Tag Archives: family

Easter in Paris. . .

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What a treat it was. Easter in Paris. We drove to our nearest station, Bram, and parked the car, without any trouble, in the free parking area next to the station. The train left at 11am sharp and were in Paris by 5pm. Everything went like clockwork.

The trip began on an a regional LIO train taking us to Toulouse. There was plenty of seating, an upstairs and downstairs. In Toulouse we changed to the TGV (train à grande vitesse) a superfast train, only four and a half hours to Paris Montparnasse. We had around half an hour to wait in Toulouse and took the opportunity to buy a coffee and a bun while we waited for the platform to come up. Boarding the TGV took us a little while, it was a very long train and we were in coach 17, but we found our seats on the top deck with little trouble, stored our bags and settled down for the trip. The Man was beside himself with excitement at what there was to offer. Excellent WIFI, spacious seating, a buffet car and . . . it was evident as soon as the train began to move that the train would run quietly and smoothly.

Parking the Car
Little Station at Bram
The platform Bram
Toulouse Station
On the TGV
Don’t know why it says ‘business premiere’ we were normal second class…
Packed Lunch
View from upper deck
Bordeaux – one of the stops

We really couldn’t fault the French railway system. Efficient, fast and clean. The four-and-a-half- hours just whizzed by in comfort.

However . . . (there’s always something) when we arrived at Montparnasse station it was ENORMOUS and we couldn’t find the way out. It honestly took us about 20 minutes and when we eventually emerged onto the Paris streets, Google Maps sadly let us down. I had booked a hotel only five minutes from the station but poor old google took us all over the place. I think it was at least an hour after descending from the train that we actually found the Hotel Waldorf Montparnasse Don’t get excited it wasn’t like any other Waldorf that I know of. But, it was nice little place with a pleasant lounge area and comfortable rooms. The shower in the bathroom was fantastic and the staff very friendly and helpful. We made a cup of tea (we always do) and then ventured out to find a place for dinner.

Restaurant: La Vache Au Comptoir
Hotel Lobby
Hotel Lounge
Lamb shank – beautifully cooked
Pain perdu (The Man’s Favourite)

We found the restaurant La Vache Au Comptoir just around the corner from the hotel and we struck lucky. Not only was the food extremely good the owner was friendly and genuinely interested to speak with us. His English was excellent (he’d lived in America) and he told us all about his new venture, a Créperie in Saint Germain-En-Laye on the outskirts of Paris. He’d had enough of being in the city and since covid it had been increasingly difficult making any profit. We hope to visit him when we’re travelling back to the UK sometime. Pain Perdu by the way is made in many different ways, it’s also known as French Toast. I think using Brioche is the best way of making it, then it’s eggs, sugar and milk mixed together. Dip the brioche (or bread) in the mixture and then fry in butter. Serve with vanilla or salted caramel ice-cream. Well, that’s how I would make it. It has very few calories of course 😋

The next day was Good Friday and we weren’t meeting up with our daughter and granddaughters until lunchtime. We stored the bags at the hotel and took a walk to and around the Montparnasse Cemetery. Many famous people are buried in this enormous place and it seems there is room for every religion, culture and race. It was fascinating to stroll around. I always love reading the inscriptions on the headstones I’m fascinated by names, dates, ages and information that you can discover in these places. We looked first for Samuel Beckett then Jean Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, Guy de Maupassant among others

We stopped for a while to watch a couple of stonemasons repairing some inscriptions and adding gold leaf where necessary, which was fascinating. They were happy for me to photograph them.

Montparnasse cemetery is not Pere Lachaise, where Jim Morrison is buried . . . that’s for next time.

We went to the Pompidou Centre (click to see more about it). It’s a fantastic building, the architecture style exo-skeletal. A wonderful exhibition centre which was only marred by the amount of people in the exhibition rooms. It was hot and difficult to move around. We had the grandchildren with us and whilst the ten-year-old enjoyed the fashion side of things, the seven-year-old was bored and hot, which was completely understandable. It’s not much fun if you’re at waist height to everyone else and you can’t see anything at all on the walls.

It was stunning travelling up the external escalator and the higher we went the more spectacular the views. It was well worth the effort. At the very top is a restaurant where you can sit and take in a panoramic view of the city. Sadly fully booked on this visit.

