Confessions of an Author

Just Life 1 Hi, how’re you? Yesterday I had a grotty night, and woke up feeling snotty. I hate colds, don’t you? I know in terms of illnesses, they are very minor, but they don’t feel minor, they feel rotten. I gave myself an easy day. On Friday (before I was ill) it was my turn to cook. Several of the staff were away, and a few have retired, so I had to be very well-prepared, and it was all quite hard work. While I was peeling potatoes, one of the team members came to chat to me. Most of the team are older than me, so I love hearing their stories. He was talking about the war, and he said that one of his friends was in the marines and belonged to the ‘special forces’ (whatever that might mean). Apparently, before they went on a mission, they were given drugs, so they could stay awake for ages, and wouldn’t feel frightened, even though they were going into extremely dangerous situations. He thought they were given heroin, but when I told my son, later, he said it was probably...

Never Trust a Quiet Bull, or an Unloaded Shotgun… There are two things a sensible farmer never trusts: a quiet bull and an unloaded shotgun. I went back to the farm, for further research on the book that is in my head. I have lots of ideas, and snippets of stories, but I don’t yet know enough about my characters, or how they live, to begin writing. I should really visit a few different farms, but asking farmers (who I don’t know) is too scary, so for now I’m only visiting one – a beef farm in the next village. I chatted to the couple who run the farm. They’d had a near disaster earlier in the week, when all the full-grown cows escaped and were heading off towards the road. The farmer called to them, as he ran  away from them, into their pen. When they heard his voice they stopped running, and then turned to follow him. The farmer told me how important it is that he talks to them when they are calves, handles them, and becomes someone familiar and safe. Then, if s...