Great news indeed! The cover for gay thriller A Dangerous Man has made the finalists of the Rainbow Cover Awards 2011 and you can even vote for it to win, should you be so inclined. If you do, then thank you very much in advance. In any case, I'm really thrilled it's got this far, especially as the cover is just so perfect for the book, in my opinion.
Not to be outdone, gay erotic short story Dating the Delaneys gained a lovely review at Brief Encounter Reviews - so thank you, Jen, for that.
I've also added the link to children's story The Origami Nun to my main website, just in case anyone fancies a change of pace and theme. Enjoy!
Plus you can find all my current Kindle fiction at the Kindle Users UK Forum for ease of reference, hurrah. And you can even recommend those you might have read and enjoyed, well gosh.
Here's the most recent meditation poem:
When men listen
to what they
with all their
will not be
and we will
And the Sunday haiku is:
This frosty morning
has scattered a thousand stars
on my acer tree.
This week's excitement has to be Friday morning, when I not only fell in the shower, but actually slipped and fell out of the shower, bounced off the toilet seat and landed on my bottom on the bathmat, bringing the shower curtains with me. My, what fun we have in downtown Elstead, hey ho. Damage done includes: a slightly cracked toilet seat (but still workable with glue, phew), broken shower curtains (now mended by K, hurrah), a small bruise and some severely dented dignity. Ah well. I fear I probably won't be repeating this elegant manoeuvre in the upcoming 2012 Olympic gymnastic displays. At least not without alcohol. On Saturday morning, K offered to stand outside the shower to catch me when I catapulted out but I wisely opted for the bath option. I'll measure up to the beast (that's the shower, not K ...) on Monday when I hope to remain upright. Wish me luck.
Friday's other delights were my Christmas haircut in the afternoon at the local hairdresser who (bless her) still cannot believe that my hair colour doesn't come from a bottle. I'm thinking of wearing a t-shirt saying: yes, this colour is genetically created. Really ... But I fear nobody in the village will believe me. Much to my delight I was offered a Christmas sherry as well, so that went down well. And rather quickly too.
On Saturday, we had a thoroughly rural day and I spent the whole day in the garden. It was even warm enough (in December!) to have our morning coffee outside. I've now raked the lawn free of the remaining leaves, weeded the border on the right which I hadn't tackled yet, and re-weeded the bed behind the seats. Oh, and I've also cleaned the fountain and we've taken it in for the winter. As all the books tell us we must. Meanwhile, K has been painting and hammering for Britain and we now have a rather lovely trellis at the back on the right, which we hope to extend all the way across, depending on how we can work our way around the pretty little trees on the left.
This morning was the second in Advent, and K and I were once again the chosen people taking the bread, wine and water up to the altar during the collection hymn. I think I got it right this time and didn't canter up as if taking part in the local gymkhana. The congregation were no doubt stunned into silence by my unexpected dignity. Well, they hadn't seen me in (or rather out of) the shower on Friday, I suppose. Meanwhile K and I found ourselves giving some considerable thought to today's sermon which challenged us to think what John the Baptist's last word might have been if his head on Herod's platter might have been able to talk. K thought it would be: Surprise! Whereas I instantly thought it would be: Murderer! Well, it's what I would have said to the rather glorious Herod in that position anyway. Sadly, however, I fear we might have missed the point entirely as the vicar (obviously far holier than are we) thought it would have been: Repent! Which just goes to show, I imagine, that in extremis, K reverts to his trademark humour and I to my trademark melodrama. Ah, 'twas ever thus.
This afternoon, we've had lunch out and a look round Osterley Park, near Heathrow. Some lovely Christmas displays but the craft fair wasn't as large as I'd hoped, though nice enough. I must say the treacle tart and cream were to die for, however. Total bliss.
The Origami Nun