Stylish Blogger Award

Debs has kindly nominated me for this award, and in return I have to tell you 7 things about me. Well the ones that are printable are minimal so after a lot of thought, here they are, in no particular order.

1. Despite years of depression when I was younger, I am by nature a fairly cheerful person.

2. I have Raynaud's disease so when I'm cold my fingers and toes turn an attractive purple colour. When they get chilblains, they swell up and look like undercooked sausages. So attractive, though they're not as bad as they used to be when I smoked.

3. It was my birthday last week and despite the circumstances, I had one of the best birthdays for a long time. Sunshine and friends did a fabulous job. The downside was that I had my first hangover in I can't remember how long...

4. This flat has a name plate outside saying Flowerpot House.

5. I envy those who believe in an after life. It sounds such a comforting idea. But given what I've seen of life so far, I think that's far too simple. However, I do believe that those you love never leave you.

6. I am hopeless at exams. I have avoided them ever since school.

7. I have few regrets – I don't think they help in life. But I do wish when I was younger, that someone had said, “You must sing. Write. Dance.” That would have saved a lot of years of angst. Still, on the bright side, I can appreciate it all the more now.

And as you are such a discerning lot, the first seven people to make comments are entitled to this award. Go for it!

Silver Linings and Kindred Spirits

The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful.
E.E. Cummings, poet (1894-1962)


For the first time in ages I've been able to get back to writing my novel. It's been a strange start to the year, not helped by weeks and weeks of utter exhaustion following my gum infection and having a tooth out. Then I lost two close friends.

For someone who has always had boundless energy, not having any at all is a very spooky experience. Suddenly walking Mollie in the morning was a major undertaking. I had to drag myself up and down the beach for 20 minutes, each step feeling as if I was trying to finish the marathon. And at the end of it I had to go home and collapse.

I saw my GP in the end who smiled when I told him what had happened and said, “No wonder you're tired. You've had the equivalent of being hit by a building. But do a little exercise, or you'll seize up. But do 50% of what you normally do. Don't push yourself.”

So I'm learning to listen to my body. I've had to, so I constantly check myself. Am I getting tired? OK, sit down. Relax. And then this novel idea – I could enjoy myself! Read (if I could stay awake long enough), watch TV. Do normal things that usually I'm too hyper to enjoy.

And you know what? Not only have I read more than I have for months, but I've realised that the time I have had to work has been incredibly productive. I've written more articles in the past few weeks than I ever had. True, I haven't had any time to write either of my books, but you can't do everything, and I realised that it doesn't matter. Without your health you're nothing.

It's also made me appreciate my husband a lot more. Made me stop and enjoy things that I'm normally too busy to take note of. A silent hug. A shared giggle. A robin singing in the garden. A woodpecker hard at work on the trunk of a tree, his red and green colours mesmerising in the morning gloom. Mollie's intent joy digging a hole on the beach.

And finally, I'm getting some energy back. Not much, but every day brings a tiny improvement, like the first signs of spring. And as if to reward me for my unaccustomed patience, I've even met a kindred spirit – as Anne of Green Gables would say. And we all know how important kindred spirits are....

Patrick Gale

Yesterday I went to a Wonderful Words day (run by Cornish libraries) with several poets and authors including Patrick Gale, famous for his most recent novel, Notes From An Exhibition, which was picked up by the Richard & Judy book club earlier this year. His website is here . It’s a fascinating novel about a Cornish artist in Penzance and how she and her family are affected by her manic depression, or bipolar disorder as it’s called now. She is ‘saved’ by her husband who is a staunch Quaker, another fascinating topic. If you haven’t read it – do.

I have to say my concentration was somewhat shattered by a) appalling signeage at Tremough Campus (Falmouth university) which directed us the wrong way to start off with. Having wandered round, lost, for twenty minutes, we finally found the right building and the right room, only to discover that they’d run out of hot water and tea. On the basis that if you want something done, do it yourself, I volunteered to go and get some hot water. I was sent on a wild goose chase but finally found the staff room, boiled up two kettles and tipped them into the thermos and returned only to find that no water would come out of it. It turned out the necessary siphon part was missing so we had to nick it out of another thermos.

So you can see that wasted another twenty minutes and I wasn’t my most suave and sophisticated by this time – just gasping for a cuppa. And then I looked round the room and – well. His photographs don’t do him justice. He is stunning. Tall and slim, wearing a cream linen jacket, mauve and white striped shirt (believe me, it suited him wonderfully) and navy blue trousers. But it was his dark eyes that drew me, and dark eyelashes, plus when he smiled, which was often, his eyes crinkled up and he revealed white, even teeth.

In case any of you are getting the wrong idea, I would like to say that I know he lives with his ‘hubby’, Aidan, on a farm near Land’s End. I know, but I can look – and drool – and I did. When not reminding myself that I was a journalist and therefore sort of on duty.

So I sat and listened and watched (nice hands too) and he talks very well – funny, bursting with intelligence, fascinating about Quakers and their way of life. And all the questions he was asked about how he writes, his thought processes, what he does when he’s stuck – I sat there thinking, ‘I do that. Oh, and I do that too.’ Which was kind of heartening and not. The not bit being that while I am delighted at his success (and it’s taken him 10 novels to start actually making money at it), the other part of me is thinking, ‘I want to be there. I want to be published. Now!’ (And no I havent heard back from that agent yet.)

Anyway it was a fascinating morning and he signed one of this books and – the best bit - he’s agreed to give me an interview next year when his next novel comes out. I can’t wait….

A bad news day

This could have been the woods where I walked with a friend on Wednesday - the colours are so vibrant at the moment, like a child's painting. And I felt this was cheering on a grey autumn day.

I’ve been talking about Arthur and Jane with various friends of the writing fraternity and the general consensus of opinion is that the internet is not a safe place to publish it. There is no copyright on ideas and I can’t afford to expose my story to misuse.

So I’m afraid that that’s the last bit of Arthur for the time being. I will continue writing it however and maybe one day it will end up in the shops – I hope. Very many thanks to all of you for your comments and your encouragement that this is a story you wanted to hear. That is most important of all.

I’ve just had a call from a friend whose husband was made redundant yesterday afternoon. She’s in shock, as you can imagine.

‘I’m all hormonal and weepy,’ the poor thing said. ‘I woke up this morning and thought – waterproof or normal mascara? Luckily I settled for waterproof.’

So for anyone else who is going through a rough time, I found the following very cheering. And for all of those writers among us, this is now my motto!

''Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts.”

Winston Churchill

Enjoy your weekend.