Bumbling along and battening down

A nice lie-in today and a slow start to the morning. God though, but I needed it. Didn't do much else really before lunch which wasn't till 2-ish anyway. Because I couldn't be arsed to get any. I'm obviously missing my five-course repast delivered straight to my mouth a la our Portuguese river boat. Ah well. I've also done a few lines of Hallsfoot's Battle, but not with any degree of enthusiasm or commitment. I gave up after about 200 words. I'm coming up to a big scene and I don't have the energy to start it, or even the belief that I might actually be able to, to be honest.

I've also withdrawn from my Group commitments on the Writewords site - something of a relief in terms of timescale, I must say - though of course a large percentage of the work I've read on there is top-class. Which - sadly - these days means it's unlikely to find a publisher, but hey we knew that already. I'm still unsure whether I'll renew my Writewords subscription come August - the jury is most distinctly out on that possibility! And having made such a fuss, particularly recently, about the importance of calling myself a writer if asked what I do, I now find that the advantages of not bothering to press the point are becoming clearer. Why make the effort when it's not actually a battle I'm likely to win? Perhaps the phrase well I used to be a writer, but now I'm not so sure is nearer the heart of it, goddammit.

I've also meandered round Godalming getting odds and sods needed for the house, whilst trying to talk to as few people as possible. At least I've sorted out a Father's Day present which I shall have to remember to send off next week. And, yes, I've taken my De-Stress Pills to try to avoid the heavy curtain of depression which has descended over my head this afternoon, but hey they're not working yet. Then again, it's been a bloody week and I suppose I should have expected my alleged coping strategies would turn and rend me limb from limb at some stage. I was just hoping for later rather than sooner. Sigh.

Mind you, it's not all doom & gloom. I've booked my birthday lunch in a couple of weeks' time at Wisley, so will be hoping for a glorious day and some stunning roses.

Tonight, I have to attempt to make the flat look presentable, and I will also continue to wonder, in a slightly exisential kind of way, what to do about the broken toilet and water tank. As you do.

Today's nice things:

1. A lie-in
2. Getting the shopping done
3. Sorting out my birthday lunch.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Bluebells and books

Spent this morning wandering around Winkworth Arboretum with Lord H. Weather wasn't brilliant but the great swathes of bluebells were marvellous. We also heard our first (and very loud) cuckoo of the season and saw a matching pair of blackcaps. Fabulous. The only problem is the fact that it's situated across a valley - so ambling to the bottom is perfectly pleasant, but the trawl up a mite too energetic for Sunday walking.

I've also finished reading through Nik Perring's novella, which is very dark, modern and gritty. I hope it gets placed somewhere, Nik, and soon! But naturally my cynicism about the publishing industry leads me to believe that it's just too damn good and shit-hot for the standard publishers. It would be nice to be proved wrong however. And I've also finished reading Jodi Picoult's Nineteen Minutes. Very gripping as ever, but the ending was very rushed. And muddled, to my mind. Weirdly the only sympathetic character was Peter, the killer. I loved him. He was great. By the time I was a quarter through, I was already glad he'd shot up the school - bunch of tossers, to my mind. They deserved it. God alone knows how doubly ghastly they would have been as adults. Josie wasn't much better either. God, are children in the States always so horrible?? One hopes not! If they are, the US really needs to consider upping the number of brat camps. Big time. Please someone from our cousins across the water tell me it's not really like that over there - soon!

Meanwhile, my growing irritation with the Writewords site continues. I can see I'm going to have to stick with the Groups I'm in only (who are great) and avoid all contact with the wretched forums. I keep thinking the situation might get better, but really I should have learnt by now! Sigh ... We'll see how things are when my renewal comes up in August, but I'm not holding my breath that anything much will change. Anyway, moving swiftly on, tonight, I'm videoing "Miss Austen regrets" and will be glued to the joys of "Midsomer Murders". Now there's a real glimpse of English rural life, don't y'know ...

This week's haiku:

Bluebells are early
this year: something to be said
for global warming.


Today's nice things:

1. Winkworth Arboretum
2. Nik's novel
3. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

A bloody awful day

Bugger of a morning today – I’ve really utterly hated it. Lord but I could do with another job. To be frank. I mean, ye gods, but do I seriously have to do another 20 years of this??? God help us all!! There was lots of stuff dumped on me in which I have zilch interest, and huge amounts of meetings nightmares, including double meetings for those who can’t attend the first set and rescheduling of things so distant I have no real idea what they are. Not only that but everyone seemed to change their minds at least twice as to what they actually wanted or tell me different things from different sides of the fence. Deep deep sigh. And it also appears that things I had no idea were my responsibility apparently are. Dammit.

In the end I got so stressed that I walked out of a meeting set up to try to sort some of these issues out – as in fact the meeting appeared to be making things more complicated, so I didn’t feel it was worth staying, aha. However I don’t think anyone actually noticed how upset and shaky I was – always good to know one’s worth in the company echelons is what I say … Thank God for my early reflexology appointment – I ended up bursting into tears over my poor therapist, who must now count as part-time counsellor and general Good Egg, and she gave me a specially calming and strengthening session. Crisis reflexology – it’s the way forward for office traumas. You know it makes sense.

Anyway, this afternoon, I struggled on amidst the bullets and attempted to avoid the enemy. As you do. I also tried to look at the minutes I have to type up from yesterday’s meeting (arrgh! The “M” word – I can’t bear it!), but goodness knows if they’re actually going to mean anything. I rather seem to have lost the will to live, Carruthers – somebody pass me the smelling salts.

In the meantime, a lost external professor wandered into the office and we sent him off with smiles and a map to where he should have been. Well, we are the caring side of the campus, you know. However when I rang the Secretary of the person the professor was visiting, I was given a complete verbal dressing-down about how I should have sent him somewhere else as he’d been told at least four times where the meeting venue was and why didn’t I tell him that? Well, as it’s the first time I’d ever seen this particular professor and I’m not a mind-reader, it’s hardly surprising I couldn’t tell him what I ruddy well didn’t know – but in spite of fighting a brave rear-guard action, I seemed somehow to get myself involved in ringing up all sorts of people trying to track the poor guy down whilst the original Secretary presumably went off to have a lie-down and a cup of tea. Double dammit. Still, I’m quite proud of the fact that whilst said Secretary was burbling on fairly meaninglessly I did manage to suggest that if she stopped talking quite so much we might solve the problem a little faster. Or words to that effect, aha. Sod the caring side, eh.

Tonight, I was going to go to Guildford Writers but I don’t think I can face any more people. So I think I’ll stay in and act like blob. A blob with no brains. I also put the next section of The Bones of Summer up on the Writewords Novel Group and have already gained mixed criticisms on it – Hell but the person who didn’t like it is probably right. Now I look at it, it is crap, waffly and with no strong character and I should just cut the whole ruddy thing and start again. God, but it’s so depressing sometimes. You never really feel confident in this writing game – or indeed that you’re getting anywhere. Sigh.

Mind you, on the way back to the car park in my increasingly desperate attempt to get home and stay home, Amy from Guildford Writers did stop me and say how much she'd enjoyed Thorn in the Flesh, so much so that she couldn't put it down and thought it was wonderful. Gosh, thanks, Amy - that's the nicest thing that's happened all day. And bloody hell but maybe I can write after all - just not the novel I'm doing now, dammit ...

And here’s a poem (stress is notoriously good for poetry, you know):

Gemini girl

I've always cold-shouldered
the stars

thinking that no planetary conjunction
or accident of birth

was going to organise my life.

Now God doesn't seem
such a reliable concept any more

being a Gemini girl
on the cusp of Cancer

might prove quite the sensible option.



Today’s nice things:

1. Reflexology
2. Amy's kindness
3. Poetry.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Just a minute, hospital visiting and final Maloney covers

A better day today. Thank goodness. Even managed to get the draft minutes done from yesterday and with my boss for checking, so I’m very nearly on top of it all. For now … And talking of being on top of it all, I mustn’t forget to welcome the last of the year’s calendar firemen. So hello to Dave whose hobbies include weight training, skiing and motor cycling. He’s really very cute, but should be wearing less, to my mind. Not that I’m fussy.