The Building
Fernand Léger
View Sacre Coeur
Charles Reeza
View of Eiffel Tower in the Distance
On the escalator

On our final day in Paris The Man and I went to visit Versailles. It was something I had always wanted to do. But, what a disappointment. We had booked tickets for 1pm and it was decided that we would not take the children with us this time so my daughter stayed back at our apartment and had a chilled day with them. This was absolutely the right decision. We travelled to Versailles on the metro which I have to say was easy and very reasonably priced. When we arrived there was still a very long queue for 12 noon entry which was a little off-putting. However we lined up with others at the 1pm sign and eventually moved in through security at around 1.45. It was extremely busy, like the worst kind of rush hour. I discovered later that Versailles has an average of 27,000 visitors A DAY!! Which is equivalent to more than 3,000 an hour. I mean, it’s unpleasant and frankly not safe at all. The rooms are quite small so you are herded through. There are lots of paintings on the wall, Louis this and Louis that and queens and kings and another Louis…you see where I’m coming from? Not many rooms are furnished so no ‘feeling’ of what it was like to live there back in the day. The Hall of Mirrors, the most famous room in the palace was all right, but not spectacular, I expected to be blown away but I wasn’t. The crystal chandeliers were . . . okay.

queueing to get into the next room
Looking up, the only way to view
model of the palace
The Hall of Mirrors
Hall of Mirrors (check out the chandeliers)
pretty miniature in the gift shop
another pretty miniature in the gift shop.
looking over the garden from the palace…not much colour at this time of year
an impressive door

We fought our way through the rest of the rooms but I couldn’t wait to get out and into the gardens. We eventually found the entrance to them after being taken through the gift shop (naturally) and discovered to our dismay that we would have to pay again to enter the gardens. When I asked the girl about this she told me they had just begun charging last Thursday. . . basically the day before the Easter holiday. Needless to say, The Man and I just made a hasty exit and head back to the centre of Paris.

NOTE: there are two stations for Versailles: Chantiers and Rive Droite. We chose Chantiers which is a longer walk to the palace, but thank goodness we did. On our return we passed the Rive Droite station and it was absolutely packed with people trying to buy tickets and get on the trains. When we got to Chantiers it was clear, except for a small queue at the ticket machine.

We averaged 15,000 steps a day, walking everywhere. My favourite walk was a was along the Seine to the Pont Neuf where we had a wonderful view of the Eiffel Tower. We went into the Samaritaine, visited a delightful tea/florist shop and we stayed on the Place des Vosges, one of the best squares in Paris; beautiful architecture surrounding a typical French cloistered park with trees, seating and grass areas.

Place de Republique
Pont Neuf -Nonna with her girls
walking around the Place des Vosges
Tea Shop
Tea shop
Bastille Monument
Place des Vosges Square
Inside the Samaritaine
Outside the Samaritaine
The Appeal Court
Me and The Man
The Eiffel Tower
The Seine

We will go back to Paris . . . there is such a lot to see in this wonderful (but very busy) city! Have you been to Paris? What are your thoughts on the place, tell me in the comments please.

A New Year, New Abode and Almost a Debut Release…

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The van arrived at our cottage on a Sunday lunchtime. It was a Luton which was meant to be dedicated to us but the company had made a few changes with times and dates and then when it did arrive it had a big pallet with an unknown person’s possessions neatly packed in the bottom taking up what appeared to be a third of the van. The lovely driver George (who spoke Romanian, Spanish and French but no English) assured us that ALL of our stuff would fit in. He didn’t want to eat anything and only took a cup of black coffee, then worked very hard, alongside The Man, me and a few of our neighbours. I was astonished at how fast and efficient George was. At the end of the packing he then had another cup of black coffee and informed us that he was driving to Glasgow to drop off the pallet! He informed us that his boss had not arranged things well . . . an understatement I should think. We waved him on his way and confirmed that we would meet him the following Wednesday down in the south of France near Carcassonne.

