Sarnia de la Maré FRSA Author, Musician, Artist

Autism, Access, and the Real Price of Being Different: Why Diagnosis Is Hard, Why It Matters, and How to Recognise Yourself Anyway (Neuro Books Series Book 2) Kindle Edition by Sarnia de la Mare (Author) Format: Kindle Edition Book 2 of 5: Neuro Books Series ...

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  “Welcome to Mills & Swoon Daily — where your morning scandal is served warm, wicked, and just a little bit improper.” Today’s tale: The Duke and His Mother’s House Guest . By Sarnia de la Maré — Mills & Swoon Daily #1 Lady Elowen Hart was not accustomed to being mistaken for staff, but she had arrived at Hawthorne Hall in a travelling cloak and mud up to her silk-white stockings, so the error was, she supposed… understandable. Almost. The Duke strode into the foyer with the confidence of a man who had never once been contradicted in his life. Such entitled grandeur might have been repulsive if he hadn’t been so annoyingly well-formed. “You must be the new governess,” he announced, looking her up and down with far too much interest for a man hiring a tutor for his niece. Elowen raised a brow. “Must I?” He hesitated, thrown off-balance. “…You’re early.” “And you, sir, are mistaken,” she replied smoothly. “But I do admire a man who leads with certainty, ...

Welcome to the new series of Books by Tale Teller Club, Concise Books that give you what you need to know on 100s of subjects. CH 1. Rebel Queens: Women, Punk, and the Sound of Resistance, Chapter One: “New York.” by Sarnia de la Mare Chapter One: New York Where the Noise Began—and Where it Ended Up The room was hot, rank with beer and body odour, lights flickering through cigarette smoke. CBGB wasn’t a temple so much as a sewer mouth, coughing up sound. Patti Smith stood on the lip of the stage, lean and electric, her hair a dark storm around a face that refused to smile. She wasn’t pretty, and that was the point. Her voice cracked, sneered, soared. Every syllable spat into the microphone was an act of defiance: against the industry, against gender, against the idea that art should behave itself. This was 1975, and something unnameable was happening in New York’s Bowery district. The Velvet Underground had already cracked the veneer of polite rock; Television, Talking Heads, and Blond...