certainly was not a reflection of a cheeky little Madam, called Angel Nash!!!

Grannie is NOT amused young lady…”

Torn from the Heart

Cruel heartbreaker, Adam takes no prisoners in ‘Affaires de Coeur’. Fate takes a hand in his bad boy ways one dark, stormy night when Adam finds himself at the mercy of a vicious storm. Lost and afraid on a treacherous Moor, crying out for help…in the middle of nowhere, will anyone hear his pitiful plea?
Chancing upon mysterious ‘Half Moon Inn’ and beguiling inn-keeper Evelyn Blackmore, could his prayers have been heard? The raven-eyed beauty offers more than sanctuary. Through the hours of darkness, Adam’s fey companion spins fireside tales of love, loss, rejection, and redemption.
Gradually he realises the ethereal Evelyn knows him all too well as she rips her preternatural tales from the recesses of his black heart. Evelyn weaves the unravelled threads of his deepest secrets onto the loom of his life, as Adam secretly plots scenes of soft seduction. Will Evelyn fall prey to her guest’s dark charms and be enticed into his web of deceit? Unbeknownst to him, the enigmatic beauty also has secrets and as the Witching hour fast approaches, so do uninvited and hungry ghosts of the past.
With more than a touch of magic in the air the Hunter just might find he has become the hunted….

In this hauntingly beautiful book, two hearts and minds meet when their World’s meet collide across time. This otherworldly story delves deeply into dark places, exploring the ‘House of Relationship’. Can the alchemy of the eternal Spirit and soul love ever truly heal the wounds of the human heart?


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The Other Woman

In which Angel discovers that Grumpy Grandpa is in love with an exotic beauty called Cortina and agonizes whether to spill the beans to Grannie!

O’er, come close my Lovelies, I have red hot gossip direct from my delicate paws. You will never  guess what? I have something to share, something to titillate and tantalise. Hot gossip that I would be just sooo selfish to keep just to myself. As you all know I so totally not known for being a selfish Pupster, tee-hee, so grab a coffee and a big plate of shortbread and snuggle up My Lovelies as I am itching to tell this top secret Tale of skanking and skulduggery!

Grannie won’t be pleased when she hears about it, but  it is my duty to make her aware of a major development!  Mmm…Should I, shouldn’t I? To Tell or not to tell?’ That is the question I ask myself, and you too, My Lovelies. I am all conflicted now. I’ve heard that saying “shoot the messenger”and you have all heard what she is like when I have tried to be helpful before. Hmm…Do I tell? Or do I keep my own counsel?

‘Oh, Do Tell, Angel!’ I hear you solicitously ask and applaud as Brave Whistle Blower, Angel Nash in the interests of truth and justice, and not salacious gossip, ponders the wisdom of revealing All

Oh OK, you have twisted my paw…But, please Shh…Let us keep it as our little secret sharing. So this is what happened!

I found out with some pretty nifty detective work and much to my (and Grannie’s when she hears about it) disgust some rather shady goings on,  going on right under our noses.

The Hot Gossip and please keep it quiet, is that (drum rollmake that two!) Grumpy Grandpa has another woman!!! For real, OMG !!! Eww!!!

It all happened the weekend. Grandpa was yapping on his phone and was lurking very furtively in the Garage. He had encouraged Grannie to go out shopping and given her a wedge of wonga, telling her to go buy herself some nice things and not to worry about rushing back…my suspicions were immediately aroused…why would he be encouraging her to spend money on anyone other than Moi??? I mean, what would the point be, it would take a miracle to improve her. I don’t call Grannie Grotty without due cause, believe me!

The Conversation that alerted me to prick up my ears and hear this astounding news went something like this:-

Mystery Caller: ‘Ya de yah de yahhh…’

Grumpy Grandpa:   ‘Yes, the Wife has gone out, now would be good to bring my beauty home. I can’t wait to see her lush bodywork’.

Mystery Caller: ‘Yackety yak yak…yak yak..’

Grumpy Grandpa:   ‘I’ll only have a few hours to get my hands on her before the Mrs comes back!’

Mystery Caller: ‘Ya de yah de yahhh…’ 

Grumpy Grandpa:   ‘Yes, I know she truly is a bit of a state, but don’t forget she is a 1983 Model and been through a lot. Some TLC from me will see her right!’

Mystery Caller: ‘Ya de more yaa de yahhhh’s’

Grumpy Grandpa: ‘Yes,  I am sure my wife will understand  once she knows how important my amazing vintage Cortina is to me.’


