SECRET SANTA OR BUST ....

We have done a Secret Santa at the day job. The spending limit was £10.00 and today I brought my contribution into the office. I had a Brand New Bear created at the Build-A-Bear Workshop in Centrale, Croydon, named after the lucky recipiant who just happens to be male and the sales manager. I chose a bear because he collects them and my bet was that he had never had one created just for him so, when his name fell to me in the name draw, I knew exactly what I would be getting for him. Hubby made an interesting comment though as I emerged triumphant with the new bear snug in his travel box. He said "I hope whoever got your name is just as thoughtful." This is a valid point. Last year, I was working in a different part of the company and we were encouraged to write a suggestion or two before the names went into the hat for picking. I wrote "Thorntons Chocolates or Smiths voucher" and I got a Smiths Voucher which was then put towards the price of the 2008 Poetry Writer's Handbook. This year, no such option was given so who knows what any of us will end up with? Do men take things like a Secret Santa seriously or is that strictly a female domain? I have been worried ever since that I will end up with totally inappropriate smellies, a vibrator or some Chocolate Body Paint - or something from the Pound Shop. I don't mean to sound ungrateful and I know it is the thought that counts. But I also know, from working with men that, by and large, their thoughts tend to be made up of Sex, Football, Booze and Facebook. It will be interesting to see what us girls end up with if our name happened to be picked by a fella, don't you think? Stay tuned for The Big Reveal which, I have been reliably informed, takes place this Friday.

Talking of Christmas presents, I am at a complete loss this year as to what to get for Hubby. He tells me he is having a similar problem getting stuff for me. It is not only because money is tight. It is also because we have been together for such a long time now that we don't really need anything. We have built up our home as much as the sweet little place will take it; the children have flown the roost and we have all the necessary apparel so what else is there? We did agree to only buy little things to unwrap on The Big Day so that we can put the rest of the money towards tickets to a show - but I know Hubby and a few little things will not be enough as he always wants to give me the world. I know he would like an iPod (although neither of us would know what to do with it, he just likes the concept of having all his favourite music at the touch of a button) and I, personally, would like to get him a basic Mobile Phone but he has flatly refused to get involved with them so it would be quite pointless to get him one. It goes without saying that he'd like to give me the opportunity to stay at home and write and I would like to give him the opportunity to go into semi-retirement, but neither are possible without some help from the lottery so where do we go from here?

I am hoping to get the chance next week to go out and get his stuff and I do have a few little ideas for stocking fillers and tree presents, but no ideas at all for his proper gifts. Any suggestions? I suppose with the world on the brink of economic collapse and everyone still reeling from the Baby P scandal and all the other horrid things going on in the world, that I should be very grateful for the fact that one of my main problems at this point in time is what to buy my husband for Christmas. I do know how privelaged I actually am, believe it or not and I, like everyone else with any heart really wishes only two things for 2009 - Peace and Enough Food To Go Round. And I would actually be quite willing to give everything up to make them possible - even the Secret Santa.

CHICKEN POX AND CHRISTMAS SHOPS

We had Youngest Step-daughter's two littluns over at the weekend. Eldest Grand-daughter was just getting over chicken pox and Youngest Grandson was just starting it. I was up all night with him on Saturday as he writhed and screamed - although he did manage to snatch two and a half hours sleep from around 2.30 a.m out of pure exhaustion. It is a long time since I held such a sick infant in my arms and I felt so sorry for him. He is only ten months old, he didn't understand what was happening and couldn't tell me how he was feeling so he did the only thing he could - cry. Youngest Step-daughter did offer to come and get him but I told her to hold off. She and Clever Son-in-Law recently split up and I knew she needed the break - particularly since she'd already seen Eldest Grand-daughter through it single-handedly. Chicken pox is just so nasty, isn't it? I didn't get it until I was about 12 which is quite late. But it seems horribly unfair for a ten-month old to get it and he really was so unwell.

Youngest Step-daughter arrived to collect the children around 10.30 Sunday morning and looked as if she'd been up crying all night. I felt very angry with Clever Son-in-Law - or Former Son-in-Law as he shall henceforth be known - for not being around to support her when she obviously needed it but of course as a parent - even a step-parent - I know not to get involved or to show my own feelings about the whole sorry mess. We did ask her if she'd like to stay for the night but she refused saying she wants to keep the routine as normal as possible for the two children and Eldest Grand-daughter had nursery the next day. Fortunately by the time she arrived, Youngest Grandson had perked up quite a bit. His temperature had returned to normal and he'd eaten some weetabix for his breakfast - which was more than he'd managed the previous day when the worst was only just beginning - and he beamed up at her, spots and all, as she walked through the door.

After they'd gone, Hubby and I had a whole hour to clear up before Youngest Sister arrived with her hubby and youngest son for lunch - soup and French Stick - prior to meeting Mother in Croydon for a spot of Christmas shopping. Hubby was working so he stayed behind as the rest of us braved the freezing winds and hit Poundland and the new 99p shop with great gusto to stock up on Christmas Cookies and other festive delights. By the time I got home just after 5pm he had left and at 7pm I fell into bed, the lost sleep of Saturday night finally catching up and hitting me full-force! I only woke up once and that was when Mother called me at 9pm to see how I was. I went straight back to sleep afterwards and stayed that way until the alarm roused me the following morning.

This weekend Hubby and I are determined to get the bulk of our present buying out of the way so we are both looking forward to that and the following weekend we are off to Worthing to see Vampires Rock. Less than two weeks after that is the Big Day itself then the New Year will arrive and we'll start all over again - and hopefully, 2009 will be a better year all round.

Catch you again soon.

IT'S BEGINNING TO FEEL A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS ...

Hubby and I went down to rural Danehill in West Sussex last Saturday, where Youngest Sister and Brother-In-Law run the village store, to celebrate the village Tree-lighting ceremony - you know - like Trafalgar Square but on much much smaller scale. Of course Saturday night just had to be the coldest of the winter so far so it was a very chilly group of us that stood singing Christmas carols as the tree-lights twinkled and frost paved the way for snow. It was sooooo lovely, though; thousands of stars, everyone muffled up in gloves and scarfs and hats, mulled wine and warm mince pies doing the rounds, excited children tearing about, Father Christmas ho-ho-ho-ing in his jolliest fashion; it was like stepping back into that old Judy Garland movie "Meet Me In St Louis" and really brought the Christmas spirit into all our hearts. The only thing missing was the snow but that came in droves on Sunday morning when Neice # 2 convinced Hubby and I that we should go and meet her horse Billy.

Now I absolutely love horses. I think they are gentle giants with the lovliest liquid eyes and softest velvet noses and sweetest natures imaginable. Unfortunately I am also horribly horribly allergic to them so that, even though I took two anti-histimines and kept my distance from thoroughbred Billy, I felt my sinuses clog, my eyes stream and my chest tighten from the second I entered his snowy field and watched him canter towards Neice # 2 and regard her with complete and utter adoration. By the time we got back to the house, I was in the first early throws of asthma and had to get very liberal with the inhaler. I did not actually feel a hundred per cent again until yesterday morning, but it was worth it to see the look of pride on her face. The things aunties do for gorgeous neices!

Hubby greeted me last night when I got home with the excellent news that his shares had sold so we can actually afford to go out and do some Christmas shopping soon. What a relief. I know we'd have coped somehow without them if we'd had to, but it does take a certain amount of the burden off knowing we can do it without breaking the bank, now. We still can't go as mad as we did a few years back when we remortgaged but we can afford to give ourselves a Christmas budget which makes the whole thing a lot more enjoyable. And guess what? We have got Eldest Grand-daughter and Youngest Grandson staying with us this weekend and I am sure we will take them into Christmassy Croydon on Saturday. It will be interesting to see how they react to the singing Christmas tree in Centrale and moving mannequins in Whitgift after Eldest Grand-daughter's clear distaste last year. Hopefully she will not be averse to going to see Santa although, I have to confess, the grotto in Whitgift is a sad disappointment after last year's winter wonderland. I guess even Santa must be feeling the pinch a bit!

And as Christmas is now less than a month away, I have got to say how very impatient I am for the Christmas break to begin so that I can write and write and write and work on my new project. Who knows - maybe next year, I really will be able to cut the hours at the day job and do what I am meant to be doing with my life. Well - I can live in hope, can't I? Maybe I will drop Santa a letter - how should it go? Oh yes ... Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing.......

WOO-HOO!!!!!!

Guess what, Blogspot Buddies? I am writing again! What a huge relief; I was beginning to think I'd lost it forever. I am very excited about my new work in progress because it is one of those projects that seems to come from nowhere, yet feels as if it has been waiting somewhere at the back of my mind forever. If it carries on developing at the rate it currently is, I could be sitting on something amazing. And this all came about because I did something I haven't done in ages - I sat back and looked at the whole picture.

As you know, I have had a couple of very dificult years in a row - my health, Mother's health. personal stuff going on in our lives (including the arrival of three grandchildren after having just one grandson for ten years), the job situation and so on. Lollypop came along and took on Yucketypoo, taking me by surprise when they then commissioned two sequels where none had ever been planned. The whirligig of having that published, the ups and downs of creating the sequels so that they were as fresh and original as the first one and tying that entire package together has probably made for the most difficult time in my entire writing career. As I got more and more tied up with Yucks 2 and 3, everything else in my writing life kind of fell by the wayside. In short, I felt completely at a loss. Where I'd been tootling along my entire life writing and publishing the odd poem here, article there and meeting the odd commission, all of a sudden there was a pre-destined path I had never expected or envisaged and I just didn't handle it terribly well. The harder I tried to find the writer I once was, the less likely it became that I would. I think maybe I even burned myself out to a point.