Sally from Advice popped into the hospital with me to see our old work colleague today. She’s been moved out of Intensive Care and into a normal ward, so that’s a good thing. Still very frail though, and there are further complications, so we’re hoping that they can sort things out soon for her. It’s not a great way to approach the festive season, and it’s frustrating that there’s so little we can do. We’re hoping to be able to pop in next week though and see how things are then.

This afternoon, I put my brain into blancmange mode by attempting to find something interesting in “Perspectives”, the magazine of the Association of University Administrators. Yip. As I thought. Nothing interesting there. There’s not a lot you can do with an article entitled “Markets, Mathematics and Sustainability” really. Apart from burn it.

Talking of burning things, here’s a piece of flash fiction I’ve written for the Writewords Flash Fiction II Group. The task was to write something which included the phrase: “Inside the cover, I found the note”:

Note on a Candle

Inside the cover, I found the note. Which I later burnt in time-honoured literary fashion. If you’re reading this book, it said, you’re an idiot. Charming, I thought, glancing again at my name on the front. Everyone’s a ruddy critic.


Tonight, it’s an evening in – double hurrah! I’m planning to chunter away on The Bones of Summer and am hoping for an early night. It’s about time I had one. And I now have both a front and a back cover for Maloney’s Law from PD Publishing! Which I love hugely. The artist has focused in on Big Ben on the front cover more, but left the rest mostly untouched, and has also given me a wonderful back cover, complete with whisky glass and essential timepiece (both very important in Paul’s mixed-up life …) plus a zappy new blurb:

“Paul Maloney, a small-time private investigator from London, reluctantly accepts a case from his married ex-lover, Dominic Allen. Before he knows it, Paul finds himself embroiled in the dark dealings of big business and the sordid world of international crime. The deeper he pushes, the closer he comes to losing everything he holds dear. Can he solve the mystery and protect those he loves before it’s too late?”

She’s also added a line or two about the novel being shortlisted for the Royal Literary Fund Award and the Harry Bowling Novel Award, which is nice. So thanks hugely, Tracey from the US – I’m very grateful indeed!

Oh, and I've just finished reading Gyles Brandreth's Oscar Wilde and the Candlelight Murders. It took a while to get into - but the style is very different. But once you're there, it's fab. Like a souffle with unexpected bite and there are some wonderful scenes. I also thought the ending was very powerful, but I could have done with more detecting in the middle of the book - though I do see that he's setting up characters for what I hope will be a series. I'd certainly buy into that.

Today’s nice things:

1. The Maloney’s Law covers & blurb
2. Getting the minutes done
3. Flash fiction.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Writers, lamps and Goldenford

A fairly quiet day today. Full of rain and darkness. Goodness me, how poetic I am, ho ho – but it’s true. According to the weather forecast, it’s going to rain at least until Friday, so we’d better get used to it. It makes the concept of hibernation so much more appealing.

Work-wise, I’m waiting around for papers to fall from heaven for the rapidly approaching meetings. If I don’t get stuff out by tomorrow (my last day here this week), people will start to hyperventilate. And that will include me. But there’s not much I can do if they’re still being written elsewhere. We do so like to take things to the wire here in academia, you know.

This lunchtime, I had the University Writers’ Group for their usual monthly slot. Which included some manuscripts to look at and a writing game I’d worked out beforehand to keep people entertained. I do find running a writing group very scary, but I hope they get something out of it. I know I do. Numbers were rather scarce though - which seems to be the case across the board for these arts-type groups since the restructuring. Unless of course it is me ... Anyway, we're going to be doing some marketing after Christmas, so maybe a few more writers will turn up. I hope so - it's more fun with more people(as it were)!

Meanwhile, we’ve decided we might get free-standing desk lamps for us all in the office, as the windows are mirror-coated in order to ensure privacy (not that we do anything too wild in here, I hasten to add!) – which means it can get very dark indeed. So we’re trying out the one lamp we currently have in rota to see what we think. Today it’s my turn and actually I rather like it. There’s a nice little pool of light over my phone and mug which is bizarrely comforting. Also, the lamp is quite modern – black and shaped like the Starship Enterprise (my real home …), so I think I’m definitely going to order one. I’ve always known my true home is in space. The other joyful thing about it is it has two settings – bright and extra bright. Much like a hairdryer, if you see what I mean. I have no idea why that makes me feel happy, but it does. Lordy, somebody pass me a normality pill. Again. I shall only really start to worry though if the lamp starts communicating with me …

Tonight, I’ll be minuting the Goldenford meeting – am hoping to get some decisions on the Thorn in the Flesh blurb and when the launch might be. And I still have some edits to receive which I’ll then need to work on. The timing’s going to be quite tight if we’re looking at a February/March publication date, but it’s do-able.

Here’s a piece of flash fiction for the Writewords Flash Fiction Group 2 challenge, which is for something on one of the Seven Deadly Sins. You’ll probably not have to ask which one – I hope!

Such an effort

I don’t know, I’m supposed to be doing something, but I really can’t imagine what. And it can’t be that important anyway, as surely in that case I would have remembered it? Yawn. Oh excuse me, talking to you is just so exhausting, you can’t imagine. In fact everything’s exhausting and some days I just can’t be bothered to move. Yes, this sofa is wonderful. You should try it – if I could only find it in myself to shuffle over and let you have some space. But I can’t. You’ll just have to stand. Oh well. Whoops, another yawn. So sorry. How long have I been here? You know, I really can’t tell – it seems like an eternity. And maybe it is – I’m sure I’ve been here since the beginning of time. It feels that long anyway. Who did you say you were by the way? I know you’ve told me before but frankly I wasn’t really listening. Oh. Say that again, would you? I see. The Grim Reaper. Nice name. Hmm. I suppose I should be running but, as I’ve said before, everything is such an effort …



I’ve also made an appointment at the University Health Centre as my eye is playing up. Which it sometimes does. I’m hoping it’s not iritis, as I’ve had that before and it’s not nice – the cure’s almost worse than the disease too! Anyway, we’ll see. (Update on this one: I have a nasty stye in the lining of my right eyelid, so I've got some drops to put in to persuade it to disappear - the stye, not the eye! Cue Lord H holding me down while I scream - I'm not good with eyes. I hope the neighbours don't ring the Police ...)

Oh and I’ve just finished reading Matthew Sweeney’s latest poetry collection, Sanctuary. Sorry, but I didn’t rate it much. Seemed a bit meaningless to me, and very unfocused – though, to be fair, there were one or two poems I really liked. The one about the wild boar was stunning. Shame the rest didn’t follow suit.

And I've had two rejections (groan) - one from Mslexia (surprise, surprise ...) and one from the Frogmore Papers mag. Sigh. But the good news is that one of my flash fiction pieces has been accepted by the MMUniversity student-run mag and will be coming out in December. Hurrah! Which - astonishingly - gives me a 100% flash fiction success rate: the only two pieces I've ever submitted have both been accepted. Hell, I'd better not submit any more - I don't want to break my run ...

Today’s nice things:

1. University Writers’ Group
2. Goldenford
3. Writing.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Meetings, doctors and writers

Rushed around this morning sorting out papers for meetings and changing agendas until my brain imploded. Mental note to self: it is a bad thing to arrange two very similar meetings within two days of each other, particularly with the same Chair. I am guaranteed in such circumstances to get the wrong papers in the wrong meeting or worse – have two lunches turn up on one day and none on the other. Sigh. I can see I’m going to have to stock up with my Rescue Remedy spray for the end of November, not to mention Quiet Life pills.