O’er naughty Grandpa! Who would have thought it? O’er…Silly Grandpa…Grannie will kill him! I couldn’t help but overhear, not because I was listening behind the door you understand, but purely because I have enhanced and far superior auditory powers than lesser Mortals of the Human variety…just sayin’. Well, my mind was spinning, I can tell you! I mean, poor old Grannie. She is no spring chicken, that’s for sure. But who would have thought it??? Being replaced by a 1983 Model…When she is at last circa 1960! I’ve honestly seen younger things on Antiques Roadshow.

Now, being very mathematically minded I worked out in a mere matter of several hours that Grandpa’s new Model is a good 20 years younger than my wrinkly Old Dear. How can ancient Grannie possibly hope to compete? Hmmm Maybe I’ll have to try and style her, give her a complete Angelicious make over. I’ve heard that with Prayer and invoking the Divine Powers that Miracles do happen … I am certain that being a Divine Dog, I have the power in my paws to be a bona fide Miracle Worker. It can’t be that hard, can it?

Ohh quick…I have to go, My Lovelies…Grannie is home and I don’t want to miss the fireworks…Er, I mean I want to be available to support her, in her hour of need.

Ohh I can’t wait to catch up with you later for the full expose on Grannie’s reaction to Grandpa’s skanking. Ohh I shall sooo enjoy finding out just who the floozy is and you can rest assured that the ‘Other Woman’ will be thoroughly Named and Shamed by Moi!

Poor old vintage Grannie, we can only hope that my Magnificent Makeover helps her out in love wars. Hmm, given what I will have to work with it may well prove that it is indeed possible to make a silk purse out of a pigs ear…only if you are as multi-talented as Moi, that is of course ! …Just sayin’ Grannie!!!

So just who is the object of GrandPa’s affection? Angel continues her revelations of skanking and skulduggery in “Telling Tails” direct from her delectable Paws!

PAPERBACK AND KINDLE available on Amazon and other good On Line retailers :)

O'er all this gossiping has worn me to be paws...time for Teddy Bye Byes!

O’er all this gossiping has worn me to be paws…time for Puppy Bye Byes!

All the gossip and from the Paws of Angel Nash!

All the gossip and more…direct from the Paws of Angel Nash!

TT 2

My very first volume of totally Angelicious “secret sharing sessions”

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On The Couch

Angel Nash in the house!

It’s totally Pawesome to Meet and Greet you. Come and join me on the couch in my fabulous 53rd floor Manhattan Penthouse … Snuggle up and get cosy, My Lovelies. I shall ask my Butler James to buttle up some posh nosh for us to nibble whilst I natter.

I have tails to tell and candid canine confessions to make…

On the Couch with Angel

On the couch with Diva Dog and outrageous flirt Angel!

But Shh! Don’t tell anyone, especially not my Scottie boy,Hamish McTavish, back home in England’s green and pleasant lands. Dunno why, but My True Love is rather the jealous type. And I especially don’t want my arch frenemy Kimbles (that boyfriend nabbin’ biatch of a Bichon Frise) to snitch any little “Affairs de Coeur” I may or may not be conducting Stateside, just so she can get her manky paws on my boy. So, My lovelies, all these delicious little nibbles of ‘ANGEL CAKE’ are going to be our little secret!

Angel is a diva dog who has it all, beauty, fame and a luxurious uptown life in Manhattan with her doting Grannie and Butler James attending to all her copious ‘want, need, nows!’. What more could a girl want? When Angel meets a super cute boy, who happens to be an incognito King, she realises there is something missing from her life, the royal title of H.R.H Princess Angel to be exact! When her royal suitor bestows tasty treats and offers more, Angel’s dreams of social elevation go to her head. Our girl is on a mission to nab herself a crown and a rather yummy cake. She isn’t about to let the little matter of a true love back home in England spoil her plans. But when old frenemy Kimbles the Bichon biatch arrives in New York, and a blast or two from the past reappear, life becomes “it’s complicated” and Angel finds she has more than a touch of trouble on her delectable paws. Mischief and mayhem ensue as Angel is determined to have her crown and wear it and have her cake and eat it! Join our girl on the couch in her fabulous Manhattan Penthouse as she candidly reveals all in her cosy secret sharing sessions, with you, her Lovelies!