The other week I resigned from being group host to the Young Children and Haiku groups on Writewords because I was finding it more and more difficult to give them any degree of attention. I haven't quit Writewords, you understand; I have just taken a breather. Around the same time, I signed up for NANOWRIMO (National Novel Writing Month) where the gauntlet is thrown down for writers of all levels to come up with a 50,000 word novel between November 1st and November 30th. If they achieve it, they get a certificate and if they don't - well they can always try again next year. I will not be getting the certificate this year. A week and a half in and I suddenly saw a new possibility and here I am, three weeks in, rediscovering within myself what it is like to be an active writer again. And I am quite happy to continue along this path for as long as this new work will have me. I feel suddenly free and unfettered. I am writing again because I want to; no more, no less. It is a good feeling.

I won't give too much away about the new project, just in case it changes its mind and puts itself on the back burner again. But I will come back to my blog more often now that I have got something worth telling you about.

Catch up soon.

IN PRAISE OF MSLEXIA

Have you ever heard of Mslexa? It is a quarterly magazine that targets mainly writing women and I have subscribed to it for about four years. I read a brilliant feature in the current issue today that struck a real chord and actually re-lit the candle of my heart. It is by a novelist called Rachel Zadok who was saying how much harder she has been finding it to write her second book than she did her first. It was almost an epiphonus moment for someone whose inner writer has been slowly but surely dying, leaving a hole the size of the Grand Canyon in her heart! I was so moved by Rachel's words that I could actually hear the chains dropping away. Thank God I am not the only one! Thank God I am not alone in the hair-tearing, gut-wrenching, heart-breaking struggle to overcome Writer' bloody Block and just get on with the job in hand! In fact I was so uplifted that I wrote to the letters page and thanked Ms Zadok for rescuing me! How well I can identify with her pain, her sense of loss, her period of almost mourning.

I guess something just had to give soon. Sarah the Publisher called me last week and asked if I was okay. I have been so quiet and elusive, she said, that she thought I'd fallen out of the bottom of the world! She was right of course, I really had. I could not seem to focus, I could not commit myself, I could not write. In ten weeks or so, all I have managed is half a dozen haiku, one poem, two blogs and a dozen or so journal entries. That is an appalling record for someone who, once upon a time, could sit down and rattle off three thousand words in a day, every single day, until something was finshed. Twelve years ago I wrote a 75 0000 word novel in something like six weeks. When I was even younger I used to literally finish one book and start the next.

So the question just begs to be asked - what went wrong? What happened? Oh I could of course (and actually did, too, if I am not mistaken) blame any number of external distractions. I wasn't well. Hubby wasn't well. Cat wasn't well. Mother was in hospital. Gay Friend's parents' house was burgled. The weather was too hot, cold, wet, bright, overcast, windy. The country is sliding into economic chaos. The world is on the brink of depression. I got stung by some stinging nettles. I had to sit and watch A Touch of Frost, or Merlin or a DVD. I had a headache, an earache, a toothache, a brain-ache. I hated writing. I loved writing. I was a writer. I wasn't a writer. I was a bloody pain in the arse!

In truth I could search from now until the next millenium for a reason and not actually find a single one that had any real clout. It was just me. It was Me all the time. Silly, dotty, dopey little old Me. Well not anymore. Not now. My best work is yet to come and in order for it to come, I will find the time, meet other writers, make sure I start thinking like a writer again. I hereby wage war of Writer's Block! I proclaim to all and sundry that Now is My Time.

So thank you Rachel Zadok. And thank you Mslexia. And thank you Blog-Buddies. Now I move forward with confidence.

I'll just go and make myself a cuppa first ......

AM I UP FOR THE CHALLENGE?

I know I have been a bit quiet of late but there hasn't really been a lot to write about since our weekend with the grandchildren. This weekend, Hubby and I are going to see Shout at The Chruchill Theatre in Bromley which is, as its title suggests, a musical set in 60s London featuring lots of 60s music, The next family event will be the one at our place introducing Youngest Grand-daughter to my side of the family so that'll be nice. And then there's the Tree-Lighting ceremony at Youngest Sister's village in West Sussex and finally a weekend in Worthing for Hubby and I two weeks before Christmas when we go to see the latest Rock musical, entitled Vampires Rock, which is evidently becoming something of a cult musical. Oh yes, we like our musicals. If you haven't seen We Will Rock You or Blood Brothers yet, please go as soon as you can.

As far as the writing is concerned, I have been going through something of a literary wilderness for a few weeks, only managing a few poems here and there which is not good at all. It isn't that I don't want to write, it is just finding the inclination to sit down and do it after spending all day at the office, that I find difficult. Anyway, I have taken the bull by the horns (or the writing by the quill) and signed up to write a 50,000 word novel by the end of November in an annual writing challenge. There are no main prizes, save a certificate, if you actually do it, but I just need to do something before the writer within dies completely. It will be good for me to have a deadline to work to again and if you are interested in finding out more about the challenge, go to
http//:www.nanowrimo.org/eng/whatisnano

I know it won't suit everyone, but if it gets me writing again, I won't complain!

And I think that's about it for today - sorry I haven't something more interesting to write about, I will try to make amends next time, promise.

BUSY WEEKEND

Well - here we are in October. How did that happen? Last time I looked it was still mid-June!

What a weekend! When I got home from the Day Job on Friday last week, Youngest Step-daughter, Clever Son-in-Law and the two littluns were already there. Youngest Step-daughter explained to me about Youngest Grandson's feeds, medicines and sleeping habits, smiling wanly only when Clever-Son-in-Law remarked "I am sure she knows how to look after babies!" I smiled supportively and said "Yes, but if it makes you feel better, you carry on, darling." It did make her feel better so I let her finish. Before they went, Youngest Grandson was put to bed in the Travel Cot but within an hour of their leaving, he wanted Out so we let him up to play with his sister for a while. Turned out he had a real humdinger of a cold anyway so I was up with him twice more in the night administering calpol, puffers and clean nappies and he was then ready for the new day by 5.30 Saturday morning.

I am not sure why but Eldest Grand-daughter now associates her Grandad and I with the Tram and the Cafe and insisted we do both during the day Saturday. We took them into Croydon on the tram and she shared a chocolate muffin with Grandad at Nero's in George Street, then we went for a wander and some lunch and finally headed to Lloyd Park just outside Addington as she wanted to experience The Long Tunnel the tram goes through to get there. At the park, Youngest Grandson snoozed whilst his sister played on the swings, slide, see-saw and climbing frame, showing first me, and then her Grandad just how clever she is. Saturday night wasn't too bad. I think all the fresh air knocked Youngest Grandson out and I only got up with him once when his asthma made him cough and grizzle which meant another dose of Salbutomol. I give him his credit though. For all the fact he is only nine months old he certainly copes well with his puffer and he was quite happy to go back to bed where he slept until just after 6 a.m.

We'd arranged to meet their parents in Croydon on the Sunday so we could buy Eldest's Grand-daughter's birthday present. After half an hour in The Early Learning Centre, she picked a washing Machine, and a Shopping Trolley (her choice - at three, Political Correctness falls by the wayside; she wants to emulate Mum, and that's all there is to it) then we head off for some lunch together at Nando's (their treat). Later, Hubby went into work and I squeezed into the car (not easy with two booster seats and a big backside like mine but we made it) and went home. They had left by around 5 p.m. and the exhaustion suddenly hit me like a sledge hammer. I mean how do these young parents do it? I fell into bed at 7.00, got up just before nine, had a bite to eat as I watched Jonathan Creek then went back to bed at ten where I stayed till the following morning.

Woke up Monday with Youngest Grandson's humdinger which wiped me out for three days before I began to feel better yesterday morning and all I have left now is a tickley cough, thank goodeness. There was a time not so many years ago that a cold like that would have led to a full blown asthma attack and ten days in hospital. I must getting more resilient as I get older.

It is always a real treat having our babies for the weekend and we cherish every second but my God is it tiring! And of course having them and then the humdinger meant that no writing at all has been done this week - except for one very short poem in preparation for Poppy Day and this blog. Now next week, I will make sure I do something. I have promised a fellow Writewords member a critique on her children's story so that is my first priority. I also need to upload some new work of my own because the summery poem and kid's story currently displayed there are now weeks out of date. Plus, I really do have to make some time to sort out the research I have already done for The Historical Novel - or The Emma Book as it is now known throughout the family. And I still need to find a way that I can maintain a steady income whilst promoting the Yuck series, so there is plenty to do. It is just a case of finding the time. Still - something will turn up, I am convinced of that.

Catch you later.......

WARM GLOW

It has been another difficult week (my life is full of them this year). Got another dreaded phone call on Tuesday morning - Mother was being rushed to hospital with a suspected heart attack! One of my colleagues drove me to the hospital. So scary seeing Mother hooked up to so many monitors and screens and wires; truly horrendous! Thank God it turned out to be no more than a strained muscle - but that wasn't established until Wednesday night by which time I'd spent almost as long at the hospital as she had! Barely ate all day Tuesday with all the worry. Nice that Middle Sister, Youngest Sister, Brother in Law and Eldest Neice all got the chance to visit and see how Mother was faring but it was a very dodgy 48 hours I can tell you. Anyway, she is home now. Her confidence has taken another massive knock but I am sure she'll bounce back - she usually does.

I have woken up in fine fettle today. Perhaps it is partly because Mother is ok. But I also think it is because Hubby and I are having Eldest Grand-daughter and Youngest Grandson over for the weekend. Youngest Grandson is now crawling, pulling himself up and navigating his way round by grabbing anything he can along the way - table-cloth, speaker-stand, CD rack, you name it. Eldest Grand-daughter, now three and quite the little madam, has learned (according to her mum) how to be defiant and stubborn and a handful. So Hubby and I have certainly got a busy weekend ahead. Not that we would have them any other way, you understand. But I have a feeling we'll be exhausted by Sunday when they go home.

And finally, very quickly, it is good to see a bit of sunshine don't you think? I know it isn't very warm - but it certainly looks pretty as the sun catches the golden leaves on the trees and the emerald wing of the parakeet.