I’ve also had my follow up appointment with the Hormone Guru at the Surrey Park Clinic to get my test results. Another sigh. There’s good news and bad news. Isn’t there always?? The good news is that she thinks she can sort out my insulin problem just by diet and exercise, rather than going on the scary insulin pills. Alas, this means going easy on cakes, biscuits and chocolate, and developing my relationship with lean meats, fruit and vegetables. But at least I’m allowed to drink 1 or 2 glasses of wine a week, rather than completely abandoning the vine, hurrah! Which, I suppose, means I can at last make use of the wine bottle stoppers my mother has bought me virtually every Christmas since I got married. Goodness, she will be pleased. We have acres of them.

The bad news is that my oestrogen levels are apparently so appallingly low for my age that I might as well grab myself a penis, strap it on and start subscribing to Motor Monthly. Well, that’s not quite how the doctor put it, but you know what I mean. Anyway the upshot is I am going on my own tailored HRT programme (not, sadly, the one that makes me into a Class One Bitch who salivates over younger men – what do you mean: what’s the difference then??) which will consist of rubbing oestrogen gel into my legs each morning and in the evening too if I feel the need. My, Lord H will be so pleased.

However, apparently, if I get my hormones sorted out (dahlings, a wide variety of experts have tried for years to no avail thus far, but at least the Hormone Guru seems to be more on the ball, as it were … which just goes to show if you want a problem at least acknowledged, sod the NHS and go private instead), it might mean that the insulin issues improve a little too. Who knows: in a year’s time, I may well be running for Miss World 2008. Or possibly Miss Knackered Woman 1960s. One of the two. Watch this space, eh …

Anyway, enough of the health-related gnashing of teeth and virtual wailing – though I would advise against asking me how I am if you see me in the street over the next couple of weeks or so – you may well be given more information than you really want …! Tonight, I’m planning to take the next section of my anti-novel to Guildford Writers and attempt to make sensible comments on everyone else’s work. Though whether I actually get there or not will depend on how I’m feeling after today’s ups and downs (Update: hell, I'm staying in). Ridiculously, I do feel more fragile about the whole thing than I expected to. Wish I’d ruddy well gone private ten years ago. Dammit. And hey ho.

Back in my other life, I’ve got the edits back for Thorn in the Flesh from Jackie so I’m looking forward to getting on with those. Funny how we both finished the edits of each other’s book on the same day – spooky, eh … I do feel that an Addie (from Jackie’s Tainted Tree) and Kate (from Thorn) sequel is surely in the offing at some stage – after all, Addie lives in Guildford and Kate in Godalming, and they both love the theatre – how could they not meet?!?

And here’s a piece of flash fiction for the Writewords Flash Fiction 2 Group challenge for this week, which is on the theme: Playing with fire:

Playing with fire

‘So,’ Anita said, putting down the Dove Body Firming Gel she’d been using on her thighs for the last two weeks. ‘Do you think my legs are better or worse? With this new gel, I mean?’
Douglas paused in the act of buttoning his shirt. Always the same question and in twenty years of married life it had been impossible to answer. At least with yes or no. This time, it was going to be different.
He smiled, knowing he was playing with fire, and opened his mouth.



Today’s nice things:

1. Getting my upcoming meetings under control
2. Getting to the truth – slowly – about the hormone stuff
3. Getting to the end of the day – soon, please God!

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford books!

Books, trains and dances

Trogged my way through today, sorting out agendas and attempting to look efficient and professional. Ho ho. I’ve even been brave enough to ask for papers for one of the meetings – always a scary move. Lord preserve us but some punter might even give me a set of them. Horrors! Ah well.

Posted a copy of A Dangerous Man to Lisa Glass, author of Prince Rupert’s Teardrop as we both write in a similar dark and twisted area so thought we may as well swap products. Am looking forward to reading PRT, Lisa! I’m sure it will be just my sort of thing … Mind you, getting back from the University post office was something of an obstacle race – the automatic doors refused to open for me and I had to bang on the window with my nose in order to get the attention of the person on the other side, who did at least seem able to open them. Which proves my thesis that I am indeed not of this planet. Even the electronics don’t rate me as human …

Decided not to walk round campus at lunchtime – as I think my wretched ankle needs all the rest it can get prior to tonight! – so sat and listened to the weekly University concert instead. I used to go quite a lot, but haven’t been for ages since I started my back exercise classes last year. But since these have been taken over by a tutor who wants us to do everything in pairs (heck, what is exercise for but a chance to be alone for an hour??), I haven’t signed up for the next series. And I rather enjoyed just sitting and listening to music – very relaxing indeed.

We are also in the process of deciding what our office Christmas giving should be – which is something we do instead of having to buy presents for each other. Last year, we sent a sheep to Africa (I sometimes wonder how it’s getting on, you know …), and this year we might well do a similar thing, but with a more personal focus as Carol knows someone through her church – here - who’s doing good works in Burundi. At least it takes some of the pressure off the hell that is Christmas gift buying anyway! So, I have made a box into a donations point and stuck pictures on it of cows – in colour, hurrah. I’m calling it the Goat Box, but bizarrely can’t find a picture of a suitable goat. Ah well.

Here’s a piece of flash fiction I’ve done for the Writewords Flash Fiction 2 group. The remit was a story based on “absence of choice” and a train journey in up to 250 words:

The last journey

Always the same old route. Out of the station, the endless track pulling me forward. Away from trees, gardens, birds. Towards smoke, commutered city houses. No choice, no choice, no choice. Each day my load gets heavier. No-one cares how I feel, though I think they used to. The weight of human flesh presses against my floors, lines the great stretch of my carriages as all the seats are taken. They’ve thought about giving me more carriages, but I don’t have the strength for it any more. I don’t know if I want it. More people means a greater load. I don’t care much for them now. They’ve never cared much about me: feet on seats; graffiti across windows; vomit – and worse – in toilets. Nobody cares, nobody cares, nobody cares. I’ll not be kept for much longer. New stock coming up, with facilities on board I could never dream of. All my old companions have gone and I’m not far behind. I’ve heard what the flesh in uniforms say. I’m not going down with a whistle and a metallic sigh. This time they’ll know my last journey for what it is. I’ve thought about it for a while. I haven’t any choice. Look, the houses are crowding around me. I see the great circle of sky-seats, and the people are stirring. Soon I’ll be at Waterloo. Soon it will be over. Let’s see then what it is I can do to them. Let’s see, let’s see, let’s see.


I’ve also just finished David Leavitt’s The Lost Language of Cranes. It was something of a slow-burn and I have to say I was immensely irritated with the amount of flashback and meaningless emoting I had to wade through. However, the ending is stonkingly good and he seems finally to get into his stride about three-quarters through. I do however think that the main character is not the one the author thinks it is – I cared far more for Rose than I did for Philip or Owen – she’s a more interesting and complex person. Leavitt writes very well too, so I’d probably go for another one of his at some stage, if it came my way. But I must say that I was also riled by the cover – which has a crane (bird) floating elegantly off at the top. How charming, one would think – except that the cranes referred to in the title are machines, not birds!! Doesn’t anyone give these covers the once-over before they get picked? Deep, deep sigh …

Tonight, I am off to my second session of Scottish country dancing. I’m planning to take it easy – ah, the old war wound, you know; it’s not the same since the Crimea … – and either not do all the dances or leave early, depending on how I’m holding up. The real problem however is that this morning I couldn’t seem to remember any of the ruddy steps, or even how to skip. Dammit. Lord H reassures me that it will all come flooding back on the night, so I can only hope he’s right … We’ll see.

