Bitchy doctors and Loose Women

God, what a day. Another of those ones where I've felt extremely fragile and wondered why the hell when you interact with people face-to-face, they always have to come with knives. Is it just me or is everyone getting pricklier these days? Great title for my next book, eh ...

Anyway, I'd had way too much of people in all shapes and sizes last night so emailed the Counselling Centre to cancel my appointment with Kunu today (the phone being far too scary to contemplate and me feeling far too depressed to talk - which is probably like tidying up for your cleaner, but there you go ...) and wrote a letter to Gladys explaining why I haven't popped into see her in two weeks (sick) and why I won't pop in next week (hols).

Simple enough, you would have thought - though I know that with the postal strike, Gladys probably won't get her letter for weeks anyway - but no: this morning, Kunu left a message on my ansaphone wondering where I was, which really stressed me out. I just didn't want to have to deal with all the social crap of it really. So I deleted the message and sent another apologetic email back. Hell, I'm doing my bloody best over here in the stressed corner - why can't people cut me some slack once in a while?? This resulted in a distinctly sniffy email from the Counselling Centre receptionist telling me I really should have phoned as they don't look at emails regularly and they're often deleted by their scam software anyway. Well, slap my thigh and call me a luddite, but that's not my fucking problem. That's their problem for not having decent customer service or a good email provider. Bloody well let them sort it out and stop bitching at me then. Honestly! I doubt I'll be attending any more appointments this side of the next millennium. At least not there.

For the rest of this morning, I've struggled away with The Bones of Summer, attempting to squeeze out a few more words, but really it's been a bloody hard slog. Thank God for online Solitaire is what I say. Lord alone knows what Craig is going to do now. He's all over the place. Well, snap then. Thankfully though, I took time out at lunchtime to watch the utterly wonderful "Loose Women" on TV. That show is a real lifeline sometimes - it actually made me laugh. Hurrah. I do love it. I then caught up with my video of last night's "Will & Grace", but that just made me cry. All that stuff about Will's dead father and Karen leaving Stan - I was blubbing like a child on the sofa. Which isn't easy to do when you're trying to eat rice & tinned fish with a fork, I can tell you.

Anyway, I psyched myself up for going to see the new doctor at 4.10pm - who turned out to be Dr Pidgeon and the prissiest schoolgirl type you could ever imagine. In the words and intonation of Catherine Tate - What a bitch!! I'd written a list of things I'd wanted sorted - only 6 of them and mostly quick to deal with, for God's sake - but she got very sniffy when I sat down and told me I'd have to hurry up as the appointments were only 10 minutes long. She then proceeded to tell me that (a) No, I couldn't have my usual flu jab as she didn't see the point of it (I've had one for the last 2/3 years and they do help ...); (b) No, I couldn't have anything stronger for my catarrh/sickness problems as the stuff I'm currently on is fine and anyway I should try to cut down. Well bloody hell, madam, you try and see if it's "fine" when you're up all night trying not to be sick and hardly able to breathe and then feel like shit for two weeks - see if you like it; (c) No, she didn't have any advice on whether or not I should be taking more of the Vitamin B pills the previous doctor had put me on for depression as it was really up to me; and (d) No, she didn't see the point of sending me for a "how are your hormones and while we're at it are you approaching the pre-menopausal state?" test, in spite of the fact that the two weeks before my period has become almost utterly unbearable now with bouts of utter rage interspersed prettily with bouts of weeping. Hey ho, what fun we have here in downtown Godalming!... Instead she suggested Evening Primrose Oil and frankly by then I couldn't be arsed to tell the snotty-nosed bitch that yes I've tried all the stuff and, no, it doesn't help much.

The only good thing to come out of it is that my blood pressure is fine (a fact which astonished me, as I was almost incandescent with suppressed rage by the time she took it!!) and that I only took up 4 minutes of her bloody precious time. And there's one slapper I won't be making another appointment with again. Really, I was quite weepy in the car home - always a danger when attempting to drive through Godalming, but I don't think I actually killed anyone ...

At home, I've emailed Steph in the University Health Centre asking if she can suggest helpful nice and loving people to discuss flu jabs and hormones with me. Here's hoping, eh. But God only knows what I'm going to do when the next of my all-night bouts comes round. In the meantime, I'm battening down the ruddy hatches, uncorking the sherry bottle again and anticipating an evening of sudokus and TV. And more calming pills.

Today's nice things:

1. Loose Women
2. Getting out of bloody Dr P's consulting room
3. Calming pills.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Submissions and Loose Women

Woke up to a rather annoying cold this morning - bummer, eh - so am dowsing myself with Lemsip and Nurofen Plus. The perfect combination. Consequently, I have been drooping round the flat this morning and doing writing work in my dressing gown. Something I normally never like doing. Still seem to have got the stuff done I was planning to though, which is at least cheering me up after this week's various disasters. Such stuff included preparing for next week's University Writers' Group meeting and the Goldenford meeting, both being on Tuesday. The launch of Irene Black's eBay book, Sold to the Lady with the Lime-Green Laptop is fast appraching, so there's loads to do. And it's well worth buying - it's a fun read with lots of wild pictures - so get your orders in now!

