Covers, coffee and Christmas

Book News:

Much to my delight, the cover for A Dangerous Man has been nominated for the Imperial Artisan Awards where you can also vote for it. So far, it's received 7.44% of the vote, so thank you for those who are supporting it, and if you would like to and haven't yet done so, please go along and cast your vote too! Many thanks ...

Inspired by its unexpected success, I have started writing a sequel to The Delaneys and Me, which I am calling Entertaining the Delaneys. Naturally, this will be a piece of serious fiction focusing on the continuing trials and sorrows of the unfortunate Liam. Which of course you would all believe, if it weren't for the title, eh. What a lot of fun I'm having with it too, and I've only just begun. Indeed, I feel that Liam, bless 'im, has a heck of a lot more to say really about his life and those Delaneys, and I have even thought of a plot for a third and a fourth in the series, but let's not get too carried away at this point. I'd better get the second story sorted out first.

A poem this week:


Beginning
So we begin once more,
you and I,
our first few steps
encompassing the sky

in its daylight shades
of cream and blue,
the borders of heaven
our only view

until something distracts me
out of the dance –
a flutter, a whisper
drawing my glance

so I totter and tumble
down from the sky:
let us begin once more,
you and I.


Plus there have been two meditation poems:


Meditation 455
Sometimes when we turn to face
our greatest fear –

the sword in the night,
disease, death –

all we have dreaded
simply melts away

like a bad dream
in the morning light

and we are left
untroubled and free.



Meditation 456
Seven years’ travel,
a quiet return,
the recovery of land
and – most important of all –
knowing the prophet by name

prove beyond any doubt
and in this first lesson of history
that it’s not what you know
but who you know that counts.



And two Sunday haikus


An English Apple
Crunchy, honeyed zing,
snap of spices on my tongue,
sunlight in my hand.



There are more poems
around than you think: walk slow,
speak soft and don't blink.


Life News:

We've had the builders sorting out a new chimney for the downstairs neighbour during the latter part of the week, which has been brilliant. The chimney comes up outside our kitchen window so we've had the perfect view of all the fun that's been happening with the scaffolding, the rather dodgy-looking stepladder and the spirit-levels. My goodness, but they're thorough, and the new chimney they're in the process of rebuilding looks grand. They also swear like troopers but in a rather charming way (pass the effing pipe, Jim; is that an effing brick?; an effing sunny day today, etc etc) when they can't see me as I'm working in the spare room, but have the language of newly-minted saints when they think I'm in the vicinity. It's all rather sweet. I'm thinking of popping out to see them next week and asking if they want an effing cup of tea, but I fear they might be too embarrassed at being caught out.

Yesterday, I had lunch with Pauline (hello, Pauline!) at a hotel in Maidstone, and it was great to meet up and catch up, but I suspect I had rather too many fully caff cappuccinos as I was very shaky when I drove back. I really do have to watch that caffeine intake, as a former addict (as it were). Bring on the decaff versions and soon. And today, I have written out my Christmas list of cards and presents that I need to buy - what a super-heroine I am! - but I'm really cutting down once more this year so am only planning to send out 28 cards, rather than the usual 50 plus. Soon I will have no friends left at all, you know ... Christmas? Bah, humbug ...

And, deep sigh, still no interest in our very lovely flat, even with the 20k cut in price, further deep sighing. Soon I will be paying people to come and view it, even if they don't want to buy, you know. I fear nobody likes the Victorian age any more, ah well.

Anne Brooke