Wow! I must be feeling good - I am thinking like a poet again!

LONG TIME NO SPEAK!

How are we all? I feel incredibly well-rested after our two weeks in the Channel Islands. Got back last Saturday evening around 8pm. Was shattered Sunday and, after first-dayitis at Day Job, shattered Monday night. Having a quiet five minutes right now, so thought I'd steal a bit of office time and at least make a start on a new blog. I don't want to lose touch with my Blog-spot Buddies.


Gosh - so much has happened since last I wrote that I don't really have a clue where to start. I won't give you a blow-by-blow account of our holiday except to say that I have positively lost my heart to Alderney. Hubby did too. I think it is because it is like a little bit of Olde England! There are no traffic lights, no roundabouts, no regular bus route and there's only one town - St Annes, which largely consists of one street - Victoria Street. Hubby and I got there late afternoon on the Friday before last and left there late afternoon on the following Monday. But - and it is a big But - such is the quality of pure unadulterated Time over there, it actually felt as if we'd been there for weeks and weeks. Doctor Who would understand. Alderney is the Olde Worlde answer to the T>A>R>D>I>S. It is less than four miles by two and only around two and a half thousand people live there! What's more, by the end of Saturday we were on first name terms with virtually everyone we met. It is so idyllic and laid back and unbelievably unspoilt that we just didn't want to leave the place! If you are stuck for a vacation next year and don't know where to go, and you like the quiet lifestyle (half-day closing Wednesday, two hours lunch break every day and a cinema that is only open twice a week), then for goodness sake pay them a visit. Stay at the Victoria Hotel on Victoria Street and give Jenny our love! It is quite ironic that Alderney was the island where we spent the least time (Jersey six days before, Guernsey five days after and one of those was given over to that other little gem Herm) yet it is the one place we cannot stop talking or thinking about. For such a tiny place it surely made a truly huge impression


Good news where the Lollypop contract for the second and third Yuck books are concerned. After much wrangling, wrist-wringing and tearing of hair, Writer, Sarah the Publisher and Ashley the Illustrator are in agreement. What a relief! It has taken us weeks to get there and both sequels have been written. What a culture shock it has been to become a fully-fledged author! But it has been worth every irritating, infuriating and truly wonderful second. My plan now is to try and get some kind of funding that can take me out of work for at least six months to really promote the series and make a good start on research for the new book - not to mention the long-lamented Historical novel.


By far the best news of all and the most magical way to sign off for now is to tell you about the arrival of New Baby Grand-daughter. She was born the day after my last blog and weighed just under 6lb. That was on the Thursday. On Sunday 17th, we hot-tailed it up to Peterborough to meet her. It was a real family get-together, with Youngest Step-daughter, Clever-Son-In-Law and their two little ones also making the pilgrimage. Hubby's parents were unable to make it as they had an appointment with Buckingham Palace (they truly did - will explain another time) - but it was still quite a house-ful for Eldest Step-daughter, Laid-back Son-in-Law and Eldest Grandson to contend with. New Baby Grand-daughter behaved perfectly and received her stream of guests with enormous good grace considering she was only four days old! Oh but she is a little beauty! And I am not at all biased.......

ONE YEAR ON.

On 23rd August - which is actually the day we fly out to Jersey - it will be one year since I pledged on my blog that my goal was to be writing full time by that date one year on. Well - as we all know it hasn't happened. This makes me sit back and take stock of what actually has happened in that 12 months and I am not actually too sure where to begin really. Obviously the Yucketypoo book being published, printed and bound must be the first thing mentioned really - and I still carry the first copy I ever got around wih me because I still get days when I can't believe it has actually happened. Writing-wise, I am pleased that I finally got the two sequels written but we are still not certain the second one will be out by ths Christmas which is something of a worry. Other successes in that area are having another poem accepted for inclusion in a new anthology and the fact that two editors have actually come up and asked me if I'd be interested in writng for them. Robert Hale said they wouldn't mind seeing the fist three chapters and a synopsis of my long-planned but as yet unwritten historical novel so we will have to wait and see if anything comes of that.

On the whole, I am quite pleased with what I have achieved writing-wise but it pains me to relate that I still have not succeeded in finding an agent who is prepared to take me on! I know I still have a huge amount of writing to do - but the problem is lack of time, as ever! And on particularly busy days at the day job, I do wonder sometimes if I am ever going to be able to be really free to just be what I believe God intended me to be. I know He moves in mysterious ways - I just hadn't bargained for all the detours along the way! Again - I will just have to wait and see. I cannot believe I have come this far to just let it all fall by the wayside.

Importantly, I have discovered a whole circle of lovely Blog-spot Buddies who have cheered with me during the high times, brightened my mood during the low times and generally put up with my grumblings, so thank you all.

And now I suppose, I shall just have to start making plans for the next year.

Just one question - does FIFTY ONE & NOT OUT have the same ring to it? Hmmm! That's a poser. Answers on a postcard please!

BLACKPOOL & BACK

What a great week we have just had in Blackpool! The weather was good - only a sprinkling of showers and one heavy downpour - the rest of the week was brilliant sunshine. Blackpool is definitely a 'happening' place; loads going on there and plenty to do and see. Hubby and Eldest Grandson loved it, too. Not quite sure how I ended up going on the Pepsi Max Big One on Pleasure Beach - it is 210' at its highest point. The 'G' force on the first downward sweep is short but very VERY intense! Afterwards, Eldest Grandson and I stood underneath it and wondered how we'd had the guts to do it. I must say in the obligatory photograph which is taken randomly as you start to drop, Eldest Grandson looks terrified whilst good ol' granny (ie - me) has a somewhat inane grin on her face. I actually think that grin was petrified into place because it didn't leave me until we were safely back on terra firma. I almost expected to find I'd wet myself in sheer terror! Hadn't though, thank goodness, so I can forget about the Tenas for a while yet.

After The Big One (210' at its highest point!!!!!!!!!!Ahggg!), the rest of the rides we went on were somewhat tame. Not that we went on that many. We also went up the Tower and did the Walk of Faith on a thick pane of glass set in the floor with clear views all the way down to the street 310' below - at least Eldest Grandson and I did; Hubby (who has no head for heights at all) just closed his eyes and stepped across one corner before opening them again. We also went to the zoo. I am not a huge fan of zoos but I must say this one was quite impressive. The animals are in large spacious enclosures and there are conservation notes up everywhere that tell visitors how they are cared for and what their chances of survival are for the future. I am pleased they are not kept in cages anymore. And having read that elephants might be extinct by 2020 (which would be a tragedy), it is nice to know that future generation will still have the chance to see these magnificent creatures, albeit not in the wilds. Other attractions enjoyed were the Sealife Centre, the Waxworks place (horrible bit in the Chamber of Horrors, though, where you have to walk through a dozen or so corpses wrapped in cellophane and hung on meat hooks in order to get from one part of the grisly exhibition to another. I knew they were not real corpses of course but it sent a singularly unpleasant shiver down my spine as they whumped into me and left me feeling queasy for the next hour), the Ripley's Believe It Or Not exhibition and the Doctor Who museum. One of the best bits of the whole holiday was when we went to see Queen tribute band QEII at the North Pier Theatre on Thursday night. As huge Queen fans all three (even Eldest Grandson), we waited in the bar afterwards to meet up with the band members. Such nice fellas! We ended up chatting for almost an hour and exchanged contact details. Hubby even invited them to come and stay with us if they are ever performing in the South East - and they said they would!

All in all - a great holiday, thoroughly enjoyed by all. On Saturday, we dropped Eldest Grandson in Peterborough on our way home (no sign of Eldest Step-daughter's baby yet, though she looked HUGE, bless her) and finally got in to a very welcoming Cat at around 6pm. Sent out for a Chinese (naturally) for dinner, then slept for most of the weekend! Or at least until Hubby went back to work on Sunday night. The count-down now begins for our two week trip to the Channel Isles which begins on 24th August. And of course by the time we get back from that, Christmas will be peeping round the corner again. Where does the time go?

I am aware that I have almost hit the one-year deadline I set myself when I started this blog last year but I'll look into that next time I write.

Till then - adieu!

SAM, BLACKPOOL and the EX-ARMY OFFICER

Hello everyone. Sorry - I seem to have missed a week somewhere. Maybe escalating time goes hand in hand with escalating age, huh? Or perhaps there is some truth in the old adage that menopausal ladies are just a bit forgetful? Who knows?

It has been a strange couple of weeks. I think my psychic ability - very prevalent in my mis-spent youth - has come back full force. I saw a man in a green jumper this morning who wasn't there the next second; but he was definitely there, standing in a neighbour's garden. He was in his fifties, quite tall with a full head of grey hair and quite distinguished features - as if he'd been a high-rank officer in the army. He watched me walk by. I didn't know him, didn't recognise him (in my little neighbourhood we all know each-other's faces even if we don't know each other's names) but thought I'd nod at him to acknowledge his presence - then he just wasn't there, anymore. I thought to myself 'I wonder who that was?' and carried on walking, as if ex-army officers in green jumpers just pop up out of nowhere every day of the week! Then there's Sam.

Hubby and I moved into our house ten years ago and within weeks of getting there, I started to become aware of the presence of a small boy. I figured him to be about seven, quite slight, fair-haired and mischievious. He never freaked me out. I hung the name Sam on him because it just felt right. At first Hubby was very skeptical. He had always known that I'd had various experiences. I spooked him one day when we were walking along and I said "Who is that man?" "What man?" he asked. "The one that's following us," I told him. We looked round - no man. "You're weird," Hubby said. Anyway, his explanation was that Cat was opening the cupboard door - which fine until we started noticing it when we got up in the morning knowing full well Cat had been shut in the living room as she is every night.