Not only that but I've submitted some poems to various competitions - and yes I knew I was going to ease down on this activity due to general cynicism about the whole literary world thang, but I felt strong enough to face it today so have taken the iron by the horns and heated it. Or some such twaddle. And at least it makes my spreadsheets look slightly more used. Hurrah.

Fuelled by that achievement, I have eaten my lunch in front of "Loose Women" on TV. Which is a pretty scary phrase by itself. But it's such a great programme and always makes me laugh - really, I should watch it more often. It makes everything - even me - seem relatively normal. For the remainder of this afternoon, I've written another 1,000 words to The Bones of Summer, and am about to draft a major turning-point scene - so I'd better let it fester for a while in my blood before attempting to tap that one out. Anyway, isn't it time for my smelling salts?

Later on, I've got counselling with Kunu - and I'm sure the air of her counselling room will be turning blue today as I rehash the traumas of the week. Poor Kunu. And I'm not looking forward much to next week at work either, I have to say. Oh God, but the world of work is just too bloody overwhelming at times. It really ought to get back in its pram and bloody well stay there. It interferes so with real life - or at least the real life being played constantly in my head - dammit.

Tonight, I've got another episode of "Who Do You Think You Are?" to look forward to, and I really must video "Mock the Week". Can't do without that essential guide to survival ... And I'm hoping for another pint or so of Lemsip and an early night.

Today's nice things:

1. Getting some submissions done
2. Watching "Loose Women"
3. Writing.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Counselling, sex writing and a night out

Well, it's good to pack in as much as you can in a day, you know. Besides, I had to get up early as my hairdresser was arriving at 8.30am to attempt to make me look like a normal human being. And when Lynda says 8.30am, she actually means 8.10 but she'll have been waiting outside the flat since 7.30. For very early morning appointments, it's probably not worth going to bed at all. And you may as well invite her in for supper.

Anyway, she's been and done her thing and gone, with the result that I look unexpectedly stylish as long as I don't move fast in high winds. 'Twas ever thus ... And of course it'll all be ruined (ruined, dahlings, ruined!) when I wash it myself tomorrow. I never really know what to do with a hairdryer and a brush (careful, people, careful ...) - it's like tackling Mount Everest with a pair of sandals and a screwdriver, and hoping to get to the peak by noon.

This morning, I have taken myself (carefully) to my counselling appointment in Guildford and chatted through the week with Kunu. Which was all rather jolly, and we also planned some "coping with people" strategies for tonight (for which see later), which involved not rushing in to fill those terrible gaps in conversations and sitting back now and then to take a broader perspective. I'll have to see if it works. If not, I shall be in the ladies' loos crying and calling Kunu on my mobile. Not her idea of a pleasant evening in, I imagine ...

I was also very proud of myself in Smith's, as I attempted to buy a card and the Radio Times by approaching the only woman at the tills on the upper floor (who studiously ignored me) and asking if she was actually able to sell me something. She said she was but then rushed away, saying she'd be back soon. Instead of my usual response which would be to wait humbly and patiently until the staff deigned to meet my buying needs, I stomped off, muttering about poor service and that I wasn't prepared to wait whilst being rudely blanked. I then went downstairs and found a more amenable employee who even went so far as to take my cash and give me the goods. Harrumph! we cry. Grumpy Old Women 'R' Us. Bloody hell, though, I'm in my forties now and I'm really not taking this crap any more. So if you hear on the news that a mad woman has chained herself to the front door of Guildford Smith's and is chanting about Consumer Rights, it'll be me.

Was much cheered on my way back to the car park though when I bumped into a fellow member of Guildford Writers and spent the next five or ten minutes discussing writing problems and how to do sex scenes. We both agreed that the Golden Rules were to (a) use the words/do the stuff that your characters would genuinely say/do and (b) that if it turned you on, it would probably turn someone else on too. One hopes.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have managed to do another 1000 words to The Bones of Summer, and I even have a moment or two of excitement and plot turn at the end. Well I never! It took a while to get there though, but - once again - 'tis ever thus.

I'm hoping to watch my video of "Will & Grace" later on - oh, and I must video John Hurt in "Who Do You Think You Are" - and then this evening I'm out in Guildford, having dinner with the old University girls. Am feeling hugely twitchy about this, as we don't have a lot in common now and it's the first time I've actually met up with them since letting them know about the depression/counselling stuff I've been going through. And they're not the easiest people to have a conversation with about personal stuff. Which, in itself, is a terribly revealing statement to make after twenty years of knowing somebody, but there you go ... That's simply how it is. The added problem is the one acquaintance I feel more at ease with cried off at the last minute, so there'll just be me. And the two of them. Hell, maybe I'll book my place in the loos now ... Sigh!

