Confessions of an Author

Smelling like Marilyn…. Ah, the problem of what to wear. I had been invited to London, which is pretty much a foreign country as I go there so rarely. I knew the day would involve some walking, then a lunch in a posh dining room – so what should I wear? I was fairly confident muddy jeans and wellies weren’t appropriate. Perused wardrobe and began sorting outfits. In the end, I was restricted – in both senses of the word – by finding clothes that actually fit. My weight tends to fluctuate (joys of being an older woman) and I’m having a ‘fat tummy phase’. I eventually leave in a too-tight skirt and a silk blouse that gapes. I carry heels and wear flats. I so wish I was a man sometimes. Arrived in Grosvenor Street, where we were meeting, on time. Nice walk from Victoria. We then met our guide, Cindy, who gave us a quick introduction. The plan was to visit a few shops in Savile Row and Jermyn Street – tailors to the rich and famous. No, we weren’t shopping (phew) we were having a

Are you a Country Bumpkin or a Townie? 1 Yesterday, Husband told me he was bringing home a team from work for a planning meeting. Something of a shock. He had asked, ages ago, if it would be okay, and I assured him that was fine. But I never actually wrote a date in the diary, and I had assumed he would remind me about a week in advance. I had assumed wrong. Which means the last few hours have been a frenzy of cleaning. Don’t tell anyone, but I really hate doing housework, and my house, whilst hygienic, is not the cleanest house in the world. Which is fine – I don’t think a dirty floor will kill anyone – until we have visitors who are Townies. So, what is a Townie – and are you one? I first heard the term many many years ago, soon after meeting husband for the first time. He was this tall, blond, slim boy with very tight jeans. I kinda liked him. So when he invited me for a drive (in battered old Beetle) I was keen to accept. I wasn’t expecting we would stop for a walk. And

Learning Points 2 Hi, not had a great week. How about you? I have that sliding, not quite on top of everything, overly busy feeling – the one that always seems to descend about this time of year. It will be replaced with a complete flat panic – did anyone buy a Christmas gift for Grandma? – feeling, which will last until well into the new year. So I might as well get used to it. I never manage to fit in everything I want to do, and I will always feel like I’ve managed to achieve less than everyone else. That’s just life. I have, however, learned lots of things this week. For example, I learned that if you have a grumpy old cat who dislikes going outside when it’s cold or damp, and who repeatedly poops in the utility room sink, then when you throw said poop out of the door in disgust,  it is extremely important to first check that no one is walking past in the lane. I also learned that when cooking a roast gammon dinner for 39 elderly people, when a sweet lady with white h

Facebook for the Over-Fifties I am relatively new to Facebook, first starting to use it in 2014. Since then, I have been amazed at the potential for error. Facebook has its own, unwritten rules, which everyone under the age of forty seems to be fully aware of, and everyone older struggles to grasp. I thought I would tell you what I have learned so far, but first, here is a post I wrote soon after starting: A Facebook Lesson I had cycled down to visit my mother. We sat on her sofa, slurping tea, when Mum said she could not see any of my photographs on Facebook. We spent some time looking at her computer (which is actually an ipad my brother lent her) but neither of us could work out what the problem was. Then she asked me why I never send her messages on Facebook. I explained that I would much rather use email, because I don’t really know what I’m doing and I might send them to the wrong place. “Oh!” she said, “It’s easy, I’ll show you. Look, Ruth has posted a picture of choc

Remembrance Day Poem – As Life Goes On Now, and Then IKEA homeware packed in boxes, Heaps of stuff litter the hall, then squashed into the back of the car. Last hugs, cheery goodbyes, the drive to uni. Snippets of home, spread around the strange smelling room, The lanky excited-scared almost man says goodbye, And the mother remembers. She remembers the feel of the bowling ball weight on her hip when she carried him, The feel of his tiny hands on her cheeks when he offered snotty kisses, The snuffle of breath as he slept against her shoulder, She remembers the child as she looks at the man. As she wishes him well, holds back tears until she has driven away. Billycans and clothes stuffed in kit-bag, A train to London packed tight, then bustle hurry find the right squad. Last hugs, tearful goodbyes, a band plays on. Heaving the bag, look around for friends joining too, The lanky excited-scared almost man says goodbye, And the mother remembers. She remembers the feel

Family Holiday Diary 2016 Wednesday Nice breakfast, huge choice (The Colony hotel in Kyrenia, northern Cyprus.) Waiter was from Ukraine, had rings on his thumbs. Learnt ‘thank you’ in Ukrainian – ‘jack-queer’ (not unlike the Polish, ‘chink-queer’. Spelling my own, in case you were wondering.) Family swam/sunbathed. H swam TWO lengths underwater. I wandered around the lanes of Kyrenia. Pretty town. Saw tiny shops, an abandoned church, a mosque, and lots of cats and dogs who wandered freely and seemed content. Pizza lunch on hotel roof. Then most of us drove south, to Salamis (this was M’s choice, strangely. Either due to latent historic interest or because it features in certain computer games. I expect it was for intellectual reasons.) Salamis is old Roman/Hellenic city. Lots of random walls and pillars left. Very relaxed rules, we could walk where we liked (later read sister’s blog, which warns of snakes, but we didn’t see any.) Toilet incredibly clean (in case you ever vi

First Book Signing Event….. (A post written a year ago!) 1 I have had my first book signing event. Terrifying. Well, it was terrifying beforehand. When I was actually there, everyone was very nice and I almost enjoyed it. A book signing is not an activity I would choose to do. However, if you are an author, and if you actually want to sell your books, you somehow have to market them. Book signings are therefore necessary. I decided to link mine with the local community cafe. It’s run by volunteers, and was a good opportunity for them to entice some new customers through the door, plus they received 25% of the price of every book sold. In return, they gave me a pleasant venue and some free advertising. I have to admit, I have never actually attended a book signing before. Nor do I collect autographs. The thing is, I think people, whoever they are, are just people. So yes, I have met some very famous people, I have even had some round for tea. They are however, no bette