But I think he began to be swayed when things started disappearing, or moving from one place to another. Walking up the stairs one day, I found one of my Lilliput Lane cottages on the top step, for example. I mean no-one in their right mind would deliberately leave a Lilliput Lane cottage in the middle of the top step, would they? More recently, Hubby put seven one pound coins on the dining room table which weren't there when he went to retrieve them. He seriously began to think he'd lost them. Then, one night, a week or so later, we got back from a show and there on the table, were the seven one pound coins. Another time, he knocked an ornament off of the upstairs shelf which he saw go, I heard go but then neither of us could find it. That reappeared in the downstairs hall about a month later, just out of the blue. We get the occasional knock or rap and sometimes Cat's eyes seem to follow something across the room that no-one else can see. I usually say "Is that you, Sam? What are you up to now?" There have been quite a few knocks and raps over the past couple of weeks, actually. Our house is post-war and around fifty years old - I know that exactly because my lovely old neighbour Lily told us she moved into hers when it was brand new. I don't know how to find out the history of a house that is relatively young, so I am not sure how to find out who Sam might have actually been. I'd like to - just to see how close I am! There have been other things but I won't go into them all now. If you want to hear more, let me know, but I don't want to sound like a loopy old lady! I just find the whole thing fascinating.

Next week, change of subject, Hubby and I are off to Blackpool with Eldest Grandson for a week's holiday. We are making the Pontins site our base and we're going on a half-board basis so we won't have to worry about cooking or washing up - apart from the odd cup or glass. There is a lot to do on site - swimming, crazy golf, go-karts, pool, snooker etc plus there's entertainment every night. But I expect we'll do what we usually do and just go out and about and see what's around. Whether Eldest Grandson will persuade me to join him on the roller-coaster at the pleasure beach remains to be seen, but I do know we are going into the tower both to explore it and to see the circus based there. And there seems to be a lot around the area to do and see, so we are all very much looking forward to it. And I will tell you all about it when I come back.

So I'll see you then, blogspot buddies. Have a good week!

FIFTY-ONE AND STILL NOT OUT

I turned 51 on Tuesday 8th July.On the Friday before, Hubby took me for a lovely meal at Dizzy's Diner in Beckenham and then we head into London on Saturday. I quite fancied a trip to the Natural History Museum in Kensington but it was wall-to-wall people so we left after just a couple of hours - and ended up smack in the middle of Gay Pride. The atmosphere was electric and some of the costumes were amazing. At one point we had a dozen or so theatrical surgeons bypassing us, complete in Greens and masks - as well as a number of gents in full stockings, suspenders and basques who quite outshone their similarly dressed female counterparts. It was like finding yourself in the middle of a Rocky Horror set! I looked out for Gay Colleague, who is one of the sweetest, kindest, nicest people I have ever known, but the throng was too great and I didn't see him. Last year Hubby and I got caught in it and walked into Graham Norton who was talking on his mobile phone and looked exactly like he does on TV - if not a little taller.



Tuesday itself was much quieter in comparison. In the evening, Eldest Grandson rang to wish me happy birthday and Grand-daughter called and sang it down the phone - along with a remarkable performance of Do-Re-Me from The Sound of Music - which she evidently sat through on Sunday and became obsessed with. A couple of months ago it was Mary Poppins and for weeks she walked around saying "Spit-Spot" to anyone who left a shoe out of place. I had some nice cards and lovely gifts. I have been reading Linda Lear's biography of Beatrix Potter for weeks and weeks and Hubby bought me a beautiful hard-backed Beatrix Potter journal from Past Times which contains facsimiles of many of her letters and journal entries, family photos and a re-production edition of her privately published The Tale of Peter Rabbit, all laid out like a scrap book and a perfect companion to the biography. I received a number of Smiths' vouchers, a couple of cheques and Mother gave me a gorgeous personalised pen. I also got a photo-mug featuring lots of cameo photos of Grand-daughter and Youngest Grandson, laughing and giggling. So I have, without doubt, been thoroughly spoilt again.

Of course, for every silver lining, there is a cloud and mine came yesterday when I woke up with yet another cold. And this one's a real humdinger. Even so, I managed to convince everyone, inlcuding myself, that I looked and sounded a lot worse than I actually felt, but today, I have got a searing sore throat so there's no hiding it anymore. I have just bought some tyrozets and taken two and they worked like a charm for the first five minutes, numbing the pain completely. But once the effect wore off, I was back to square one again and I can't take anymore till about 5pm this evening. So I am stuck with it. I don't know what is up with Hubby and I in 2008. He has had one cold after another yet a few years ago he was unlucky if he got one a year - and that was usually over Christmas. And it is only a matter of weeks since my horrendous bout of neuralgia. Basically we are falling apart at the seams so God alone knows what we'll be like ten or fifteen years from now, if we don't watch out.

Anway I will be back later with some news. See you then, blogspot buddies.

GOOGLE YUCKETYPOO!!!!!

Hello ya'll!

Since beginning my new role at Present Company, I am often so busy that the entire day passes me by in the blink of an eye and I am left bemused as I settle down to dinner at home in the evening! Very very occasionally, I get two minutes to check my emails or surf Google and the other day, during a very rare quiet moment, I came out of one site where I'd been trying to source linen bags for a client and idly tapped YUCKETYPOO into the search box. I nearly fell off my chair! There were pages of it, in everything from French to Japanese and who knows what all in between. If news of the book is hitting foreign book sites likes these, why aren't I earning more commission from it? I was flattered, horrified and completely astonished all at once. So then I tried Yahoo and there it was again! So it does look as if word is steadily creeping through, despite the fact that I often feel completely disconnected from it because I hear so little about what is actually happening.

As it turns out, my Google discovery co-incided almost supernaturally with the arrival of some of Ashley the Illustrator's latest offerings by email which are just brilliant. Sarah the Publisher thinks we may still have a chance of launching the second in the series this year after all which would be a huge relief. There are other things going on that I can't actually tell you about at this moment in time but I will update soon as I can. If they come off, it will be a major step forward. The good thing of course is that all this activity has fired me up again and it is my intention to make a list of schools, book shops, Beaver and Rainbow packs and local libraries by the end of this week so that I can line up some visits, talks and maybe book signings. Fingers crossed.

Watch this space.

ME & PETER PAN

I don't know about you, but Hubby and I are findng it increasingly difficult every Christmas to come up with surprise gifts. He always buys me clothes, at least one Lilliput Lane cottage, at least one collectible teddy and at least one DVD. I always buy him at least one pack of socks, one bottle of after shave, one diecast vehicle for his massive collection and one CD. He usually gets a sweatshirt too. Last year we really really struggled. I suppose being together for twenty-five years and married for almost ten of those, there isn't much we need anymore. During the chaotic run-up to Christmas (see previous blogs), we each finally found something the other would not be expecting. And the funny thing is that they both turned out to be Gift experiences. You know the kind of thing - white water rafting, a day at a spa, theatre packages. And we didn't realise until Christmas Day that we had both been thinking along the same lines - even without knowing it. I bought him a Red Letter Day Rock Tour - this is a trip around all London's famous Rock spots - Abbey Road, a recording studio, and famous spots like Freddie Mercury's memorial wall and the London pads of the rich and famous. He bought me a helicopter ride.



Now don't snort! When he gave it to me, he insisted I had mentioned several times that I'd never been in a helicopter. I think I mentioned it once in passing. Anyway, being Hubby, he decided last year that he would give me a helicopter tour over London and on the Saturday before last, it finally took place. We had to get all the way to Upminster first, then take a cab to the Damyn Aerodrome which is just outside town. I don't know what I was expecting of the place - a miniature version of Gatwick maybe. What we found was a large open airfield with a small Helicopter centre, a small flying club and a cafeteria. I had to wait for almost an hour for my scheduled flight but what an experience it turned out to be. Hubby took photos from his viewing spot on the field as I boarded, got settled then turned and waved through the window. There were only four of us altogether and one of those was the pilot.

I felt almost Biggles-ish as I put on my headphones and microphone and strapped myself in. Taking off was amazing and the dip forward once we were in the air would have been a bit of a shock if Hubby hadn't warned me about it and the other strange sensation was when we banked right and I found myself looking vertically at the ground as it fell away. Once we were up though - well. No words are truly fitting! Essex sank below us and what took its place was a panarama of fields and villages and hamlets and cars the size of ants. I was amazed at how many people have swimming pools in their back gardens! We had to stop at a small local airport for refuelling so we had to disembark. I took several photos of small aircraft and a large hangar featuring the phrase 'Area 51' (to anyone not in the know that's the American airforce's worst kept secret where there have been all kind of links wih UFOs and other strange aerial phenomena). Then we were back in and on our way to London.

One of the stories my mother read to me as a child was Peter Pan and I loved the bit near the beginning where Peter shows Wendy and her brothers how to fly. Many years later, when we were in Paris on our honeymoon, Hubby took me to Disneyland Paris where we went on the Peter Pan ride - which included flying over a tiny simulation of London. Well you can forget all that - this was the Real Macoy! As we reached London and gazed at it as it sparkled in the sun so far below, I felt as if I too were flying, unaided, over the greatest and most historic city in the world and I was awe-struck! There was Old Father Thames - winding and whirling its way through the city like a gigantic serpent. There was the Millenium dome (now the O2 Centre of course). There was St Paul's looking truly ravishing. There was Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament and Tower Bridge - open - a spell-binding sight from above! There was Canary Wharf and the Gherkin.

Every so often, the earphones would emit a crackle and the pilot would point out some familiar landmark from this totally unfamiliar viewpoint, or one of we three passengers would gasp and point and a rushed exchange of comments would pass between us - four strangers united in this one powerful moment. It was probably the most amazing experience of my entire life. We were in the air for almost an hour! When we go back to the aerodrome, Hubby was there, taking photos as I dismbaked and ran into his arms - snapping away with is camera like a photographer possessed. I took lots of photos too which I showed him via the digital camera as we had lunch in the cafeteria. I kept saying "That was amazing!" and every time I did, his face lit up with that lovely sunny smile of his. He had given me another thing I'd never had before and I once again thanked my lucky stars for him.

