The Truth About Butterflies and fantasy failure

I've just published my second book on the Kindle today - it's a lesbian erotic collection, The Truth About Butterflies, and consists of two stories about first-time experiences:

In Butterfly Girl, Abi’s marriage is happy enough but she’s bored. When she meets Tina online, they quickly become friends. Soon their virtual friendship becomes the mainstay of Abi’s life, and when Tina propositions her, Abi’s initial surprise gives way to an unexpected and overwhelming desire …
In Truth or Dare, Kate and Suzie have always been best friends, for as long as they can remember. However, one night at the pub away from their men leads them both to startling revelations as they resurrect their old childhood game of Truth or Dare. 

And it's just received a 4-star review at KazzaK Book Reviews and Therapy, so many thanks to Karen for that.

Meanwhile, my book tour for fantasy novel The Gifting has just finished, and well done to Trix for winning the 3 ebook prize! Sadly however, nobody entered the competition to win a Kindle so even though I'm told that the tour had plenty of hits, there were few commenters and, as far as I'm aware, no buyers - so something of a failure, alas. To be honest, that was my last-ditch attempt to raise any interest in the Gathandrian Trilogy, so I'm not entirely sure where that leaves it all now ...

Very kindly, Bluewood have agreed to publish the second in the trilogy, Hallsfoot's Battle, and there's a really fantastic (pun almost deliberate ...) cover for it, but I'm beginning to wonder if it will really be worth any of our time, ah well. Something for everyone to ponder on maybe.

Anyway, turning to happier moments, it was great to have breakfast on the patio this morning in glorious sunshine. How we do love an Indian summer - though it actually now appears to be over as it's raining, sigh ...

And I made cake yesterday - Seriously Rich Chocolate Cake which, even though it looked like soup when I put it in the oven, has turned out surprisingly well, and is tasty too, hurrah.

Finally, I'm planning more Kindle publishing over the next month or so, so watch this space for a collection of Biblical fiction just in time for Christmas (arrghh, the "C" word - sorry!)

Anne Brooke
Gay Reads UK

Hedges and haiku

Life News:

Had a great time yesterday at Elstead Writers' Group and got some wonderful ideas about a story I'm struggling with about a widow and a very special library - loads to think about so thank you to all! I've also continued with my baking extravaganza and this weekend's delight has been chocolate fudge cake. There were one or two dodgy moments with the icing but it was a lot better if I didn't follow what the packet said, sigh. Anyway, I think I managed to salvage it and there've been no complaints, hurrah.

And, with thanks to Jacqui at Elstead Writers, I have rushed to Waitrose and bought gingerbread porridge. Mmm, can't wait to try this. Apparently it's amazing. For most of this weekend, K and I have been planting our red dogwood hedge in the front garden - we did half yesterday and have just finished it off today, and it looks pretty good. Mind you, it's certainly heavy work so I don't think we'll be doing another hedge for a while.

We've also obtained a second quote for our roofing problem from another recommended chappie and are now even more confused than we were before, sigh. I'll try to chase up the third company tomorrow and see if I can get them to come round at some point. It might be a little clearer after that - I'm hoping so anyway as it's totally messing with my head at the moment, sigh ...

I've also just completed this weekend's RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch, and have spotted 2 great tits, 4 blue tits, 2 long-tailed tits and 2 redwing, so have submitted those to them, and will look forward to seeing the results for the UK later this Spring. It's great to be able to take part in this for the first time ever, as of course we've never had a garden to do it in before (as it were). Hell, it's almost like being grown-up, you know.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, having a big packet of Giant Chocolate Buttons in the house does make the days seem brighter, double hurrah and hang out the bunting. Plus there's even some left for tonight, mmm.

Book News:

Just a reminder that in case you're looking for something to read that'll take you to places you've not been to before, then I'm happy to point you in the direction of the first in my fantasy trilogy, The Gifting. The Kindle ebook is only £1.91, and the paperback only £7.68 with free delivery worldwide so buy early and buy often! Don't forget you can browse the reviews and read an extract to whet your appetite. Thank you.

And the Sunday haiku is:

A pair of buzzards
master the sky, their wingtips
caressing bright cloud.

Anne Brooke
The Gathandrian Fantasy Trilogy
Gay Reads UK
Biblical Fiction UK

Discounts and doorbells

Book News:

There's a 25% discount on The Hit List direct from the publisher this month so buy early buy often. And this weekend only, there's also a 20% discount on Sunday Haiku from Rainbow Ebooks, so Sunday is definitely a good shopping day.

Meanwhile, The Delaneys and Me found itself briefly at No 62 in the Amazon charts, and Tommy's Blind Date was equally briefly at no 50. That was certainly a nice feeling anyway. I've also, much to my delight, looked again at The Executioner's Cane, and have this weekend added 2,000 words to its wordcount, hurrah. It might just become a novel one day, you never know.

Recent meditations are:


Meditation 440
After the clamour
of battle
and the stark
inevitability of death:

the quiet washing away
of blood
and the song
of the women.


Meditation 441
The sea calls him
even now in this land
of desert and whispered song.

It is like God:
mysterious, other,
a depth and story

he cannot imagine
and to which
he may never belong.


The Sunday haiku (there's been a heck of a lot of ladybirds about over the last couple of days, mainly all over our white outer door in colourful fashion ...) is:

Sun-flung ladybirds
paint my door with promises
red and ebony.

Life News:

K returned from Dubai (hurrahs!!!!) which was totally delightful and brought me a present of a camel in a snow-globe. So I can add that with pride to my burgeoning snow-globe collection. I'm sure it will be happy to join the old Pope in a snowstorm, the Holy Family in a snowstorm and Noah's Ark in a snowstorm, amongst others. Never say we're not classy here in the shires.

Yesterday, Pauline and Tony from Kent visited us for lunch and we played catch-up which was great. Pauline's been keeping up with the traumas of the House Saga (or rather Lack of House Saga) and very sweetly (pun not intended) bought me loads of goodies to cheer me up - including wine, home-made jam (mmmm ....), a box of chocolate biscuits, and an outrageously enormous box of Thorntons which is actually so incredibly large that it won't even fit in the fridge. Well, gosh, and thank you, my dear!! I suspect that K and I will be nearly as large as the box after we've eaten them all ...

Meanwhile, the DIY project is continuing - and we now have, for the first time in the 17 years of being here, a real-live front doorbell. Whatever next? It's almost like being normal members of the local community, you know - like having a real bridge to the outside world, which up until now we've largely ignored as nobody knows how to get up here anyway. We live in terror of someone actually ringing the dang thing, but I suppose that, like the phone, we can always on the whole ignore it. Sociopaths 'r' us, eh ...

Anne Brooke

Teeth, poodles and chocolate

A small meditation today, but here it is anyway:

Meditation 150

Wood and flesh
bring darkness

across the earth.
Sometimes the questions

will not protect you.
Only listen.