Today’s nice things:

1. Swapping books with Lisa
2. The lunchtime concert
3. Dancing (however much I manage to do!)

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Marketing madness and the Scottish country dancing queen

The last of the student care services marketing events in the library today – thank goodness, we cry!... It hasn’t been a roaring success – to put it mildly – and I’ve been really glad to get it over with. Grand total of people who’ve popped into see us over the last three weeks at our display: six. Though to be fair, I did have one email query today as a result of my electronic flyer, which I’ve sent out over the last couple of weeks to try to drum up interest. Unfortunately that student couldn’t come, but at least I could give some virtual advice. The only other response was a lass asking about her library books. Hmm, I suspect I may not entirely have got the message across then, Carruthers … Somebody pass me my rifle and put us all out of our misery …

Apart from marketing traumas, I’m afraid not a lot else has happened in my working day, though I have been attempting to unearth the online annual report from where I must have hidden it. Thank goodness I hadn’t got much of it done, as I feel I might need to redo it next week. Sigh. We’re also having an ongoing discussion in the office over where to put the big map of the UK, which is really too big to be where it’s been for the last year, and which finally fell down this morning. I think it might end up next to my desk – but that’s fine by me as maybe it’ll give me the chance to attempt a stronger link with the outside world, ho ho. Rather than living 99% of my life in the sewage system that constitutes my head. We can but hope, eh.

Tonight, I am strutting my stuff (so that won’t take long then) at the taster session for the Scottish country dancing beginners class. I’m wondering whether or not to wear tartan and carry a sword. Oh, sorry, that’s my usual get-up. So I’d best wear something different. Must admit to being excited as I really love dancing, but distinctly nervous as I really hate meeting new people. Especially new people who’ve already formed their personal groups in the weeks they’ve been doing it before and who will look on me with horror as “a stranger round these parts” when I pop my head round the door. Lordy, but I’m paranoid. But at least I know it.

And I must remember to video “Heroes” just in case I’m not back in time – the class ends at 8.30pm, but Guildford traffic can be wild. I am already traumatised by missing “Oz and James’ Wine Adventure” last night when out at Guildford Writers, but Lord H has nobly downloaded and saved it for me, so all is not lost!

Oh and here’s a piece of flash fiction for the Writewords Flash Fiction Group II challenge – which was to come up with something including the line of dialogue I have at the end:

Waiting for the Question

Gerald McFly strode down the High Street wearing his usual placard inscribed with the legend: The end of the world is nigh: please ask for details. He’d been doing this every Saturday morning for the last ten years and it hadn’t ended yet. But he was hopeful. Neither had he ever had anyone approach him. Usually they hid in shops or ran away laughing. He tried not to mind, but he would have liked a friend or, at least, someone who might understand. With a sigh, he kept on striding. Even if nothing ever changed, the cause was all; he must remember that!
Today, much to his surprise, would turn out to be very different indeed.
‘Young man! Young man!’
Gerald turned round to see an old woman hurrying towards him. Her grey hair was tied up into a bun and her plaid skirt was flapping in the breeze. He waited for her to catch up.
‘Young man,’ she said again, eyes blinking rapidly behind enormous spectacles.
‘Yes?’
‘I’d hate to miss Panorama. So can you tell me what time this end of the world might be occurring?’
Gerald smiled his first smile of the day.
‘I’ve always wanted somebody to ask me that,’ he said.



Today’s nice things:

1. Getting the last of the wretched marketing events done and dusted, hurrah!
2. Flash fiction
3. Scottish country dancing

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Soaked to the skin

Up at the crack of dawn today to go birdwatching in Pagham Harbour. Goodness me, but it was wild and windswept in the south. Not to mention the rain. The first bird-hide we came to was distinctly strange as it was set on one side of a busy road with the lake on the other side. Cue cries of: Oh look, is that a redshank? No, it's a lorry. No, a bus! It was also tricky when you actually tried to open the window to get a clearer view as the Force 9 gale took your breath away and the sound of the traffic drowned out the noise of the birds. Ah well.

We then took a walk through the reserve, heading for the next hide. Which was lovely and bracing and stuff (Nature: red of tooth and claw, you know ...) and we spent much longer in the second hide watching the cormorants lose their island as the tide came in. Which ... um ... constituted something of a problem as we stayed so long laughing at the cormorants that the tide actually cut us off from the car, dammit! Birds: they always have the last laugh, you know. So we had to exit the reserve the long way round and go through several - thankfully shallow enough to walk through - bits of the sea to do so. Not to mention freezing cold and open to the wind fields and that busy road again. Ho hum. At least I've found out that Lord H's walking shoes are more water-proof than mine. New birds spotted: Brent Geese. Hurrah!

Once back at the car, we took a quick trip to Selsey Bill which, bizarrely, also contains the Manhood Peninsula. There's something to think twice about before you Google it indeed. Actually, it was rather thrilling as the sea was so wild that it was coming up over into the actual car park entrance and virtually attacking the cars. I loved it! So much so that I persuaded Lord H to get out with me and we took a short walk along the front to admire the force of the spray (cue a manhood joke here, but really, m'dears, I'll let you do your own), and found a small flock of turnstones. Another new bird - double hurrah!

On the way home, we popped into West Wittering Beach and took the longest walk ever round the salt marshes. It was okay going one way, with the wind behind us, but coming back, we were literally drowned in salt. Lord but we must be mad. Mind you, Lord H thought he might have seen a few sanderlings (final new bird seen today - triple hurrahs!), but my binoculars were frankly so caked with salt by then that they could have been anything. Exfoliation - it's a marvellous thing.

Hell, that's probably my exercise for the week. And we've done our civic duty, you'll be pleased to hear. As we found a parking slot in the road at home, someone opposite reversed into the car parked in front of us and simply drove off. Honestly - what an idjit. He must have seen me gesticulating at him (in a nice way of course!) - so we got his registration number and have put it under the windscreen wiper of the damaged car. Which presumably means that the Godalming mafia will ensure that a horse's head is put on our pillow tonight. Ah well, it'll save making breakfast.

Tonight, I'll be glued to "Strictly Come Dancing" - being the fickle thing that I am, I think that my affections are slowly transferring from Gabby and Letitia to the utterly adorable (and surprisingly hot) Matt. I do hope he stays in. He could well be the next Mark Ramprakash (sp?).

Here is a short section for a Writer's Scream Moment instigated by the fact that a writing acquaintance on the Writewords site is upset as only 9,000 copies of her book have been sold in the first few months. The nice and supportive part of me wants to say well done, anyway, that's great, but my inner bitch (Gawd bless it) can only scream: arrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhh!!! Get real, people!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (cue sound of jealous gnashing teeth and existential rage). Hey ho.

Oh, and Lord H and I were chatting about computers and relationships this week, so here's a haiku for that occasion:

Computers need care.
If ignored, they can sometimes
switch off. Much like wives.

Today's nice things:

1. Seeing three new birds
2. The sea at Selsey Bill - fab!
3. Strictly Come Dancing.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Rubbish nappers and the publishing lunch

Today, in these parts, is rubbish collection day and once more our phantom rubbish napper has struck again ... We've had it happen a couple of times before over the last month or so and, this morning, Lord H put the rubbish out to add to the rubbish we'd put out earlier in the week - only to find that someone had taken the previous rubbish out of the bin and moved the bin itself to the other side of the gate. And the bin men most definitely hadn't been yet. Hmm. The plot thickens. Does Godalming have a phantom bin-napper? Or is some secret fan with very strange tastes going through the contents of our wheely bin hoping to glean some indication of what I'm currently working on? (So they can know what to avoid buying next, no doubt!) Ah, but I wish, eh!... Anyway, it's all very curious.

Spent some time this morning making comments on work in my Writewords groups, and then it was into Guildford for another hour or so staffing the Goldenford, this time with Jennifer, author of the utterly marvellous (notice my sales pitch here, please!) The Gawain Quest. And once again my presence is the kiss of death for commerce, as no sales again today. Ah well, I won't be appylying for a job with Sir Alan Sugar just yet then. In fact, I think I might get a tee-shirt made up saying Please don't buy these books if only in order to save time.

I then had a very late lunch with the equally marvellous Juli Klass of Mighty Erudite Publishers who has two glorious poetry collections coming out from her authors in November. Definitely something very exciting to look forward to, I can tell you! Both her poets are so shit-hot that they will burn your hand when you pick up their books. And both are definitely names for the future. So thanks for a great conversation, Juli - lovely to catch up with the London literati! We in the shires don't often meet important folk, you know ...

