Bad Orchards amongst other things

When I wake up in the middle of the night, I'm often awake for a few hours, so I listen to either the World Service or Five Live. This morning one of the topics for a phone in was politicans and are they bad apples? One listener rang in and said, "not so much bad apples but a bad orchard - what about the Honourable Member for the Virgin Islands?" which did make me laugh.

Anyway, as I don't wish to dive into the murky depths of politics, I will leave that topic there for the moment, and stick to matters closer to home. Editing my novel.

I was advised that publishers like a variety in age of characters, and as my last novel has a young boy in it, I thought I would use an older character, inspired by Pip's cousins, whom I visited recently. They are 93 and late 70s and a wonderful example on how to age well.

I decided to use the 93 year old in my novel, but change him somewhat. He is now 86 and a little stooped but still has the same sharp brain and enquiring mind - and a brilliant sense of humour. Then I thought, well, what purpose does this man have? And I realised that it is to show the protaganist that there are several ways to be happy in a relationship. That there are often no definitive rights or wrongs - it's what is right for those people at that time. And also, that just because a relationship might last, say, 5 years doesn't mean to say that because they stopped being happy, it was a failure. Perhaps it was only meant to last 5 years, but surely those years were important?

I've called this fellow Petroc and he has a Colourful Past, as people used to say. In other words, he had an interesting and unconventional love life which leads to a more rounded view of people - or does in his case. Well, having gone down that route myself, I can only say that life presents you with choices. And, as with all good novels, what happens next depends on what choices you make.

I've always tried to be open to ideas, and while the choices I've made might not have seemed sensible to others, they have made sense to me at the time. I hope always to be open to taking a chance, whether in love, work or adventure. Though preferably, all three. And I encourage the characters in my novels to be, too.

Unconditional Love

Those who know me, know that I am easily moved to tears. This is somewhat of an understatement. Pip said once, 'you're the only person I know who can cry at the weather forecast,' but I dispute that.

However, that is another topic worthy of discussion. This morning I saw a piece with Noel Fitzpatrick which was actually a plug for his children's book which has just been published, but it also became a tribute to his dearly beloved dog, Keira, who died not long ago, and their unconditional love.

When Moll was alive, this phrase would always make me laugh, for her love was very conditional. You do as I say and I love you. You don't, and that's it. I will take food from you but it doesn't mean I love you. Don't stare at me, I don't like it. Don't pick me up, I hate it. Don't do this or I'll growl. Don't jiggle me around or I'll bite. Though she did love me, in her own way, but it was very conditional.

Lainy, on the other hand, stares intensely at me with her dark, eyelined eyes. She doesn't blink, though occasionally she winks. I wonder what she's thinking about. She waits for my every move. She doesn't like to be too far from me. She has learned, I hope, that I am trustworthy (unlike many in her troubled past). She does what I ask her to do because she wants to, because she gets food, but also, I think, because she wants to make me happy. She is slowly gaining in confidence. She loves to be admired, to be praised. I'm guessing it's quite a novel experience for her, poor girl. Despite everything that's happened to her, she is trustful, which I find astonishing. She is, like me, an optimist.

Love between humans is usually a much more complex matter. We carry baggage from past relationships. Sacks of hurt that grate, reminding us of the pain like a stone in our boot. Small, but oh, so powerful. We can be wary of letting go, of loving fully in case we are hurt again. Or we can jump into a new relationship, believing it will be like our last. Only to find it isn't. Life can be a game of snakes and ladders.

Shortly after Pip died, I was walking with a friend whose partner had left her for someone else and she was, understandably, devastated. I can remember thinking how much worse her situation was than mine: of course I had lost someone I loved deeply, but he told me how much he loved me every day. My love bucket was full. I had terrible grief to deal with, but it was pure and uncomplicated and full of the love that I'd lost.

When a relationship breaks down, like my friend, we have a Pandora's Box to deal with - betrayal, jealousy, rage, hate, fear, and maybe the belief that we are unloveable. That we will never find anyone else to love again, or who will love us the way we would like, that we are worthy of.

As Noel Fitzpatrick said, dogs allow us to be the best person we can be. We can love them unconditionally, for that is how they love us. If we treat our dogs well, we are the best thing in their lives.

So here's to our dogs. To having the courage to be the best that we can, not just for them, but for us and for those we love. And to the many, many different types of love. This one of Moll was taken on my friend Tony's boat many years ago, but it shows exactly Moll's character and always makes me laugh.

Whereas this is my other girl. A world apart in temperament.

Book Launch, Rewriting the Past and Mum visit

This is Tom Leaper's fabulous statue dedicated to all the fishermen from Newlyn who lost their lives at sea. We walked down here last Saturday after my cousin Jenny Dearlove's launch of her wonderful book "Women to the Rescue, A Penzance refuge for Girls in Trouble". It was a fascinating talk and discussion afterwards, and the book is well worth a read for anyone, Cornish or not, exposing just how hard it was for girls who "got into trouble" in those days, and a stark reminder of how narrow society's views were.

To continue the literary theme, the editor I consulted over my most recent novel suggested I start it in a different place. As the first part of the book is mostly autobiographical, it means rewriting history and she wasn't sure how I felt about it. She suggested that my late husband should die at home (in the book) rather than in hospital and it's actually been very therapeutic - though I've cried a lot - so it could not only improve my novel but help me too.

I'd long ago arranged to do a day trip up and back to see my mum last Monday. But the day before, I had a text from my brother to say that there was a case of covid in Mum's care home, so all visits were suspended for the moment. She's been so down recently, with a couple of infections, that I felt it would be too awful to postpone this visit, so I asked if we could stand outside and talk to her through the window, and the staff said yes.

It was a long journey - five hours of driving to see Mum for 20 minutes - but to see her face light up was fabulous. To our great relief, her eyes were bright and her skin was a good colour so we hope she's getting better at last. I'm going up again in a couple of weeks so will be able to see more of her then - covid allowing.

In the meantime, I leave you with a picture from our first pitstop on our way up to see Mum. Enlarge the picture to see the writing underneath. Good old Trago.....

Talk and Growing Old

My talk at the weekend was a fringe event as part of the Falmouth Book Festival. It went very well, courtesy of the utterly brilliant BBC's Daphne Skinnard who is a very clever interviewer, and my friends Sam and Dave Pentin who run the Terrace Gallery in Penryn - a small but excellent place for small events. It was quite a novel experience (pardon the pun) being interviewed by someone rather than the opposite way round, and it's always interesting seeing what other people make of you.

To start with she said, "you have had a rich and varied life" - which is usually a polite way of saying that I never stuck at any one job. By my advanced years, however, this turns me into someone Interesting. Worth interviewing and writing about. Funny that - it's only when you're virtually unemployable that this becomes an asset rather than a liability.

But I digress. As I haven't written another walks book for a while and therefore haven't had a book launch for a few years (covid notwithstanding), I'd almost forgotten that I've written five books. It was heartwarming to see them all sitting there on the table next to me. My little family. And to hear that people were actually impressed by them was very good for my confidence.

All in all we had a lot of laughs, shed some tears (me) and I sold some books and had interesting talks with the audience afterwards. Which was fantastic and made it all worth doing. Who knows, maybe this time next year I will be talking about my soon to be published novel - that would be even better.

The downer to life at the mment is that my poor Mum isn't well. She's had a run of things recently - she fell and broke her shoulder, though that's finally healed. But she has been plagued by small infections which have combined to make her feel rotten poor thing, so I am shooting up there on Monday - we're only allowed to visit for 30 minutes - with a friend who I hope will be able to drive as I find driving incredibly tiring. If not she can talk to me to keep me awake.

It's been a few months since I've seen Mum so it will be lovely to see her and give her a hug if we're allowed. I'm going up again to see her mid November and then in December, so she will be fed up of seeing me by then, but at least will make up for any absences. She's so brave and stalwart; a real credit - so it's horrible seeing her struggle. Growing old really isn't for sissies.

A Talk! For the first time in nearly two years.....

As you can see, this coming Saturday I am giving a talk as part of the fringe events of the new Falmouth Festival. I am going to be talking to BBC Radio Cornwall's Daphne Skinnard, about how I came to write walks and how that led to my walks books and from then on to my novels.

I don't mind speaking in public, though it's always easier when it's in front of strangers rather than people you know. So far, I have some loyal friends coming to give me moral support and that's definitely more nerve racking! Especially as the last talk I gave was early March last year, so I'm a bit out of practice.