GEORGE BEGINNING THE PACKING WITH SOMEONE ELSE’S PALLET ALREADY ON BOARD
ALMOST DONE

After he left we had twenty-four hours to clear our remaining belongings out of the cottage to neighbours or the local tip leaving an Ikea pull out sofa bed in one bedroom and a pile in the middle of the room downstairs to be collected by a family member. Good old Joe! Some furniture was to remain in the cottage. I like to clean up before I leave a place but this time it was impossible. We’d been severely flooded three times in the previous two months and I just couldn’t face it. The Landlady informed us she was completely renovating and ‘fumigating’ the place, starting on the 1st February. Not quite sure she had the correct word with ‘fumigating’ I hope she just meant a deep clean. . . hmm 🤔

We slept the last night in our little cottage already exhausted and we hadn’t even begun our journey. Around 5.30 am I sat bolt upright in bed and asked The Man, ‘Where are our passports?’ I have never seen him move so fast and the words that came out of his mouth are unprintable…(for my blog anyway). ’ F***k!’ followed by many expletives, ‘They’re in the f*****g van in my chest of drawers! What the f**k are we going to do now?’

I quickly texted the boss of the removal company explaining what had happened. He wasn’t that helpful, first he informed us that we were 500 kgs overweight and that it would cost us double the amount of the original quote for him to get across the border with our load! We had not a leg to stand on. . .(I was still in bed anyway but. . .) not a leg and not many chairs to sit on so we had to agree. He then said that George would meet us that night in Dover. We were leaving from Folkestone, going through the tunnel, but I was prepared to drive ANYWHERE to get our passports! He didn’t know what time George would arrive as he was coming from Glasgow (yes we knew that and thank goodness he DID have to drive to Glasgow before heading to France, otherwise . . . who knows.

Eventually we left the cottage, the car complete with roof box packed like I’ve never seen it packed before. You could not have pushed, squeezed, fiddled another article, object or doohicky in there. (Don’t ask me what a doohicky is, I just wanted to use the word). We drove to the Hotel in Folkestone closest to the tunnel arriving around 7pm. We ordered food and wondered what we would do until midnight and could we even stay awake to drive to Dover.

NOT SURE WHAT THE EXPRESSION ON MY FACE MEANS!

Good old George, he called us around 9pm and said he was in our hotel carpark. Amazing. We rushed out to greet him but he wasn’t there. A few texts, dropped pins and a location photo later we could see he was around the corner in a deserted carpark at a closed garden centre.

‘Attend George, attend pour nous!’ I sent a frantic text, we leapt in the car and google mapped our way to the van. Relief all around when George threw up the tarpaulin cover, dropped down the back panel and there stood The Man’s chest of drawers. He (The Man) climbed up and retrieved our passports from inside the top drawer. It was the best feeling. . .

SEARCHING THE VAN IN THE DARK
PHEW!
OUR NEW PLACE JUST AFTER GEORGE LEFT US
WE MANAGED TO GET STRAIGHT WITHIN A FEW DAYS

Click on the arrow beside the slide show below to see more images.

We have arrived, and our names are on the post box. This is just the beginning of our new adventure. Our small town has a great deal to offer. A small lake, an entry to the Voie Verte ( a wonderful cycle path covering many miles in France), trails through the vines and of course a bakery. . . yum! We also have a butcher, a grocery store, the doctor, the chemist and a couple of cafés, also as a choice of restaurants. I cannot wait to discover more of the area. It’s early days, we have been here for just three week and I’ve already met a couple of writers, joined some local associations and even attended the AGM of one of them! I’ve written very little since we arrived (for obvious reasons) but I’m looking forward to being very productive in February. Look our for a cover reveal and news of Loose Ends publication!

2024 What Have you in Store for us? Here We Come. . .

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I read a post this morning by Sally Jenkins. She writes about whether or not it is worth blogging and it’s an interesting topic. I remember when I first began to write a blog several years ago, one of my children said, ‘What have you got to blog about mum?’ and this can sometimes prove difficult. Especially if, like me, you also send out a Newsletter and you want to make them different. Looking through my blog posts this morning I see they are quite eclectic, there is no one theme running through but several; writing, travel, loss, living etc.,

This pretty much sums up my character. I think I live for change and diversity. The idea of only writing in one genre, having the same hobbies, living in one place for any length of time just doesn’t appeal to me. I have written an published a memoir Dear Tosh. I have completed a debut novel Loose Ends due to be published this spring, I write poetry, short stories and whilst clearing out a cupboard last week I found a pantomime script and a script for a musical written several years ago. 