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English Rose



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Dancing to the Edge of Darkness

FLAMEAs the Orchestra struck up the music, Florence stood up, buying time smoothing down the front of her elegant satin evening gown and tucking a stray blonde hair behind her ear.Reluctantly taking the outstretched, wrinkled hand of her long time dancing partner, Old Nick, they glided out onto the dance floor. It hadn’t always been this way. Back in the day, Florence used to shiver in delightful anticipation when he reached out to her. The thrill of  being seen with rich and influential Nick Mephistopheles, with all eyes on them, was a complete power rush. When their first dance had begun all those years ago and her debonair partner requested the pleasure, she had never gave so much as a thought to the heavy price he would exact if she ever refused to dance to his tune.
Nick’s business practices were more than shady, but as long as she was on the receiving end of his largesse Florence really didn’t give a damn that her man had gone for the jugular of anyone who had opposed him. Florence only had to express a desire and it was hers for the taking; jewels, clothes, cars, homes and prestige. His power seduced her. She liked the hint of darkness that lurked beneath his suave and sophisticated exterior. She saw people were scared of Nick, he commanded respect. She liked that. Florence would coquettishly laugh and enquire with an engaging smile,
“Nick, just what is the secret of your success?”
“I’m a people person, I give them what they want, they give me what I want.” There was just a trace of coldness in his voice.
“I can see that, and you certainly give me what I want, but there’s more. What do you really do, Nick?”
“ You could say I’m a collector,” was the enigmatic reply. He didn’t chose to expand any further. His inscrutable eyes and cold smile closing down any further attempts at delving into his affairs. Was Nick married? Who knew. There were certainly lots of women. That didn’t really bother Florence much. She revelled in being the one he reached out to the most, the one on his arm on the red carpets, at all the swankiest parties, sat at his side on the private yachts and planes. There were whispers she had his ear, that gave Florence her own sort of power and influence, and she used it to full effect. The power felt good, even if it was by default. Florence was very grateful to Old Nick, back then, back in the day when the dance had just begun. His allure was strong, an intoxicating drug, and before long Florence was hooked.
“Nick, I love you. I’d do anything to repay your generosity,” she exclaimed the first time he had draped her in diamonds and fur.
“Oh, I guess your body and soul should be payment enough, is that acceptable, my Lovely?” he’d replied with a twinkle in his coal black eyes. She thought he had jested and laughingly agreed “Your terms are acceptable, Kind Sir!” And they were. Back then. Back in the day, when their dance had just begun. And so the deal was sealed.
Nick liked to party hard. Dancing was his thing. Elegant, suave, he moved like a panther eating up the dance floor. Women loved him, men wanted to be him, until they got to know Nick a bit better.He liked all eyes on him and he liked his own way. It wasn’t wise to cross him, he had a ruthless and vindictive streak with rivals in both the ball room and the board room. Nick had not lied about being a collector. As time passed and Florence proved her devotion, Nick brought her closer into his inner sanctum.
“Florence, your soul is mine I own you and I want to own all the others I send you to collect.”
How could she refuse? She was in too deep, he had seen to that. With a Siren’s call her beauty brought his hand picked victims to Nick’s lair. He gave the most amazing, lavish parties. His lifestyle was all high end luxury. It was all a game, a well paid dangerous game. Nick rewarded most handsomely when Florence performed. The glitter and glamour proved too seductive and Florence willingly accepted she had checked in all morality and conscience before taking to the dance floor with Mr Mephistopheles.
Tonight was different, Florence was tiring of their ‘Les Liaisons Dangereuses’ and she wanted out. Nick, sensing her indifference was not a guy to cross. He grew possessive and reminded Florence he owned her body and soul. The beautiful ball room had suddenly become a prison and her dancing parter her gaoler.
“When you chose to dance with the devil Florence, you knew there would be no way out…” His voice was menacing. Yes, she knew the score, and yes, she had sealed the deal regardless of the consequences, back then, back in the day.
But that was then. Nick was ageing and it was time for a new dancing partner. As the thought crossed her mind, she saw the Stranger and he saw her. And Nick saw him too. Savagely he grabbed her wrist, and snarled,
“Stay with me Florence. Better the devil you know…”
Florence broke free and without looking back made her way across the empty dance floor. The stranger seemed to be pulling her magnetically towards him. The room faded into blackness and all Florence could see was a numinous mist, with the beguiling stranger emitting an almost supernatural light. Music sublimely filled the ball room and she moved inexorably into his arms.
“Do you want to dance?” she whispered seductively.
“Are you willing to forsake all others for me, Florence?” his honeyed voice resonated deeply as he brushed her face with lips as cold  as the grave.
Florence was compelled, even though the touch of his skin brought shivers creeping along her spine, to whisper “yes…”
He held out his hand, and realising she did not know the Stranger’s name, yet he knew hers, Florence took a step back.
“Lucis Ferre,” he smiled, “I have been waiting for you.”
To the plaintive strains of Sibelius’ ‘Valse Triste’, Lucis and Florence glided across the vast expanse of an empty dance floor.

