Six not so sexy things men might want to avoid.

band mid-80s
Okay, we’re almost going from the sublime to the ridiculous as far as these photos are concerned. This is me in the band making an awful noise circa mid-80s, Germany.

Ladies! Would you say I’ve covered most things here?

To the majority of the male species:

Farting in front of your girlfriend might be permissible after you’ve been going out a few weeks but it’s a bit of a turn-off when you’ve just met. Not to mention it can be especially awkward when there’s no dog around on which to blame it. You boys are quick to point out what you don’t like to see in a new girlfriend such as the above breaking wind, her clothes, how she wears her hair and make-up, so I guess it’s only fair I give you a few pointers in return.

Got a minute?
Good! Use it to read my list of what not to do in front of the latest lady in your life.

Bare and Share!
Okay! When your lady is in the bathroom getting ready to go out or you’ve had what you deem to be a successful night and she’s getting ready in the morning… say no more… leave her alone to get on with it!

Not so much mysterious but mandatory.

I mean, do you really want to see the new lady in your life flossing her teeth? Plucking those stray little hairs from her chin; upper lip; nipples… what! You thought they came hair-free naturally? And neither would she want you to and certainly not at this stage of the relationship.

Don’t pick. Not so much on what she’s wearing although that’s not a good move but I was thinking more along the lines of something else.

Attempting to find my way out of Brest Bretagne airport I was horrified to witness a man pushing his luggage trolley with one hand whilst the index finger on his other was in a vertical stance rooting about inside his nose like he’d lost something and was expecting to find it there. On his face he wore a dazed almost hypnotised expression. Was he perhaps encountering the delights of a nosegasm? It’s hideously disgusting! Don’t do it.

Breaking wind!
I think we’ve covered that. Treading on the proverbial frog is a turn-off but let’s face it we all do it and we wouldn’t be human if we didn’t. However, if you are suffering from an overload of flatulence I suggest you revise your diet. Have a cup of fennel tea, quit blaming the dog, and to help discharge any lingering odours burn a stick of incense or light some scented candles.

She’ll think you’re being romantic.

Espousing virtues!
When it’s about a previous girlfriend keep your endearments to yourself. We don’t want to hear about it. Like you, in the beginning of a relationship, we’re not overly confident whilst doing our best to put across the good vibes and hopefully hiding our less attractive ones. And hearing about the merits of your past conquests will only serve to put an emotional and possibly a physical distance between you and your lady. Wrong direction, right!

Make sure you have them. We appreciate, and notice, manners in a bloke.
Be courteous. Open doors and allow the lady to go first. But be polite to others as well. A little courtesy will go a long way.

Personal hygiene!
I know I’ve covered this partially with the nose thing and the trumpet blowing but personal hygiene is a must. Keep your hands clean and all your other bits and bobs too. Nothing turns a woman off more if the bloke she’s about to kiss has breath on him that would challenge that of a yeti. And when in bed, boys, if the scent of sweet roses is noticeably absent and strains of what’s been put on them to make them grow is more reminiscent – be prepared to sleep alone.

And you’d deserve it!

And so ends my list of helpful hints in how to keep that new lady in your life just that little bit longer. So happy hunting and good luck! But basically, boys, just be your friendly and charming self and she should love you just the way you are.

Personally, I can’t be doing with all these dos and don’ts it does my head in.

So, if you need me, I’ll be here farting like a fox that’s just caught sight of a red jacket whilst leisurely plaiting the hairs hanging from my nipples.

Rosemary as a daffodil  Littlebrooke  circa 1965
And here I am again dressed as a daffodil as one does. Mid-60s, Crowthorne, Berkshire.


Podcast? YouTube? Me, talking on the Internet? Like being on telly? Not on your nelly!

Still with the jewellery. Here below is my “Bistro in France” and “Egyptian Sea Princess”. Do you like them? Would love to know your thoughts.



Many thanks to each and every blogger out there who took the time to read my stuff, like it, follow me. Don’t follow me I’m lost too. Boom! Boom! In the 70s I wore such a patch on my jeans depicting a rather hairy caricature of a figure looking like Russell Brand who’s just come in from a hurricane below which said just that. “Don’t follow me I’m lost too!” It summed me up at the time. And on and off since. Anyway, my old fruit cakes, I will get round to visiting your blog maybe not this week or even month but in six months time but I will visit. What’s the big deal it only takes a couple of minutes I might hear some say, hmm? And fair point except it doesn’t take me just a couple of mins. I like to make my visit count and do it right. Properly look through your stuff in return and perhaps spend up to an hour on your site. I tried to keep up and cut corners but it didn’t sit well with me and it doesn’t work. Again, thank you.

Happiness to you and do something nice for yourself and at least one other.

And apologies for missing last week’s blog but energy took over or rather the lack of and I was completely incapacitated when I did a silly thing in pulling a muscle. You never appreciate how much you use your muscles until they are damaged. I’m talking about the muscle under my breast bone but fear not! I was fine just as long as I didn’t lie flat or sit up, cough, sneeze, talk, blow my nose or breathe too deeply. Apart from that it was fine. When I did have to sneeze or cough or blow my nose I soon discovered the only way to achieve this with the minimum amount of pain was to squat down and stick my bottom out behind me. I mean, can you imagine if I had to do that in public? Really!

Anyway, blog as below. It’s all true apart from the time frame. Allow me a little artistic license.

What was behind this podcast? Well, as a professional writer, I… oh, go on! You can let me dream, can’t you? As a writer, I am supposed to have what is called an ‘author’s platform’. Okay, I thought, a platform, is it? Podcast? YouTube? Like being on telly? Me, talking on the Internet? Ooh, I don’t know, might damage my sales. Dry mouth. Voice on me like a hinge that’s in need of oiling. Grinning like a chimpanzee to cover up the dry mouth and voice on me like a hinge that’s in need of oiling.

As tempting as it is I’ll have to think about that.

Each time I switch on my computer and dare to venture out of my safety zone I manage to come back feeling either bewildered or that I wish I hadn’t bothered. However, unbeknownst to me, I already have a platform. Due to the fact I have up and running a few blogs, my own websites, LinkedIn, and I’d unintentionally become a member of Facebook.

Yes, I joined Facebook but can’t get my head round it. And on the one occasion when I was making a valiant attempt at doing whatever it is Facebookians are supposed to do or even allowed to do (ridiculous amount of rules and regulations involved) a rude message popped up stating I was trying to enter on an illegal computer.


“Whatever!” I believe I may have muttered seeing as I was using my own PC at the time. So, I exited on out of there, determined someone’s medication should be stronger, and have never bothered again. Far too much hassle for something I don’t even enjoy. Or understand! Or have any desire to spend my time doing. Am I signing my death warrant where author’s platforms are concerned?

No doubt. But I can live with that.

It’s not easy these days to scrape a living from writing. Scribbling alone appears to be insufficient. It’s all so complicated. You have to be an expert in self-promotion, publicity stunts, angles, and a computer whiz to boot. Plus, joining every available communications network appears to be expected and mandatory. But, if that’s the case, when you are out there tweeting, trending, twitting and twotting… is there such a thing? Not yet perhaps but just give it time – when do you actually find a moment to write?

Bring back the days of the old quill and ink.

Not quite, but it sure is tempting. I mean, Mr Shakespeare didn’t have to put up with any of this, did he! Telling Wills he needed an author’s platform would have had him pointing at the stage of the Globe Theatre wondering if you’ve been spending too much time with the fairies.

And Skype! I don’t know what Skype is. Or, at least I didn’t.

You can laugh, berate, and exclaim, as per the norm these days “OMG!” but that doesn’t change the reason why I do my best to avoid immersing myself in all these techno gadgets. I don’t have the energy or concentration to spare. It’s why I don’t actively encourage relationships over Facebook or with fellow weirdos who subscribe to the same writing magazine as me because there will always be at least one individual who will get an idea about me into their head. And when I don’t fit into their picture or category in which they have me pinned… they get peeved!

One particular individual comes to mind, a delightful character that expected me to be this busy bee who had nothing better to do than to correspond with him. I was bombarded with his work which he then expected, nay! He demanded that I give him a full appraisal. Hinting strongly it had better be good.

Eh? I kept my cool and told him most courteously to cease communication. It was the most polite way I’ve ever told someone to “bugger off”. I mean, really? I wouldn’t have minded but he didn’t even ask beforehand!

What is it about me? I’m thinking of posting this standard message. As follows:

Hello there!
Lovely stuff that you’d like to be my friend on Facebook / correspond via my writing magazine, but it appears I’m not cut out for it, as sadly, like every man’s nightmare – I can’t keep it up.

Oh yes, I’ve tried this twittering, tweeting texting-type of chatty “let’s keep in regular touch!” type of thing but alas it’s no good. Not for someone with ME. I need all my energy for getting on with everyday things like getting up (not always possible), getting washed, not putting cat in the fridge instead of milk and scribbling this stuff here.

So, if you don’t mind carrying on a somewhat one-way conversation do feel free to continue to visit my Facebook page or do pop by my website and blogs. Sorry I can’t offer more than that. But seriously, you’ll thank me in the end.