As for hobbies, I have tried many including, chess, keep-fit, horse-riding, carriage driving, flower-pressing, piano and guitar playing. . . I could go on. I’m rather up for trying a bit of pottery, I love The Great British Pottery Throwdown and it begins again this week. I also love the Sewing Bee. Sewing was/is also one of my hobbies but I was never very good at knitting, and only tried crochet the once.

Travel is not exactly a hobby but it is something The Man and I enjoy very much. As you may have read in a couple of blogs this year we visited South East Asia, Italy, Austria, Switzerland, Germany and France (don’t think I’ve missed any out). This last country, France, has captured our hearts and on impulse at the end of 2023 we decided to try the South of France on a more permanent basis. We’ll be close to Carcassonne and Limoux but plan to explore far and wide when we’re there. I’ll try and keep you posted. Right now we’re busy packing everything up and I’m busy panicking about whether or not it will all fit in the van and if it won’t what will we do with it?

Below are some photos from 2023…there were thousands to choose from so I basically just picked at random.

2024 will see big changes for me and for The Man. He’ll go back to more cycling, because he loves cycling in L’Aude and I’m hoping the French countryside (and weather) will inspire my writing and by the end of the year I will have another novel to publish. . . or maybe a memoir. . . or perhaps a poetry pamphlet. . . or. . . who actually knows?

Tosh’s 40th Birthday. . .

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The years go by and each one of them holds at least two days of significance; the date of his birth and the anniversary of his death. I dread both of them coming up but often the anticipation is worse than the actual day. Tosh was born on the 30th November 1983 so this year he would have been forty — I cannot imagine him being that old.

One of the first things that happened on the morning of his birthday this year was that a newsflash popped up on my phone to say that Shane MacGowan from The Pogues had died. I immediately smiled — an odd thing to do you might think but Tosh was a massive Pogues fan and somehow I found the news comforting.

Recently, Geoff and were clearing out books and inside one of them I found the scribbled notes I made about Thomas’s birth just after he was born. They were written, in pencil, on flimsy paper and it’s amazing that they’ve survived. It was strange to read them all these years later.

We left for the hospital around 5am on a very cold and frosty morning (where have I heard that before? ) I’ve adapted some of those notes I found for you to read here:

I am checked by a nurse/midwife when I first get to the hospital, in the very early hours and I am told nothing much is happening.  A few hours later I am checked again and apparently now I am 5 centimetres dilated.
‘Still not much happening,’ the nurse said.  
That was around 10 o’clock in the morning. By 11.00 I’m getting edgy, the pains are really strong and I’m sure the baby’s almost here, but they won’t check me again,.
The bossy nurse speaks again, ‘We only check every four hours.’ She scares me because that means they won’t check until two o’clock! Surely, she expects me to have the baby before then!  At 11.30 I’m desperate, I make such a fuss she concedes. Then, muttering under her breath, she proceeds to check me once more.
‘Right,’ she says, ‘we’re ready.’ As though she knew that I would be all along. It’s 11.45. Suddenly it’s all panic and they quickly wheel me , on the bed, into the delivery room where it’s go, go, go.
No need for too much detail here it’s all pushing and pulling etc.,
At 12.29 the midwife says, ‘You have a lovely big boy.’
I look at him on the bed and he looks me straight in the eye. I am speechless. Then I say to my husband, ‘he doesn’t look like a Thomas, Anthony or George . The midwife hands him to me.
He feels heavy, he is wide eyed and looking around his new environment. It is a miracle. 

We did call him Thomas Anthony George, Thomas because we loved the name, Anthony after my brother and George because it was a good English name, according to his father. His initials, T.A.G. turned out to be appropriate for a graffiti artist.

30th November 1983 was a Wednesday. You know the poem?

Wednesday’s Child was full of woe. . .This mad me very sad when I read it because Tosh was a really happy, smiley little boy and grew into a lovely, handsome and compassionate young man. So many people said good things about him at his remembrance service in Bristol in January 2011. His boss from the catering company in Cardiff for example said that when walking through Cardiff Tosh would never ignore anyone destitute, sitting on the pavement, but always had a word for them and a spare bit of cash. He said, ‘It didn’t matter to Tom what their background was or who they were , he would always stop and speak to them.’