The Last Waltz would last forever. Florence had made her choice … Dancing with the devil to the very edge of darkness…

© Eily Nash 2014

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Requiem for a Lost Lover


“Come to me and be my wife, I will love you all my life! My love is pure, my love is true, all I have, I share with you. Come Beloved, bide with me, in perfect trust and harmony!”

 He once whispered those words of love to me. Our vows were sacred for all eternity. Alas, promises my beloved could not keep. Oh how my wounded heart did bleed and weep. You may well ask why did I not have eyes to see through his lies and mendacity? What was my crime or my sin? Why did He let the Stranger in? His words were callous, cruel and cold. It was not my fault jealousy took hold!

“I Loved you once, that much is true, until her beauty stole my heart from you. She is comely, my lover is fair, with eyes of blue and flaxen hair. Whilst you grew ragged, grey and old. ‘Tis your fault my Love grew cold!”

My tears they fell like bitter rain. Illusions shattered, piercing pain. In the winter of my heart, I vowed from her he would part. I grabbed a knife and plunged it deep, his life blood ebbed to eternal sleep. So now beneath the pure white snow, in the rich dark Earth deep below, lay two silver caskets filled with bones. By our silent grave, my ghost atones. Encased in ice, two hearts entwine. In Death’s embrace my Love is forever mine. By my side eternally lays his head, even though he is long cold and dead.

© Eily Nash


Portobello Princess ♥

♥ ☆ ♥ For you Princess ♥ ☆ ♥All my Love Mummy ♥ ☆ ♥












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Lonely Loom

Deep within the darkest heart of Night

Dance slender beams of soft MoonLight

Penetrating through the dank and gloom

Falling upon a forbidding Castle Tower

Where sits a lovely Lady in her Bower

Lost in time, she works  her lonely Loom

A tide of tears falling upon ethereal hands

Entwined around enchanted, silken strands.

The Lady of Shalott Looking at Lancelot, 1894 - John William Waterhouse

The Lady of Shalott Looking at Lancelot, 1894 – John William Waterhouse

Taking numinous threads of silver and gold

A story of a  Knight’s chivalrous deeds unfolds

With armour, steel and steed, he rode to war

Forsaking his Lady Love on Sceptred shores.

Blithely breaking his promise of a Wedding band

       For the glory of King’s Crusades in a foreign Land

Her beloved sailed righteously across the seas

Enemy and Gallantry brought him to his knees.

For the Templar’s cause the Knight gave his life

Forfeiting his vow to make the Lady his wife

Falling on faraway fields, his life blood ebbed.

Love lives on, though her Knight is long dead.

Eons of time encroach on the shadows and gloom

Awaiting her Lover’s return, she sits by her  loom

Lingering midst rot and decay, still she trusts

Love eternal will raise him from ashes and dust.

Perchance, your steps  take you through the ruined walls of the Castle Keep, By pale moon light and night’s embrace, you may yet hear the Lady Weep.

© Eily Nash

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Dandelion Dreams


Sweet Dandelion

Do you wait patiently for me

To come along and set you free

I’ve heard plenty an aged tale told

of the dreams a Dandelion holds.

Is that so little wishing flower?

Do you have such magic power?

 I give you my dreams , fly free,

Bring my true love back to me!

Scatter through the fields and trees

Soft starburst on the gentle breeze

Treasured seed falls to Mother Earth

Within each one the promise of rebirth

…And so the dance of life goes on…

© Eily Nash
I took this photo of the  beautiful littleDandelions  on a perfect Summer day
in a lush field in Glastonbury, on the Sacred Isle of Avalon.
The words of the little poem were inspired by a place I love so much….
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The Veil


At the Twilight of the day

When the sun has died away

I dream of you standing there

Fading light upon your hair…

I am reaching for your hands

Across time’s shifting sands

Beloved, come to me, I implore

Entwine our Souls for evermore

Do I yearn for you in vain?

Do you not suffer as I do?

Hear me cry, feel my pain!

My aching Soul calls to you!

At the dying of the light

And the coming of the night

Like the ebb tide of the sea

You are fading far from me…

Alas our Love cannot prevail

From this place beyond the Veil

Adieu, Beloved, I go in Grace

Returning to Death’s dark embrace

 © Eily Nash


A Cypriot Sun set across Chrysochou Bay from the shores of Argaka

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