Had booked dentist and dental hygienist appointments this morning, so my teeth are now all gleaming white and sparkling, hurrah. Apparently I've been brushing well and both dentist and hygienist are smiling at me today. Still no lollipop for good behaviour though - but I suppose that works against the effort they're making. Ah well. Mind you, it's amazing what you find out. I had a good chat with the dentist about the glories of Springwatch and whether Chris Packham is gay or not (well, he has poodles - clipped ones - and he regularly fluffs up his hanging plants, so what were we supposed to think? Though I do accept that might be a tad narrow-minded of me ...). We've decided he isn't, at the moment, particularly in light of the mention of the girlfriend yesterday, but wonder if he's the forerunner of the "new camp" which is apparently the "old straight". Lordy, it's so urbane and confusing these days. It's amazing we keep up at all.

Also I've discovered that the hygienist had a lovely time on the Nile earlier on this year (Egypt - what joy! You can't really go wrong, as long as you remember not to drink the water) and is now learning the guitar in between appointments. Good for her is what I say. People are always more than you think they are.

Anyway, after all that, I popped into Godalming with my super-smiley teeth and have bought two new tee-shirts and a jumper for my hols. Special bargain prices at the Edinburgh Woollen Mill. I am indeed the last of the fashion icons. There was also a charity sale on in the High Street, so I have bought a selection of home-made chocolate flapjacks, which I have to say are utter bliss. So good for the teeth too, of course. It'll be a miracle if any are left for Lord H, and I entirely blame Jason for all this who has tempted me to sin with talk of home-made chocolate cheesecake today. How could I resist?!?

This afternoon, I've been working away slowly on my short story about the threat of a very nasty letter - still can't think of a title for this one so it's currently going by the name of Post Story. Lordy, even I can see that's not going to get anywhere. I'm hoping more title inspiration will strike by the time I finish the story itself, but that won't be till after the holiday now. Plus I've fiddled around with my two upcoming Vulpes Libris reviews and put more links in them in order to encourage traffic to the site once they're posted. Well, that's the plan anyway.

I've also had my regular Alexander Technique lesson - I appear to be doing okay as next time we'll be working on my front now that my back knows what it should be doing. Well, almost. And there's no guarantee it will actually do it, but there you go. Tonight, there's the usual Friday night comedy hour though I must video the poetry programme too. Not sure when I'm going to watch it, but I'm sure a space will reveal itself at some point. Ho ho.

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Buying holiday clothes
3. Chocolate flapjacks
4. Working on that short story
5. Improving those VL reviews
6. Alexander Technique
7. TV.

Anne Brooke - the girl with the gleaming teeth ... in my dreams

The invisible writer and putting the boot in

God, what a day. It's really been one moment of crap followed closely by another moment of crap. On the whole. And ooh look another will be joining it shortly. Oh what joy. I am seriously pissed off. I don't know but people have been getting on my wick today, and irritating me beyond measure. Is it Let's Piss Anne Off Day and I missed the national email telling me so?? Deeep sigh ...

Anyway, first off, the ruddy hospital send me another letter telling me to come for a scan in March. Well, I've only just had a ruddy scan last week - what do they want me to buy? A season ticket?? Are my bits just so incredibly fascinating that they must scan them on a monthly basis? Naturally I rang up to sort it out first thing this morning, and the woman on the other end of the line told me there must be something wrong for them to want to bring me in again so soon. Well, that made me feel cheerful, I can tell you. However, after a few moments of hyperventilating and wondering how many days (nay minutes) I might have left to live, she came back and said there was nothing untoward on my notes and it must just be an error. Well, phew. All's well that ends proverbially, but I could have done without the ride. To be honest.

I then attempted to squeeze out some words for Hallsfoot's Battle but Lordy it's a total struggle today and I can't seem to raise any interest in it at all, let alone inspiration. Whatever that is. I've stretched it out to just (barely) over 94,000 words but that's quite a stretch and I suspect what I've attempted to add will have to be ditched in the eventual edit. And some. Sigh.

My headache really began to build up when I hot-footed it to golf and of course it's half-term so (reasonably enough) there is a plethora of young people on the course. So it took so much longer to trudge round. Added to that the fact that I can no longer open my car boot and therefore cannot get to my golf trolley, which meant I had to lug the damn bag round myself. Totally exhausting, my dears, and my arm aches like anything now. It was gone 1pm before we actually finished.

I then leapt desperately into Godalming to do some shopping I've been putting off for weeks, and then found when I got back that I only had half an hour to eat lunch before going to my Alexander Technique lesson. This gave me just enough time to (a) eat, (b) add another 100 sorry-looking words to poor old Hallsfoot, and (c) ring the garage to ask if I could bring the car round so they could look at my boot lock problem. To which the answer was: yes, anytime up till 6pm and they'd be sure to look at it for me.

I then went and had my AT lesson - which was okay but I wasn't sure I was relaxed enough to take anything in. Let alone how to be relaxed. Even the two calming pills I've taken today aren't helping me there. After that, I got to the garage (Lord, but Guildford traffic is serious crap) at just before 4pm. Only to be told that all the technical people leave at 4pm and can't look at my car until next week anyway. Then why the hell didn't they tell me that on the bloody phone when I rang???!!? God, but sometimes I think I'm totally invisible and nobody pays me a blind bit of notice. Are my perfectly valid questions simply the distant sound of soft bleating to them?? But fear not - I expressed my disappointment in reasonable yet firm terms and did not (as I longed to do) fall screaming to the floor in the ruddy showroom and start biting the tyres of the nearest sales car. Maybe I should have done. The upshot is that I've booked an appointment for the car to have its boot opened in a couple of weeks' time when we're back from holiday - on a day that Lord H can take me in as I couldn't have hired an alternative car apparently until the end of March. God, but it's so bloody complicated. Till then, at least I know the bloody things in the bloody boot are safe, even if the ruddy car gets stolen. Deeeep sigh.

Meanwhile, back at the work ranch, I see the very sweet lady from the Arts Office has sent an email round to the University Book Group telling us that when we're making our choices of the next tranche of books to talk about, we can't choose self-published books, even though last year they looked at "Anne Brooke's self-published novel, A Dangerous Man, as she is a staff member." Self-published?? A Dangerous Man?? I don't think so. Or, at least, it's the first I've heard of it. I'm sure Flame Books would be delighted to find out that their whole company is in fact run by ... me. Even deeeeeper sigh. I sent back a (rather less reasonable, but hell it's lucky I can still put words together in any kind of calm order at all) reply saying that while half of my novels are self-published, A Dangerous Man actually isn't and so was never part of any special dispensation to the rules, and I wouldn't expect to be treated differently anyway. As I has said at the time. Though in actual fact, it's also true to say that all of my available novels bar one are now commercially published, whether by paperback or eBook, and the next one off the press will also be a commercial production. Not that any of this will matter of course, as it now appears that anything I say is disregarded as random witterings or thought not important enough to remember - good to know my invisibility continues to widen its remit - at least something is working in Anne's World then, if only in a negative way ... In the meantime, it would be terribly refreshing if the facts about something I said or produced were actually listened to or regarded as remotely memorable - just once in my ruddy life!!...

In addition to all this, I've just had to speak to the middle neighbour (always tricky at the best of times) who somehow seems rather more tricksy than usual. He said something that particularly irritated me (and believe me my irritation levels are off the scale today, as you can probably tell) and instead of saying something jolly or soothing as I usually do (which is I know what I'm expected as a woman to do and which again he doesn't listen to, as a matter of course), I just didn't reply and stared at him. I think that took him by surprise, and I managed to escape earlier than anticipated, thank goodness. Any more conversation with people of any shape or form and I might just have to punch them, scream loudly and run away. God but that seems like a plan.