The Rock & Roll tour is next and I hope he enjoys that as much as I enjoyed seeing London from the sky.

And - if I ever learn how to do it, I will post photos of both on here for you to share!

The whole experience still astonishes me even as I tap away at my laptop and write this blog. I can't think of a single funny thing to say! I just want to go back and do it all again!!!!!!! It was absoluely incredible.

UNWELL GIRL

I have been horribly and pathetically ill since Tuesday last week. I have neuralgia - and for those of you not familiar with the phrase, it is some kind of complaint whereby all the nerve-endings on one side of your face and head become acutely sensitive - which leads to unbelievable pain, I have to tell you. I noticed my teeth on the left side of my face were terribly sensitive when I woke up last Tuesday but by the end of the day that had spread to my jawline, my ear, even that side of my scalp. I finally got a doctor's appointment last Thursday and she confirmed it and said I also have swollen glands and a throat infection and she put me on penacillin and some strong tablets specifically to calm nerve-endings.



Had Grand-daughter and Youngest Grandson overnight Friday. Their mum and dad offered to cancel as soon as they saw my pain-racked face but I insisted the children stay as they would be a distraction to my growing misery. And they were. Youngest Grandson awoke at 1.30 am on Saturday full of the joys of spring, wanting only to coo and kick and play and would not settle down again until I took him into bed with me (I know the baby books forbid this but I was shattered and I knew he would be if he didn't get back to sleep) and he went out like a light in ten seconds flat.



On Saturday, we took them into Croydon. Grand-daughter had expressly requested a tram-ride and a trip to the cafe to share a cake with Grandad, and who were we middle-aged fogies to disagree. We started out at Nero's in George Street and she utterly delighted in having half of Grandad's chcoolate muffin, then we progressed to North End where she cadged a ride in the Barbie car on the roundabout set up there with one flash of her big blue eyes. Then she was given a sticker by a clown and then she fell asleep. Youngest Grandson had slept most of the morning anyway in their two-tiered buggy. After lunch we took them home and Youngest Step-daughter collected them a few hours later. As usual, once they had gone, our cosy homestead became, for a couple of hours anyway, a desolate wilderness of hush, still with their toys scattered about.



Around eight o'clock, the neuralgia hit me full force and at nine pm, Hubby woke me up from my slumber on the sofa and suggested I go to bed. I then slept twenty out of the next twenty-four hours. I was in dire pain all day Sunday (what I remember of it!) and all day Monday and knew as soon as I got up Tuesday that I was in no fit state to go to work. Finally I went back to the doctor today and she has signed me off for the rest of the week. There is an area about 2cm by 1cm on my left cheek that is swollen and inflamed and, although the pain has gone off quite a bit and my teeth are now functioning almost normally again, I know I am still not a hundred per cent. I am feeling a lot better though so Hubby snapped his fingers about 4pm this afternoon and said with tons of passion "Tomorrow you can write all day! It'll be good practice for when you can write full time. " So tomorrow, it looks like I'll be writing all day. Maybe I can even breathe life into The New Idea - it is surely far too good to keep simmering on the back burner.

NEW BEGINNINGS

So - better luck this time. It is Sunday evening, 18 May at GMT 20.00 hours. I am sitting at our dining table right beside the French Windows, overlooking the patio and the garden beyond. I would like to say that the French Windows are open and the curtains are waving lazily in a warm summer breeze - but I'd be lying. It IS a nice evening. But that doesn't mean it is a warm evening, so the windows remain firmly shut.

Two weeks ago, Hubby and I ambled up to Lincolnsire to spend the Bank Holiday weekend with Hubby's brother and partner. They live about a mile outside the historic marketing town of Spalding in a detached house surrounded by fields. The house is beautiful - all dorma windows and shrubs. The nearest neighbouring house is two hundred yards away and a shallow dyke shields the house from a link road - which at times is fairly busy. Upon arrival, Hubby and I - plus Hubby's parents - were taken on a tour of the house. There are four bedrooms and each room is en-suite and there is a family bathroom on the ground floor. The main living room is lovely and airy and in an 'L' shape and the back garden is laid to lawn and framed in trees. Through a rustic gate at the rear of the garden lies The Lodge Cattery. Talk about Butlins for cats! Each 'lodge' has a play area, a snooze area and a rear 'bedroom'. There are places for the cats to climb, to scratch, to generally exercise and the radio is on all day and most of the night, so they don't feel too cut off from their normal lives. The lodges overlook a large spacious courtyard and to one end of this is the Feline Kitchen. Opposite them is an array of hutches for smaller boarding guests - such as rabbits, guinea pigs and chipmunks - plus a chicken house and a lovely wooden summer house that has been transformed into an office, where Brother In Law tends to all the business aspects, whilst His Other Half oversees the feeding, grooming and wellbeing of the guests. She also administers any medication so her former career as a nurse comes very useful. It really is a lovely place and we were there from Saturday evening to Monday afternoon. So quiet and restful. I am sure the cats must lreally enjoy it and there is certainly no shortage of love there. I'd love it if I were a cat!

On Monday, back at Current Company, I made no secret of the fact I had an interview lined up on the Wednesday coming and was equally as forceful on Thursday when I told them it had gone well. So well, in fact, the I was told a second interview could be on the cards. "What hours then?" asked Newish MD after almost choking on his felicitations at just how well it had gone. "Full time," I replied. "If you want full time, we can give you that," he blurted out. Now just one cotton-picking minute, I thought as I looked at him. How can they be thinking of offering me a full time post now when just a fortnight before they were as good as dispensing with my services? Turns out they want to take the company into a new age and would like to expand on the Customer Support Role they'd initially offered on a part-time basis. "I thought you only offered me part time because that's all you could afford," I remarked suspiciously. "No we offered you part time because that's what we thought you wanted," said Newish MD. A series of meetings followed at the same time as much discussion between Hubby and I. They have offered me; a better general package, a bonus scheme AND they have agreed to accommodate any writing commitments that arise as a result of Books 2 and 3 hitting the maket over the next year or so.

Well what could I say? By Monday just gone I hadn't heard from the place I'd been interviewed and nothing else was on the cards, so I decided to take up their offer - as soon as I had it in writing. I got the official letter on Friday last week so I am now re-employed. I have already been moved to a different office and that's that. I don't suppose we'll know whether or not it has actually panned out until we've given it a few weeks and - as everyone has said - there is absolutely nothing to stop me from leaving later in the year if it all goes to pot, is there? And the best thing is that they are prepared to honour any writing commitments - so now I can start contacting the schools and the bookshops without having to worry about using up holiday!

It is funny the way things work out don't you think? All I have to do now is get some proper Work lined up - a commission or two, a couple of talks and maybe some workshops. I am also playing with a Brand New Idea. Not the historic novel as yet - that remains ongoing. But I have been bandying this idea around for a new weekly column somewhere if I can persuade an editor to try it out. I won't say too much here, but I promise I will keep you updated. If I can pull it off, it could lead to all kinds of things - so watch this space.....

!@*#ING IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You just will not BELIEVE what I have just done, Blogspot Buddies! I have just spent best part of half an hour writing a light, chatty, informative blog about our lovely Bank Holiday weekend in Lincolnshire at Brother-In-Law's cattery - and concluding with an update of the Job Situation ... then accidently hit the wrong button and deleted the lot! I am such a Klutz. I was dead chuffed with it, too, and now it has vanished - all my hard work gone in the stroke of a button.

Ah well - I will have to do it all again.

But it can wait now.

I'm off to boil my head in the steamer ....

LOOKING FOR A WAY OUT

On my way home from work this evening, I counted no less than five abandoned pens lying in the street. Being me, my immediate thought - as a writer - was "Are they trying to tell me something?" One of them was really nice and must have cost a fortune new - all silver scrolling and gold edging - but I couldn't reach it so I was not able to rescue it. I have never seen that many pens lining my route home before, so of course I was reading all kinds of secret codes and signs into it! What do you think?

So here is the latest. I went to the doctor on Friday and asked if these tests are absolutely necessary. Had she seen something in my blood tests that she hadn't told me about? Was there actually a reason, other than the fact I am ever so slightly anaemic? She answered no on both counts. So why did she feel these tests were so important? She said that there is nothing wrong, and no, the tests aren't that important. So why then had she felt such a drastic step should be taken? Only because - and I quote - "You are young; you have never been anaemic before and I like to consider every option." Now I am all for doctors and health professionals being thorough, but I still felt she was being over-cautious. So I suggested a compromise. Could we try a course of iron tablets for a few months then get some more blood tests done? If she isn't happy with them and my blood count is still low, then I'll go for any further tests she deems necessary. She agreed. So I have got three months until I need to worry about it again.

I walked out of that surgery feeling as if I have achieved something for mankind. A huge weight was lifted from my shoulders. She may like to consider every option, but I know my body better than she does, and I know there is nothing wrong with me. Everything is functioning normally; I just need to get my blood count up - end of story. So if your doctor ever suggests something you really don't feel necessary, Blogspot Buddies, say so. Patient Power!

And now onto the other blight of my life - the redundancy/recinded-redundancy/redundancy issue. I am being worked on my several experts who all feel I should stay; Chairman is popping his head round the door every five minutes and smiling broadly. Newish MD keeps reminding me I am in the strongest position I have ever been in with that company. And Friendly Colleagues all keep peering at me doe-eyed and saying "What will we do when you've gone?" The truth of the matter is that I have insider knowledge of Former Line Manager's customer database and they are anxious not to lose any following his resignation. Technically I am still under notice and my finishing date is still 16th May. I will not be pushed into making a decision.
Consequently, I went for an interview this morning and think it all went rather well. Admittedly it is full time as opposed to part-tme - so the writing will still be designated to the evenings and weekends - but at least our income won't suffer. I was told as I left the interview that someone will be in touch to let me know whether or not I go onto the second one. And they know I have had this offer from Current Company so they know they have to move fast. We shall just have to wait and see. I know they were inundated with replies so I won't hold my breath. But it was nice to be made to feel I have something to offer still - besides Former Line Manager' s sodding customer database!