Back home, I am planning an evening's chilling in front of the TV and avoiding the Book Festival - so no change there then. Sorry! Oh, and I've just finished reading the latest edition of "Tears in the Fence" magazine. Once again, some great short stories there, but I really don't think much of the poetry. I'm beginning to think I might not resubscribe next time I'm asked. It's honestly not my type of reading at all.

Today's nice things:

1. Chatting with Jennifer at the stall
2. Lunch with Juli
3. Avoiding being good and not going to literary things!

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Aroma Stones and Guildford Writers

Feeling a bit empty today – I am obviously having a blank week. Possibly the effect of too many calming pills, but I have to say it’s not unpleasant. Better than feeling angry all the time for sure. Or maybe it’s the weather – it’s very dull and damp out there.

Lots of bits and pieces at work today – fiddled around with the Dean’s website, a couple of new marketing leaflets, plus chased up the boss about outstanding minutes/agendas before I go on holiday and took a load of the never-ending paper cups to the Health Centre. Who are also in a drinking crisis. Ooh, and I remembered to give the boss my review form too. The annual nightmare! We actually have the review meeting the first day I get back – not great timing for sure! However, I’ve made myself feel better by booking an hour’s Aroma Stone Therapy treatment at the hotel we’re staying in next week. Hurrah!

Took my usual lunchtime stroll round campus – the lake seems overrun by moorhens today. Perhaps they’re taking over the world? Hmm, good luck to them. I’m not sure it’s a competition I really want to enter. And this afternoon has been wild – rushing around attempting to do yet more urgent last-minute marketing things we didn’t know we needed till today. Stress! Still, at least it’s been fun playing around with flyers and looking like I know what I’m doing. Ho ho.

Tonight, I’m out at Guildford Writers – I’ve decided to stop taking along The Bones of Summer now and am taking the first page of my fun spoof novel instead. Well, Bones is fairly well launched into its orbit (I hope), and I tend to rely on more regular input from my Writewords Novel Group for it. And the spoof novel will probably be easier to provide instant crit for – as even I know my usual stuff is quite bizarre and difficult. Anyway, we’ll see.

Today’s nice things:

1. Calming pills
2. Lunchtime stroll
3. Guildford Writers.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Freshers’ Fayre, traffic cones and the vampire whale

Spent a lot of yesterday evening feeling shattered and napping before … um … going to bed, so decided to stop the rot today by taking a De-Stress pill first thing. So far, it’s working, aha! Still think I should have brought the darn things into work with me though. Once again, I have been running round the campus replacing arrows so that students don’t get lost in the bushes on their way to various registrations. Or not too many times anyway. M’dears, it’s utterly exhausting … Pause for smelling salts and an elegant sinking onto the sofa …

Not only that but the boss deposited a full box of chocolates on my desk last night – sadly not for me (arrgghh!!), but for the students while they register. So I was forced to hand the choccies over to the Registration people for them to distribute this morning, sigh … But all was not lost, as I did nick one last night …

Oh, and I was dealing with an issue posted in our Student Care inbox today and sent a reply back to the parent, adding that I hoped their child was settling in anyway in spite of the problems. The parent’s reply was that yes they must be, as they’d just received a photo of their child with a traffic cone on their head. Wonderful! Difficult to know how to reply to that one really – at least not without incurring the wrath of Security!... Ho hum.

This afternoon, I’ve been helping to staff the Student Care Services stall at the Freshers’ Fayre. Only two hours, but still more exhausting really. Though the students seemed to enjoy it, so that's something anyway. Mind you, back in the office, we had a fun time reminiscing about hot-looking builders we have known. Sigh … Though I do think that Carol was wondering why she’d decided to work in an office with three women in their forties – ah, you have all that to come, Carol!...

And I was doing so well too, on the attempts to be calm front when yet another punter from a geographically distant fellow service (not the same as the last one, thank God) sent an email to my boss (who isn't in today) telling him how disappointed he was with the wording for his particular service on the new campus map. Which was the map I've spent the last two weeks running around like the proverbial trying to produce for Freshers' Week. Well, if the bugger had actually told me he wanted a wording change, that might have been nice ... I sent a rather stiff email back adding that as we currently have the only map of the University with the correct information on (bearing in mind the recent restructuring etc etc), then at least the students stand more of a chance of getting to places they want to go. Wording or no wording. I then spent five minutes spitting and swearing like a trooper in the office and deciding that the best way forward to deal with the bugger is to remove his head, laminate it and stuff it up his own bottom. Without anaesthetic. A secretarial procedure that only a few of us know ... Ah, if only, if only.

As a result the rest of the office has decided that we are all going to send as many emails as possible expressing disappointment in mealy-mouthed tones to anyone that crosses us. Ha! That'll show the b******s. Oh, and Ruth bought Dolly Mixtures sweets to cheer us all up, and Carol sent me a wonderful email telling me how impressed she was with the map and how much she loved the colours. Thanks, guys ... Hugely. Onward and upward, eh. Ho hum.

And I’ve endeavoured to respond to this week’s Writewords Flash Fiction II challenge, which is: write something about a vampire whale, a giant extra-strong red chilly ice-lolly falling from the sky (which happens to be as a result of global warming and global cooling all at the same time), and a hero or heroine. Heck! No pressure then … I came up with:

A cautionary tale

Albert was once again searching for ice-lollies. He’d been doing this for a while as the supply of dolphins, squid and the odd swimmer had grown a little scarce since the onset of global warming. It was a hard time to be a vampire whale; all his victims had swum north for the winter. Making do with sea-horses and aphids just didn’t cut it with him, and only ice-lollies helped staunch his natural blood-lust.

He sighed and just then a loud plop told him that lunch had arrived – at last! Snatching it, he realised it was one of the lollies made from stomach flesh – his favourites. He waggled his huge whale body with delight as he sunk his whale-teeth into the icy treat. Mmm. Someone up there must be killing people on the nearby mountain and throwing them into the sea in small chunks. Except this one was wonderfully large and – oh goody – extra-strong flavour too. Shame they weren’t hot and tender of course, but it couldn’t be helped; the localised global cooling resulting from the mountains had a lot to answer for. Albert smiled, master of all he surveyed once more.

Meanwhile, far far above, Jacintha the were-guinea pig chuckled to herself as she watched Albert chew the poisoned flesh she’d found for him. She’d get rid of that darn whale if it was the last thing she did. One day, global warming or no global warming, were-guinea pigs would inherit the world.



Tonight, I have a sherry in my sights – maybe two – and an evening of chilling. Mind you, after that bit of flash fiction, I probably deserve it! Not convinced that any more writing will get done either. And as for Freshers’ Week – well, thank the Lord I’m not full-time is what I say ...

And I've just finished the Heavyglow Flash Fiction collection - very enjoyable indeed. I particularly enjoyed offerings from John Ritchie, Brian Cabrera and Oren Shafir. Great stuff!

Today’s nice things:

1. The traffic cone lady
2. Carol's email and Ruth's sweets
3. Writing a piece of flash fiction.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Hot Golfer and a quick reversal

I've managed to get my character studies for The Bones of Summer into some kind of sensible order and with enough content to spark me off. So hurrah indeed! It's given me one or two incredibly useful ideas for people's motives and where I go from here, so that's a relief. One of the ideas in fact came totally out of left field and I thought: yes, that's why it happens as it will do. That makes sense. I do love it in this writing game when you get those moments when your skin tingles. It's great. It keeps you going. And God knows how you need to be kept going.