And here's today's meditation - the writing of which frankly seems a damn long time ago. Really I am pissed off with the whole of this day already and I want no more of it. I'm tired, that damn headache won't let me go, nobody listens to a word I say, I have the housework to face and I can't even open a bottle of wine any more to take the edge off. Bloody hell.

Meditation 74

The land breathes riches
for six years

and sleeps across your senses
for the seventh.

What you have not planted
will nourish you

and what you release
from your hand

will lighten your weight
upon the earth,

help you to dream again.


But do not fear, people - astonishingly, all is not lost. At the end of all this sludge and existential misery, Lord H has come back from work (hurrah!) and allowed me to pummel his chest in order to get rid of some of the angst - an essential duty which really should be performed by every husband. And I do feel a bit better now. Thank the Lord. Oh and I've had my third chocolate of the day - so my insulin levels will be crap but at least it raises the happy hormones ...

Today's nice things (um ...):

1. Chocolate
2. Lord H
3. Chocolate
4. Lord H.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - if you blink you'll miss it ...

Web mania and the chocolate festival

In spite of the rain, Lord H and I have made the effort to go out today, and ended up at the chocolate festival at Polesden Lacey. Mmmm, lovely. Though we were noble and did the house first - our attempts to dodge the Room Dragons were fairly successful, thank goodness. Mind you, there were children around so no doubt they had other things on their mind ... We also had a lovely walk across the always stunning grounds and the sun even shone for a while, astonishingly. Then we hit the Chocolate Tent, and were quite restrained, well for us - though I did have to drag Lord H away from the chocolate fountain before he plunged into it. And I discovered a really wonderful chocolate & courgette cake (yes, you are reading that right), with cinnamon. Lovely. We had it warmed with ice cream as pudding today, and even have some left over for tomorrow. It's the healthy option after all - no doubt being an extra portion of vegetables for the day.

For the rest of today, I have been setting up various Goldenford sites on the web. So we now have a Facebook page and a MySpace page - so do come along and make yourself known if you use either of those facilities. It will be lovely to see you in the online world! I make a damn good cup of virtual tea, you know.

I must also say how utterly wonderful yesterday's TV was. "Dr Who" was stunningly good and incredibly deep. It should really have been the first episode, to my mind - it deserved it for sure. And "Pushing Daisies" is an absolute Must See - quirky, wise and funny, and totally, totally off-the-wall. Like "Spaced" but set in America. I loved it. If you missed it, do make the effort to catch it next week - it's wonderful! Tonight though I shall be glued to "Foyle's War" and am already in mourning for the fact that there'll only be two more episodes ever after this one. What is wrong with programmers?? Foyle is amazing - why the hell are the idjits ditching him?? It's madness out there.

This week's haiku:

Through the cold sunlight
you spike the day with silence.
I wave a goodbye.


Today's nice things:

1. Chocolate festivals
2. Building up the Goldenford web profile (hey, I have the lingo, you know! Almost ...)
3. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Insane writers and the shallow chocolate-eater

Rushed into town this morning to get a shed-load of stuff which has been waiting to be bought for weeks. However, commerce is - once again - against me. I couldn't find half the stuff I wanted (deep sigh) and when I got home some of the stuff I'd actually bought was the wrong ruddy stuff (deeper sigh): it's just that the ruddy retailer had put the oil in the place where they usually put the soap and in the same packaging. So I'm no further forward. Plus I have something extra I don't need yet. And I still have to go back and get the things I really wanted at some point. Bloody hell - is it just me or do other people go haywire and get utterly stressed out when simple things don't go to plan?? I mean I could probably cope with style and finesse if World War Three broke out in Godalming (that den of crime and unrest), but I fall into a sobbing wreck when I can't find my soap. Hell, maybe I really am mad. This reminds me of a quote from a book I'm currently reading where Person A (reader) comments on what a glamorous lifestyle writers must have, and Person B (writer) thinks that there is surely nothing glamorous about being indoors for seven hours at a stretch trying not to go insane. There's wisdom in that, by George ...

Anyway, while in Godalming, I did manage to buy a Cadbury's Creme Egg to take as a small Easter present to my friend in hospital. However, by the time I got back in the car, I was so jazzed up and unable at all to cope with any more social interaction of any kind that I actually drove home instead and ate it myself. Even though I know chocolate is bad for my insulin problems, it went nicely with the De-Stress pill I found. Which only goes to show what a shallow, heartless bitch I am - taking chocolate from the mouths of the sick ... Shocking. I am sure that, in this Easter season, this is Not What Jesus Would Do. As that wretched evangelical bracelet doesn't say ...

Anyway, back here on the ranch where I am safe from meeting any people at all, I have made good the extra time gained from my day by finishing the whole of the edit to Irene's Darshan for Goldenford. Another wonderful literary novel, Irene! And what an ending - utterly fabulous.

I've just seen that A Dangerous Man has been included, along with other Flame Books publications, in the Amber Square listings (which is a new project to market books from small independent publishers - more power to their elbow, I say!) here. I'm hoping it might even sell a few more copies - well, you never know your luck.

And I've managed - in superspeedy mode - to solve the latest "Torchwood" mission, hurrah! Mind you, I've had to as the answer needs to be in by tomorrow night, dammit. They're obviously building up the tension to the grand finale, as they normally give us a week to solve the mystery. Still, I'm pretty pleased that I managed it on my own - it wasn't easy, I can tell you. You had to be damn quick at writing stuff down in order to get it. Still, writing damn quick is my middle name, so I suppose I shouldn't complain.

Tonight, Lord H and I are having dinner at the Yvonne Arnaud theatre and then seeing The Late Edwina Black - which in that photo looks deliciously camp and just the sort of thing we warm to. Here's hoping it fulfils its promise, eh.

Today's nice things (more than three - ye gods, the pills must be working ...!):

1. Guilty chocolate eating
2. Editing Darshan
3. Solving the "Torchwood" mission
4. Another marketing avenue for A Dangerous Man
5. The theatre.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Back to the grindstone

First day back at work - argghh!!! Though actually it hasn't been as horrific as I'd feared. I even got all my emails cleared by about 11.30am, which was nice. A ruddy miracle too! And the blessed Ruth had saved me some small chocolate eggs from Easter and left them on my desk as a welcome back, so I could have married her and had her babies there and then. Not only that but she'd left a large chocolate egg in the fridge, so it's like heaven in Student Care Services at the moment. Chocolate heaven.

I spent lunchtime wandering round the lake and sitting watching it. The trees on the walk to the public carpark are absolutely stunning (and I'm not usually a great nature fan. Nature? Bah! Red of tooth and claw ...) - a riot of pink blossom. I felt quite happy looking at that, and indeed at the lake. Two moments of happiness in one day? And at work? What in the world is happening to me??

This afternoon, we didn't get a great deal done. It was Penny's birthday so we went over to Student Advice (where she works) and had chocolate (surprise!) cake and an hour's chat. You can tell the boss isn't in ... It was great. Penny's actually leaving in two weeks' time and I shall miss her like crazy though. She's the voice of cynicism in a world of niceness. And how we need those!