Oh, and I've started what I think might be a comic anti-novel, about characters in search of a plot. Or an author. With special thanks to Erastes for the idea - though I promise not to use your line, Erastes!! That deserves its own novel, and you simply have to write it!

Today's nice things:

1. A haircut
2. Writing
3. Talking about writing.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

An invisible client and the inspiration of birds

It must be my forties (oh Lord, what then will the fifties be like?...) but I do seem to be finding nature rather more interesting than I found it in my twenties, or even my thirties, though I had softened towards the concept of flowers by then. Anyway, yesterday, I was much amused by a moorhen (should I get out more?) and here is the result:

Protection remembered

A moorhen
plucks its cautious way
across grass,

red beak
carving a slow path
through air,

claws, larger
than its head,
strutting a surprised

and elegant dance
towards denuded bushes.
Yes, my friend,

sometimes I too wonder
where my cover
has gone.


Which somehow brings me nicely into today's counselling appointment, which was all very jolly and we talked a lot about the University, the bliss of people-free days over the weekend and the desirability of enjoyment. However, it must indeed be my week of being invisible - after yesterday's lunch date cancellation, I was running late to my appointment due to Guildford's appalling car park system and a machine that kept spitting my change back at me (so much so that I gave up entirely in the end and drove off to find another car park instead ...) so dashed to the loo when I got to the clinic, whilst giving my name to the receptionist. Anyway, by the time I came back and sat in reception, I think she must have forgotten I was there (I always sit where no-one can see me - which must in itself be revealing), so after ten minutes, I did this soft sheep-cough sort of thing, which is English Women speak for "I'm here and you've forgotten me, haven't you? but I'm too polite to actually say anything so I'm coughing like a sheep to let you know I'm still here." The next moment, there's a slight gasp and she's on the phone to Kunu telling her I've arrived. Hurrah!

But even then, all wasn't plain sailing, as once in the counselling room, I noticed my usual glass of water wasn't on my side-table, but Kunu had no less than four (four! are we expecting a drought?...) glasses of water lined up on hers. I thought she might remember, but after fifteen minutes she hadn't, so I had to be bold and ask for it. We then spent the next few minutes collapsed in uncounsellingy laughter as we agreed that this must be the third occasion I've been forgotten so perhaps Kunu has broken the "where's Anne? I can't see her" run. Here's hoping, eh. Mind you, as long as Lord H remembers I'm here and who I am, I'll be happy.

Post-Kunu, I sat in Waterstone's for a while (what bliss! I do love it there) and wrote a couple of pages to The Bones of Summer, which I shall type up later and two poems. One of which is below (goodness, yesterday's night creatures walk was sooo great!):

The Moth Trap

The warden smoothes his hand
across the blue tarpaulin,

catches a September Thorn
drawn by the piercing glow

of the moth lamp. Other insects
hover near the trap: midges;
smaller moths; three hornets

more confused than angry. ‘Look,’
he says. ‘Look at the wings,
the angle they make against my hand.’

And I do look, though for years,
before the beginnings
of my memory, I have been afraid.

I look and see the grey-brown
body, smaller than half my thumb,
the cornered wings, raised

a little, as if ready at any moment
to launch into the woods’
consuming darkness,

the small dark eyes
almost fearless. And I think

I have never seen anything
more beautiful,

the Thorn not the only creature
caught by the moth trap

tonight.


Talking of last night, we saw deer, bats, moths (as you can see!), and heard a tawny owl and a barn owl. Might have been nice to see a fox or two as well, but hell you can't have everything. And the sight of the geese flying into the lake to roost was utterly fantastic. Wouldn't have missed that for the world.

This afternoon, I've also had my regular Clarins facial with the oh-so-relaxing Sarah. She's so incredibly soothing that I keep falling asleep. It's great. And I look all glowy and chilled right now. A state of being which I suspect won't last long, but hell it's good while it does.

Tonight, Lord H & I are off to see "Whipping it Up" in Woking (or should that be "Whipping it Up in Woking"?) - never say we don't do culture, missus. And it should be a laugh - a farce about the government with Richard Wilson. You can't really go wrong. One hopes.

Oh, and I've just finished Henry Shukman's poetry collection, In Doctor No's Garden. There are two or three stunningly good poems in it, but I'm not convinced by the rest. Too many words, my dear Mozart (or some such phrase) ... but what do they mean? Really, if you want the energy, electricity and literary style I think Shukman was going for, you're best off with the incredibly good Neil Rollinson. Every time. Hush my mouth.

