Thursday 20 December 2012

Presents under the tree are tempting even at my age

Like many others, I'm looking forward to Christmas. Today, however, the excitement was taken up a notch when my husband wrapped a number of presents and placed them under the tree. I refuse to take all of the blame for being a big kid and wanting to rummage around the gift-wrapped goodies - I've just recovered from flu. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.
Aching limbs, headache and a need to fester in bed have killed any kind of the usual build up of festivities for me. Last week, I even missed my office Christmas do. That really was a shame. There was not a chance I could have managed to be there but even so, I was miffed that I missed out. Many of my colleagues and friends were saddened that I wasn't hanging around their necks telling them, "I really love you" at two o'clock in the morning. I was of course, sorry to disappoint them all.
The way things stand at the moment, I have written my cards, purchased and wrapped the presents and with the exception of one or two gifts, they have all been distributed to family and friends. We have a freezer and cupboards full of yuletide food, so we're just about done.
Why then have my husband and I, twice, had the saddest conversation, plotting our outing to the supermarket to buy the last chance milk, bread and vegetables?
Every year we mock those who panic purchase in the shops, saying "But they're only shut for two days. They'll be open again after Boxing Day. What's the problem?" And what have we done? We've conspired to get the better of every other shopper with our Christmas Eve consumables manoeuvres. The suggestions so far consist of getting up at 5am as the supermarket opens at 6am, or one of us circling the car park waiting on the other buying the goods for a quick getaway, or we settle for frozen everything.
Living in the Garden of England stops me opting for the latter so I've decided that next year, I'm planting my own spuds and sprouts to have with the turkey. Though to see the plan through, I'm going to have to find room to build a bread oven and keep a cow. That will definitely take the stress out of Christmas.
Have a peaceful and happy Christmas and prosperous 2013.

Wednesday 14 November 2012

Florida and its top shelf

A couple of years ago, my husband and I were on holiday in Florida. At that time, my husband still smoked. Fear not, I put an end to that avenue of pleasure shortly after the holiday. As we perused the shops on a wander through mall after mall, we stumbled upon a store which appeared from the doorway to sell all things tobacco related. From memory, the premises was fifteen by thirty feet but was most definitely staffed entirely of people aged at least seventy.
Bored out of my mind, I followed my husband into the shop, past the wire racking inside the front door. It hadn't registered with me as I entered the premises that the shelving was facing away from those looking in from the outside.
As we made our way around the walls in an anti-clockwise direction (I've no idea why I still recall the route we took), I glanced at tobacco, pipes, boxes of cigars, sporadically saying hello to the septuagenarian shop workers until once more, I reached the front door.
Only at that moment did I see the full extent of the merchandise on sale, strategically placed away from innocent eyes. The wire racking feet from the shop front was full of porn.
I will admit that it slightly threw me. America is a land of enterprise and opportunity so why not sell someone a pipe and something to while away the evening between smokes? That wasn't the part that caused me to stop and take stock.
The thing that will always stick in my memory was the handwritten sign suspended above the porn that read 'If you don't see what you require please ask a server.'
Is this why so many Brits go to to Florida for their holidays?

Wednesday 7 November 2012

Shopping - the final frontier

Browsing the shops, picking out costly but pointless bric-a-brac used to be a favourite of mine. Lately, I can't say I've been particularly bothered about wandering the High Street, searching out bargains.
Could it be the economic downturn? The double dip recession? (No, I don't fully understand that one either but figure it must mean that now I'm really, really broke instead of simply really broke.)
It's true that like many people, I haven't had a pay rise for some considerable time but it's not solely about the money. Shopping is stressful.
It begins with traffic queues and trying to find a parking space. Parking in much of the UK is a skill. I feel that we missed out in the Olympics and should have introduced this as an event. I'm sure it would have won us another gold medal. Having spent many holidays in both the USA and France, the ease of parking always amazes me. With the exception of the centre of main cities, parking is often free of charge in these countries. I do realise that there is more space than we have here per person but it does mean that a shopping trip is made that little bit easier.
I'm more in the mood to spend money I don't have when the trip has started on the right foot. Having driven through a congested town, queued for the entrance, patrolled around the dingy car park all eagle-eyed, shouting 'there's one' when I spot an empty parking bay with the enthusiasm that should be reserved for seeing a leopard in Kruger National Park, I usually feel momentarily delighted when I reverse in. Yes, that's right fellas - when I reverse in.
I never pull into a parking spot without taking the trouble to leave it facing my direction of departure. I never know when I'll have to make a quick getaway. It's one of the rules I have. Another is that I use my debit and credit card as often as I can. My rationale for this is that you should always leave an electronic trail. It gives the Police something to follow if you're murdered.