Ooh, I've just finished reading Paul Burston's (http://www.myspace.com/paulburston) new novel, Lovers and Losers. I really enjoyed it - I loved the characters, and it's a warm-hearted and fun tale. Must admit to thinking that the book cover doesn't do justice to the book, which is far warmer and more humane than the plastic-looking front cover would have you believe. So don't be put off - buy it anyway! It's great!

And the lovely Gillian (http://www.myspace.com/gillian75) has emailed me to say how much she enjoyed A Dangerous Man (http://www.flamebooks.com) and that she's in love with Michael. So thanks, Gillian - much appreciated - and that makes 3 of us now! Michael will be pleased. He never thought that, apart from me, he'd have much of an ardent fan club ... Gillian has also been kind enough (thanks again, Gillian ...) to leave a comment on the Flame Books Myspace site (http://www.myspace.com/flamebooks) so I hope that means they will smile upon me for a while. I can be Good Author sometimes, you know!

Tonight, once Lord H (now happier again and standing at the edge of his cave, phew ...!) returns from the shops, I shall chill with a capital C, maybe with a well-deserved G&T in my hands, and look forward to "New Tricks" on TV. Just the thing to do the ironing to. Dammit.

Today's nice things:

1. Lovers and Losers
2. Chocolate eggs at work
3. TV

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

A review, a lot of laziness and some scribbling

Hell, that's what Bank Holidays are for, surely? I've been soooo lazy today that I haven't even been out of the flat, and I've spent a glorious two hours this afternoon napping on the sofa. Bliss. I am well up there for the shortlistings for the Lydia Languish Lethargy Awards. If they make it an Olympic sport, I'm going for Gold.

I've also been much cheered by a very kind and also very balanced review from Erastes (http://www.myspace.com/erastesdotcom), the author of the marvellous Standish (available from http://www.amazon.co.uk) and Director of the Erotic Authors Association (http://www.eroticauthorsassociation.com) about A Dangerous Man (http://www.flamebooks.com), which I reproduce below (as for some reason I can't persuade it to upload to my website at the moment, sigh!):

“It's taken me a day or two to mull over this book, because I wanted to think about how it made me feel. It's unlike anything I've read before, because mainly I've read gay historical stories, other than short stories – and contemporary is kind of beyond my ken. I don't know how the modern gay man in London feels or what the scene is. (Ok I don't know that for 1800 either but then neither does anyone else so that's ok). I enjoyed it. Let me say that at the first. It's well written by someone who obviously knows how to write, who knows how to use the language to describe place with what seems an effortless grace so you always have a sense of your surroundings, whether it be a seedy bar in Hackney, or a graceful house in Islington. You can smell the leather, feel the heavy crystal, feel the grit under your shoes. Michael (don't call me Mikey) is an artist, struggling to make ends meet, and is not averse to a little part-time prostitution to help those ends meet. He lives with Joe and Paul, Joe owns a gallery but won't hang his paintings – Paul knocks money off the rent for a little sexual action. Then one day Michael gets the chance of a commission in a City firm and falls head over heels in love with Jack, his potential new patron. And this is where it all kicks off. The plot moves swiftly on from this point, never leaving the reader bored. It's a first person novel, but although Michael does spend a lot of time in introspection it’s rarely repetitive, not over angsty, and gradually as the book moves on and Michael is "forced" from one position to another, you slowly get the feel that all is not quite well with Michael and the title becomes clear. The choice of first person for this book is very clever, because you don't really get into Michael's head at all- and that's because he doesn't even allow himself in there. Characterisation: Each character is well done, and it's interesting from my point of view that the one character that we don't actually get a full picture of is Paul, but that's probably because Michael has no interest in describing him more fully for us. I particularly liked Jack's family because Jack's mother reminded me very forcibly of my own, with her motherly concern. I also liked the landlord of the pub that Michael pulls tricks in. I was a little annoyed at Michael's inability to work – he's a bit of a sponger – and immediately turns tricks when he needs £500 when it's not explained why he couldn't just get a job. Artistic temperament, I suppose. But he's not meant – or that's how I read it – to be an attractive character. He's an opportunist and he knows what he wants and that's how he gets to be where he is by the end – by reacting to external stimuli and not thinking first. The artistic pieces were particularly well done; Anne Brooke thanks a friend for help with these and I would never have known that Anne wasn't an artist herself, she seems to get right under Michael's skin when he draws – if we can't understand the feeling ourselves, she describes it so well that we feel what he's feeling as he does it. I loved the section when Michael was explaining (to Jack's father) how he draws, and it's totally unintelligible to everyone except Michael. I could just see their blank faces, but to Michael it makes perfect sense. This book could easily have gone the typical romance route, and that's actually what I was expecting, it even lulled me into a false sense of security at one point. But it's not, so don't go looking for happy ever afters. The ending is raw and bleak and wonderful, and I can't say any more really without spoiling it, but there's a lot of room for reader conjecture as to what actually happens – or at least that's how I read it. I ended up, as I'm sure I was supposed to, feeling desperately sorry for Michael, when he'd annoyed me so much throughout. On a personal note, for a contemporary gay story, I would have liked the sex scenes to be more explicit. It was a very grown-up story, and the sex scenes were handled with a fade out or "We made love and it was very good", perhaps not in every scene, as Michael does do it a lot, but I'd have liked some of the (no pun intended) seminal scenes to be more graphically described, particularly as the sexual aspect of Michael's nature is so important to the book. But that's just me and my dirty mind. But all in all a good book. If you are looking for a predictable tale of love, then this isn't for you, but if you like a book that gets under your skin and makes you think long after you've closed the last page, like it has for me, then try “A Dangerous Man”. I'll certainly be looking out for more of Ms Brooke's work.”

Thanks, Erastes! Much appreciated. But I must admit I'm not even going to try for more sex content in my next one - I simply don't have the skills to be an erotic author, I'm afraid. Must be something to do with living in Surrey ...

So, fired up with enthusiasm, I've made a start on Simon's big story-telling scene in The Gifting - not much done, but at least it's a beginning. And, hey, it's a bank holiday so I'm not pushing it. That's tomorrow's job. And I've also done some sudokus and the odd crossword, so my brain is now too tired for anything more.

Tonight, it's sausages, chips 'n' beans, plus beer and ice cream. Oh and we've had chocolate too - so this is the ultimate anti-health zone right now. Though I did do some exercise this morning, plus stare at my Brite Light, so I am keeping flab and depression at bay. Sort of. And later it's a new series of "New Tricks" on tv, so that'll be bliss. Must remember to video the programme on Jackie magazine on the other side though - heck, everything I learnt about life I learnt from that magazine! If only I'd kept all my copies, I'd be worth a fortune now ...

Today's nice things:

1. Erastes' review
2. Writing more of The Gifting
3. TV.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

Saved by the National Trust

Ye gods, but going to church on Easter Sunday was a bloody mistake. I knew the moment I walked in to be faced by countless hordes of people that I really should have stayed at home and - if my mood felt good and the wind was in the right direction - had a few private moments with God. Instead, I had to run the gauntlet of the service whilst wishing I was as many miles away as possible. God only knows why I felt like that - and please don't ask me to explain it as I don't think I can - but I do.