With that happiness filling my head, I've had one of my best golf games ever, I think. And certainly one of my most consistent. Hell, I was just rocking - and, believe me, that's rarely the case. My tee shots were the straightest they've ever been for sure. Marian and I were just hysterical with laughter over it all, and boy did I get cocky. Bloody hell, I could have spat at the ball and it might well have gone happily onto the fairway. I'll revel in it while I can, as you can guarantee that this "In The Zone" feeling won't last! Indeed, the very sweet old gent in front of us wisely said that a good golf game is not given, but lent by the Lord for a time, and we must enjoy it until it's taken away again. Too bloody right, mate!

Afterwards I went shopping in Godalming and was so psyched up that I actually reversed (yes!! Reversed!! You did read that right ...) into a car park space first time. Ye gods and little fishes - will the day's miracles never end? We-ell, I thought, I understand my character, I've just played a shit-hot game of golf and, even though I'm a woman, I can bloody well reverse into that space. Which was exactly what I did. The only thing missing at that point was a swift round of applause from the passers-by, but I suppose I must come down to earth sometime. Honestly, my head was so big by the time I got back home that I'm surprised I managed to get into the flat at all.

This afternoon, I have submitted some poems to "The Seventh Quarry" poetry magazine, read through and made suggestions for work in my Writewords groups, and had someone give me some brilliant suggestions for changes to Chapter Two of The Bones of Summer which I have now done. Many thanks indeed, Susan.

Later on, I'd better get the Wedgwood out for tonight's dinner with friends and make sure it looks presentable. We don't have enough normal crockery for six people, and Lord alone knows where we're going to put the table, but I'm sure we'll cope somehow. I'm looking forward to seeing Robin & Liz and their partners - we always have a really good evening, if late! Robin is something of a night owl really. But you know me - I must admit it will be nice to put the flat back to how we usually have it afterwards. Lordy, but I'd best have a bath too, and put my non-golf clothes on!

Today's nice things:

1. Getting excited by my character studies
2. Golf
3. Reversing into a space with style and panache!

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Day of groaning

Heavy Monday-itis today – a morning full of pain and groaning. Most of it mine. Have felt really demotivated and haven’t wanted to talk to anyone at all. Which is a shame as everyone seems to have so much to say. Damn it. Carol is back from honeymoon, complete with tan and wedding cake, so that’s nice. Especially as the cake appears to have a high booze content, hurrah. And, boy, have I needed that!

Some good news on the Mother front though – they think they’ve got all the nasty cancer bits out, though they might give her some Chemo sessions just to make sure – but they haven’t made up their minds yet. And probably won't till the surgeon comes back from her holiday in the Bahamas. The National Health Service is a wonderful thing, you know ... This will probably mean she’ll (Mother, not the surgeon ...)have to rebook her hols (my, how she does love her hols!) next year rather than this, but – as I told her last night – there’s at least another 20 years in the Old Gal yet.

I also seem to have spent a large part of the morning contacting the Nationwide to try to get them to stop a cheque. A simple admin process, you would have thought, but not when it takes ten minutes to work your way through the phone system to get to speak to a real person. And when I finally got to him, I had to go through the usual 100 questions before they actually believed I’m me. I’d just done those and was getting to the point where I could tell him what I wanted him to do when the damn phone got cut off. Arrrrggghhh!!! So I had to go through the whole thing again – deep sigh! Mind you, the second time, when I finally got to a real voice, I told it exactly what I wanted first and then did the security stuff. The customer fights back – aha! And they call this progress? Frankly, m’dear, it’s bollocks. Anyway, Jane H, if you’re reading, I’ve done the biz and sent you a new one – hurrah! And phew!

Thank goodness for my lunchtime reflexology session – I needed the chill zone big-time today for sure.

Oh, and I’ve sent off my signed contract for Maloney’s Law to John for onward transmission to PD Publishing so I look like a professional author. Almost. Even if only temporarily. Ho ho.

And I see on the Writewords site that yet another site expert has been appointed. So huge congrats of course to Claire – but surely now the site has so many darn Chiefs that there’s very little room for us Indians??!. To be honest, I really think it’s time to stop appointing experts as soon there’ll be no-one left to mentor or advise. Or whatever it is experts actually do that the rest of us don’t, if asked … And yes I know that sounds bitchy, but I do think it has to be said. Cue another deep sigh.

Tonight, I’ve got the ruddy shopping, so won’t be able to get home till later – and believe me I really really need to be at home. I do so hate it when I can’t get back sharpish. It’s my essential recharging zone. Much like Seven of Nine even outside the Borg Collective (apologies – just thought I’d slip in a Star Trek reference, as it makes me feel happier).

Oh, and here’s a poem:

Inkwells

Tall blue flowers
stand in an inkwell
as large as a desk.

They are as blue
as the sky
but the inkwell is clear.

Sometimes it's as if
I am empty
and all the world is coloured.


Post-shopping, I suspect a whisky (update: two so far, hurrah!) is definitely on the cards. And there are some chocolate squares in the house – thank goodness …! Nothing like a balanced diet, you know.

And I've just finished Anne Tyler's Digging to America. Hmm. Not vintage Tyler, to my mind. And some of it was quite irritating. Though I did laugh out loud on two occasions, so it does have something. Just not quite sure what. And is it me, or did she get bored at the end and ... um ... simply stop?

Today’s nice things:

1. Mother continuing to beat off the Grim Reaper once more
2. Poetry
3. Whisky. And chocolate squares.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Olives, mobiles and sneaky neighbours

Had a fantastic time with Jane & Ang at Prezzo’s last night – we were the last ones out of the restaurant, so I think they were desperately waiting for us to leave, poor things. Will they accept another booking from us? We’ll have to see, eh …

Today the rainy season appears to have restarted, and I think I’m coming down with a cold (Jane/Ang – take those vitamins – now …). I have taken my Echinaforce tablets and am attempting to think positive thoughts. If that doesn’t work, I shall resort later this morning to my super-cold zapper pills.

Apart from that, it’s all quiet on the Western Front today, Carruthers … the curse of August on campus indeed. Though, to be fair, I’ve been doing a fair amount of urgent work on the website and sending out the odd set of minutes here and there. As you do. It was too cold and wet to go for my usual lunchtime walk, so I ended up sitting in the nearest meeting room for half an hour with my Star Trek Monthly magazine. Never say I don’t have elegance and discernment. It’s a great read!

And ooh! Ooh! Apparently, my new mobile phone has arrived at Lord H’s work – well, we think that’s what it is, but he won’t open it as it’s addressed to me. No matter how much I ask him. Sigh! So I’ll have to wait till later this evening to get a chance to play with it. As it were. I do admit to having slight worries when he described the size of the box it came in – have I unintentionally bought a brick?? We’ll have to see …

Tonight, Lord H is battling the weather to hunt the buffalo (aka doing the weekly shop) and I still have the ironing to do. Actually, I’m sure I have ironing to do that isn’t even ours. Which adds weight to my theory that when Lord H and I are out, half the people in the street sneak in and add their unironed items to my basket. Then when I’ve done it, they make the return journey to claim their belongings. Damn it. So, taking into account the low level of my ironing skills, there must really be a lot of crumpled people walking about town.

Later on, I might see how I feel about adding a few more words to The Bones of Summer – but only if I’m in the mood. And I’d also like to think about drafting a piece of flash fiction for this week’s Writewords Flash Fiction theme of “my favourite food”. So what should I choose? Chocolate? Green olives? Chips? Mashed potato with gravy? Custard? Ah, the list is endless – so much choice, m’dears, so much choice! Oh, hello, I think it’s olives:

An acquired taste

Angelina smiled her most seductive smile, reached out from the bed and took two green olives from the side dish.
‘Olives?’ her companion asked, an answering smile on his face.
‘Oh yes,’ she purred. Without breaking his gaze, she ate one of the two, licking the juice from her fingers. ‘One for me.’
Then she eased the other into a place where olives weren’t accustomed to residing.
‘And one for you,’ she said.


Other interesting news - Flame Books are considering bringing out a 2nd edition of A Dangerous Man - with quotes on the back cover - so Michael had better spruce himself up in case he gets the chance for a second outing. You never know your luck, eh ...