Monday 15 October 2012

Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking...

Several months ago, my dad asked me to attend a Freemason Ladies' Festival with him. He asked if as the President's Lady, I'd mind delivering a speech.
I said, "Yes, not a problem, dad."
The weeks flew by and the weekend was upon us. Until last week, I think it's fair to sum up my knowledge of all things Freemasonry as nil.
Several members of my family were in attendance as well as about 50 complete strangers. I like both a challenge and the chance to get involved in new situations, so I was more than happy to be there and be part of something completely different. My lack of research, however, was to come back to bite me.
It really was a great weekend, spent in the early autumn sunshine when such weather feels like you've cheated nature in some way by avoiding October winds and lashing rain. The two days were filled with good food, fantastic company and enough alcohol to quench anyone's thirst. Not knowing what to expect of the weekend, I had no preconceived ideas. I was given a very warm welcome by the North Star Lodge and the other guests, and would like to thank them for their friendliness and encouragement.
My big moment came when I stood up to give my speech. It seemed to go without incident and they laughed in the right places. Relieved it was over, I was able once more to down some wine without having to worry about slurring and making a fool of myself. Or so I thought.
This was where my lack of fact-finding prior to the event took more of a chunk than a bite out of me.
"Ready for the first dance with your dad?" asked the Toastmaster.
"My what?" I asked.
"Can you waltz?" my dad asked.
"No," I said.
I didn't stand a chance. Following three embarrassing sweeps of the dance floor, I asked, "Can't I just do the speech again? That was less humiliating."
Not to worry, I think only about 50 people were watching.

Sunday 7 October 2012

The curly edge of friendship

This year has seen large scale celebrations in Great Britain along the lines of the Queen's Diamond Jubilee and the Olympics. My own celebrations were on a much more modest scale with six close friends enjoying a day out in London yesterday.
Thirty years ago, hideous brand new blazers on our backs, we all set foot in our secondary school for our first day. Good fortune put us in the same class. Over the next couple of years, we became friends sharing the ups and downs that accompany being teenage girls, though it was missing today's complications of Facebook, texting, instant messaging and cyber bullying. A Walkman taking four AA batteries was an object of desire in the 1980's.
The seven of us realise that despite living farther away from each other than we used to, despite the husbands, children, jobs and geography, it's something unusual that we're all still friends and remain in touch. As well as other gatherings, every five years, we arrange a day out and yesterday to mark our 30th anniversary, we met up to laugh and talk our way through the afternoon and evening.
After meeting in a pub along the Strand for a libation we then headed to a nearby hotel for afternoon tea (I said it was a celebration - I never said that we were hell-raisers). It wasn't a cheap day out for any of us and I was dismayed to find that after waiting some time for the sandwiches the size of postage stamps and a glass of champagne at the princely sum of £35, the bread was hard. Two out of seven of us had been given food clearly on the turn. We complained. Very un- British but thirty five quid is thirty five quid.
Fairness to the manager, we all got replacement sandwiches. The other five had eaten their allotted trio of tiny triangles so a row was on the horizon. After thirty years, we're not worried about shouting the odds over an egg and cress sarnie. Squabble quashed by the careful dibs of the unexpected treasure, we carried on with the cakes and scones.
Heading off to another bar, high on a sugar rush, we drank some more and wandered in the direction of our next instalment in the form of 'Rock of Ages'. Before we disappeared into the theatre, we tried to come up with a date for our next get-together. Diaries and planners at the ready, we crossed off one weekend after another before coming up with the next available date that all of us could manage - Friday 4th January 2013. Hope wherever we book doesn't make the sandwiches too far in advance.

Sunday 30 September 2012

Writing without any pressures isn't for me.

Having moaned like heck and told everyone how hard done by I was that I didn't have time to write because I was under pressure, had too many distractions (our hefty Labrador climbing on my lap for a start when I write), work, you know the usual excuses, Dr Who is on the telly, I thought that my week at West Dean, Chichester would be just the ticket.
In short, it's a fantastic place with beautiful scenery, fantastic people, a relaxed atmosphere and incredibly good food. I was lucky enough to have won a week's residential stay courtesy of Myriad Editions back in May and took my week's stay two weeks ago.
I arrived on Sunday 16th September and was allocated a room in the Old Vicarage. I couldn't have asked for a better room. Its double doors gave me great views of the gardens but I was far enough from the main building so that I was completely undisturbed. I think that this may have been my problem.
My first afternoon, I got to my room, unpacked, opened the doors to the garden, got my laptop out and  prepared myself to write. There was only one problem - without the pressure of 'I must write now while I have an hour', I couldn't think of anything to write.
The plan was to start on book two. It was looking like more of a pamphlet at this stage. My progress was slow until the next day when something clicked into place and I got cracking. I'm even pleased with a lot of the work I did. I wrote 20000 words and spent two days working on my third lot of edits for All Fall Down. This may not sound very impressive but this was on top of three meals per day, morning coffee, afternoon tea and the bar opening at 6pm. All in all, I think that I did pretty well.
Perhaps I've hit the nail on the head - it was the pressure of having to be at the dining room five times a day that inspired me to well and truly pull my finger out and get scribbling. That's my excuse for a tea break sorted then.

