A Mouse Tail

We are very proud of our young son Ryan, he has just had an amazing report for his first term at big school. He has a big heart and a very kind and caring nature, and deserves this success. Ryan has helped me co-author three children’s books. Our very first joint venture was a charming little tale of against all odds, courage, faith and LOVE conquering all. I hope you enjoy a little taste from our first chapter :)

Beautiful Violetta craves excitement and when a beauty pageant is staged in her sleepy Somerset village she is determined to win the first round and go on to become ‘Queen of the World.’ With her head full of dreams, vain Violetta sets of for the bright lights of Victorian London. Forgetting all about the little Mouseling she has left behind Violetta’s heart is set on finding fame and fortune. Magdalena wakes to find Violetta has vanished in the night. Determined to find her, the little Mouseling bravely sets off in hot pursuit after her wayward Mama. Although her journey is littered with many pitfalls, perils and full of danger, taking her all the way from England’s shores to the New World, she never gives up hope. Will Magdalena find Violetta. And if she does, will vain Violetta return back home? Follow Mouseling Magdalena on an amazing adventure and find out just how with a lot of courage and a big heart she becomes ‘Maz the Marvellous Mouse‘!

EWWWW.....That Rotten Rodent....Grrrrr....

Chapter One ~MOUSELING
Our story takes places a long time ago in Victorian times in England. This was an exciting age of new mechanical inventions, of steam boats and trains and adventure. Yet there were still many quiet and rural places where life went on pretty much as it always had. The little Hamlet of Wychwood deep in County Somerset was one such place. Wychwood consisted mostly of a scattering of farms. There was the Norman church with its big square tower and cosy church hall, the Inn and a small shop selling provisions and haberdashery. It was on a cold Winters eve with the ground all covered with a bitter frost that a tiny Mouseling was born on one of the farms down by Four Acre Field. Her home was a large old tithe barn. In Medieval times, many centuries before, the tithe barn had belonged to the Monks of the great Abbey at Glastonbury, which was just a few miles away. It had been used to store all manner of good things the Monks would need, such as grains from the golden crops that grew in the fields all around. There is nothing unusual about mice being born. Some still in that old tithe barn, which having stood the test of time is still standing.

However, there was something quite remarkable about this little mouse, and what happened to her in her life. The new-born was tiny and pink. The mewing creature was called Maz. Her name had been shortened from the most elegant Magdalena. Her Mama, Violetta, had thought this a most pleasing and fitting name for her precious Mouseling. Her Mama was sure her little Mouseling would be just as beautiful as she was, with her soft golden brown fur, shiny black eyes and lovely long and silky tail. However, much to her dismay her baby Magdalena was small, pale and delicate and did not look as if she would make it through that harsh Winter’s night.

Violetta, was very vain and quite silly and found caring for a sickly child just too much bother. Violetta soon realised that being a Mama was just no fun at all. She longed for excitement, for something different from her quiet life on the farm.

Sadly, all Violetta cared about was looking her beautiful best. Violetta was so disappointed that her special name she had chosen did not suit the weak little creature, and so lazily shortened it to Maz. Violetta meanly thought the little Mouseling was rather thin, and much too plain and just did not deserve such an elegant name as ‘Magdalena’ after all. The shortened Maz was far more suitable. A small name, for a small and totally unimportant Mouseling. As unkind as Violetta was, her daughter loved her Mama absolutely.

One night, little Maz popped her little black nose out of the safety of their mouse hole home. Her whiskers twitching warily, she scuttled across the scary floor of the old barn. She was hungry and she was desperately looking for food. Violetta, as usual, had much more important things to do, like attending to her beauty, than feeding hungry little Mouselings. Maz could not ignore her tummy as it rumbled noisily.

She was scared, it was a big world outside of the mouse-hole, but she was very hungry. She ventured out into the dark night. The other mice, who often brought her food, had told her that in the old stone farmhouse across from the barn there was a kitchen. The Farmers’ wife cooked all manner of tasty food on the big black range cooker in the warm kitchen. Under cover of darkness the crafty mice often scuttled out of the safety of the barn sneaking into the kitchen to see what tasty morsels they might find. Maz liked cheese, she liked it very much, especially the rich yellow cheddar that was made on the farm.

Maz crept quietly into the Kitchen to see if she could get some of that rich, tasty yellow cheese. Her hungry tummy rumbled again, as loud as a volcano that might erupt at any moment. In the huge farmhouse kitchen the big scary farm cat was snoozing in his comfortable bed by the fireside. The fire was nearly burnt out, just warm orange embers gave a warm glow to the room. The noise of Maz creeping across the flagstone floor woke him up with a jolt. The other mice had told Maz that the cat was a very mean cat, which you could guess by his name which was Fang. He hated the pesky mice. He hated how they sneaked into the kitchen to steal the food. It was his job to get rid of those pesky mice and he took his job very seriously indeed.

It was a brave mouse who would enter the farmhouse kitchen when Fang was there. No one had mentioned this to Maz. No one thought she would be so silly or so brave to venture out all alone in the dark when she was so young. No one thought that her Mama Violetta would be so selfish as to go out to a party held by the Voles, otters and other river creatures down by the stream, and forget to feed her hungry little Mouseling before she went.