Me Reading at Waterstones on the 30th November 2023

What did we do to celebrate Tosh’s 40th birthday this year? I gave a reading and a talk about him and for him in Waterstones Bridport. I set up a just giving page for Julian House and we’ve raised £352 so far. The fundraising is still active so if you feel you could give something towards it that would be wonderful. I know Tosh would highly approve of helping the homeless, especially at this time of the year. The link is HERE

The next significant day for me is the 14th January 2024 and it will be thirteen years since we lost Tosh. Unbelievable. On the 12th July 2024 it will be thirteen and half years. . . half his lifetime. . . . ❤️

Thailand Travels Part 2 Bangkok to Phuket. . .

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I should have written this a few days earlier but I was struck first with a horrible head cold in Bangkok and then a bout of Thai Tummy (yuk). I’m over it all now thank goodness.

We left Bangkok on the 27th March and headed south for three hours. Our first stop was at the Eurasia Chaam Lagoon Hotel. Not the best place I’ve stayed in but cheap at £25 per night for two people. The mattress on the bed was an old sprung one and the bathroom had much to be desired. It was tired and old but clean and it worked so can’t complain at the price. The beach was close and the pool (only one was open they were repairing the other) was warm and big enough for a good swim. I spoke to a few friendly Thai children when I was there and they were very keen to practice their English! Matthew spent the day fishing at the Jurassic Fishing Park (his birthday treat to himself) sadly he didn’t catch anything this time out. We joined him in the evening for a great meal beside the lake. Wonderful food and great company.

Eurasia Chaam Lagoon Hotel Photo Dump (I think this is the expression)

Fishing. . . not really my scene but it was the most beautiful, peaceful place.

From Cha-am we drove down to Chumphon where we stayed at Nana Beach Hotel and Resort Geoff and I booked a cabin which was delightful. Outside there was a little seating area. The pool was warm and opposite the hotel was the beach with a pretty good restaurant. We ate here the first night and the second night we chose an Italian place just a few metres walk down the road. Matt had pizza which was apparently as good as the real thing from Italy. . . well the owner of the restaurant was an Italian.

our chalet
Our personal little dining area
the pool
the pool
the beach
me at the beach…I left this hat there!
Beautiful skies
Italian Restaurant Betole
the beach

After two nights in Chumphon we headed on down to Khao Lak. It’s one of the areas in Thailand that was hit by the 2014 Tsunami on Boxing Day. It is the most beautiful place but all the time we were there the tsunami was in the back of my mind. I know it’s nearly 20 years ago and today there would be more of a warning, and people would understand what was going to happen but even so . . .

A sign to remind everyone. . .

Our hotel, Seaview Hotel and Resort was gorgeous and I was disappointed not to be spending more than one night. So I managed to give myself a bit of food poisoning which meant there was no way I could travel on to Phuket with the others on Saturday morning. I went to extreme lengths to spend another day in Khao Lak and it was wasted because I spent the whole time in bed! (except when I wasn’t throwing up or something even more horrendous). The Man was a saint and looked after me superbly.

Next Stop Phuket

Now I have to say right from the start that Phuket was not my favourite spot in Thailand. It was very busy and where we were staying made it impossible for us to ‘walk’ into town. I was probably still feeling a bit rough after Khao Lak which didn’t help. My lovely son drove all the way back from Phuket to Khao Lak to collect us and I really appreciated that. It took well over two hours each way for him. We had a lovely villa with a pool and the family enjoyed a few days there together. Matthew and his wife Som were married last December but none of the family could make it. So, we did a little re-enactment which was all rather lovely and a bit emotional. The granddaughters were ‘bridesmaids’, Matthew read out his speech and there were a few tears. All wonderful family time. Afterwards we drove to a restaurant high above the sea, ate a lovely meal and watched the sunset. Below are some random photographs of the wedding, the pool at the villa and the sunset at the restaurant. Loved it all!