Watch this space for the further exiting episode of FIFTY & NOT OUT (produced live in front of a Blogging audience).

SO NOW WHAT...?

Hi girls and boys. You just will not believe what has happened since my last blog. Honestly - if someone wrote my life as a book, no-one would publish it because everyone would be saying "But that kind of stuff never happens in real life!" Want to bet? Okay. So a quick recap of the last blog - Monday - find out redundancy is on. Tuesday - go to hospital to see consultant and get told camera down throat ( and in at the other end as it turns out) is inevitable. Here then - is the next episode.

Last Saturday, I received a letter from the hospital telling me I am booked in for the test on 15th May. Was shocked to learn colonoscopy is also on the cards and consequently went into deep depression (again - is being manic depressive all part of being a writer?). It ruined the weekend which was a shame because Hubby and I went down to Middle Sister's for a family tea on Saturday and I was too out-of-it to really enjoy it. Anyway, along came Monday and off I toddled to the office (like Shakespeare's schoolboy 'creeping like a snail, unwilling to school') and the guy I have been PA to said "Let's go out for a coffee and a Danish." As we were sipping our cappacinos he apologised to me for the way the company have handled the redundancy. He knew it was on the cards way back in December but had been told not to tell me. In the next breath he told me he would be resigning that day and I was the first to know. By mid-afternoon, he was gone and everyone was gobsmacked - mostly the Newish MD who walked around looking like a shell-shocked soldier for the rest of the day.

On Monday evening, Youngest Sister called. She was very worried about me, said I was not my usual self on Saturday and had lost all my sparkle. She convinced me I should make an appointment at the doctor's to find out why the endoscopy/colonoscopy thing is deemed necessary when my only symptom has been the anaemia - surely the sensible thing would be to try me on iron tablets first and see if they made a difference rather than subjecting me to the two horrible tests. I rang the doctor on Tuesday and got booked in for this Friday, so I will go armed with a list of questions.

Five minutes after getting to work, yesterday, Newish MD came into my little cubby hole. I knew, as soon as he shut the door, that he was going to lay something heavy on me. With my line manager now gone, they thought they had a new role for me. Would I be interested in heading up the new Customer Services department? Chairman walked in an hour later and reiterated how desperately they now need me to stay. What would it take, they wanted to know, to achieve that? By yesterday evening, I had a written proposal in my hand which I took home to show Hubby and discuss with him. Basically it would mean working the three and a half days a week I originally suggested months and months ago. The salary would drop but there would be the prospect of bonuses which would - theoretically - more or less make up for the shortfall.

Since all I have managed to line up is one interview and there is no guarantee I will get offered the job, Hubby thinks I should accept their offer and use it until something more suitable comes along - that way I don't actually wind up jobless for any length of time. Chairman has been with me most of today tying to persuade me to stay and he is prepared to be as flexible as I like.
I'd like to actually tell them to stuff it because only last week I was told they didn't need me and now they begging me to stay. But realistically, the offer they have made consists of of a pretty good package which I probably would be a bit daft not to at least try out.

Now - dear Blogspot Buddy - add to all that the fact that Sarah the Publisher called me yesterday to say they may have to suspend the second Yuck book indefinitely because Ashley the Illustrator has let us down big time and not come forth with any further illustrations - I will perhaps be forgiven for feeling that The World And His Wife Are All Out To Get Me - what was it Kenneth williams shouted in Carry On Ceasar? "Infamy. Infamy. They've All got It in For Me."

I know just how he feels!!!!!!

HERE I GO AGAIN ...

It pains me to relate, Blogspot Buddies, that the unhappy rumblings mentioned last week have become ear-shatteringly horrid thunderclaps of reality! I am being made redundant. I was not altogether surprised yesterday when the newish MD came into my office at quarter to five and said "I am really sorry, but I am going to have to let you go." In a way it took the decision out of my hands. Now I really have to find another job, I have no choice. My official leaving date is 16th May and my golden handshake consists of three weeks pay and any holiday I am entitled to up to and including this month. If I am lucky I may come out of it with a day or two extra but I am not holding my breath.

It was so weird that I was so utterly calm all the way home. Two minutes inside my front door, though, I blurted the news out to Hubby and promptly burst into a shock of tears - completely taking myself by surprise! Hubby wrapped his arms round me and said sweet things like "It's not your fault." and "We will get through this." and "It isn't the end of the world." I mean is he a darling or what?

Actually as luck would have it I was already in the process of completing an application form for what could be the most pefect job in the world for a Writer-On-The-Brink like me. Seven days on, seven days off with four of the seven on being mornings only and not one day finishing after 5 pm or so. The trouble is of course that jobs like that are so rare that it is odds on they are going to be inundated with replies. My one edge is that I worked there before - in a different capacity - but long enough to know where they are coming from. Anyway, I have posted the application form off (via the franking machine at the office - I might as well take 'em for every penny) today and the closing date is Friday so we will just have to wait and see. Hubby had a word with his manager last night who told him that, if things get desperate, they'd get me in there, somehow, even if it was only as a stop-gap until I've found my feet - or my ideal job, of course.

What really gets me the most is that this is the second time in three years that I have been made redundant. Honest - was it something I said? Or does the British workforce just have no time for middle-aged ladies? Losing the current job is no skin off my nose - I haven't been happy there for at least six months (as you all know) and, anyway, it's their loss. The real crux of the matter is the nagging feeling that, despite age legislation and everything else, middle aged people - and in particular women - just aren't wanted anymore. Sad really. Especially since I still feel more than capable. I don't think I am over the hill yet. We will just have to wait and see what happens now. If I can get some writing done during the interim period, all well and good. I know I am too good to waste! I will keep you updated. If it all gets too much you can always switch me off and go and make a nice cup of tea!

I had a hospital appointment today ( I know - it never bloody rains but it always bloody pours). My doctor is worried by the fact I am anaemic - and have been for over six months. Evidently, my blood count is 11 when the average is 12 (11 what? 12 what?) and they are exploring all the options - including the fact I am vegetarian (I haven't eaten red meat in at least fifteen years and only had chicken once when there was no choice on the menu - that was in Paris so I blame the French). I do eat tuna at least once a week and salmon once in a blue moon but that's it. The other option could be Polyps (what-yps? Do doctors speak plain simple English anymore?) Everyone is saying what might be at the root of it, but not why or how! As I just said to Bro in Denmark, doctors seem to think that everybody has a degree in medical teminology. I have been told I have to go for an endoscopy in a few weeks. I kind of know what one of them is and I am dreading it already. I am sure I will think I am choking to death, despite being told I'd be sedated. Hubby said "You probably won't know anything about it." When the consultant mentioned the procedure I just said "Why have I got to have that? I am just a bit anaemic. There is nothing else wrong with me. I feel fine." He looked quite uncomfortable under my accusing gaze. He shrugged and said "It is the only way we can find out." I said "But why? Find out what?" He just said unhelpfully "It is a standard procedure." I gave up at that point. Even when you ask you don't get answers, so why ask?

Oh well - big sigh - such is life.

WHAT'S A WRITER TO DO?

I really don't get it. How come I have to have a major clear-out every few months just so I can get into my study and write? I filled a huge black sack with unwanted rubbish a couple of evenings ago and produced a bin and a half full of shredded letters, receipts, circulars - all of which had mysteriously accumilated in my little sanctuary of creation without my knowledge. Having made it a safe and clear space again, my intention last night was to go in and write, write, write. So why did I spend the evening watching Tom Hanks in Castaway on BBC 3? Okay - so it just happens to be one of my favorite films and he just happens to be (in my humble opinion) one of the world's most talented and enduring character actors (and a personal favorite of mine I have to admit). But I have the DVD sitting up on the shelf, so why watch it on TV?. Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice.

I think it is actually because I am a little bit out on a limb just now. The third and final Yuck book is finished and with Sarah the Publisher and the second in the series is almost complete - I saw the cover art last week by Ashley the Illustrator and it all made it kind of real. It looks as if the second one will be published this autumn and the third one next year some time. All exciting stuff. But of course now the series is written, what do I do next? I don't have an actual project - just about a million and a half ideas. I went to the London Book Fair with Hubby on Tuesday in search of inspiration. I think I overdosed on it. I couldn't help it! There were new books and publishers' catalogues and publicists and fellow writers at every turn and I came away fired up - so fired up in fact that I am still smouldering with exhileration.

I guess now would be the right time to stand back and take stock of things really. I am still in my utterly thankless PA job - I never dreamt in January that I would still be looking for a new job come mid-April - with no sign of change even on the horizon. I still desperately need Time to go out and publicise the Yucketypoo series properly. On top of all that, another publisher has asked for the first three chapters of my historic novel - which I haven't even started yet ( I did not expect such a fast response from them when I emailed last week to ask if they would be interested in it) and there are slow uneasy rumblings within the company where I am working where words such as 'cut-backs' and 'redundancy' are making distant (but palpable) unhappy echos. I haven't mentioned this to Hubby yet as rumblings they still are, and I know he would only start to panic.

So what's a writer to do? At least I am no longer in the depths of despair. I am in turmoil for other reasons. So. Do I start the historic novel? Do I get back to my poetry (which is my real purpose of being)? Do I take the first job that comes along per chance the unhappy rumblings become reality?
Or do I just wait and see what transpires? Any ideas? Or commissions?

Answers on a postcard please...

ANOTHER WEDDING.