Maybe the basic fact is I'm not sure I really like - or can trust - any of the people there right now (apart from Lord H of course), and if I can't relate to the church people around me, then it's a zillion times harder under those circumstances to relate to God. Add to that the fact that the service was taken by our old vicar - a fly-by-night non-people person if ever I saw one - and you can imagine the scenario. I think that if the new vicar - Paul - had taken the service then I might even have made it to communion. As it was, I stayed put in the pew as if glued to the ruddy seat - and Lord H stayed with me, which he didn't have to do as I would have been fine if he'd gone up to communion and I hadn't, but his notions of marital loyalty were running high. Which in a way was nice, so far be it from me to complain - except that now I'm convinced that the church believes I'm leading my husband down the primrose path to paganism and sin. (Lord H's response to this: oh goody, when does that start?).

Also, I'm not sure, but does not taking communion at Easter mean I am flung from the church without hope of reprieve? No idea really - and I can't say that right now I'm bothered either way. However, I suspect that I won't be darkening the doors of St Peter's for quite a while now. Make of that what you will. Meanwhile, the call of the Quakers becomes ever more enticing ...

After making good our escape from the arms of the Lord (complete with 2 chocolate eggs for Lord H and me - hell, we bloody well deserve it! - and I ate four more mini ones while I was there), we nipped home for a quick turn-round before heading off to visit the newly-opened National Trust property of Hinton Ampner - in Hampshire.

It was bliss. Bloody hell, but walking round that house, gardens and shop was the most peaceful I've felt for a long time. The weather was perfect, and there weren't many people around. Also the stewards didn't leap up and confront us (National Trust stewards are, unfortunately, rather prone to that kind of behaviour), so we could wander round, stare at stuff and just take the whole thing in. Only the ground floor is open, but it's a marvellously soothing mix of beauty and lived-inness (is that even a word? Hell, you know what I mean). And the gardens were lovely - beautiful views over Hampshire, and the occasional waft of scent. Plus a rather fetching yellow butterfly that followed us around, and a small bird that looked like a linnet, but probably wasn't. And I bought two chocolate mice in the shop (the reliable provision of chocolate mice is one of the NT's many strengths indeed), and a new fluffy pen to add to my work collection. Though, to be honest, it was more curly than fluffy. And vibrantly orange too. Hurrah!

Then home for a late lunch, and an evening watching DVDs, I hope - as there's nothing on TV really, though we might watch some of the golf. And we've also managed to get the cleaning done, and check the car tyres, water etc, as well as make a shopping list, so I am brimming with domestic nobility.

This week, I've done two haikus, as they were both nagging at me, so here they are:

The first for Simon and my attempts to finish The Gifting:

The end of the novel:
Last two scenes to go:
my pen drags over the page,
trailing blood and hope.

And, in response to the very hairy emu at Birdworld yesterday ...

The emu stalks me,
splayed claws poised for the attack:
a thatched roof on legs.

Today's nice things:

1. Hinton Ampner
2. Chocolate mice
3. Lord H.

Happy Easter to all.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

Michael reaches the Amazon ...

Rather cold-ridden today, I'm afraid, so have been lolling on the sofa with smelling salts pressed to my nose and a wet flannel clutched to my forehead. How charming. I like to think I'm a modern-day Lydia Languish, but fear the true image is more prosaic than that. Ah well. Never put your daughter on the stage.

I was going to do lots of writing, and leap into Godalming to stock up on essential oils and the Surrey Advertiser, not to mention visiting Gladys, but I have done none of the above. Well, I have done some writing, though as the stuff I put into The Gifting balanced more or less with the stuff I took out, the wordcount remains similar, alas. Ha! I've always wanted to use "alas" in a sentence and now I have. Hurrah. That said, I now have Simon almost at the end of his water experiences, which means I only have two big scenes to go and then the first draft is done. Ye gods indeed. The penultimate scene is his final story-telling one, which will be - I hope - the key to everything. I'm not starting it today though. I need a fresh morning for that. And a less snotty nose. But I might well do another poem on art - there's one lurking somewhere in the ether so I'll have to see whether I can entice it out. It'll be something to do while Lord H is at the Maundy Thursday service tonight doing his server duties and keeping the priest in order.

Which brings me to Michael (somehow!) who has finally made it into the clutches of Amazon and can be found here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dangerous-Man-Anne-Brooke/dp/0954594568/ref=sr_1_4/202-0915331-5590251?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1175785414&sr=8-4

No cover picture yet, though I have queried this with Flame (http://www.flamebooks.com), and no ratings of course, but at least he's there. So if anyone out there has read A Dangerous Man and feels able to put a few comments up on Amazon at anytime, please feel free to do so! I'd be very grateful (as long as you're not too rude!...). Talking of which, the lovely Erastes (http://www.myspace.com/erastesdotcom) has just started reading ADM and has already reached the one night stand scene. Ah, but it becomes so much more ... and glad you're enjoying it, Erastes!

Tonight, I've cancelled my counselling session with Kunu (it was moved from this morning), but I'm glad not to be going anywhere, to be honest. Instead, I'll be watching my video of "Life on Mars" from Tuesday, and working my way through my secret store of Lucozade bottles. Oh, and there's chocolate in the house ... chocolate, hmm ...

Today's nice things:

1. Michael being on Amazon
2. Life on Mars
3. Getting Simon to the start of his two ending scenes.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

The squeezed-out conference attender

Well, I'm back from the AUA (http://www.aua.ac.uk) conference up in Nottingham and feel like a squeezed-out sponge. It was well worth going, but these things are always very intensive and it's great to be back.

This isn't going to be a huge blog, I'm afraid (thank God, you all cry!), as I can barely keep my eyes open, and I still have to (a) wash up Lord H's sausage & chips supper (yummy) and (b) unpack. Not to mention the mountain of post to deal with - oh well, there's always tomorrow.

Highlights of the conference: getting an Easter egg as a goodie bag in the second seminar; actually bringing it home unwrapped for Lord H to share with me; having chocolate cheesecake for dinner on the first evening; seeing lambs in the fields next to the M1. Lambs with black legs and white bodies, no less. Ye gods, it must be Easter.

Oh, and a couple of times during the conference I think I almost sounded like a professional. But not for long, I fear.

And I've come back to a lovely review of "A Stranger's Table" (http://www.poetrymonthly.com) by Anna Avebury of the Ver Poets Society, as below:

“In this collection, the poet reveals a striking awareness of the power of poetry to enact a ‘strange sea-change’ on the ‘heated substance’ of the reader. The majority of poems are celebrations of the life of the imagination and the senses, skilfully crafted, timely reminders of an aspect of life all too often neglected. A veritable “Ice Dancer” herself, Anne Brooke communicates ‘the danger, the explosion/of words/into ice’. She explores the inner world of personal relationships with an acute awareness of its complexity and is able to share these insights in poems, which are richly sensuous. Nor does she neglect the mundane: “Calling” describes a fridge door crammed with telephone numbers and messages; although she finds the ‘net of community’ ‘unforgiving’ and ‘beyond our calling.’ “Things I fold away” lists not only the obvious ‘briefs, bras, (into nests) … socks, jumpers …’ but also ‘my history, silences … your disapproval … resentment, irritations …’ And ultimately, ‘life’. The last poem in the collection, “The cat’s response to yellow”, captures the elusive nature of inspiration and its transformation into art, leaving the reader pondering the experience of ‘the echo of yellow air.’”