Today’s nice things:

1. A possible rerun for A Dangerous Man
2. Writing
3. Getting a new mobile – I hope!

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Lunch with Julia and Guildford Writers

Had something of a nostalgia session last night when I got out my hats (well, all three of them) to see which one I’m going to wear for Carol’s wedding on Saturday. The choice is the wide-brimmed blue (which doesn’t fit terribly well), the quirky green (more for the fun occasion) or the smart casual cream with ribbon (ideal wedding get-up, really). Naturally, I went for the latter. I think I’ll wear it with the light green dress and matching jacket. Lord only knows what shoes and handbag I’ll opt for. (Oh heck, am I having a Girly Moment??! Someone pass me the normality pills again …) Equally naturally, the hats are buried in the same place in the flat as our wedding photos, so I was poring over those too and weeping at how young and innocent we once were. Or at least how young and innocent we once looked. Yes, there is a difference. Ah well …

Anyway, great joy at breakfast today, when Lord H and I spotted a wren in the garden. Rushed to get the binoculars in the kitchen (yes, it is fairly sad that we keep them there at the moment but you never know when you might catch a glimpse of a bird you just have to have a closer look at …) and, yes, there it was – small brown job with a sticky-up tail. Wonderful! And while I’m on the subject of binoculars, we’ve discovered a fantastic aid to marital harmony with them (no, people – you have very peculiar minds, honestly!...) – if you turn them the wrong way round and look at the other person through them, then the whole problem looks so much more distant and manageable. Bliss!

Am thinking of preparing my annual reports for work sometime over the next week or so – to save the mad panic in October and to look super-efficient at the same time. It might help to make a start soon anyway, as I’m hoping to have some time off during October, post the Freshers nightmare, so anything I can do now to ease the pressure then will be a plus point, I’m sure. But first I need to change the Student Advice & Information Service (SAIS) web references to be just Student Advice, as we’ve decided the old name is really too much of a mouthful. Even we have trouble remembering it, let alone the customers! I’m the Web Queen once more then …

Had lunch with Julia from UniSWriters today – very enjoyable, though everyone’s feeling the heat as we approach the end of the restructuring process. It’ll be so much better when the powers that be have sorted themselves out. One hopes.

Oh and here’s a piece of flash fiction for the Writewords Flash Fiction II Group. The theme is “On the road again”:

On the road again

That’s it then. Another door shut, with the bloke behind it already lighting a smoke and wishing I was further away than I am. Same old, same old. God knows I try my best but I never stay anywhere long. This time, though, it felt different. Just a little. And I half-think about knocking on the peeling paintwork, waiting for him to open it – if he does – and maybe even asking to talk.
But I don’t. What’s the point? Talking never solved anything. Not for me.
So instead of doing what everyone else might have done, if only in books – instead of that I shoulder my rucksack, twisting the belt around me until it’s tight against my hips, spit once on the line of broken flowerpots and stride down the steps and into the night.
The city is in that empty phase between shedding its daytime office junkies and welcoming the party-goers, the clubbers and the hookers. Around me, with the street lights flickering in the winter dusk, I can feel it drawing breath, waiting for things to turn, waiting for the night to begin.
I pass Tottenham Court tube and head east. Cars crawl by me, buses too, and the fumes and the noise are almost overwhelming. But I pay them no attention. I just keep on walking, elbowing my way through groups of high-heeled girls and boys dressed only in black. The air is rich with sweat and perfume. At times like this, the road becomes once again the only friend I can trust.
Finally, when the crowds begin to thin out, destinations reached or parties given up on, I weave my path away from the main streets and into the city’s darker corners. Here, the smell of urine and Meths takes over from sweat and scent. The change isn’t unwelcome.
When I find a shop doorway, sheltered enough to protect me from any rain, I ease the rucksack off my shoulders, curl myself up next to it and sleep. It’s familiar enough for my sleep to be dreamless. I’m on the road again.



Tonight I’m off to Guildford Writers – drinks afterwards are most definitely on me to celebrate my book deal. Good job I got paid last week then!

Oh and I've just finished Samantha Wynne Rhydderch's poetry collection, Rockclimbing in Silk. Hmm, too many words, m'dear. They were bludgeoning me like stone-age hunters closing in on the prey. So much so that no meaning appeared to be left at all. I can't remember why I decided to buy it, to be frank, and that's a good couple of hours of my life I won't get back. The whole thing has completely exhausted me - so not one I can recommend, I'm afraid.

Today’s nice things:

1. Seeing a wren
2. Lunch with Julia
3. Guildford Writers.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Pink Champagne and Apple Juice
Goldenford Publishers

Coffee, reflexology and shopping

Slight case of Monday Morning Syndrome today, groan. Probably made worse by the need to drown a spider in the bath before I could start my day. Double groan. At work, I kept staring bleakly at people attempting to engage me in meaningful conversation and feeling hopeless. Don’t think the continued rain and general overcast weather is helping much either. Had loads of emails about meetings to sort out when I finally managed to open my inbox without screaming too – which was scary, but I think I’ve dealt with them all now. A process which involved arranging a variety of meetings up until June 2008 (never say we in the University are not prepared for the year …), so at least I looked fairly efficient in the midst of my existential gloom. Ho ho.

However, as there are only three of us in the office today, we all decided we needed to get out before we went stir-crazy, so we popped out for coffee on campus at 10.30. Ye gods, but it was nice to get out and chat. Made me almost feel normal again. I had a decaff cappuccino – I’m hyper enough without a caffeine fix, don’t you know …

Ooh, and some writing news – Jools from Writewords has just set up a new online publisher – Mighty Erudite – so please do look it up and see if you’re able to submit anything – she’s a really lovely person, so I’m sure it will be well worth it.

I’ve written a piece of flash fiction for the Writewords Flash Fiction II challenge – the theme is in the title:

Sympathy for the Devil

It ain’t easy having a forked tail and horns, you know. Nobody ever thinks of that, but it’s true. Well, even I have to admit it was much easier in the Middle Ages, when everyone believed me and found my appearance shocking. So shocking that I’d sometimes lose them altogether to Him Upstairs (May He Never Be Named). He always was a bit of a trickster, that one. Never trust anyone with a halo and relationship issues is my advice. For what it’s worth.

Anyway, the way I look is a bit of a problem these days. I have to make sure my trousers are pretty roomy at the back so I can curl my tail round without stabbing myself. No, don’t laugh. You try explaining it at A&E – last time I was there I had to evaporate the two nurses who saw to me with a blast of my special hot breath as otherwise the game might have been up. I think they’re still listed as missing, poor dears …

And, as for the horns, I do the best I can with a rather Boris hairstyle (another one of mine, you know – I’m so proud; London has much excitement in store once he’s mayor) and a demon barber. But on the couple of occasions that my cover’s been blown (if I may use that phrase), the – err-hem – woman in questioned has always just laughed. Women are the devil, eh! Or they were immediately afterwards. Think they both quite like their new roles in hell too – then again, anything’s better than the Eastern bloc countries.

So there you have it. A valid reason for not judging by appearances – after all, you may never know (and, believe me, you won’t – not till it’s too late) when you’re entertaining devils unawares. And yes, before you ask, He Who May Never Be Named did plagiarise me for that one. After all, I get all the good lines, don’t I?



Had a much-needed reflexology session at lunchtime – honestly, I’m not sure I could get by without them, you know! It made me feel energised. Almost. Post-work, I’ve struggled round Tesco to do the shopping. Never say my life is not one rollercoaster round of excitement … And tonight, I’m torn between doing a bit of writing and slobbing in front of the TV. Thank goodness I don’t have to go out though – that would have been way too much for a Monday!