We had the most brilliant weekend up in Peterborough! Eldest Stepdaughter married her long time partner with Grand-daughter as the most miniscule and perfectly beautiful Flower Girl you can imagine and Eldest Grandson just the most perfect Best Man! Considering the entire country was under threat of being seiged by snow, we were incredibly lucky. It only rained once and that was between the ceremony and the reception and there was no snow until the following day. It was just so wonderful seeing Eldest Stepdaughter looking so happy. And Laid-Back Son-in-Law (as he shall henceforth be known) just so utterly chuffed - as if Life had handed him a whole bowl of cherries - which I suppose in a way it had. Or a lottery win of some significance. Hubby held up very well. He wept buckets when Eldest Stepdaughter married the first time round. Not tears of sorrow, I hasten to add, but tears of downright pride and joy. Then, when Youngest Stepdaughter married some years later, he stole the show during the speeches and had 'em rolling in he aisles. He was, quite rightly I felt, at complete liberty to feel so proud of himself.

It fell to Granny - ie. me - to keep Youngest Grandson happy throughout the ceremony. He only began to build up to a howl once so I deftly walked him to the back of the Registry Office and back which was enough to send him into little coos of appreciation as he smiled and gurgled up at me for the rest of the service. In fact I think we bonded somewhat as he seemed quite content just to lay there in my arms. For a three month old, he is very expressive, I must say. After the service, we all head back to the house for light refreshment and a couple of hours later went along to a quaint little contry pub where they had hired a private annexe for the Wedding Breakfast. It was a lovely meal, much highlighted when Eldest Grandson clinked a glass and proposed his first ever toast "To my mum and Mark for getting married. Congratulations." Short, sweet, precise and a huge step forward into manhood for him. We gave him a standing ovation because he is usually so shy. The meal itself was divine, with plenty of choices (even for a Veggie like me), good food, good drink and very good company. Grand-daughter kept us all entertained with her dancing afterward. She just loves music and has a surprisingly well-developed sense of rhytmn for one so young. It all went very well with the party breaking up aound 11pm. Eldest Stepdaughter and Laid-Back-Son-In-Law went off to their hotel for the night and the rest of us piled back to the house exhausted but happy. At lunch time the next day, Hubby and I had to head home ourselves as he was due at work that evening.

It really could not have gone better and Clever-Son-In-Law (who else) had been roped in to be the official photographer. Is there nothing technical that man can't master? He took to the role like a duck to water and took almost 300 pictures over the course of the weekend; all on a digital camera he'd borrowed from a friend and had only a few days to get to grips with.

I think that's it wedding-wise till next year now. Last year we went to six of them so I guess it is no surprise we've only had the two this year.

I'll be back in a few days with a writing update I promise.

AN HOUR, AN HOUR, MY BREAKFAST FOR AN HOUR!!!

Hubby and I went to a wedding reception on Saturday night. It was an old chum of mine from my days as a Nursery Nurse and, despite the fact it was in Wimbledon which is no more than five or so miles away, Hubby and I decided to book ourselves into a hotel so that we would not have to worry about getting home; neither of us drive and it would have meant having to catch a tram and then another tram and then a ten minute walk so we thought, what the heck, why not? We got there around four in the afternoon. It was a converted family house at the end of a quiet residential street and we had Room A, which is a family room on the ground floor. We were made very welcome and given our key and we were glad to get in and unpack our suits for the evening.

The first thing Hubby did was grab the TV remote to see if he could get to the football results and the first thing I did was bounce up an down on the springy bed like an infant on holiday. Then we made use of the hospitality tray and had a coffee then I had a good look round. It may have been a small family hotel, but the proprietors had gone to great lengths to make it feel like The Ritz (and of course I went for tea at The Ritz not so long ago so I speak from experience). Pure white towels - a pile of three in varying sizes - adorned both corners at the end of the bed and the room was tastefully decorated in pale green and magnolia, with heavy drapes that matched the heavy quilt and the two cushiony parlor chairs, which stood, one each side, of a perfectly polished little oval table. There was also a single bed against one wall with a dorma bed beneath that and I think it would have quite comfortably accommodated a family of four without any problems at all.

After showers and getting changed, we headed off into Wimbledon Village fo something to eat and had a nice meal at Pizza Express, then we headed off to the reception via a Black Cab from Wimbledon Station. As soon as I mentioned our destination to the driver my confidence faded a tad. "Wimbledon Park Golf Club, please," I said, adding when I saw his tremor of panic "Home Park Road?" "Ah, Home Park Road, yes of course," he said with some kind of accent - Polish possibly - and Hubby and I clambered in. We arrived in Home Park Road and the taxi driver slowed down as he searched for anything that resembled a golf club. He finally stopped outside a pair of wrought iron gates and we got out. It was raining quite heavily by now and when we tried the gates we couldn't open them. "Maybe there's another gate further along?" I suggested. A minute or so later we found some more gates to a car park but we couldn't get through them either. As we wandered back towards the first set of gates, a car pulled up beside us and an anxious -faced woman popped her head out. "Are you looking for the reception?" I asked. She nodded. "We think it's over there but we can't get in," we told her.

Back at the frst gates, we pressed the security buzzer and nothing happened. Luckily for us some kichen workers came out with several bags of rubbish so we asked them. "How do we get to the wedding reception?" One of them nodded and input a security code. Hey presto - the gates opened like magic and we went towards the club house; accompanied by the anxious faced woman and her companions. We went straight into a bar which was next to a big empty room where a live band were setting up and we ordered drinks. We still didn't know if we were in the right place for the right reception but two Budweisers later I ran into Kirsty - the blushing bride - who was sitting in the cloak room feeding her little daughter a bottle of formula. We were really pleased to see each other and her mum was there, too, who I also know quite well, so there were hugs and kisses all round. "I found Kirsty," I told Hubby when I got back to the bar. "So we are in the right place!"

It was a very nice evening all told. We didn't know anyone else so we just kind of hovered but we did get to speak to Neil, the handsome groom (who looked very dashing in his tails, I must admit) and I took a couple of photos of their first dance and the wedding cake, but that was about it. The place was thronging with people and there was hardly room to move sometimes, but the atmosphere was nice. By eleven o'clock, though, we'd really had enough. We said cheerio to the happy couple and the bride's mum and went back out to the rain. Half an our later we were still trying to find our way back into town and my new shoes were becoming decidedly uncomfortable. Suddenly, Hubby bolted across the road, waving his arms frantically and I wondered uneasily if he'd had one vodka and diet coke too many. As it turned out he'd spotted another black cab so we got in and arrived back at the hotel five minutes later, exhausted, wet and tired.

Just before we settled down for the night, I put our watches and the little travel alarm clock we'd taken along (well we didn't want to miss breakfast, after all we'd paid for it!) forward one hour and then we went to sleep. It was an odd kind of night though. The room was black as black can be and the only way you could use the loo was by turning on the bathroom light which also activated a rather noisy air extractor, and the quilt just got heavier and heavier as the night went on. We were both going from pleasantly warm to boilng hot to freezing cold after kicking off the covers in the space of five minutes, but we did manage to sleep reasonably well. When the alarm went off at 7.30 the next day, we knew we had an hour in which to shower and dress before the dining room would open for breakfast and finally, at around 8.40, we decided we'd waited long enough. We went to the dining room and turned the door handle - it was locked! "Let's give it ten minutes or so," said Hubby. Ten minutes later, we tried again. It was still locked. "I hope they didn't forget to put their clocks forward," I remarked. Another guest appeared and tried the door. It was ten to nine by then and the door was still locked. "Errmmmm..." said Hubby and just then the door opened a crack. A sleepy face peered out. "Dining room opens at eight thirty," the disheveled young lady told us huskily. "But it's ten to nine!" we protested. "The clocks went forward didn't they?" There was a moment of silence as it slowly dawned on our young hostess. "I thought that was tonight," she said in cold terror. "No it was two o'clock this morning!" said Hubby. "I am really sorry," she said, suddenly awake and flustered. "But it'll be half an hour before I can open up because I need to cook." The door snapped shut and we looked at each other. "Let's go and get a paper," said Hubby as we pulled on our coats. So we wandered into the towncentre, via Starbucks (naturally), bought a paper and sat down to breakfast at the hotel almost an hour later than we should have.

Ah well, never mind. What's an hour between friends? It was still a nice hotel and still a good weekend. I just hope we aren't staying there when the clocks go back, that's all!!!!!!

SO I GUESS I'M A WRITER ...

What a crazy crazy week I have had! Talk about Highs & Lows, Swings & Roundabouts, Ups and Downs! Half the time I haven't known if I am over here or over there. I have been so disconnected from myself most of the week that even people I know are saying thngs like "You look lost." How right they are - I have never been so lost! I suppose it started on Tuesday when the phone bill came in. That, like the gas, elecricity, water and Council Tax, is higher this year than it was last year. Hubby is working all the overtime he can get but we still never seem to have enough money. This has made me see that the likelyhood of me changing jobs and reducing my hours this year is feasibly zilch. And with that realisation came the full force of complete dispondency, which metaphorically plunged me into the most despairingly bleak depression it is possible to go and still retain an element of humanity. I lost my appetite, all I wanted to do was sleep. And sleep. And sleep. And I didn't care, that is the really scary thing. I didn't care. I do remember one thought ringing in my mind over and over again, though. It was this: If I can't give it everything, I can't give it anything. My writing career had shuddered to a halt and was effectively over. The new Yuck book was abandoned. I steered clear of my blog and my journal. I went onto the WW site to say goodbye to everyone and resign, I was that serious. But when I got there, guess what I found? It was the interview I gave to WW some time ago about my writing. It was at the top of the home page and it came out and hit me with so much force I almost reeled from it. Not only the interview - but comments from fellow members, all telling me how inspiring they'd found it. It moved me to silent tears, I can tell you.