Today's nice things:

1. Counselling
2. Writing
3. The theatre.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Characters and counselling

Enjoyed my counselling session with Kunu today - we talked about family (poor Uncle Leonard ...) and the importance of being oneself. Two subjects which, to me, seem to be completely contrasting of course. Bizarrely, I think that the loss of the rapidly diminishing older generation (sad though it is) is actually making me feel rather liberated. The fewer of the power-brokers there are in the family, the more I feel able to be myself and not be judged for it. And the more level the playing-field between me and my brothers & cousins (all male, damn it) becomes. I think I've grown up amongst a family who believe that the menfolk are more likely to be in the right and, as I'm the only woman in my generation, that's been a bugger to be in, to be honest. I've always started from a position of weakness. Now, it's as if the air above me is clearing and I can begin to appreciate the sky. And see more clearly to fight (and believe in) my own corner. Sorry if that seems overly poetic, but it's true.

Interesting too that after Leonard's death, Mum rang me up to ask me my opinion on whether she should go to the funeral or not. Good God, but that's the first time in living memory that the power has been on my side of the fence, or that she's ever asked my opinion on what she should do, I think. My answer of course was no: travelling 200+ miles after a major cancer op is the height of stupidity and I (in my sudden and totally unexpected role of Decision-Maker) told her so. Even more unexpectedly, she agreed and hasn't gone. Ye gods indeed! Neither, of course, have I. I mean: me? Family? Not to mention coping with the Great and the Good in York Minster, and a zillion-and-one passing clergymen - no way! My (nasty) cousin of course seemed to expect it and rang up earlier in the week to give me copious different instructions. Which I ignored, deleting him sharply and without response from my voicemail. Dream on, buster .... I'd rather go oop north and pay my own respects to the dear departed in my own way later in the year. Perhaps taking my recuperating parent with me (as long as I still hold the power, of course!) - we'll see.

Meanwhile, back on the ranch ... I've sketched in the character studies I need for The Bones of Summer, and hope to do a few paragraphs on each later in the week. Bloody hell, but it almost feels like a real novel now. Almost. I've also popped round to see Gladys, but I think she was either hiding or asleep, so I just left a message. Or perhaps, in my new persona as Power-Crazed Individualist (you mean that's a change??), she's too scared to see me. And I was wearing my special caring face too - ah well.

Ooh, a spooky moment - I was uploading the beginning of The Bones of Summer onto my website - which can be found under the Novels menu - and realised that my beginning punchy scene has exactly the same number of paragraphs as my beginning punchy scene in The Gifting. I was so traumatised by this that I wrote a poem:

Spooky

Each of my last two novels
has started
with a short section

comprising exactly
thirteen paragraphs
before the punch occurs.

Is it a call for help,
or is the other side
trying to tell me something?



God help me - answers on a postcard please ... Or maybe I should just opt for writing the haiku novel? I think the whole story is there in miniature after all, really.

I've also just dragged myself kicking and screaming to the end of the much-hyped Innocent Traitor by Alison Weir. Deep, deep sigh. Honestly, I don't think it's as good as it thinks it is. And there's way too much history and no character - not surprising from an author who up to now has only written history books, I suppose, but did she have to browbeat me with her knowledge of the era quite so much?? I'd stick to the non-fiction if I were her. It was amazing what an absolutely irritating cow she made poor Lady Jane Grey into as well. A feat in itself, I suppose. But about three-quarters of the way through, I seriously wanted to take the ruddy axe and chop the wretched child's head off myself. It would have saved so much pain - mine. Not to mention history's. The best character was the evil, cold-hearted mother - I could really understand where she was coming from and had every sympathy for her! Mind you, it does serve to emphasise what a stonkingly good writer Philippa Gregory is - so my advice is if you want to read a good historical novel, drop Weir and go for the Gregory. Every bloody time!

Oh, and Juli from Mighty Erudite Publishers has asked me to take a quick look at a novel she's interested in publishing - which I'll be delighted to do as it's by Mark Wagstaff, and his stories are so wonderfully dark, bitter and London. If you know what I mean. I can highly recommend his marvellous short story collection, Blue Sunday Stories - if you like your reading edgy and powerful, that is.

Tonight, I've got to clean the flat as we have people for dinner tomorrow (people! Oh no, where can we hide??), and do the recycling while Lord H gets to grip with a summer pudding in the kitchen. And there's about six zillion things on TV which I want to watch also. My dears, where will I find the time?

Today's nice things:

1. Counselling
2. Writing
3. Mighty Erudite work.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Counselling and some heavy editing

Up bright and early this morning to get some shopping done before my counselling appointment. Or as near bright and early as I can get. Managed to get all my shopping done by dint of whipping round town like a dervish on speed - including treating myself to some Molton Brown handcream (the same gorgeous one they use in the Glyndebourne loos so I can remind myself of summer and song all year round) and buying a new handbag. Which is unfortunately rather smaller than my old one, so I have had to do some jigging around with it. But at least it looks snazzy and less jaded. Wish the same could be said for me really.