Some wedding photos

Pool at villa
sunset
restaurant with a view

The Man and I left Phuket on Thursday 6th April to travel across to Lao or should I spell it Laos? It’s a bit confusing. What is certain is that most people pronounce it Lao. . . but. . . take a look at this website HERE

More travelling news soon. Watch this space.

Just Had To Tell You About The Fossil Walk. . .

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We have lived in Dorset for seven years and every now and then we visit the coast. West Bay, Charmouth, Lyme Regis etc., I know it’s the Jurassic Coast but have never given it that much thought. A couple of weekends ago some friends from Essex came to visit and Helen, booked for she and I to go on a fossil walk on Charmouth Beach. We ended up as a group of five, two others from Weston Super Mare and the lovely Victoria who led the walk. We all met on the footbridge leading to the beach from the carpark. Several people had a problem with paying at the parking machine but I was able to use the app on my phone. Honestly, you can do anything with an app on your phone these days. It’s convenient but slightly worrying. Apps are definitely taking over. . . but that should be another blog post. Back to Charmouth.

Vic (as she liked to be called) gave us a short talk about the Jurassic coast. She gave us two booklets and the following paragraph is an extract from one of them.

It is one of the world’s great natural wonders. It extends for 95 miles along the Dorset and East Devon coast and offers a unique “Walk Through Time” starting at Orcombe Point near Exmouth and continuing to Studland Bay in east Dorset, it is the only place on earth where you can walk through three distinctive geological eras. It captures the remains of the arid deserts of the Triassic, the shallow seas of the Jurassic and the tropical swamps of the Cretaceous. For more information click HERE

Vic giving us the pre-walk talk at a picnic table.

After the talk we picked up our bags and headed down to the beach. There were plenty of other people and dogs on the beach, many of them with their heads down scouring the sand and pebbles for any sign of a fossil. It’s hard to tell at first and several times I picked up a little something thinking I had made the find of the century only to be told it was just a bit of pottery or a few stones stuck together with clay. Very disappointing. But it wasn’t long before one member of our party found a small ammonite and we all cheered even though we were a little jealous!

This was the terrain where we searched for fossils.

Eventually I found two small ammonites and several belemnites. I sound like I know what I’m talking about but honestly? I’m none the wiser really. A couple of hours on the beach is not long enough. I’ll have to go again and maybe take the grandchildren with me. But, they’ll probably find loads and know all about it. . . that’s just how it is with the old and the young 😊

I was pretty pleased with my haul and I came back home full of enthusiasm for more fossil hunting. One of the other party members gave me a rather lovely (and certainly larger) ammonite than the one I found in exchange for a copy of Dear Tosh. I hope he enjoys reading it! Tosh would have loved searching on the beach for fossils. I thought about him a great deal.

My little haul of fossils. The top left is not a fossil but a quartz stone, I rather liked it. You can see the ammonites (the largest I was given) and the belemnites are the little bullet type shape. The ends of tentacles from a squid like animal I believe.

Watch out for a blog post or two over the next few weeks as I’m off to Thailand for a family 50th — not mine but my eldest son. I know, I know I don’t look old enough to have a fifty-year-old son (she says modestly) but when you’ve been amongst the 180+ million year old fossils for a day it does make one feel pretty young and insignificant!

See you from Thailand, Cambodia and Laos…watch this space.

Oh and by the way, Victoria also has an alpaca farm where you can experience a walk with the alpacas and other activities. Click on the link to see more. Little Orchard Alpacas

Research. . . It’s invaluable to an author if you want to get it right. . .

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Town Hall Barnsley. Photo from Barnsley Town Hall website.

I was writing a dual time line novel set partly during the second world war and partly during the 1950s. For certain reasons, I decided to set the story both in a small fictional town in Yorkshire, and in a small district of North East London. My protagonist hailed from the Yorkshire town. As I am not from the north I felt I should do some research before the second draft and editing of said novel.

It was an eye opener!

I spent only three days in the town of Barnsley, in South Yorkshire. I was shown the local sights by a friend who lives there (thank you Helen) and I spent several hours in the museum, and archives department at the town hall. The visitors service assistants in the archives were absolutely fantastic. They searched out old maps, magazines, newspapers, photographs and took time and care to show me how to find the resources I needed. I wish I could have spent longer studying there. It was a joy, honestly, I loved it. Fascinating reading about other people’s lives and their memories of growing up in this town.