So of course my writing career isn't over. And with that inkling of hope came a fresh burst of energy. I scrapped all three of the Yuck 3 drafts because they were all completely wrong. But the fourth and most perfect one flowed from my pen inside an hour and it is this one that I shall email over to Sarah the Publisher on Sunday. Then a letter arrived from Hubby's Aunt Amy - a very private lady - especially for me, congratulating me on the publication of the first Yuck! I have, she tells me, joined the ranks of successful family writers since three of her children are all published authors - a fact I never knew (and I am not sure Hubby did either!). And tonight an email from Sarah the Publisher. Yucketypoo is being considered for a board game and would I please click on the link to the manufacturers to get a feel of it. So, sweet, loyal, supportive Blog Buddies, what is all this telling me do you think? Is this just another exceedingly high point on life's rollercoaster? Will I ride it a while before it goes into yet another rapid decline? Will there ever be ink in my pen again? Or will there be further blots on the future? Who can know? And how long should one wait to find out, I wonder ........

CLEVER EDDIE ...

Does anyone remember my blog for 3rd October last year when Hubby and I returned from the beautiful Outer Hebredes? One of the characters I mentioned was our driver and tour guide Eddie with whom I'd struck up a particular friendship because we are both writers who were on the verge of having our first book published. I mention this today because, when I got home last night, Hubby was beaming at me. "There's a lovely surprise there for you," he said. "I like surprises!" I responded and looked. It took a moment but then I exclaimed in wonder, "It's Eddie's book!" And it was - a beautifully illustrated story book produced in the way of the old fashioned children's books, with the text wrapped in luscious full colour illustrations and stories and poems like the kind I had read to me as a little girl. And on the back cover is the review I wrote after Eddie showed me the draft copies back in October! There was a lovely letter with it, addressed to both Hubby and I, and the last thing he says in it is "I hope everything is going well for your book."

I am so chuffed! I didn't mention it on 3rd October but for quite a lot of the two weeks of our tour, Eddie and I spent a number of coffee stops discussing our books. I had already self-published a number of poetry books for children (copies available - just give me a call) which had sold well on a local scale, but I had never attempted anything nearly so ambitious as Eddie, and I am just so pleased that he achieved his dream! I will of course, return the favor and said him a copy of Yucketypoo because he was with me when I got a call from Sarah the Publisher to say that a women's magazine with a circulation of 75, 000 were going to run a feature on it in time for Christmas.

I think I need to circulate with more writers. We feed off one another so well and the mutual support is always there. This is one of the reasons that I love belonging to the WriteWords community - and possibly why I always get a reply from any other writers I contact from time to time.

As for Eddie and his "Grandad's Tales" - all the best to him. And if you know any children under eight who'd appreciate comfortable, old-fashioned, yet completely original bedtime stories, get in touch and I'll tell you how you can obtain a copy at the price of £5.99.

Have a good day.

A FIVER'S WORTH OF LUCK?

How was your Mother's Day? Middle and Youngest Sisters and I - plus the three youngest nephews - gathered at Mother's on Sunday afternoon for a Family Tea. Husbands three were all working and unable to make it (well, that was their story!) - but it was actually really nice - just the four of us (the three boys ran about like bombs on legs all afternoon, howling, giggling and squealing)enjoying each other's company. We sat round Mother's little kitchen table, picking at the giganticus buffet Mother had put on (despite being told not to and that we'd all bring a contribution) which concluded with a spoon a piece diving into the chocolate gateaux - and oh, it was scrummy! It made a pleasant change and Mother enjoyed it which was the main thing - although she did complain a bit about the amount of food left over (her fault entirely, she should have just let us bring our contributions!) - and the gateaux was to die for, so who's complaining?



On my way into the office yesterday morning, I looked down and spotted a perfectly healthy five pound note lying on the ground. No-one else had seen it and certainly no-one was looking for it so I picked it up and put it in my pocket. I am aware there is a moral dillema here - was I right to keep it? Or should I have handed it in at the police station? Or - having found it - was I morally obliged to give it to charity? Will I burn in hell for buying two cups of coffee with it? Answers on a postcard please ...



In truth that little fiver made me smile because finding it made me feel as if someone else was smiling at me. And it boosted my morale (if not my morals) because I have been going through a major identity crisis the past few days. I think this is because my working life and writing life are coverging into one gigantic unmanageable monster. I need 48 hours in every 24 - and it just isn't going to happen. Yesterday, for example, I worked all day then went home and worked on the new book for nearly three hours. I know millions of other writers have to do the same thing - but, boy is it tiring or what? And tonight will be the same. So much for me finding a part time job! There just aren't that many about and what there is gets snapped up in the blink of an eye. It is very draining, all this! But I will manage somehow. Why? Because fate handed me a five pound note when I least expected it, that's why. At least that is what I am telling myself.

I am sneakily finishing this post during a quiet five minutes at work. In approximately thirty minutes I am going out to meet Mother for lunch - she has made a full recovery by the way - and she has insisted that she will pay today and I am going to let her - as I do once in a blue moon - because she seems to like being able to occasionally.

So I am going to sign off for now. Have a good afternoon one and all!

DER SPRING IS SPRUNG ....

Decided to give my blog a makeover this evening. Since my books are environment-related, I thought this blue/green theme was more approproiate. What say you?

I am feeling better today. I don't like feeling down in the dumps; it really doesn't suit my personality. I have always been the optomist, always the one to find the silver lining and bouy people up - I have done it since I was eleven years old. It feels very alien to me to be so down and it is always a blessing when the mood lifts and I find my smile and sparkle again! I'd like to thank you for your support by the way; you will never know how much it helped to pull me out of the dark clouds in which I had ensconced myself!

I went for a nice long walk the other day. It was one of those glitteringly bright afernoons, with the sun casting a golden glow over the grass and trees. I saw my first blossoms of the spring - so beautiful. And there were a pair of tiny blue tits dancing round the bird feeder yesterday, which was gorgeous. But the most amazing thing I have seen of late is the incredible sunset that painted the world a soft peachy hue the other evening! It was so radiant that the tree-trunks turned a rich red and the sky was a venerable pallet of pinks, apricots, golden and pale yellow. I would have loved to photograph it but unfortunately that day, I didn't have my camera. It really was splendid and it touched my inner soul! Honestly, it had to be seen to be believed!

So what are my goals for this week? Obviously to get the third book finished. I think I might also make a point of reading some poetry during the evenings; it might light a spark. I really miss my poetry and it feels like such a long time since I wrote anything really worthwhile. Oh and I need to enter a competition this month; there are quite a few about, so I will have to decide which one I should go for.

And finally, I would like to thank you - just for being there!

HEAVY OF HEART

I don't know why, but I am feeling decidely low in mood tonight. It has grown with me all day, like some nasty, festering boil. I don't know if it is because of my age. Or because I am so unhappy at work. Or because I just don't feel a hundred per cent. Or maybe even eternal optomists get fed-up from time to time? Does anyone else get days like that? Where it takes every ounce of willpower you possess to get out of bed and then you spend the entire day just getting more an more and more stressed out. It is very out of character for me to feel so sorry for myself but in fact I do feel sorry for myself, which is just pathetic.

It is quiet here in my study. Even the cat has deigned to stay down on the sofa, curled up like a monochromatic fluffy cushion - she reminds me of the great big dice that people sometimes hung in their front windscreens(that is going back a bit)when I was young and carefree and felt as if nothing could get in my way. Hubby left for work an hour ago. My brother, who lives in Denmark and who, I have just realised (to my shame), I have never mentioned before ("Bro, these are my Blogspot Buddies, Blogspot Buddies, this is Bro")lifted the mood enormously when we were on the phone half an hour ago. He is the only person in the entire world who can reduce me to a quivering, giggling heap in the space of two minutes and he did so with aplomb tonight! I was literally crying with laughter as he related struggles with his newly installed computer system that brings everything - even English sites - up in Danish and will not let him translate to his native tongue. Luckily, he has lived out there long enough to understand the rudiments of the language - both written and verbal - so I am sure he will cope. He just has this knack of hitting my laughter button and sometimes, when I am feeling like this, he is just the tonic I need!

I have got lots to do. Sarah the Publisher wants the first draft of the third book by 8th March. This will not be a problem. I am going to devote every night next week to getting it finished. She also wants the puzzles and factoids for the second book by the end of February. I have got these - I just need to finalise them and get the drafts over to her soon as poss. To be brutally frank, I will be quite relieved when the series is finished because I am desperate to start on something completely new. It has been a struggle because I never wrote the first book expecting there to be two sequels - if I had known, I may well have expanded the first book in the first place to accommodate them.

Now don't misunderstand me here. The Yucketypoo books have transformed my writing career - and my life - in a way I could never have imagined. I have not earned a penny from it as yet and because the publisher who took it on is small, there have been no big fat advances - no advances of any kind, to be honest, although they have ploughed a huge amount of cash into its production already. I could not possibly have foreseen when the two sequels were commissioned that the books would, of themselves, become a full time job.

That fact, bearing in mind that I also do a full time day job is, I think, what I am finding so completely draining. Which, in turn, lead to days like this when I feel tired, stressed and completely pissed off with everything. I slammed the phone down on the guy I am PA to this afternoon when what he'd called about was not his fault. I very (oh so very) nearly went AWOL at lunchtime because I could not face going back to that office. I grouched at some poor kid on the tram because his bag bumped my shoulder, I lost it with Hubby, who is the world's kindest, most supportive and patient hubby, over something so utterly trivial, I can't even remember what it was and I slammed the lid of my trusty laptop down in rage when I could not connect to the internet earlier. Add to all that the guilt I am now feeling (no wonder Cat chose to stay downstairs this evening, she probably figured she'd be safer) at being such a total Grump all day, and you will see exactly why eternal optomists really can become complete pessimists from time to time.

Oh well, I think that is enough moaning for today. I am very sorry, Dear Blogspot Buddy, if my ramblings have dulled your mood, this evening. Pray excuse the meanderings of a Post Menopausal fifty year old writer who should really (truth be known) know better!!!!