Fang stirred. Fang saw Maz. Fang chased Maz


© Eily Nash & Ryan Nash

*CLICK HERE FOR AMAZON*

 AVAILABLE  IN PAPERBACK OR KINDLE DOWNLOAD

 
 

 L’eau de Reynard

In which Angel shares thoughts of a fragrant nature.

ANGPlease join me my Lovelies, as I reveal a most unfortunate and traumatic event, and I URGE you to have copious tissues ready because you will melt with compassion for my plight. I also name and shame the perpetrator of this dastardly deed. You won’t believe it and will be shocked at their temerity. You will be shocked at the treachery. Grannie take cover, you may well receive a big batch of hate mail! There comes a time in every dog’s life, and I shudder at the recollection, when something totally unmentionable happens. Even to an amazing pooch like me.  I’d like to share with you one such occasion. I was put through some considerable, and in my not so humble opinion, totally unnecessary trauma by my Grannie. Shame on her. She said it was for my benefit and why was I complaining as she really enjoys the thing. To be honest I cannot see her fascination in immersing herself in the revolting stuff. Did I  like it, Hell no, not one bit. And I have lots of photographic evidence to prove this crime against nature. Humans are clearly not quite as evolved as us Canines, I cannot believe I actually allowed her to dunk me in…Ewww…warm, bubbly, scented, yucky water…Pure Hell, I tell you, pure hell!

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I really do not understand what on Earth possessed her to wrinkle her freckly nose and hitch me up under her arms without a thought for my considerable dignity and do such a horrid thing to Moi. I was distraught and I was also very, very cross with Grannie and it is never a good idea to cross ‘The Paws’ as dire retribution has been known to follow. The experience left me wondering what on Earth is the matter with the crazed woman, the garden is full of yummy piles of nice fresh fox poo, just begging to be rolled in. So I did. I rolled, and rolled and coated myself liberally. It was doggilicious heaven! Instead of Grannie traumatising innocent Pupster’s and forcing them to stink to high heaven like her, she would smell a whole heap better if she went out there and explored her ‘inner dog’ too!

When the deed was done, I had a chat with her, my Lovelies, it did not go down too well and I am not sure quite why not.

‘Grannie,’ says I informatively ‘Take my advice,  I totally recommend a nice skank around outside. Get down to ground level, have a good sniff and you too could find an offering from Mr Fox, and then a good old roll will do the trick. Two seconds flat and you will be coated liberally in a most pleasant and highly satisfying aroma. You will also be absolutely irresistible to the opposite sex! I mean, Grannie, you do need all the help you can get, Just sayin’ Grannie’.

She immediately embraced her inner dog, but not quite how I expected. She put her nose to my nose and growled. Then she picked me up by the scruff of my delightful neck and parked me in my doggy day bed.

You may wonder did she eventually listen? Would a dab or two of L’eau de Reynard improve her quality of life? Was I right? Of course I was, Westies know best. Grannie, obviously has no taste. So as Grannie did not chose to follow my sage advice I decided to take matters into my own paws…”

I did warn Grannie there would be consequences ;) All the mischief and mayhem that subsequently ensued is faithfully reported in my magnifique Magnum Opus “Telling Tails” ~Treat yourself to a fun read, my Lovelies ~At a special low price  for a limited time!!!

Check Moi out on Amazon like right now :)

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http://www.amazon.com/Telling-Tails-Paws-Angel-Nash/dp/149091689X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1416585481&sr=8-1&keywords=eily+nash

My Lady, Lily Flame

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My Lady,  My Love, My Lily Flame

Do you wear a sullied cloak of shame

Has purity and innocence taken flight

To the beguiling dark embrace of Night

 Nyx and Erebus, alluring, starless charms

 Mists enticing into their seductive arms

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My Lady, My Love, My Lily Flame

Guileless innocence, without blame

Deny the Ferryman his Stygian fee

From Thanatos tenebrous  domain flee

By  flames of Winter burning bright

Take safe passage through the  night

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My Lady, My Love, My Lily Flame

Capricious gods may play Night’s game

Gates of the rising sun light the way

To sanctuary of Hemera’s breaking day

Purified by the kiss of the  Morning Dew

Absolution and Benediction fall on you

© Eily Nash

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I so love white lilies, and keep a vase by my desk as I work.

Lake of Serenity

Yesterday was glorious in London, temp was around 18° so we took advantage of the unseasonal mild weather and  had a little outing on a Lake…but where? The clue is in an iconic landmark ;)  Can you guess where  these gorgeous views are?IMG_2561 IMG_2565 IMG_2567 IMG_2571 IMG_2611 IMG_2637

Evangelistria

The Monastery of the Annunciation  sits in quiet elegance, nestled high on a pine clad hillside. The views over the Aegean are stunning. Blue skies, blue seas.  The Presence of Angels wraps Evangelistria in perfect peace. On a rather chilly late October’s evening in England, I am enjoying a glass of red wine and revisiting treasured memory days of blessed sun kissed holidays spent on beautiful Skiathos. These special times with my beloved husband and children warms my heart, as does the warmth and kindness of the people on skiathos. Peace, Kindness and  Love are surely the currency of the soul.

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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 once more mine. In Death’s embrace my Love is forever mine. By my side eternally lays his head, even though he is long cold and dead.

 

snow heart

© Eily Nash