That's kept the smile well and truly on my face.

Oh, and before I left, I finished the poem on Marat:

The Death of Marat: The Studio of Jacques-Louis David

One pale arm hangs down,
gripping a quill
with which he might have written mercy,
while the other holds the letter
that condemned him,
making the unseen woman
a murderess
and him a martyr.

High upon his body,
almost at the collarbone,
a thin trail of blood
trickles down over white skin
to the bath he ran to soothe it.

His head, wrapped in cream cloth,
rests on the nearest shoulder,
eyes closed in peace,
lips half-smiling
as if only asleep
or dreaming.

In line with the tilt of his face,
the woman’s knife lies
abandoned,
his life’s blood still staining
its ivory handle.

And, above,
only the vast, uncharted dark
hangs waiting.


Today's nice things:

1. Coming home
2. The review
3. Lambs.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

Poetry, chocolate and grumpy women.

Not necessarily in that order though. It's very rare to meet a grumpy woman after a chocolate session. Before, of course, is another story ... Anyway, I forgot to say that Lord H came home last night, saying that the 14th Feb had been an interesting day at work, in that he'd been surrounded by 2 happy women and 20 grumpy ones. Being a boy, he hadn't liked to ask why. Probably a wise decision really. Still, at least he could safely wear his Smug Husband expression, knowing that he'd passed the marital test for that day. Ah, say I, but there are so many other days in the year ... the riotous rollercoaster that is married life continues apace, aha!

Also yesterday, but I forgot to say, my lovely colleague Ruth suddenly screeched and began to scrabble in her drawers (careful, people ... office drawers, you know. Please ...), eventually bringing out a chocolate Satan (yes, I have spelled that right) which she'd been saving up for me but had forgotten about when I was ill. And I can tell you that there really is nothing like a chocolate Satan to cheer up the general wellbeing quota. Just the sort of thing a non-church going, church going girl needs. I ate it in seconds. Maybe less. Thanks, Ruth! Though it is strange that I do know a woman who doesn't like chocolate. What is the world coming to?

And, talking of Ruth, she has once again been on her mysterious Number 19 bus, which turned up just when she wanted it to and took her to where she needed to be in the nick of time. This would ordinarily be dull news indeed - but the local timetables don't actually have a Number 19 bus and nobody else local has ever heard of it. Apparently, when she gets on, she never actually sees the driver's face and he doesn't ask for standard fares. And the bus is always virtually empty apart from her. Hmm. I'd suggest making sure she's not giving her hard-earned cash into a skeletal hand or hearing strange, maniacal laughter before she makes herself comfy next time. Still, as long as it works ... and after all stranger things have happened in Surrey, so they say. Just not to me.

Today, I've done more marketing and almost feel like a real author - if only because the sum total of my actual writing has been to (a) change one word in a poem - from "them" to "you", if you're asking - and (b) type a lot of new bumph down for "The Gifting", and then delete a whole load of old scenes, so that my total wordcount came out as significantly less than I had yesterday. God, how I hate it when that happens!! And why on earth do I write ahead when I know I'll probably change or scrap it anyway when I get to that point? It is indeed a mystery ... though if I'm honest I do enjoy dotting around like a goat on a rock when I'm stuck on a scene - it pushes me out of my "stuck" position. Sometimes. But I did get quite excited about the actual words I typed and left in today though - I think I got to the point when I was writing one thing and meaning something else about storytelling and how characters take us (um, for us, read "me" ...) over and don't let go. And, hell, I should know what that feels like (yes, yes, Michael, I can hear you, but not every novel is always about you, eh?...). Weird stuff. But fun.

Other news of today - "A Dangerous Man" is now on the scrolling advertising section of the YouWriteOn (http://www.youwriteon.com) site, so thank you very much to Edward for putting that up for me. And my brother-in-law (http://www.peterandsusan.co.uk/blogs/petersblog.asp - and now to be forever known as Lord B-I-L) has found my blog. Scary biscuits indeed! Soon, news of my oddities will spread through the whole of Lord H's family and I will be found garrotted one dark and lonely night with my hair pinned to the nearest chapel. You heard it here first ...

And I've been a good secretary and done the Goldenford (http://www.goldenford.co.uk) minutes - better late than never! Sorry, gals ... I got in a muddle over a finance minute ('twas ever thus ...) but thankfully Jackie (http://www.myspace.com/jackieluben) has corrected me. Thank goodness someone has their finger on the pulse, eh?

Oh, and "Borderlines" (the Anglo-Welsh Poetry Society's mag) has turned up. This Winter 2006 edition has one of my poems in ("Silken") - which also appears in "A Stranger's Table". It's one of my intermittent lesbian offerings (and if that doesn't scare Lord B-I-L, nothing will!! But don't worry, people - Lord H is entirely used to me by now ... cue: A lesbian moment? Super! How nice.)

Today's nice things:

1. Seeing "Silken" in Borderlines
2. Getting excited by writing - and wanting to do more: hurrah!
3. Seeing the ADM advert on the YouWriteOn site.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com

Counselling and chicken soup

A day off work today, as I'm in tomorrow instead for a course. I really struggled to get out of bed this morning - don't laugh, as it's very difficult when you have a huge black ball of depression in your stomach which you are forced to carry around with you. It gets in the way of everyday life, such as washing, dressing and drying one's hair. I'm actually thinking of sending a letter to Marks & Spencer in Guildford asking if they'll consider making a Depressives' designer range - which would include lots of items in black or dark blue (oh - that is the sum total of my wardrobe so, hurrah, I'm halfway there already ...) with large front pockets in which to put your depression ball. It would be so much handier. I'm sure it would be a success for them. We have a lot of depressives in Surrey. It's because it's so dull.

Which brings me, somehow, to today's counselling session. Kunu has once again worked a marvel in little under an hour. I started my session feeling as low as shit and wondering where I could put my db (see above), but she managed to get me talking as to why I thought I was so low all of a sudden. Answer: I've been hyper and slightly out-of-control (hell, that's a surprise - not ...) for the last few days, so I've been gearing up for a fall. Don't I know it. And then yesterday's difficult moment at work plunged me right back into the drama of my childhood self (ie of being the one with no friends, a shed-load of enemies and no idea as to how you change one to the other), which I've been re-enacting ever since. Ye gods, but primary school was shit. One little upset now, and I'm back in the land of Billy-No-Mates. Still, and miraculously, talking about this to Kunu actually cheered me up, and the resulting rebirth of my energy levels sent me soaring again. So we have decided that I need to plan practical strategies for coping with the down times and the up times, and keeping things simple during both. Hmm, so no pressure then (joke!). And for our next set of six sessions, we're going to focus in on my trigger points of childhood and family. Oh, I can see my Spring is going to be a barrel of laughs indeed. But it makes sense though - just hope I can manage the ride. And this week's counselling homework? - I have to find things that help me to feel calm. That should be fun ...