Sunday 26 August 2012

Alcohol or horses? I've made my choice.

Despite Great Britain's gold medals in the Olympics for various horsing events, and I'm very proud of my country for doing so well in a number of sports, horses don't do very much for me. I realise that they are majestic creatures and rule many people's lives but they scare me a bit. They're quite big for a start.
There are probably a few similarities between drinking too much and being taken by surprise by a horse. I should think that both end badly. My point to all this is that I've asked my husband to plan our holiday next year. "We'll go wherever you fancy," I said. I knew that I was pretty safe in my decision as he won't go anywhere in the world where you can't drink the tap water or where anything more than malaria tablets are advised to prevent curtailing your life expectancy.
"I was thinking of America," he answered. I had foreseen this reply.
"How about Texas?" he asked. I had not foreseen this one.
After many days of internet research, map books strewn across the dining room table and weighing up the options available, he devised a route from Dallas taking in San Antonio, Roswell, Austin and a stay on a ranch.
"I love the idea of a ranch," I ventured, putting aside my horse-hesitation for the sake of an experience.
"There's a small problem with it," he said.
I ran through the possible scenarios in my mind: bucking broncos, horses with rabies (I'm not even sure horses get rabies), wobbly bits jiggling up and down as the horse moves (mine not the horse's), I even thought about drive-through ranches (this is America after all). It was none of these.
It was much worse. "Most of the ranches have no alcohol," he said.
If there's a choice of horse or hangover, it will always be the booze.
Is that why cowboys carried canteens?

Wednesday 15 August 2012

Laughing Gravy wore my jumper and we came up with a title for my book

Friday evening I got home late from work. I found my dog at the front door wearing my jumper. I'm not sure how he got his head through the neck hole either or what he thought he was doing. It was an old jumper I'd given him to play with. I know how cheap this makes me. Honestly, we've tried him with all sorts of toys but they don't last very long. We thought that we'd struck gold by giving him our old clothes to play with. We stopped short of my husband's old pants.
That would be a whole world of wrong. They're supermarket own.
After a very long weekend at work, I had Monday and Tuesday off and like all work-free days, they sped by, leaving me with a list of stuff I haven't tackled. I forgot a friend's son's birthday for a start.
Most of Monday was taken up with a visit to Brighton to meet up with Myriad who are publishing my book next year. I have a lot of work to do on this rewrite. The meeting went really well though and at last, we've come up with a title.
As myself and my long-suffering husband who I talked into coming with me, were out of the house for so long, we'd asked a friend to nip round and let the dog out for a while. She sent me a text to tell me that she wasn't sure if he should be chewing random items of clothes and had rehung them on the washing line.
Really glad now we didn't let the dog have the second-hand underwear. I'd never be able to look my friend in the eye again.

Saturday 4 August 2012

Spreading joy on the M25

Let's be honest, it could do with it.
Returning from Wales yesterday afternoon by car, the journey took me along the M25 (anti-clockwise past Heathrow if you care, but I'm guessing you don't). The traffic was its usual stop-start along the temporary speed limits. It seems to me that the traffic flows until the temporary speed restrictions are in use, but perhaps that's just me.
Lanes in both directions crawled along for miles, most of us with better places to be on a Friday afternoon which crept into Friday evening without too much effort.
As we made our way along the outside lane, one of the passengers in the Golf VW in front of our car opened his window and began to wave at those static on the clockwise carriageway. He waved at about fifty or so people until a concrete barrier stopped his good cheer.
Hardly anyone waved back. A few looked the other way. Some smiled that embarrassed smile. Some were clearly just humouring him.
I'm not sure why that was. It was making me laugh but then being stuck in traffic with the fumes getting too much may have made me delirious. Thing is, we were on the M25 for a considerably long time but the fella in front waving is just about all I recall.
Who'd have thought that the M25 could be so amusing? But before you all rush there giving the Edinburgh Festival a run for its money, bear in mind I usually start drinking at 7pm and the sun was well and truly over the yardarm.