Anyway, I am looking forward to it - though I will be very nervous on Saturday! - and hope that this first Falmouth Book Festival goes on to become a regular event.

Talking of which, I had a fabulous Zoom meeting with my editor yesterday. It's always good to put a face to a name and as I'd sent her two pages of notes on her three page critique, we were well prepared. (As ex-journalists, we have a fair amount in common). So after our brainstorming, I now know how to go about doing what I've got to do, she gave me loads of useful information and said to keep her posted and she's there if I need her - well, you couldn't ask for more, could you? So that was immensely cheering.

And many thanks to all the comments about our dogs. I don't think they actively dislike each other - I think it's more that because of lockdown, Lainy isn't used to sharing her home space with another dog. I realised that they hadn't had a spat for six weeks, so it can't all be bad. I know I am more conscientious than most but then Lainy is my responsibility....

Hoping that everone is enjoying this fabulous weather. This was my view walking Lainy this morning.

Getting to Know You and Cheering News

First my good news. The book I've just written is from a dog's point of view - Moll's to be precise. It almost wrote itself, because Moll was such a strong character, and I laughed and cried as I wrote it. Or she did.

But because it's very different from other books on the market, I wasn't sure if it was marketable, and if so, which agents/publishers to approach, so I asked a freelance editor to have a look at it and give me advice on how to go forward.

Her report landed in my inbox on Monday morning and she really likes it. She said some amazing things about it - every time I read it, I think - is she really talking about MY book? HOORAY!!! And I can't wait to start working on it with her next week.

This news cheered me up, because of a canine scrap at the end of last week. Which is similar to those of you with children/grandchildren who don't get on.

We don't like everyone we meet, and just because we like our friends, doesn't mean that we necessarily like THEIR friends. The same can be true of dogs.

Moll pretty much ignored other dogs - she was very self contained and in her own world, which meant there would be the odd snap but otherwise no conflict. Although we didn't often have other dogs in our flat because it's small, and this can be the difference. Dogs, like people, can walk together happily enough, but put them in a house for a while and if one dog sniffs another bowl, for instance, this can develop into an incident.

This happened last week with my fella's dog, and I felt terrible. I love his dog, who is the polar opposite of Lainy in temperament and doesn't fight back - just as well. Lainy can be unpredictable, and she's very fast, but looking back on it, I can see the triggers. I was appalled that Lainy might have hurt his dog - I was responsible, after all. But as M said, "We just need to plan it better, make sure it doesn't escalate" - for planning is the secret to avoiding any future disagreements.

I did everything wrong over the weekend - I worried desperately, felt really guilty, was terrified it would happen again. Though I have done a lot of planning for our next meeting, and am trying to take his advice, not worry, and make sure that we don't get future scraps. It's more upsetting for us than them, I think.

So the motto of this episode is Don't Panic Mr Mainwaring! Keep calm, watch our dogs carefully, distract them when necessary, and in my case, carry on writing....

Tiptoe through the Tulips

Yesterday I picked up my poor wounded friend from the hairdresser in the pouring rain and took her home where we had some lunch and for some reason the song Tiptoe Through the Tulips came up. "I remember my dad singing that as he watered the garden after work," I said.

"Wasn't that by Tiny Tim?" asked Jac, and, quick as a flash, found Tiny Tim's rendition on You Tube on her phone.

I'd forgotten what an incredibly high pitched voice he had - and as you can see Lainy was fascinated. She came over to explore the phone, nudging it to try and get at this extraordinary sound. If it's high to us, it must be even higher for dogs, as their hearing's so superior.

It reminded me how powerful memories are. In an instant I am transported back to my eight year old bed, where it's still light outside, and I'm wishing I didn't have to go to bed so early when there's so much fun I could be having outside. Hearing the clip clop of dad's shoes as he whistled his way around the garden, tending to his beloved vegetables and flowers.

Smell is of course another very evocative scent, and I can remember crawling into a wardrobe in the room where my maternal grandmother always slept. It's a very Narnia ish memory as I wrapped myself in the coat she'd left behind and it smelt of her cigarettes, her scent and her very personal Granny B smell. I can remember the comfort I got from feeling her around me, and I have a picture of her on my desk now.

The senses are so powerful - what are your most evocative memories?