But. . .that’s the nub of it: Other people’s lives.

The result of my research was a massive reality check, and frankly a blow to my hitherto confidence in my ability to write about anything and everything. I realised that I had romanticised my protagonist and underestimated what my small town in Yorkshire might actually be like. The more I found out the more I saw massive plot holes in the story and flaws in my characters. I have rethought the whole thing. Even though I had written 85,000 words and now edited 20,000 of them I thought of what my son Matthew said to me a few years ago: never be afraid to put it in the bin and start again.

I realised that writing about the north/south divide with my protagonist hailing from the north and me, a writer from the south was neither ethical nor indeed possible. How could I have the audacity to try and write from her point of view?

It made me see that I should write about the things I know. There would be nothing wrong with me writing a war story set in Greater London where I was brought up. I would still have plenty of research to do but I could draw on my own family history for much of it.

Onwards I go. . . but now with a different genre, different time and different story!

Please leave a comment if you have the time, it would be appreciated. Thank you. 😊

Are Your Organised? Hmm…

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Is being organised the same as being in a routine? I asked myself this question this morning and I decided they weren’t quite the same but there was an overlap. I like a bit of routine. Wake up- cup of tea or hot lemon in bed, read The Independent on my Ipad (well actually glance through the headlines then do the word scrambler…) Get up, walk the dog, have breakfast of porridge which The Man cooks, and then he always clears away breakfast and washes up everything. He does that for all the other meals too and I cook them. After breakfast, it’s time to write. Sometimes I go shopping first or go to the post office with a copies of Dear Tosh that have to be sent off. I’ve discovered the joy of postage online so that I can pay for, and print the label at home, then just drop into the box. It saves so much time.

I write for as long as I can, interspersed with taking my turns at online Scrabble and Lexoulus which I play with a few friends and my sister Jean — she wins a lot by the way! We eat a late lunch, 3pm usually, I then take the dog out for her second walk of the day, only a short one this time. Come home to a cup of tea and a piece of cake (and at this time of year it’s in front of the fire). I sometimes do more writing, correspondence, Zoom calls, and maybe read or listen to a book. In the evening we settle down and watch something on Netflix or iPlayer or Amazon. At this point, having wandered about most of the day looking a bit lost, because The Man and I work in separate areas of our cottage, Jpeg, the dog, also manages to settle down. She likes nothing better than when we are all together in the evening The Man and I in ‘our’ chairs and she at last gets into ‘her’ bed, happy.

So this is routine, but am I organised? I don’t really think I am. I love starting a new notebook, who doesn’t? Every time I open the first clean crisp page, I am determined that I will keep it tidy and use the same pen throughout the book, but this only ever lasts for a bout a week. I have a different notebook for each project that I am working on. I then have notebooks for a Creative Writing Workshop that I run, then there’s the general notebook, then there’s the poetry notebook etc., etc. The problem is I often grab the wrong notebook when I think of something I want to jot down for later, but then whatever it is I’ve written is lost. I may come across it some years later when I’m reading through my old notebooks.

Next, I would love to have a tidy desk and tidy bookshelves. The Man bought me a new bookshelf to sit to the left hand side of my desk. It was meant to be just for poetry books but that didn’t actually happen. It now has non-fiction, novels, poetry books, files, empty ink cartridges to be recycled, a mug, magazines, leaflets. . . and so it goes on. Here’s a photograph.

What a Mess!

My desk is also a mess this morning and it’s probably like this every morning. I assure you that I did not set this up, it’s exactly as it is while I sit typing this blog. I do tidy it…often…but it only stays clear for about five minutes as I am soon wanting to make notes, check things in some reference book or other, which I then often leave on the desk, whereas if I were organised it would go back into its place immediately. I note my make-up bag and earring box are both sitting there too, right next to the staple machine. 😂

Dreadful state of affairs…

Am I ashamed? Maybe a little, but this is how I work and I put it down to being creative. The thing is, because I’m not very organised, I do waste a lot of time looking for things and always have done. Do you remember when all correspondence was printed and came in the snail mail? Masses of paperwork had to be filed. I can remember being very bad at filing and ALWAYS having several documents left over at the end, because they didn’t fit in any particular file in the cabinet. I’m like that now with the computer. I try to file all photos, documents (pdf and word etc.,) into their little blue folders on my desktop but I always have stuff left over; things that don’t even fit into the Sundries folder!