Back home, I've decided not to visit Gladys today, as I don't think I'm up to it, so I ferreted round my cupboards for some lunch instead. The choices involved either chicken soup or ... um, chicken soup. After a lot of thought, I chose the chicken soup option, as it seemed the best way forward. Good choice. But I added chocolate afterwards too, so all was not lost. During lunch, Lord H also rang from work to ask how his lunch was - which he'd carefully wrapped and left in the kitchen this morning. I said it was fine and would certainly be fully defrosted by the time he next saw it. So that'll save the daily battle with the carving knife tomorrow then.

This afternoon, I've thought about my novel but not done anything about it (sorry, Caroline ...), deciding instead to do some writing purely for enjoyment. Hey - result! So I've done another (longer) piece of flash fiction - about a marriage proposal of all things - and have also sent one of yesterday's pieces, which I've revamped, off to a flash fiction website (http://www.birdandmoon.com) just in case my luck is in. We'll see, but I'm endeavouring to expect nothing, and to keep calm. Hurrah.

A feeling which has not been helped by logging into my work emails and seeing the amount of shit which lies in wait for me tomorrow ... Oh God. And I'll have so little time to deal with it all due to my all-day course. Damn and bloody damn. Perhaps, one of my first methods of keeping calm is not to look at work emails while I'm not there. Kunu will be pleased ...

Oh, and after some discussion on the Writewords (http://www.writewords.org.uk) site, I think we've agreed that in actual fact commercial publishers do not exist: it's all a scam run by nefarious agents who soft-soap our fevered brows and send our work off to the great dustbin in the sky before sitting down with their gins and laughing at us in the style of Big Brother. Either that or I'm actually living in an alternative universe where no outside communication is ever received. From anyone. I mean, hey you guys, even a "no" would be appreciated, as long as it's a simple one with no la-de-dah crap attached. It would help put poor old "Thorn in the Flesh" - which my agent sent out to a plethora of places in August last, and which since then has garnered nowt but a terrible silence - out of its misery at last.

Hey ho, time for a calming moment, I think. As if. Hell, maybe it's time for a nap.

Today's nice things:

1. Counselling
2. Laughing and pointing at Lord H's lunch
3. Writing another piece of flash fiction.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

Ratings and rejections

Another day with an okay centre and a bloody bad ending. Ye gods, you'd think I'd be used to it by now - but no. Still at least all the crap is firming up my decision not to put my next novel out to the commercial marketplace. Believe me, it's not worth the hassle. I think these days I'd most definitely advise any halfway decent writer to self-publish or set up their own company with like-minded friends, and give the whole bloody commercial (ha! so-called) publishing world a wide berth.

Anyway, the day started sensibly enough - I spent most of it typing up the minutes I took last week at the Nursery Management Group meeting, and sorting out the boss's idiosyncratic meeting arrangements. Note to bosses everywhere: it really is far better if you just let your secretary do the organising. You don't have any abilities in this field. Trust me. And the normal grey hell of Monday took on a brighter hue as Ruth, one of my colleagues, had brought me a spare chocolate Santa left over from Christmas. Bliss indeed. Mind you, I worry about Ruth - how can anyone have "spare" chocolate? It's a mystery. But I'm not complaining, as it was two minutes of pure pleasure while I ate it.

At lunchtime, I sauntered round the lake and stared at the birds, trying to decide which was a coot and which a moorhen. Had to google it back at my desk in the end, and I now have the definitive answer: those with white beaks are coots and those with red beaks are moorhens. So now you know. And talking of birds, we have finally decided that the wonderfully lyrical bird which performs each day at 4pm outside the office window is definitely a blackbird. We checked the BBC birdsong site to find out, and it's an almost perfect match. Another mystery solved - hurrah!

And Stephanie at the Health Centre has brought me back a kiwi in a snowstorm from her trip home to New Zealand. Marvellous! I can now add it to my snowstorm/fluffy pen collection. Never say I don't have a mission in life. I also have the Holy Family in a snowstorm, and the old Pope too - so I think the kiwi will add essential secular gravitas to the desk.

Some good news on the Amazon (http://www.amazon.co.uk) front - my rating on "Pink Champagne and Apple Juice" has shot up to be only 5 figures today, so some wonderful person must have bought it. A thousand blessings upon you, and please God you enjoy it, whoever you are. I shall bask in the temporary glory to the full as, no doubt, next week I shall be back to my usual six figure rating. Ah well. And speaking of potential misery, those no-good bastards (I speak only of my opinion of course ...) at Two Ravens Press (now to be known as Two Bastards Press - and no I'm not giving you the web address as I really can't be arsed) have rejected "Maloney's Law" on the grounds that it's not literary enough for them, even though they think it's an exciting read and a good thriller. Well, up your arses then, TR(B)P - oh sorry, I see there's a broom handle already up there. That'll explain your narrow-minded stiffness. I'll say it again - bastards. Which means there's only one more publisher considering M's L now, and I utterly refuse to send it out anywhere else, as I really seriously can't take any more bloody grief about it. I've chased that particular publisher today and if they say no then I'll try Goldenford (http://www.goldenford.co.uk) to see if the gang might want to consider it. Because when push comes to shove, I'm really not being beaten by these bloody narrow-minded commercial publishers who are too much up their own arses to give a good novel a chance. Oh, if I had any power, I'd make sure they all go to the wall and leave room for good, decent novels to see the light of the day, rather than the unreadable crap they make us put up with. You heard it here first - so watch this space.

Today's nice things:

1. See above for any - sorry, but I'm too angry and pissed off to do this tonight.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com

Sales nightmare

Oh Lord, don't talk to me about the bloody sales. Honestly, they're a nightmare! And, in our two hour sojourn in Guildford today, it seemed like not much of any interest was actually in the sales at all. Damn it. And I do so hate crowds ... Lord H and I finally came away with one pair of green shoes with heels which I managed to snatch from the hands of a white-haired old lady who was about to reject them, I'm sure (really - even I'm not that mean!) of it (which are mine - for my dancing lessons. I mention the heels as normally I don't do heels) and one dusky pink shirt (his - for those New Man moments), as well as a lot of existential angst.

But we cheered up in Godalming Waitrose which was (a) fairly empty (not surprising as it's just so damn expensive, but Lord H will shop nowhere else ...) and (b) had everything we wanted - or almost everything - plus bargains. We ended up buying cut-price Lindor shaped chocolates for the Christmas tree - which we don't actually have, being a non-tree, non-decoration household. Puritanism starts here, y'know. But, what the hell, it's chocolate. So everyone wins.

This afternoon, I am going to attempt to make the flat look habitable as my brother-in-law, Peter, and his fiancee, Sue, are coming for dinner tonight. Lord H is cooking. Thank God. I will have to try to appear normal, though I'm not sure I've succeeded yet. Lovely people, but they're staying at a local hotel tonight, so our home still remains our own - hurrah!

I'll have to remember to video "Torchwood" though - Lord H and I can't do without our weekly fix of bizarre pseudo-erotic antics. More pseudo than erotic, really, I'm sad to say. Ah well. If only we had digital, eh?...