At which point I would paste a grinning ‘smiley’ face if I only knew how. Hmm… on second thoughts, I won’t bother. It’s not worth it for the one and a half Facebook requests I get a year. And one of those was in error.

Keep things simple. Keep to the job in hand. Employ a publicist.

And this is one twit signing off.

Be well and be good or at least halfway competent,

N barkham road 17 3 95
Ninja, six months old, March 1995, Wokingham, Berkshire. In a perfect backwards arc hanging on to her fish on a string and showing how to be graceful. I could learn from that strong little minx.

So, what’s been happening lately?

Organ played by JS Bach, Leipzig

Johann Sebastian Bach’s organ in St Thomas Church, Leipzig, Germany.

JS Bach, St Thomas Church with orbs

And here is one inside the church and I’m sorry to go back to ghosts but I can’t help but point out two orbs one of which is totally prominent. Don’t need arrows for that one but the other is a little harder to spot. It’s large but faint about halfway down the picture to the left of the large white pillar. The church was full of orbs as discovered later when looking at the pictures. Amazing.

Before I begin I’d just like to thank very much indeed each and every one out there in bloggy land who takes the time to read and/or like and/or follow my stuff. It is not unappreciated. Honest. Immense apologies if I don’t get around to thanking each blogger personally or swiftly but if I may re-direct you to my other blog (under my real name) as that little entry may go towards explaining the reasons behind that. No doubt I could put the direct link in here but that would mean a good working relationship between myself and computers, ha! I’ll do it this way and give you instructions. and if you are still with me and haven’t been put in a coma my admiration goes out to you. Simply toddle along to last week’s effort entitled “So, that’s how it is, is it?” and sincere thanks once again.

Hello you lot out there. Hope all is well and groovy. I’ve been busy. Absolutely! When one is ill one is being busy being ill which is par for the course so we won’t talk about it… um, what else. I now have a total of seven websites (one main site and six little static ones re-directing you to my main website which is predominantly their reason for being) and three blogs. What do you mean, do I have to?


Actually, four blogs counting my book blog but it’s been so long since I’ve even popped by I’m not sure it still exists. Have to hack away at the virtual cobwebs when I do venture on to there. It will become more active once I’ve published and released my autobiography on which I am currently working. Not, actually, but I’m hoping talking about it will expel me into action. Takes time especially when I’m doing other things, being other things, hence the inactivity on the corresponding blog and… phew!

I’m also at the beginning of a new creative venture. Yes, typically, I got this bright idea and in my usual inimitable style have gone into all gung-ho. I’ll let you know how that turns out. It should be fun. In the meantime two words with which to tantalise you: Jewellery. Heavenly. Okay make that three: Designer. Jewellery. Heavenly.

And for my visual trip down memory lane, today I have a picture of JS Bach’s organ if you’ll pardon the expression. Took a trip there to St Thomas Church in Leipzig almost as a pilgrimage. Most emotional. Spiritual and touching. Was very moving.

TTFN. Best, best.

“Blue Deep Ocean”. Pretty. Pretty. Personally I’m not a huge wearer of jewellery although I quite like to wear the odd one of my bracelets especially when the charms tinkle (good Karma apparently) but that doesn’t stop me from making quality stuff I hope others will enjoy and that which makes them happy.


“Rose Garden”. Pretty in pink.

Insects, Fiat 500s and naked legs

Rosi and cats

This is me doing my impression of an Afghan hound and succeeding wonderfully. Bremerhaven, Germany, circa 1983. On the left in front of me is Friske and to the right, her sister, Bu. Why are my legs naked? Nothing saucy, I assure you. This was pre-tracksuits and leggings. It was summer, hot, I’d just got home from work, removed my tights and pencil skirt for comfort, and apart from a sort of dressing gown didn’t have what you now call leisurewear. Didn’t exist. On reflection I could have worn some dance leggings in a large size. That didn’t occur to me.

When an insect the shape of a flea, brown in colour and the size of a Fiat 500 invades my space, I do tend to become more than a little concerned. Especially when they, please note I refer to the aforementioned insect-come-car in the plural sense, congregate in the kitchen.

But what occurred last week is the limit. I mean, first it was the invasion of the Mosel worms and now this. Whatever they are! The Mosel insect-come-small-aircraft?

Really, I put up with the ‘Och,’ curses wrong accent. ‘Ach, zat is only zee German Mosel verm, zay are harmless,’ for long enough. Crawling all over the worktops and draining board until I put an end to their excursions by covering the overflow hole with a small strip of masking tape. Ha!

But, I diverse.

I’d left out overnight to drain on the draining board my small amount of clean washing-up. It’s more hygienic that way. Yes, in theory, certainly not when insects-come-small-abode-in-town-with-river-views descend upon it.