Today’s nice things:

1. Mid-morning coffee
2. Reflexology
3. A little bit of writing.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Pink Champagne and Apple Juice
Goldenford Publishers

Church and chilling

Yes, time to sit down, people, as astonishingly we have actually gone to church today. Not to our former Sunday abode (God forbid - never again, I think!) but to St Mary's in Shackleford. Nice looking building - quite light inside, but with a traditional feel. And what must surely be the longest aisle in the county. At least for a village church. Sensible move therefore to put a communion table in the middle of it - if the priest had actually done the biz at the altar, we would never have been able to see him at all.

And, service-wise, it was okay. Only 45 minutes, fairly straightforward and with some much-appreciated periods of silence as we flitted our way through. I was rather taken with the priest's sense of humour too - he messed up the opening words, greeting us with "Grace, Merce and Peacey" instead of the more usual phrase, and then broke into some wonderfully ice-breaking giggles and explained that he'd been out at a party the night before. Well, it had been Saturday ... After which we all laughed with him and started again. Much the best way to approach any religious service, to my mind. Ye gods, but if we can't laugh at that, what the hell can we laugh at?!

The sermon was fine too - pleasingly feminist, and I liked the way he took the story of Mary sitting at Jesus' feet, listening, and Martha bustling away in the kitchen, and didn't give us the usual spin on it. Instead, he pointed out that the scenario actually shows how Jesus took gender expectations of male hospitality (the men should be entertaining the guest, and the women should be behind the scenes) and turned the whole thing on its head by allowing Mary the right to be there. Not something I'd thought of before. I'm all for equality (as long as I'm first, eh?!...).

Post-service, the (rather posh but perfectly pleasant) people of St Mary's were obviously so astonished to find some strangers in their midst that they fell upon us with cries of joy and biscuits. Which was a bit scary in its way, but strangely not horrid.

And the really, really good thing about St Mary's is that they only have two services a month - so no need to feel committed on a serious level, hurrah! So, we'll see ... but, bloody hell, I ain't going in for a sainthood yet awhile.

Back on the ranch, I have (at last! at last!) managed to get 10,000 words done to The Bones of Summer. And the plot (I hope ...) is beginning to rattle along more, which pleases me. Craig, I think, is turning out to be a character with his own timings and ways of doing things, in spite of his apparent level-headedness and quietness. Hmm, it's a funny life.

And I've written a poem inspired by yesterday:

Parakeets

My dreams are filled
with parakeets.
They fly,
green bodied and full,
from tree to river
across my path.

Surprising visitors
not native to this island
but growing so,
I would, like you,
take an unknown journey,
welcome unlooked for,
my own bright plumage fluttering,
glimpsed on an unsung shore.



This afternoon, I'm planning a well-deserved nap, catching up on my two "Will & Grace" videos, and later on I'll ring Mother and see how she's doing. Ooh, and tonight there's the joy and sorrow of the last episode of "Rome", as well as the need to video "Clapham Junction" (part of Channel 4's gay week). Talking of which, did anyone see the utterly marvellous "A Very British Sex Scandal" last night - about 1950s homosexuality and the lead-up to the Wolfendon Report? It was incredibly human and gripping, and extremely well done. And an eye-opener to me, who had no idea about the era at all. Also interesting to hear men today talking about how things had been then - social history is just so good. The older I get, the more it seems to mean to me.

Oh, and two kind Writewords folk have had pity on me and taken the review copies of A Dangerous Man and A Stranger's Table which have been hanging around since March - so another load off my mind! Unless they hate them of course - you never can tell in this game.

This week's haiku is:

Two grey herons
on grass: elegant S-shapes
carved in summer air.


Lordy, lordy, but am I becoming a bird-obsessive? Someone pass me the smelling salts ...

Today's nice things:

1. Church without fear
2. Getting 10,000 words done to The Bones of Summer without imploding (yet)
3. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Pink Champagne and Apple Juice
Goldenford Publishers

Day out with the birds

Spent a lovely day out at the London Wetland Centre in Barnes today - part of the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust. Not quite as natural as the RSPB centre at Pulborough Brooks - as some of it was rather too "organised" in terms of layout for us - but still very nice. And worth a visit if you're ever that way. Heck of a lot of ruddy coot though. I think they're the pigeons of the water world. Anyway, we saw ring-necked parakeets (which are now breeding in southern Britain and are a glorious shade of green), sedge warblers, grey herons, what we think was a siskin, and what I'm fairly convinced (though I admit it's unusual) was a nightingale. And I do have to say that the Barnes centre has fantastic loos and plenty of them too. Plus handtowels instead of those appallingly uncivilised hand-drying machines (which must have been invented by a man, I'm sure ...), so I'd say that, although we won't join as members, we will go again. Just not as often as to Pulborough Brooks.

Back in the shires, and as of yesterday, the books I sent into Writewords in March(!) have now finally been offered on site for review, after a couple of chases from me - ie A Dangerous Man and A Stranger's Table. But, oh the utter humiliation - nobody has "bitten" yet, so I am reduced to sending round a begging email. Well, as near as. Sigh! I am obviously not Mrs Popular on site at the moment (so no change there then!) - honestly, it's just like being back at primary school (oh God, please no!!!) and being last to be picked for the netball team ... Let's hope some kind writer takes pity on me soon, eh!

Tonight, Lord H and I are having a Chinese and beer. Hurrah! Still no champers, I'm afraid, as still no sign of any Maloney's Law contract yet. Never say a writer's life is one of glamour and parties - more like waiting and hoping, m'dears.

Today's nice things:

1. A day out with the birds
2. Chinese food
3. Beer.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Pink Champagne and Apple Juice
Goldenford Publishers

A nearly contract and a failed bookstall

The sounds of semi-rejoicing are heard in the Godalming fields - John Jarrold has just sent a final "yes" to PD Publishing in the US about Maloney's Law. Well, shiver me timbers but I might soon have an actual, real contract to sign. Ye gods, but that will be a miracle indeed. Shocked Godalming Writer has to take a long lie-down and some strong smelling salts - the perfect headline in fact. However, I'm not cracking open the champagne until the contract is in my hot little hand. I know too well what this game is like, m'dears ...

I spent the first part of this morning polishing up my women & gay fiction article and sending it out to those noble women who have contributed to my meanderings - ie Erastes, M L Rhodes and Sharon Maria Bidwell - so they can check they like the content. After I've okayed it with them, I think I'll try Mslexia magazine first, before heading to the usual suspects. As it were. I think it's got a feminist interest angle, which is what they always seem to go for.

The rest of the day has been spent with Irene at the Shepperton bookstall on behalf of Goldenford. Gordon Bennett, but it was pissing it down. Big time. We got soaked packing the car with the books, and then I parked in what was basically a lake in the Shepperton Village Hall carpark. This involved us wading through water which was well over our ankles just in order to unload the car. We were utterly wet through, and I spent the whole afternoon barefoot - and still my socks and shoes didn't dry!! Dammit. And with all that, we only sold one book - one of Irene's, hurrah! So, all in all, not a great success. I doubt we'll be doing that one again. Still, we did get a lot of brainstorming done - we think that next time we do a Goldenford stall, we need props - such as pink champagne, free apple juice, red wine, Indian accessories and Medieval food and ceramics. All of which relate to our books. At least it will get the punters talking - let's hope it get them buying too!

Back home, I've attempted to ring Mother - but discover she's already been sent home. Double huzzahs all round. Ye gods, but keyhole surgery is amazing. She still has further tests to undergo to find out if she needs chemotherapy, but I'm hoping not, and that all will be well. But it's great news that she's back home, especially for her wedding anniversary next week. My stepfather is apparently even bringing her tea - which is a miracle in itself.

Oh, and today, Writewords has finally offered A Dangerous Man and A Stranger's Table for review. Not much interest or many takers so far, dammit, but I'm hoping someone on site might be persuaded soon. Lord, but it will be sooooo embarrassing if nobody wants them - after all, I've been a regular there for about three years now. Help!

Today's nice things:

1. My nearly contract - here's hoping ...
2. Getting my article finished
3. Mother being at home.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Pink Champagne and Apple Juice
Goldenford Publishers