Today's nice things:

1. Buying a pair of dancing shoes
2. Finding cut-price Lindor. Bliss
3. Not having overnight guests.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

Counselling and a London jaunt

Up at the crack of dawn today in order to avoid the car parking crisis of Guildford. Which meant I was there with an hour to spare before my Counselling appointment and with more spaces than you could shake a complex at. But this was actually good news as it meant I could scour the shops for those essential Christmas staples - such as a pack of 5 videos to record the numerous goodies on TV which we can't watch as we'll be out and which we'll never watch later. Ever. I am ashamed to say that we have some marvellous films on tape which we recorded about 7 Christmases ago and which we still haven't got round to watching. Ah well. Oh, and I also bought a box of chocolate biscuits from M&S - those one with extra thick chocolate and added chocolate bits with, um, chocolate, just in case there isn't enough chocolate in the first place. Well, we've got to have some comfort food in the flat for the season.

So onto my last counselling appointment with Kunu before Christmas. We talked about my conversation with Michael which I'd written down, so that was useful. To all three of us. I think I've worked out that actually having the conversation made me feel incredibly energetic and alive for about two or three days, but then comes the slump. Which I think I'm probably still in now, and will probably go some way towards explaining my current jittery exhaustion. (Query: can you actually have jittery exhaustion? Hell, you know what I mean ...). Kunu thinks I should go on having conversations with Michael where I (we?) feel it's right and see what comes out of it. I'm not sure I'll write them down again though - it's too tiring, m'dear - but maybe I'll go with the flow. Gosh, how girly that sounds - there's hope for me after all! Michael, of course, would make an instant decision as to what to do and stick with it. Lucky bastard. Oh, and during the session we also talked about my early family life, which was quite enlightening. Perhaps it's true after all that there's nowt wrong with me and it is the rest of the buggers. Hmm, dream on.

This afternoon, I've typed up the Goldenford (http://www.goldenford.co.uk) minutes and done my outstanding actions, so I have the halo of secretarial sainthood even now glowing about my temples. I might do a bit of writing or I might just sod the whole thing and have a quick nap. The latter seems the better option right now. And tonight, I'm out in London with Jane W - we've booked a curry at 7pm in Waterloo and a catch-up, so that'll be good. I'll have to remember not to breathe when I return home though - how Lord H hates the smell of secondary curry!

Today's nice things:

1. Counselling
2. Buying chocolate biscuits
3. Seeing Jane W.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com

Christmas letters, earrings and lying low ...

Whilst Lord H led this morning's advent service (and only apparently got locked out of the church twice whilst attempting to process ... How I wish I'd seen that!), I typed up our Christmas letter. Which means we have finally arrived in the Sad Married Couple with Christmas Letter brigade. Seasonal joy indeed. I decided not to do a spoof in the end - as anything more than 2 sides long and I think the friends you never see (ie those to whom you send the damn thing) tend to lose the will to live after that. I certainly do. But I did try to keep the tone fairly light so everyone won't think we're too much up our own arses. In spite of the fact that I am too much up my own arse - though Lord H of course is not. Oo-err, missus!

I also managed to get to 79,000 words of "The Gifting" (oh for 80,000 by the end of next week - that would be grand ...) and write a poem on emptiness. Hey, my themes are getting more depressed - even though this weekend I'm actually feeling a lot happier. Weird, eh? The secret of contentment is obviously found in (a) speaking to as few people as possible, and (b) not going to church. I accept this route to happiness might not work for everybody.

Speaking of people (and vast crowds of them), I have to say that last night's concert wasn't my favourite though of course the choir sang like a dream and the band was great. I liked the first piece, and one note of the last (you can't go wrong with a George Herbert poem), but if this is what Vaughn Williams (spelling? Hell - who cares!) comes up with in his eighties, then maybe he should have stuck to the bedpans and stick. My opinion only, of course. Though I do have to say that I spent most of the second half absolutely fascinated by the dangly earrings of the woman sitting in front of me. A perfectly normal woman in her thirties - as far as one can tell - but every so often her earrings would flicker outwards in unison as if responding to a hidden message. I'm always impressed by people who can wiggle their ears, but synchronised wiggling takes the biscuit. When I told Lord H afterwards, he wondered if the mother ship was calling her home, or if it was a special government way of receiving emails. Now there's a thought for the future ...

This afternoon, I've caught up with the highs and lows of "Strictly Come Dancing". Thank goodness Mark & Karen are still in! But I was sorry Carol had to leave - she performed like a real trouper this time. Shame. Tonight, there's the prospect of comedy repeats on TV and a phone call to mother. Still, at least I feel more capable of performing my normal daughter routine than I did last week. Thank God. Ooh, and there's chocolate squares and baclava (which Lord H thinks is a type of hooded mask) in the fridge. Bliss.

This week's haiku:

Down the winter road
a man carries his mattress.
I too search for sleep.

And today's nice things:

1. Doing the Christmas letter
2. Writing
3. The wiggly earrings (not strictly today, but what the hell ...)

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

Freshers' Week Day One

The beginning of the Week from Hell. But actually it hasn't been too bad - yet. Both our talks today went well, and the damn DVD worked. Hurrah. The campus is stuffed with bright young people holding maps and looking puzzled. 'Twas ever thus. It'll take them six months to get used to the layout. It's not intuitive. Welcome to the adult world, people ...

Gave blood this afternoon - and for once I didn't have to take the extra test as I wasn't borderline anaemic. Phew. Must be all those dried apricots I'm eating. Better keep it up then.

At home, Lord H has bought me "Psychologies" magazine - as it has an article to help me find out if I'm depressed or just low. Actually, reading it made me feel worse, as I couldn't tell which I was. Do I have flashes of contentment or joy, or not? Haven't a bloody clue, Mr Smug Article Writer. You tell me. I think I'll put the whole mag to one side for a while - though I usually think it's okay, I simply don't have the energy at the moment.

Have just finished Lucy Ellman's "Doctors and Nurses" - bizarre in the extreme, but I got used to it in the end, though I was skipping through it rather than reading in depth. She's probably a genius, or a rather good scam artist, but I wouldn't want to read another one.

Today's nice things:

1. The chocolate biscuits and chat at the blood doner van
2. Being at home and being able to flop
3. Getting Day One over.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

Church and a lazy day

Church not too bad this morning - only felt like escaping two or three times, which wasn't as many as I'd been expecting. I even liked a couple of the hymns, though I phased out when it came to saying (and actually meaning) any of the non-sung words. The nice stand-in vicar came (Robin Roe), who's really sweet and asks questions about non-religious stuff (thank the Lord), but my goodness his sermons are long. Lord H was sure there were at least three sermons in there. Today was heaven and hell, so I tried not to listen - too depressing by far. But I'm sorry he's not turning up till Christmas Eve now - I'll miss him. Had a couple of nice conversations after church too, which was a boost.

Was terribly noble and washed the car. How wonderfully suburban I'm getting. Sod it, who cares anyway? Spent the afternoon catching up on my video mountain, including "Far From Heaven" (classy film about the 50s) and "Afterlife" (great stuff with a good twist). Tonight, it's "Midsomer Murder", so my TV day will be complete. Thank God for television - it stops you thinking.

This week's haiku:

As a special treat
today we drown in chocolate:
truffles; candy; fudge.

Today's nice things:

1. The nice vicar
2. The nice post-church conversation
3. TV.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk