A Talk and Dad's Earrings

Our Talk (on Becoming a Freelance Writer) went very well, I'm glad to say. The first 15 minutes were a bit hairy but I got over my nerves and felt a lot better, then actually enjoyed the second half which was a great bonus, and the audience seemed to have a good time too.

I think what made it work was that Fi and I are both unconventional in different ways, and we both work in completely different ways.

She's been to university and trained as a teaching assistant, as well as performing in public a lot so she's not fazed by an audience, and this made me feel a lot better – I knew she would be able to wing it if anything went wrong.

Whereas I have never been to university and apart from a short TV piece several years ago, the last public performance was in Falmouth Theatre's production of Oliver 5 years ago – which I don't think really counts for much as I was in the chorus...

With regard to interviews, Fi says she doesn't plan anything, but lets the interviewee talk as they want, then types up notes in long hand. Whereas I prepare questions, take notes and tape the interview as well - but the end results are the same which is what matters.

I also made notes for the talk – being my first time I knew my brain was likely to seize up without loads of prompts – whereas Fi just ad libbed. But having said that, she had done a very exact running order, down to the last minute, which made all the difference. So a big thank you to Fi for making it all possible.

My mum came, as did Pip and our Penzance cousins (thanks to all of you) and the night before, when Mum and I were having a glass of wine on the sofa, she pointed to her earrings: tiny pearls I don't remember having seen before.

“These were the last earrings your Dad gave me,” she said (though he died 26 years ago). “I thought he should be with us tomorrow for your talk.”

Thanks, Dad.

Family and Talks

Picture taken with family last week over at Daymer Bay.

I get to see my brothers and their families once a year, usually, if that, so it's typical that they should both be down in Cornwall the same week – though sadly not together. So it's been great to catch up on everyone and hear the nephews and nieces' news.

It struck me – once again - how very different our lives are. I am very happy with ours, but very glad I don't have the financial stresses and strains that they do. Skint but happy is the rule that applies here, but I could see that our comparatively simple way of life baffles them. We don't have children, of course, which makes a big difference but much though I love my brothers, I did feel on a different planet most of the time. (I expect they did too.) Nurture versus Nature and all that....

Work has been suddenly busy which is good, and on Thursday another journalist, Fi Read and I are giving a talk on Becoming a Freelance Writer at the new Penzance Literary Festival. Whether we actually get an audience of more than 10 remains to be seen but I'm telling myself it's good practice. Though for what I'm not sure.

So think of us on Thursday morning – Fi's more experienced at public performance than I am and is very laid back about it. I am counting on her to rescue the day should I make a complete hash of it.....

Girly Weekend

We had a fabulous girls weekend, from the moment we stood on Truro platform waiting for the train – Molls shaking somewhat, as it was only her 2nd train ride. But once she'd jumped aboard the train (like a true pro), she snorted up all available crumbs and settled down at my feet.

Av met us 2 hours later, then we had a great walk at the Water Meadows at Dartington, and sorted the first part of the world out. I cooked that night (roasted vegetables with cheese), washed down with plenty of Sauvignon. Bit of a wakeful night as Molls rushed to the door everytime anyone went to the loo, but all was well.

On Saturday afternoon we went up to Dartmoor and did a circular walk around Haytor, the quarry and Saddle Tor (see pictures above) and it couldn't have been better weather – sunny, breeze and the ground is just right: dry but not too hard. I shall remember that walk for a long time.

That night we called in to say Happy 60th to my friend Annie and had a glass of wine with all of them, then up to the pub for supper. After another long walk on Sunday morning, Molls and I got on the train and came back for a rest.

What a fab weekend – really makes you realise how important good friends are. Cheers, Av! Here's to the next one.

By and large, we are both very happy with our lives, but while we walked, we discussed what we would change if we could.

So that's today's question – if your fairy godmother waved her magic wand, what would would you change about your life?

A Girls Weekend, Japanese bloggers - and male authors

This weekend Molls and I are heading off to have a Girls Weekend with my dear friend, Av, who lives in Dorset. (This is Molls on Av's bed last time we met.) Actually we're meeting in Devon which is halfway and hope to see a few of my friends there and also my mum.

Av and I met when we were both going through big life changes – I;d been made redundant, had washed up in Cornwall but couldn't find any work there, so went on to Devon, with a very small measure of confidence and self worth.

Av's marriage had just ended and she was having to work (other than running her ex-husband's business) for the first time in her life. So despite a 10 year age gap (she's a bit older than me) we clicked and have remained steadfast friends ever since.

While I love my husband dearly, it's good to have some time away from each other and taking Molls means we can have some even better walks while we're away. Molls was very taken with Av last time we met – so much so that I began to doubt whether she really wanted to come home with me at all. But as Av's husband is direly allergic to anything with fur, that rather put paid to any notions she (Molls) might have had about swapping mothers.

Secondly - Japanese bloggers. I welcome any (suitable) comments, but given that this blog is written in English, please, if you are going to comment, could you do so in English. If the comments are not suitable, please refrain.

And lastly - I've been doing some more author interviews recently and have been asked to think about male writers.

So today's question is – what male writers would you like to see interviewed?

Family

We had an unexpectedly gorgeous day (I'm talking about the weather here) on Sunday and took a trip down to Gunwalloe Cove on the Lizard, one of my favourite places and also a dog friendly beach. Cornwall really looked at its best, and that night I had a phone call to say that my oldest brother and his family are coming down next month and could we meet up? Of course the answer was yes – I can't wait.

We haven't seen him and his family for two years now, owing to their hectic lives. My nieces are now grown up girls – one's in her second year at university and the other is about to leave school, and my nephew is in his early teens. A lot can happen in two years. I think back to when I was their age and life was so different – I am showing my age here – but I'm sad that we've missed out on so much of them growing up. This will probably be the last family holiday they have, so the chances of seeing them after this are even smaller.

I miss my brother and his wife too. When the kids were younger we saw each other a lot more and had some wonderful times. I remember crying with laughter over various things; a tickling match just before I got married; a sunny barbecue one evening; sitting in their kitchen while my sister in law made plans to Get Me Hitched; putting the girls to bed when they were little. Happy memories.

Out of school activities can be a great opportunity for children and I'm all in favour of trying things out – at any age. I never knew I had much creative talents until – well, until my 30s. I spent most of my teens and 20s in a creative black spot and it wasn't until I left London that I realised I could write. Realising I could sing came later, and I did wonder the other day what I might have done with my life had I realised all this stuff earlier.

So what I'm saying is – yes, let's give children the best chances we can. But don't forget your family.

Smells

This fellow was taken in Fowey when we were there in March and, as we all know, has a quick eye for any bits of grub going.

One of my favourite cold weather lunches is something I had in the States years ago - tuna topped with grated cheese on toast (apparently this is called Tuna Melt). It's easy to assemble, pop in the microwave and hey presto. (I say microwave rather than grill because we don't have a grill on our oven. Or if we do, it doesn't work. Another on the list of jobs for Himself.)

That smell of hot, stringy cheese always takes me back to many years ago when, for some reason, we were all at an Italian eatery in South Kensington. I must have been about 11 or 12 and so my brothers would have been 9 and 6 or thereabouts. Why we were there I can't think, as we lived in a small seaside town in Devon at the time. But I digress.

Dad took us to this Italian place which was in itself a novelty. Devon boasted fish and chip shops but we only ever had those for a special treat – like if the fair was in. We never ate out, let alone at a place with people who spoke a funny language.

But I can still remember the smell of that hot, stringy cheese on top of my pizza. The underlying, exotic whiff of what was probably oregano and who knows what other herbs. I can almost feel my teeth sink into the lovely chewy crust as my tongue burnt with the heat from the cheese. Feel that squidgyness as the tomato hit the back of my mouth. And watch in amazement as, forkful after forkful, that mozarella stretched in splendid yellow cords, like a tasty spider's web.

I don't even like pizza now – I find it too stodgy – but the memory of my first one will stay with me forever and always makes my mouth water. And that got me thinking of how much we take our senses for granted. Dogs have a sense of smell apparently 40 times as strong as ours. No wonder they get excited whenever food appears.

So I thought I'd see what I can smell now. Here goes while I sniff.

The musty scent of my rooibosh tea cooling next to me.
A faint waft of Persil from my fingers – I've just hung the washing outside.
The unmistakeable smell of wet dog – Mollie still hasn't dried out from her walk earlier when the grass was wet with rain.

What can you smell?

Ups and Downs

Life has been something of a rollercoaster recently, which has tested me severely. But as Himself said the other day, “Life is about how you deal with setbacks, not successes, Pop.” He's too right – but I've been floundering a bit recently which made me think I wasn't doing too well at this business called Life.

However, I now have some unexpected commissions which has boosted not only my confidence but my bank balance (or will when I'm paid), and my other novelist friends are back from their varying absences which means we can get our group working again and I can continue with the novel which does the soul good.

On Saturday we had the launch of The Suitcase Singers at nearby Miss Peapods in Penryn, and I have to say it was a great evening. Himself propped up the bar and applauded loudly, other friends came to join him as we sang, and afterwards we had a party in the bar. I would have joined in the bopping only I have a poorly foot, so perched on my bar stool, knocked back a few glasses of wine and had a lovely night.

Himself and I have had the same songs on our brains as a result for the last 3 days.

On that front, the poor fellow isn't feeling too good. He's back on some aggressive treatment for the cancer and is coughing like a trooper. We're seeing the lung consultant in just over a week and hope to get some help for his poor lungs which are being punished on a daily basis. But throughout all this, he is reasonably patient (just the odd swearing when he has a coughing fit) and deals with his illnesses in a very measured manner. I don't know that I'd be quite so calm about it all, and suspect that inside he's roaring. I admire and respect him and just wish there was something I could do to help.

But rather than end this on a note of gloom, I'm writing this looking out on my tubs where the Californian poppies (such a wonderful deep rich yellow) are waving in the wind and being splashed by a sudden downpour. (I don't mind the rain with a poorly foot as I don't feel so bad about not being able to walk far.)

I spent yesterday afternoon interviewing some Kittows (distant relatives) and had a fascinating time with them. A friend has just given birth to her first baby and is understandably smitten (hormonal snuffle from Flowerpot here). I have singing again tomorrow, and an appointment with the physio for my foot next Monday. We're meeting our cousins in Penzance on Saturday and I will take Himself for a famous Jelbert's ice cream afterwards.

Life is full of good things if you know where to look.