I can be organised if I want to be. I can be ready and relaxed before receiving guests for supper. I can fit a great deal into one day if I plan ahead. I can juggle jobs and meet deadlines. So it’s not all bad. However I do remember being told by the health visitor, after I gave birth to twins —  I already had three children — that I would have to be extra organised to get through my day and to be sure all the children were cared for properly. I was also told that I when I began to give the twins solid food I should have a separate bowl and spoon for each baby…Pah! That went out the window straight away, one bowl, one spoon, two mouths. They survived and so did I. We all muddled through and that’s the word MUDDLED… far better and more fun than being organised. In my humble opinion.

Don’t forget to sign up for my NEWSLETTER if you haven’t already done so. They’ll be one coming out at the end of next week!

Gorf Jam 2021…

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Last weekend was the Gorf Jam. An annual event since we lost Tosh. Some of the graffiti artists from around the Westcountry, some friends and family gather together to paint a wonderful tribute, usually a variation of his tag, GORF which is FROG backwards. This year was the tenth anniversary of Tosh’s death and they painted on a legal site.

This year was the first time I had actually attended the event. There are a couple of reasons why: for many years we were still living in Italy and it wasn’t practical to get over to the UK, usually it’s in January, as close to the anniversary of his death as possible (bit cold for me) and lastly I wasn’t sure I could really handle meeting up with his friends and contemporaries, watching them do the very thing that Tosh loved — I thought I would find it all too emotional.

Well, this year, The Man and I made it! It was emotional there’s no doubt about that. It was a lovely sunny day last Saturday so I couldn’t make the cold weather an excuse. Finally, we now live in Dorset so not far to travel.

What surprised us both, The Man and me, was the incredible talent of all the painters. We arrived around 11.30am and they had been there since 10 and incidentally didn’t finish until after 4pm! Each piece of graffiti was still in its early stages of creation when we got there. We watched them work. They had some ideas written on small pieces of paper, or on their phones, which they carefully transposed onto the wall of the tunnel — We were at St Werburgh’s tunnel in Bristol. This year there were four main painters plus Tosh’s brothers, sister and nieces and a few friends too, who all enjoyed a little paint. I declined to have a go…not sure why and now, of course, I wish I had daubed something alongside the others.

The artists prepared the wall first by painting over anything already there with enormous amounts of emulsion paint, giving them a ‘blank canvas’ if you like, from which to start. Gradually the images built up with the most amazing skill. Each layer bringing more depth and more texture. I’m no expert at explaining art but the whole process was impressive.

The Man could not get over how one guy painted straight lines with a roller and not a plumb line or any other kind of guide for him to follow. Another artist could fashion a pretty perfect circle. I’m not going to write any more about it, but will post as many pictures as I can. With thanks to all the painters, Halo, Instaminto, Tomo and Ronny Oner — and I’m so in awe of your work. ❤️

The Tunnel

Work in Progress

Brothers and friends getting in on the action…

The finished pieces…

 

New Roof Old Photos…

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An odd title for this post but apt. A new roof has replaced the broken leaky one on our cottage, and at last the builders have finished. The final job was for them to clean the attic. I was impressed because they brought their own vacuum. Over the years, many of mine have been ruined by builders – can you relate to that?  After they left, I popped up to check out their work. I was pleasantly surprised to see that apart from a little dust, it was okay.

Looking around, my eyes strayed to a box of old photographs and some albums. It was probably a mistake to delve into them but I couldn’t resist. I found an album from 1985, our trip to Canada, which I write about in my memoir Dear Tosh. Such wonderful memories. If you’ve read the book you’ll like these photographs I think.

Two of my favourite photographs…(I do have many favourites though) 

‘Ginger’ the pony and Jo (nanny) – we took the boys out for a picnic…happy days…

I’m going to have another root around in the attic for more photos now… Just the thing to do on a Sunday.

By the way…I’ve changed the name of the blog so that it just says Ninette90. I completed the ninety notes but I’m going to continue with the blog.