I grabbed my new ladle, bright yellow handle, good quality, heat-resistant plastic so not to scratch nice iron frying pan and was about to start stirring my garlic mushrooms when I spied something. I leant in closer only to recoil almost immediately. One of those insects-come-whatever was there right in front of me on my ladle partially squashed and half dead. Horrors! It could have ended up in my meal. Thank you very much!

My ex-husband was bemoaning the fact he hadn’t bought himself one of those snazzy utensils.

That was soon amended.

Until next time be well.
Wear it well.

PS. Plug time. More about the Mosel verms and other daft tales (and tragically they are all true) can be found in “Musings Amusing”. It’s free! Visit, if you feel like living dangerously, my website as below for more details.

Rosie blog:

Working website:

Logo featuring my books

Out with the old and in with the new?

MPJ - Mum at Pontins, Jersey May 1966

Looking back as we go forward to 2014. Mum on the far left having won a prize (I think for scrabble) next to her stands the ubiquitous sixties, suave and sexy compère and to his right, Miss Pontins in person. Wonderful stuff.

How was your Christmas? Festive, merry and full of contemplation? Although that last bit probably belongs in the New Year along with your good resolutions that last all of a week. Two if you’re lucky.

Yes, I will be nicer to next door’s cat even if he does relieve himself all over my roses.

No, I won’t swear and wish horrible things on the driver who nips in front of me without so much of a flash of an indicator instead of waiting patiently in line like everyone else.

Actually, cut that one. As for the first resolution personally I have no problem with any animal in my garden but I do wish dog owners would clean up after the poor thing has done its business in public. The animal would if it could and whilst dog owners have this ability many choose not to exercise it.

And finally, yes, I will endeavour to stick to my New Year resolution list for at least six months if not the whole year.

And I have one more to add to that. Why not make it your resolution to read more? And I know just the books… what!

Happy New Year to one and all and let’s wish the same to everyone else.

Peace and Happiness.

See you in 2014!

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Might as well wear the box in which it arrived!

Musings Amusing by Rosemary Bach-Holzer

Well, here we are, wolf cubs, two days before Christmas. Bought all your Christmas presents? Clothes? Books? Talking of books… a nice little free download might not go down with the aplomb of an overcooked turkey so hard you could wear the leg as a shoe. Yes, “Enigma” continues to be well received. Thank you very much all concerned for that.

Or you can always skip over to my other side… ho ho. Not what you think. The real me as in Rosemary and seeing as it’s the silly season a gander at either “Musings Amusing” or “Cat Tales” might be just the thing when you’re sitting down wishing you hadn’t eaten that last mince pie whilst desperately needing something to take your mind off the fact it’s working its way back up your gullet. Reach for your eBook or PC or all those other electronic whiz bang pop things and have a good laugh and a titter!

And as for clothes. Well, I admit, I did purchase that horribly outrageously expensive coat and have to say, was delighted when it arrived and once upon my skinny frame, looked terrible! Just awful! I’d have been better off wearing the box in which it came. It was sent back post-haste without any regrets.

Stick to my old baggy jumper and thermals or dig out my trusty velvet Pearce Fionda from the nineties. A little worse for wear but quality lasts and I can always hide the bald bits with a scarf. Yes, thanks to car seat belts my coat lapels went somewhat bald… at which point I shall sign off as I can feel a tirade coming on.

Happy Christmas and make it a great one!

Wolfie aka Rosemary.

Cat Tales by Rosemary Bach-Holzer

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Rubber rings ahoy!

Rubber rings ahoy

No coats, cashmere or otherwise, required here. Got something in my finger, probably from somewhere nasty as Bournemouth did tend to have a sewage problem to which brother Richard gave his immediate attention. Caught on camera by a professional photographer, my father, Rolf Bach.


I blame Stuart. Totally. Who? Stuart Le Fanu, a fictitious detective. British, charming, wealthy, debonair and partner and close friend of Dick Love, also a fictitious detective, American, down-to-earth, loves his dog. Both of whom are the key players in “Enigma”.

Stuart, and Love, dress well. Nicely. It’s important. It gives the reader a complete picture. It tells them who these people really are. My fingers tapped their way into the website of a retailer which Stuart frequents and there I discovered it. My quandary. My conscience.

Clothes do indeed speak volumes but if I spend GBP 900.00 on a GBP 1,200.00 coat in the winter sale what does that say about me?

It’s tempting but can one truly justify spending GBP 900.00 on a coat? Even if it is 100% quality cashmere and full-length. Really? It would keep me warm though as I do feel the cold terribly, disgustingly so, and it would be a one-time buy only…

Your thoughts?

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Rosemary Bach-Holzer: