Me, showing 52 year old skin, oh my god aghhhhhhh run away,
cover your eyes :)

My darling daughterJenna-Rose and marketing manager has given me strict instructions to be more visible on the social network sites.  So I've made a foray into the twitters and have met a lot of lovely people and have also talked to a lot of people, who aren't really people, but Marketing Aps.  

I originally joined Twitter ages ago just to talk to Marian Keyes, because I am obsessed with her, in a platonic, non stalky way, of course, and she is into the twitters in a big way.  So when she did say something to me I almost passed out.  Oh God did I had a real geek spaz out when she actually favourited one of my tweets, I became a complete wriggly blobby mess on the floor. 

Marian Keyes,
The Goddess/writer  to whom I aspire to...
I dunno, love lots

I have read every single thing she has ever published, and as I have said many times, I love her books.  She takes me on such a journey every time, in her own voice, and own accent with her own fecking turn of colloquial phrase.  
Listen to her here, when she was interviewed on my favourite website  
BBC World Book Club - Marian Keyes 

I do have actual Irish parts to me.  My Irish ancestor O'Keefe escaped the potato famine and came here, New Zealand, to fight for the English only to change sides quick smart when he figured out he had way more in common with
Māori. I'm ever hopeful we are related but I doubt it, damn it. 

Anyway, I had 12 twitter followers for years, probably all related to me in some way,  and then when Jenna-Rose told me to get my arse into gear and meet like-minded people on twitter.  I did.  Well.  
I have not only discovered the ba-jillion people writing books, but the ones who are selling books, publishing books, reading books and helping people to write books etc etc etc.

I don't actually know how the twitters really work except It is a stream of HTML linked conciousness,which gallops down the screen, non stop, at a ba-jillion k per hours....I think I catch one in every 100 tweets, if 'Im really lucky, as I I'm not that quick a reader and I have a life, separate from the interwebs that I have to be involved in.

 I would hate to be held captive by the twitters.
...althought I do understand the attraction, tallying up the followers and saying pithy, witty things in less than 140 characters, is a thrill.  To be able to banter other peoples pithy and witty things is even better.  But the other 95% of dross and bollocks flying around on it is a bit daunting to navigate through if you're a newbie like me.  But what is life if not a collection of experiences swirling into a soup.

So, I am on the twitters if anyone is remotely interested meet me there for a chat...or a yell across a canyon :) I am there @olivia_aroha 

The new book is going really well, almost 48k yeyyyyyyyyyyyyy and a lot of them are good words too. *crossed fingers* 

Drumroll please......Ta daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!

Scotty too hotty my husband

I have to say something here about my best friend...his name is Scott Andrew Giles, and he's my husband.  

I never really thought you could be married to your best mate as I always thought friendship and that sort of love, the husbandy kind, were very seperate things. I was so wrong.
The guy is amazing.  
He literally walks on the curbside so nothing will hit me. (which is an actual threat in Wellington by the way, with the murderous bus mirrors at the right height to take your head off)  
He always holds my hand.  He would never, ever, cross the road with out me (I hate that so much that once, when I was single and on a date,   I left a guy standing in the street who did that to me, hate, hate, hate it)  
He pays the bills, buys me treats whenever he has any spare money,  and puts petrol in my car because I am incapable of working the pump thingy.  
Also, when I do  ruthlessly stupid things he never gets pissed off - he laughs, for example, the 3 laptops I have murdered with various beverages.  He's was fine with it.  Thousands down the gurgler and he's like, ahhhhhhh well, can't take it when you go.   I lied once and said I'd crashed his car just to hear his reaction, and it was the same as the laptop...'No worries as long as you're okay bumble.'   He calls me bumble, and I don't think its my actual resemblance to a Bumble bee.

He also most importantly lets me have my own room, in which I can work into the middle of the night (or binge watch boxsets of tv series) and he makes me a cup of tea in the morning whether I drink it or not and he lets me wear his boxers. (which are way more comfortable then girly pants)

So yeah, he's my best mate and hip hip hurray.
And as we all know mates still love you when your tits hit the floor.