Friday 13 July 2012

Danny DeVito and Dairy Milk

What a great week it's been for me. It started last Saturday with a trip to the theatre to see 'Sunshine Boys' with Danny DeVito and Richard Griffiths. They were in the play, not watching it with me. I was in the company of my husband and friend who had booked the tickets.
While waiting for my friend outside the Savoy theatre, Danny DeVito came out into the street just a few feet from us and was signing autographs and  having his picture taken with fans. I like that. He's been here in the UK for weeks, performing in the same theatre for a long time and still took time to say hello to some fans minutes before he went on stage. I didn't get an autograph. I'm British. I didn't like to bother him. I did get his photograph though. Id' post it to prove it but apart from being inept at anything technical, why would I lie to you?
The 'Sunshine Boys' was fantastic and if you can, I'd recommend that you go to see it. It was hilarious.
Following that, it was a busy week at work with a short trip to Scotland in the middle of it. A one night stay forced me to take advantage of the local bars. I regretted it the next day. Too little sleep, too much red wine and an early start are not the best combination. I took comfort in my 9.20pm flight back to Gatwick.
Shame it was three hours late. I did at least get a £3 voucher. Of course, as you'd expect, I spent it wisely on Dairy Milk and TicTacs. I didn't squander it. It was the box with two flavours. I know that a fool and their money are soon parted.
Getting home at 3.30am on Thursday, I didn't really feel much like waking up and going to London for the Society of Authors New Members Lunch as I'd planned. I eventually rolled out of bed, an hour later than I'd planned, ate a bar of Dairy Milk on the train and for lunch had a glass of white wine. I would have talked to more people when I got there but it had already been a long week. I got to talk to a handful of people and really would have liked to talk to more but I ran out of time. I did meet some great people.
The only low point came on the tube on my way back from lunch. A completely incoherent announcement was made five or six times. After sitting passively for twenty minutes, from the endless talking, I think that there was a problem with the tubes. I'll never know what it was.
The things that went through my mind, apart from my lateness to an afternoon appointment was that it's really lucky that the UK is not hosting some sort of major international event in the near future, such as a world famous sporting event. It may cause embarrassment. I rest assured, as should you, that if such a thing were to happen, there would be bountiful security. If those in power were to be mad enough to sack, let's say troops and make police officers redundant, they would surely make sure that a private security firm were fully fit to handle the situation.
Luckily for me, the only sport I like is rugby, I don't live or work in London and I love to read fiction. Good luck our beautiful capital city.

Friday 6 July 2012

Saving the planet one overpriced carrier bag at a time

Anyone else get fed up with supermarkets and food departments within larger stores charging for their plastic carrier bags?
Shopping used to be something I really enjoyed but I tend to put it in the 'too much hassle' category these days. I get fed up stopping to look at something on a shelf or clothing rack only to find someone coming from seemingly out of nowhere to push in front of me to examine the article I had paused to peruse.  Perhaps I'm being too kind when I say that these people probably aren't consciously thinking about tearing the item from my hand but they can't help themselves when they see something someone else has. It's how advertising works after all.
The best thing about people's predictability is that causing a distraction further along the aisle is just too easy by announcing, "Wow, this stuff's all 80 per cent off." Bound to cause a stampede so you can return to looking at the items you wanted to look at in the first place. It's a given that you feel a bit of a fool if you're shopping alone but it works a treat.
Oh yeah - the carrier bags - there was a point. How is it that in the same shop, I can buy a £2 pair of socks and get a free bag but if I spent £20 on wine and lasagne, I have to pay 5 pence?
I'm all for saving the planet and minimising waste but two things come to mind here: watching Springwatch, I saw that landfill sites were now a haven for wildlife and they can't be built upon because they're landfill sites. Result all round I say.
Secondly, if these stores were so bothered, wouldn't they turn the lights off and give you a pair of night vision goggles as you went through the door?

Sunday 17 June 2012

So many clever people



The last few days have seen some of the cleverest and brightest at London’s Southbank, demonstrating their design talents. Students from Brunel University have spent four days proudly displaying part of their coursework.
How do I know about this? My youngest step son, Alec, was one such student. As part of his degree in Product Design, he had to design and produce something inexpensive, durable, sustainable and useful. There was no doubt much more to it than that but the last time we spoke he used ‘paradigm’ in a sentence and we weren’t even talking about Dr. Who. His dad and I tried to look as though we knew what he was talking about but I don’t think we fooled him for a minute.
Back to the clever students: my step son came up with designing eating and drinking products (he had my full attention at this point) for those with hand disabilities such as arthritis. The utensils are made from cork optimising its natural qualities, but the mixture of cork and other materials he designed himself. He broke four blenders in the process.
What was great about the array of projects by students on display was seeing ideas from prevention of HIV from mother to child in breastfeeding to a stress reducing asthma device for children.
The photograph here of Alec’s work doesn’t do it justice, due to my photography and in no way to his project. 

Saturday 16 June 2012

Thirty years on, still laughing at the same things.

Thirty years ago this September, I started secondary school. Last night I had the great pleasure of meeting up with five of my best friends for a meal. We began our days at our girls' school in total ignorance of each other but left good friends. This friendship has grown and grown over the years.
There are usually seven of us but one of our number moved to Devon and sadly wasn't able to make it this time. There's a lot of miles between Devon and North Kent and while she usually makes the journey, it is a long way to go for steak and chips.
Over the last 30 years we've been through the usual together - difficult teenage times of first boyfriends (now we often laugh about them), breaking up with those boyfriends (we cried together at the time but now it's hilarious - I shook one's hand. Who does that?), holding each other's hair back when we were violently ill through drinking too much Thunderbird on the bus on the way to the school disco. The usual.
Last night we covered a number of topics and as good friends do, they were fully supportive of my writing, interested in my novel, all wanting to know if they were in it and are eager to read it when it comes out. I had previously told them that Myriad Editions have given me a two book contract and have my mates' full support.
Are my friends in any way concerned that all this will go to my head? Not in the least. They're all prepared to   bring me back to earth. Never any fear of getting too carried away with myself. Will we all still be friends in thirty years' time? You can count on that. They know too much...

Thursday 7 June 2012

Webbed feet and coincidences

Really what are the chances that four years ago, I would start work in an office and the person sitting at the next desk would become a great and trusted friend? In fairness, the bookies wouldn't probably give the best of odds on that one. What would the odds be however, on that person becoming a friend and months later sharing with you that they like you, have webbed feet? I feel that the likelihood of such an event happening is rarer than Halley's Comet.
I'm open to being wrong about this but it's not something you bring up upon introduction to someone new in your life. "Hello, I'm Lisa. Mind if I sit here? By the way, I have webbed toes."
"Really, me too. Which toes? You're kidding me. The same as mine!"
It's not likely is it?
What's prompted me to share this with you is the rain we've been having. I didn't know whether to walk home from work or hop.
Got home and watched the X-Men. I'm not quite in their league but a girl can dream.

Sunday 27 May 2012

Now it's time to sober up and get on with it.

On Wednesday I won the Myriad Editions Writer's Retreat competition. I can't begin to describe how pleased I am. Just to be shortlisted was fantastic but to win when up against some fantastic entries, couldn't have been more overwhelming.
My entry was the first 5000 words of my novel I've been working on. The celebrating started with a couple of glasses of wine on Wednesday evening, curtailed by the massive headache the excitement of the day had brought with it.
Thursday saw a few more drinks, Friday a couple more and Saturday, well I think you get the picture.
This morning, I felt enough was enough. My internal organs must be hoping that nothing else worth celebrating  happens in the next couple of weeks. I don't think they could cope with a lottery win.

Saturday 19 May 2012

Close to perfect Saturday

The day started with a chocolate muffin for breakfast. Yes, I know, it's hardly nutritious but it was very good. The sun was shining. We took the dog for a walk. He ran about like a great big red fool. We even saw a white albino squirrel in the trees. I swear that we both saw it so I wasn't still asleep or suffering from the night before.
Leaving home a bit later, the dog with a look of disgust on his face, we went out shopping together for some very harmonious his 'n' hers shopping. Husband and I got the purchases we required, we had a coffee and came home. Aah. Good stuff.
I did some gardening just in time before the flexible rose tree touched the lawn and then the ice cream van stopped just outside the house. This was too much. I would have shoved a '99' in my face but the dirt under my fingernails was quite impressive at this stage. I settled for a lolly on a stick. Anything I didn't have to touch with my filthy hands. It was either that or lay under the ice cream tap. OK, I thought about it. My husband had the '99' complete with flake. I had ice cream envy.
This was followed by an hour of reading "You're next" by Greg Hurwitz (only half way through but loving it), fingernail dirt removal, wine and a curry.
How I love a weekend free from work and having to be anywhere at all.
Hope your Saturday was as good.

Thursday 17 May 2012

What's wrong with chinchillas? Discriminated against while cats, dogs and ferrets get away with it.

Since last year, as proud Labrador parents, we have planned more and more holidays in England. Many parts of the UK are beautiful and make fantastic holiday locations but the British weather does little for a vitamin D boost.
Our destinations are therefore looking once more to Europe. Europe has always held a fascination for me. Alighting from the Eurostar in Paris or Brussels has always left me staring dumbstruck at the destination board. To get on a train in London or Kent, get off in a foreign country, change trains at another platform before travelling to yet another country, enchants me. Bit sad, I know. It must be the island mentality.
The end result of being tempted by foreign lands once more, meant that our thoughts fell to taking the dog with us. It appeared quite simple. All we had to do was get him a passport. He's already been chipped so I looked it up on the internet.
The results surprised me. It is indeed possible to obtain a passport for a cat, dog or a ferret.
The demand for passports for cats and dogs is something I can fully grasp. People get very attached to their pets. Dogs are supposedly man's best friend and I totally understand the companionship of a cat. I don't fully get people who take their ferrets overseas with them. Admittedly, I've never owned a ferret. They make superb pets, so I've been told with intelligence equal to that of a cat or dog. Just what do Border Control have against chinchillas, hamsters and gerbils? Are they of no importance or is it simply too difficult to stop their toothy grins at the photo kiosk, rendering the use of automated passport gates obsolete for facial recognition?

Wednesday 9 May 2012

Centuries of history in such a short time

Last night, I was very lucky to attend the Ceremony of the Keys at the Tower of London. I love London, particularly as I don't have to commute there every day. Truly, I think it is an amazing city. In my opinion, the best. In fairness, I haven't been to them all and I am English, so somewhat biased.
Anyway, the tour was led by 'Jimmy', a prouder and truer Englishman I've yet to meet and I've been to a couple of rugby matches at Twickenham. I will admit to not being the most fanatic rugby fan ever but my dad played his last game aged 50 something and my brother at 44 is still playing. That aside, 'Jimmy' was so knowledgeable and keen to share his vast knowledge of all that was the Tower of London and its history.
After showing us the Bell Tower, Bloody Tower, Traitor's Gate, Queen's House, Executioner's Block to name but a few, giving us a fascinating and amusing history of one of England's most breathtaking attractions, we waited in the falling dark for the ceremony to begin. It was amazing to witness.
In over 700 years, this ceremony has never been missed. (It was late once in the Second World War by six minutes according to Jimmy.)
Go online and get yourself some tickets. There's a wait of over a year apparently (I didn't organise the trip) but here's the best bit - THEY'RE FREE.


Saturday 5 May 2012

Seven days in Norfolk and five books later

We've just spent a very relaxing week in Norfolk. It's one of our favourite parts of England. Shame it rained most of the week but there you go. Monday was a beautiful day so we went to Wells-next-the-sea. It's a fantastic beach. We took the dog, having been told it was a dog-friendly beach. Indeed it was dog friendly.
LG, the Lab, loved it. He had a great time on the sand, running about all over the place. On the way back to our holiday cottage, he seemed to be wheezing and being the over protective owner I am, I feared he had doggy asthma. The likelihood was that he had sand up his nose.
When we got out of the car, I tipped cold water over his face. He won't be trying that one again. Seemed to stop the wheezing.
Anyway throughout the week, as well as doing a considerable amount of writing and hitting the 99,000 word mark for my novel, I also read five other books. I recently joined the new library in Maidstone, Kent and took some real, actual books out. I read 'The Herring in the Library', LC Tyler, 'The Kindest Thing', Cath Staincliffe,  'A Helping Hand', Celia Dale, 'Curious Curate' by MC Beaton and on my Kindle, 'Killing Cupid', Mark Edwards and Louise Voss. They were all good books, especially the Celia Dale. The strange thing was that whenever I picked up a paperback, my dog, who is quite needy, tried to knock it out of my hand and get on my lap. The Kindle he took no notice of.
Ordinarily, I would put this down to the books having other people's scent on them but these were brand new books, from a brand new library. I love my Kindle. I wouldn't be without it but it's made me think about the books v electronic download argument. Truth be known, I loved holding a printed book again.
Don't listen to me though. I'm just off to drop my holiday snaps off for developing. Only trouble is, if it's busy in town, I may not find anywhere to leave my horse and carriage.

Saturday 21 April 2012

Our anniversary and Adolf Hitler's birthday.

Hear me out on this. Yesterday, 20th April was our 12th wedding anniversary. In celebration, we enjoyed a pleasant meal and several glasses of wine, plus I got a new watch from my husband as a gift. All good stuff. Our wedding day back in 2000 was a beautiful day, even though it rained all evening.
Some months prior to the big day, my bank account was overdrawn, cheques were bouncing left, right and centre, so it was time to throw myself at the mercy of the bank.
Appointment made, I attended the High Street, complete with my list of outgoings, always bigger than the incomings, ready to plead my case.
The account manager I spoke to was a very nice, fair haired, blue eyed man. "Have you any big expenses coming up?" he asked.
"Well, I'm getting married," I replied.
"Congratulations," he said. "When's the big day?"
"20th April," I said.
"Hitler's birthday," he said.
"Well actually, we picked it because it's Maundy Thursday and the castle we're getting married in is half price on a Thursday."
"That's also a good reason," he said.
I got married and changed banks.

Thursday 19 April 2012

My dog's nuts

The apostrophe in the title isn't indicating the omission of a letter, but possession. Bless my happy, little Labrador, he has an embarrassing problem at present. Being the pampered pooch he is, I took him straight to the vet's, along with my husband clutching his wallet. An injection, anti-inflammatory cream, a huge plastic collar and £76 later, we took the dog home.
Problem is, twice a day, we have to rub cream into the dog's bits. It's a bit distressing for all parties. My husband being of greater strength in holding the dog down, gets the restraining part, I get to apply the ointment. Lucky me. At least he gets a biscuit afterwards. He has after all, used a lot of energy holding on to the dog.
I was late for work this morning. When my line manager asked why I was late, my apology was accompanied with, "I was rubbing cream on the dog's testicles."

Thursday 12 April 2012

87,000 words and the Brighton Festival

Left alone with my own fevered imagination for the last six months, I have managed to come up with 87,000 words of a crime novel. On a whim, I sent the first 4990 words to Myriad publishing in Brighton back in February. Last week while on holiday, I was thrilled to find out that I've been shortlisted along with five other entrants for the Writer's Retreat competition.
The winner is to be announced at the Brighton Festival on 23rd May. I'm going along to hear whether I've been successful or not. If I have, then, of course, I'll be delighted but win or not, I'm keen to hear what it was that the five judges were looking for in the submissions. After all, isn't life one long learning experience and if you're really lucky you get feedback? Just hoping they're kind about it.

Monday 9 April 2012

Don't open that cupboard whatever you do.

Begrudgingly, I admit, it was my idea.
"Let's stay somewhere cheap," I suggested on our trip through New England. "You know the kind of thing I mean, don't you? A budget motel and takeaway pizza."
After several hours of driving from North Conway, New Hampshire towards Boston, I spied what I thought was a pleasant appearing place to stay. What I'd actually directed my husband to drive into was an animal hospital. That looked very smart. The motel was next door, somewhere a little less salubrious.
Correcting our mistake, we made our way to the office where a very helpful man looked at us with incredulity on hearing our accents and request for somewhere to stay. In hindsight, he was probably running through his usual list of  'Do they look as though they're wanted in three states, are narcotic dependent or on the game?' or whatever the American colloquialism may be.
"You want to stay here?" he politely asked. "It's $49 plus tax."
Sounded like a steal to me.
"You may want to look at the room first," he added, sliding a key across the counter. This was our chance to plan our exit strategy but then came the moment when he unwittingly clinched the deal. "Do you want a king size bed or two queens?" he asked, keeping one hand on the key.
Well, naturally, being English, I was not used to choices like this. I felt that deep down, an establishment which offered me more than one option, could not have been that bad.
Off we went to the room, opened the door and apart from the smell, it looked fine. There was a television, a fridge, microwave and air conditioning.
"We'll take it," we said to the office man. He looked a bit shocked.
What followed was not the best night of my life. The telly had been dropped at some point, the fridge didn't cool but seemed to warm and the microwave set fire to the paper cups we tried to heat water in due to the absence of a coffee maker.
My husband came out of the bathroom and said, "Don't open that cupboard whatever you do. Some sort of animal or insect seems to have been living in there. It's OK, it's gone."
Yeah probably to the Vet's surgery next door if it had any sense.

Friday 6 April 2012

New Hampshire to Maine but still missing my dog

Holidays spent in America are fantastic. Let's face it, holidays spent pretty much anywhere are usually great or else you wouldn't be visiting the destination in the first place. Americans may not appreciate their road and motorway system as much as foreigners but it's easy driving in the USA (especially for me as my husband does it all - I have the worst sense of direction). Prior to our arrival in Boston we'd only booked our first night's accommodation as finding a hotel or motel is easy. The only obstacle I face is ordering food. I break out into a cold sweat and momentary panic grips me as this is when the questions start - do you want a side with that? which of our choice of seven dressings do you want? what kind of bread? wheat? rye? soda? artisan? Please good people of America, listen to the accent. I'm English. More choice than white or brown and you blow my mind.
We've just spent three nights in North Conway, New Hampshire. What a fantastic place. We were here 13 or so years ago and don't want to leave it over a decade before we return again. Despite having a really pleasant and relaxing time, I can't wait to get home. I miss my dog.
We've left him at a very fine kennel. I have no doubt that he's being looked after very well but he likes company. In fact, he drives me crazy following me around all day, tripping me up, knocking books out of my hand when I'm reading, trying to get all 40 kilos of himself on my lap when I'm writing. Still, I can't wait to get home to him.
By the time I've unpacked and fallen over him a dozen times, I may have changed my mind.

Tuesday 3 April 2012

Asking for water and being given cold tomato: language difficulties

This year, we travelled to New England to celebrate my birthday. We don't usually do anything so grand but on my 40th last year, things went very wrong with my husband ending up in hospital. We thought we'd make up for it this year and flew to Boston on Friday.
My birthday was very pleasant and spent in Connecticut. I would have had a better time if I hadn't tried to be so British. The first drink I ordered had a lipstick mark on the glass. I told the barmaid and she changed it immediately. I then ordered red wine. It was terrible. It was enough to strip the enamel from my teeth. Did I complain? No of course not. I struggled through as I didn't want to appear rude. What's that about?
When I just couldn't take any more, I asked her for water. She thought I asked for cold tomato. Being English, I was grateful for the vitamins.

Tuesday 27 March 2012

The End of Everything by Megan Abbott

Despite my dog chewing through the first few pages of The End of Everything when it arrived in the post, I was able to read the book in only a few days. It's one of those books that I really enjoyed but would be reluctant to give it a blanket recommendation to everyone I know. The reason? It was quite disturbing.
I'm giving little away here by telling you that the story centres on two young girls, best friends and next-door neighbours, getting on with their childhood until one of them goes missing. The majority of the book follows Lizzie in her quest to locate her friend.
Some of it I found unpalatable, but nevertheless, I finished the book last week and am still finding my mind wandering back to it. That I'm still pondering it, means I'll probably never forget it. In all honesty, some of it, I'd prefer to forget. The book isn't graphic or lewd just unsettling in parts.
Overall, I loved it and found it a great read. I'll be reading other books by Megan Abbott but getting to the mail ahead of the dog.

Wednesday 21 March 2012

Blood and tears

Many years ago, I regularly gave blood. I got into the habit of doing it every few months, despite almost fainting every time. For some reason, I stopped going. I suppose I struggled to find the time. My recovery time was often hours. I am quite the coward. Did I mention bruising like a peach?
A couple of weeks ago, overhearing a colleague's conversation, I heard her book an appointment over the phone to attend a mobile blood unit. I thought to myself, why not? I reached for the phone and did the same, without giving myself time to think.
Know what? It really wasn't that bad. Even the part where the nurse tests your blood before you donate by pricking your finger. I recalled that as a feeling of total agony. I hardly felt a thing.
Laying on the bed a few minutes later, I tried to calm myself before another nurse came to do the deed. It didn't hurt, I didn't faint, I didn't even cry.
I got crisps and so I'm told, next time, I get a key ring.
Only 4% of the country donate blood. Free crisps and a key ring. What are you waiting for?

Monday 19 March 2012

Why friends are worth their weight in gold

Recently, I spent a very amusing, not to mention enjoyable evening with two very good friends. There's a reason you have mates, especially those that you've gone to school with, shared embarrassing moments with and relied on more heavily than they'll ever know. Quite frankly girls, you've assisted me in hanging on to my sanity.
Despite spending a night out with my friends, Cath and Tracey (she won't take kindly to me missing out the 'e'), enjoying a meal and going on to watch an excellent band, my overriding memory of the evening will always be Tracey saying to me, "Don't let me get too drunk. If you see me in the zone, don't let me do high leg kicks."
I've known Tracey and Catherine for 30 years. A lot of cheap cider and wine has been consumed over the years. I'd say after three decades, we know each other as well as we will ever know each other. Therefore, why did Tracey for one minute think I was the more responsible one? A more likely scenario than me stopping her in her tracks, was one where I told her I would hold her drink if she fancied trying out some high leg kicks.
Thirty years clearly taught the three of us nothing. We got drunk on not-so-cheap cider and staggered to Charing Cross. The only thing stopping the high kicks was the physical inability to get our feet more than 18 inches off the ground.

Tuesday 13 March 2012

LG when duck was still on the menu

 
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Lab with his own agenda

Seems that I have the world's first lab with an eating disorder. As a tiny puppy, LG would often disappear to be found some time later with his head in the 12K bag of food I had inadvertently left open. I had to wrap my arms around him and separate him from the kibble. Training included making him wait near to his bowl when we put it down for him before allowing him to eat.
Forward that on six months and it's a completely different story. We've probably given in one too many times. We change his food every few days from duck flavour to lamb, then beef then turkey. He's bored of all of those so now I have taken to opening a small tin of fish for him to pour over his breakfast.
At 730am this morning, kippers did not do it for me. They were just the thing for my dog though.