Enjoyed the counselling today - apparently it's my 25th session with Kunu, so if I'd known I would have bought a pressie! - and I think the feeling the two of us have is that we'll carry on for a while till the end of the year and then see how we feel then. We do both also feel that things are improving, so that's good news for sure. Today, we discussed how I shouldn't try to deny the parts of me which are driven and super-competitive (hmm, that'll be most of me then ...), as I just need to harness them properly and balance things out with my attempts to do the relaxing/enjoyment thing. Without thinking either state of relaxed or driven is of itself "good" or "bad", but instead seeing both as necessary. Food for thought there indeed ...

I've spent most of the rest of the day going through the latest round of editing for Mighty Erudite Publishers and getting my thoughts back to them. It's been a lot more complex than it was for the earlier two collections I've done, I have to say - partly because a lot more input was needed - but I'll have to see what Juli thinks of it now. I'm also feeling chuffed as she has kindly added information on my efforts as poetry advisor onto the Mighty Erudite website, which can be found here. Thanks, Jools - make me sound almost important! Ooh, and I've also sent off my first advisor invoice - which sounds even scarier, ho ho!

Later this afternoon, I also popped in to visit Gladys - who is much brighter this week, though still getting tired. And remembering less, I fear. Still, it comes to us all, I suppose.

Tonight, I'm planning to watch "Mock the Week" and "My Name is Earl" whilst (yes, you've guessed it!) doing the ironing. Ye gods, will it never end??

Today's nice things:

1. Counselling
2. Shopping for me
3. Being a part of Mighty Erudite!

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Mobiles and mindfulness

Really enjoying my new mobile – I’ve worked out how to turn it on and off now, and have a nice picture of some stones and sand to calm me down when it turns on. Mind you, both Lord H and I found trouble working out where the navigation button was. You would have thought that in a 46 page manual, someone would have thought to put a diagram of what this was and where you could find it on the phone, but no. Nothing. We got there in the end purely by a process of elimination. I really need another ring tone though – I don’t really like any of the choices, so have left it on default for now. Not sure what Lord H would think of the Star Trek theme tune (one of them!) … But don’t even mention the fact that the phone appears to be able to get to the web and send emails. Isn’t that what computers are for? Heck, I struggle with texting. I’m unlikely to need anything whizzier!

Talking of which, what is it about the mobile phone that brings out the rudery in everyone?? If I show anything I've just done or bought to people, they can usually find something nice to say about it (and I certainly do the same back), but I've showed my new phone to my work colleagues, all of whom feel it's carte blanche to be as rude as possible. They don't like the shape, the size, the colour or the weight, moan, moan, moan. And yawn, yawn on my part really ... Well, I'm sorry, but I'm perfectly happy with my slim, elegant black thing, thank you very much - and actually I think that, if you had any concept of social politesse, you should keep your bad opinions to yourself. F**k the lot of you is what I say!

At work, we’ve been sent information on the forthcoming “Mindfulness” course being run by the Counselling Centre which starts in October. I’m quite interested in doing this – it’s meant to reduce stress and increase energy levels (and, ye gods, how I need that, especially right now!), but they’re very keen that you attend all the sessions and go to the day workshop, and I’ll be on holiday for the first one and will have to juggle stuff for the workshop, so I don’t know how that will be viewed. Lordy, but I can feel my stress levels mounting already … In addition, you’re encouraged to do up to an hour’s meditation a day as homework – which I know will be very good and is actually something I used to do in the dim & distant days beyond recall, but goodness knows how I’d fit it in now. I also don’t know if I might in any case come under the “psychologically vulnerable” category (when they don’t advise you to do the course) what with the regular counselling sessions and having had a fairly bad time last year and the beginning of this. Heck, I’m really worried now! Maybe the best thing to do is fill in the form, have my chat with the course coordinator and see what she suggests. Apparently there might be another course taking place next year so maybe that one will be the wiser choice? We’ll see …

Oh, and Penny who used to work in Student Advice popped in and we had a brief catch-up on Switzerland, dogs and the joys of a life of leisure (cue deep and envious sigh …). And I’ve had my first English apple of the season. Sharp indeed but bliss.

Went for a walk round the lake at lunchtime and saw seven ducklings. More bliss. Just like spring all over again. My, what a country girl I am at heart. Ho ho. Or, as Andrea commented when I got back to the office, seven little spring rolls. Ah cruel woman …

Tonight, I’m hoping to start describing Craig’s father’s house, and what Craig finds there, in The Bones of Summer but I have to admit that this scene is still a complete mystery to me (as most things are, actually, in case you hadn’t already gathered that …) so I’ll just have to write the darn thing to find out what’s happening.

And there’s “Heroes” and “Will & Grace” on TV, hurrah! I’ll have to watch whilst ironing – again!

I've also just finished a poetry collection anthology called this little stretch of life. It was okay, all in all, but nothing to write home about. Though Karen Green rocks, and if she had a collection, I'd definitely buy it.

Ooh, and some good news on the poetry submission front - Phil Carradice (Gawd bless you, sir!) has accepted all three of the poems I sent him for publication in Roundyhouse magazine early next year. Hurrah indeed!

Today’s nice things:

1. My new mobile
2. The poetry acceptance
3. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

A day of two halves

What a strange day today has been. The early part of it was rather enjoyable. I had a nice and measured review of A Stranger's Table on the Writewords site which said the following:

"This slim volume is thoroughly worth the £5.50 it costs if you don't get it for free as a reviewer. It provides plenty of poems, a range of themes and forms, and above all, the interest of reading a collection that grows and gains confidence as the reader progresses through it. In the first few pages, poems felt a little static, the repetiton of lines, which she uses powerfully elsewhere, sometimes felt awkward. But a haiku stands out for its pleasant, almost cosy image of boats at rest - "shoes expecting feet". Its calm understatement, with the backdrop of nature just outside the frame of the poem, is true to the mood and root of haiku. Very quickly, the collection gets into its stride. Images are powerful, unique and clear; form is free but there are certain turns or sleights of hand which she favours: repetition of a first and last line, a final couplet. Throughout, there are images, moments, that hit the eye like the sun hits a mirror: "skin stammering" with cold, "small, hot cries of children" watching fireworks. What pulls the collection together is emotion: love, despair, passion as destructive as desirable, fear and need, anguish. Even when observing the way rain "decomposes" a window - an image which is precise, unique and powerful - the rain is also "flinging its whole soul, brave wet heart out", and that is perhaps a fair description of what this poetry does too. There are volcanoes and stars and sex. The bulk of the poetry spares nothing and bares everything, going for the heart with a scalpel, as indeed poets should, seeking for truth. And yet my favourites, (which probably betray my own taste more than anything) were the cooler ones: Almost A Cyclist, Moon Landing, Preparing to Paint, The Cat's Response to Yellow. All these are in the second half of the collection, and they are all as good as anything I have read recently. If it needed to, the collection could stand on these four excellent poems alone - but happily, it has much more to recommend it."

Thanks, Leila (who wrote the review) - I really appreciate it.

A very good counselling session with Kunu this morning also. We discussed the fact that I feel able at the moment to make one or two social arrangements for the coming few weeks - an improvement over the last year or so certainly - just as long as I can keep them under control and in my general location. I think it feels okay for now as sometimes August seems such a flat month. A non-month really. Something between the end of the academic year, in July, and the beginning of the next, in September. God alone knows what August is actually for. It's funny too how the points that matter in counselling always seem to come up near the end of the appointment. This time it was to do with me and friendships - I think I'm beginning to realise that I can't actually cope with seeing my friends all the time. To be honest, I've never actually been one of those who pines to meet up with them, even though it's nice when I do. I could probably happily go for quite a while without seeing anyone. Apart from Lord H. And I think this is to do with marriage - I can only really cope with one strong rope of friendship, and Lord H is most certainly that. The others are still there and I'm very fond of them, but if I see them lots, then I find it totally overwhelming and way too demanding. Which probably means I'm either (a) a would-be hermit, or (b) a sociopath. Take your pick. Anyway, it was food for thought.

Post-counselling, I stayed in town, did a spot of shopping and then sat upstairs in Waterstones in the peace and quiet and wrote three poems and two A4 sides of The Bones of Summer. It was bliss. Real bliss. I'll definitely do it again - it was quite inspirational. Here's one of the poems:

Bookshops

It’s easier to write
in bookshops;

words hum
on shelves,

drawing out
my heart’s strange ink.


Early afternoon, I had my Clarins facial with Sarah - a new girl (at least for me) as Emma has left now. (Was it something I said?...) Anyway, it was lovely - very relaxing and really chilled. Sarah seems quieter on the whole, but actually it was great not to have to talk and, instead, just to sit back and let it all happen. I've booked another appointment with her for September. Something to look forward to for sure.

Back at home, I've finished off my read-through and suggested edit of Martin Burke's Jerusalem for Mighty Erudite Publishers. Fantastic - I really loved it. It swept me away and took me to places poetry hasn't taken me to for a while. Something like Blake and Browning and Eliot all mixed up, but with a unique modern spin that completely seduced me and left me wanting more. In the best sense. I definitely think Jools should go with both poets - Noakes and Burke - they're shit-hot. And for very different reasons.

That was when the day changed. And over such a stupid, small thing too. Sean from Flame Books emailed me to say that Gay's the Word bookshop have decided not to stock A Dangerous Man. No reasons given, and his email itself was unusually short. I don't know, but usually I can take this kind of setback, shed a tear, grit my teeth, put two fingers up at the buggers and carry on. Today, for whatever reason, I can't, and it's getting to me again even while I'm typing this. Damn it. Damn them really. It feels like a kick in the teeth - I was just so sure that ADM would find a home there, where he's found one in no other bookshop. At the moment I'm swinging between rage and depression - believe me, it's not a pleasant experience. Though I've taken a De-Stress pill and hope it kicks in sometime. God knows why this is really getting to me - maybe because I don't feel accepted by the mainstream guys and now the gay contingent (at least in the bookshop sense) have kicked me - and Michael - into touch also. For God's sake, what the fuck do the mean-minded bastards actually want?? It's a bloody mystery for sure. Either way, the end result is that I feel I belong in no camp and am not likely to any day soon. I do wonder, however, in true cynical fashion, if the response would have been different if I'd been a man. Hey bloody ho.

Thank God for Lord H though - he came back from work in the middle of all this and has dealt admirably with a shaky, tearful, pissed off, stressed out wife. Though, ye gods, maybe he's just used to that by now. Anyway, the upshot is I think I'm just going to sit in front of the TV all evening. Maybe watch some of the comedies on later. And take another De-Stress pill before I go to sleep. It might help.

Today's nice things:

1. Leila's review of A Stranger's Table
2. Counselling
3. A Clarins facial
4. Sitting in Waterstones and simply writing
5. Reading Jerusalem.

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

Counselling and the editing queen

Seemed to spend a lot of time this morning in the process of actually getting up, so ended up rushing to get to my counselling appointment. Still managed to buy some more floppy disks on the way though - I'd just run out. Had quite a good session with Kunu, filling her in on stuff like mother, work, the gay man/men who appear to live somewhere inside me (Gawd bless 'em, eh - a rum lot ....) and getting a publishing deal (hurrah!). We talked a lot about the books this time (probably understandably ...) and the fact that you can tell how I am by what I'm writing at the time. Funny then how Craig in my current novel, The Bones of Summer, is having to go back in the present and sort out his family life, reinterpreting it from an adult perspective so he can get on with the business of living. Know how he feels then!...

I've then spent a lot of the day tackling the editing on Maloney's Law and easing down the tempo of the illicit sex scene in it (though there are others that remain untouched!) for the US market. It's difficult to know exactly what PD Publishing might want, but I hope I'm doing the best I can with it. I'm also reading through and checking the flow of the thing - an exercise which is quite useful in terms of bringing to mind the background I need to know for The Bones of Summer. Hey, at last I can kill two birds with one proverbial!

And I paid a visit to Gladys, who was also entertaining her niece & grand-niece, as it's her 91st birthday next week. Only nine years till the royal telegram (or whatever it is now - email??) then! I probably stayed longer than I should have though - as I haven't met that side of the family before and they seem very nice - as Gladys was a bit confused when I left. But at least she had cake. Which is never a bad thing. And, come to think of it, I was pretty confused when I turned up - so we have much in common indeed.

Oh, and Jools from Writewords and Mighty Erudite Publishers has very kindly asked if I'd like to do one day a month as creative consultant to her new publishing company, so I'm hoping to pop up to London soon for a drink with her to discuss it. Certainly sounds interesting to me. Thanks for the offer, Jools!

Tonight, I'm going to chill, and plan to catch up on my Channel 4 Gay Week videos. And, hopefully, a relatively early night too. You never know.

Today's nice things:

1. Counselling
2. Editing
3. Jools' kind offer.

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

Famous Godalming & Scarlet stories

Great excitement last night! Godalming is finally famous, hurrah!! We switched on "Location, Location, Location" on TV (not something we watch often, but it just happened to be on) and there was Godalming - in the screen-flesh! Not only that, but the couple in question were looking at a house virtually opposite our road. I kept waving at the traffic coming out of the junction in the hope that one of them might be us, but it never was. Waving to oneself on TV would have been the ultimate in crazed sadness. I do understand that. The programme also gave some suitable shots of middle-class Surrey enjoying their constitutionals, so it was lovely to scream at places we knew. Gods, but we really have to get out more. Anyway, the upshot was that the couple bought the house, even though she was eight months pregnant and we kept shrieking: don't buy it - that junction is hell, your child will never be able to play in the front garden and you will be doomed forever to a back garden life only! And we should know - that main road is a deathtrap for the unwary visitor. They should have viewed it at 8.30am or between 5pm and 6pm. Both Lord H and I have learnt to press the accelerator down to the floor and cast our fates into the laps of the gods every morning. And that's only turning left. Turning right is an absolute no-hoper! Interestingly, the other couple featured in the programme bought a house in Bournemouth, Lord H's old hunting ground, so things are getting seriously spooky here in the shires ...

This morning, I have shopped in Guildford and bought a new pair of light walking shoes and a day rucksack-type bag. So I'm all prepared for our next spot of bird watching, aha! I just have to get water bottles that will fit the spaces allowed for them in the bag. And I had a counselling session with Kunu - which was quite relaxing actually. We discussed the fact that for the first time ever, I'm beginning to feel that family judgements which have been made against me in the past (and are, I know, still being made) are actually wrong. And there's no need to feel pressurised by them. Hurrah! People in my family live a different way from me, but that's no reason for me to change my views. Or life choices indeed. Quite empowering really. It might (just!) be okay to be me. As it were. And anyone who implies otherwise is likely to find themselves kicked firmly into touch. I mean, bloody hell, I've never told them what to do - so why the hell should they feel it necessary to tell me what to do? I'm done with all that stuff, really I am. I'm me and they frankly will just have to lump it.

Talking of which, Lord H and I visited Mother in hospital this afternoon. She's surprisingly well, and very perky, even though the operation was only on Tuesday. Honestly, keyhole surgery is a marvellous thing. She thinks she might even be out by the weekend, all things being equal, and assuming they don't find anything else (here's hoping not, for the old gal's sake ...). So fingers crossed, eh. We had to do a loo run together, which was something of a laugh, I have to say - I think she was glad I'd turned up, even if only for that purpose. After all, I'm good with old people - I've worked voluntarily in an old people's home and have done visiting for years. Hmm, funny how much more empowered I feel when my mother is safely lying on her sickbed or dependent on me for something. Aha! Crazed Godalming daughter sweeps through Essex, eyes flashing and zimmer frame raised in triumph ...! Kunu did say that might happen though. Wonderful counsellor, that woman.

And I managed to avoid the horrible brothers too - result!

But goodness me, the journey home was hell. The M25 had given up the ghost entirely so we had to use the A25 instead, and it took us nearly 4 hours (4 hours in a journey that only lasts 2!!!) to get home. A journey which included several heart-stopping minutes when we had literally no petrol left (so much so that even Lord H was worried ...) and no sight of a petrol station. I mean, what the hell is it with the A25??? - there's a road that's just crying out for petrol stations, and not a bloody one in sight. We had to leave it in order to find one.

So we're shattered tonight, and I'm about to go to bed. Can't be arsed with TV frankly.

Oh, and Kathy from Guildford Writers has got a wonderful story involving a very hot train journey to Zagreb in this month's (well, August) "Scarlet" magazine - so everyone must rush out and buy it. You'll find it in the deliciously named "Cliterature" section, tee hee! It's seriously hot - so well done, Kathy!

Today's nice things:

1. Seeing Godalming on TV
2. Counselling
3. Mother moments (weirdly).

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

The joy of the garden

Another retreat today - this time in Chertsey (hell to find, but I got there) - and this time about transformation. I didn't think much of the speaker (or most of the people indeed) who was way too evangelical for me. Do these people not realise there are other ways to be a Christian?? It also all seemed a bit too 1970s in style. Anyway, I ignored most of what the leader was trying to make us think, and simply enjoyed the garden. Which was beautiful. I had such a feeling of peace and enjoyment whilst sitting in it, which was bliss. And I wrote a lot of poems, even did some drawings too, which helped. A lot.

Here's a couple of the poems:

Thoughts on being on retreat, July 2007

(i)
I don’t say amen to the prayer.
Probably I’m the only one
who’s listening.


(ii)
Nothing in church
has pleased me half as much
as leaving it.


(iii)
Please God
if I never have to read
a Christian book again

it won’t be a moment
too soon.


(iv)
The best retreat
is not having to think
about God at all

but just sitting
in the garden, enjoying
the grass, the air, the birds

and me.


As you can see, I entered retreat in my own particular way. And very rejuvenating it was too. Lunch was good at the retreat house as well. As were the chocolate biscuits. Ace! When I write my book on chocolate and prayer, I swear it will be a bestseller.

This evening, I've seen Kunu again for counselling. Had a very good session today - we talked a lot about being an individual and accepting that I don't particularly want to have strong family relationships. Hell, it's just the way I am. And, actually, I'm happy with it. The older I get, the more I grow apart from those I grew up with, and actually the journey for me is a good one. Again, when I write my book on how to move on from your blood relations and be happy, I'm sure it will be a bestseller!

This evening, I'm packing for tomorrow's long weekend away. So I won't journal anything again till Monday, possibly Sunday. Hope everyone has a great weekend.

Today's nice things:

1. Chocolate biscuits
2. The retreat centre garden
3. Counselling.

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

Counselling and conference prep

Had counselling with Kunu today - felt really hyper and twitchy during it. Talked at a speed of about six zillion knots and kept switching wildly from subject to subject. So no surprises there then. But I'm astonished the poor woman kept up at all. I think it's the busy-ness of the week and the huge busy-ness of the weekend and week to come that's making me feel like a mad foaming horse. Or is that dogs? Anyway, you know what I mean. I'm sure though that in the first five minutes alone of our session, I touched on dyspraxia, my hatred of parties and large groups of people, the space in my brain where a map should be, publishing, Shakespeare, work, how overwhelmed I feel if there's more than one thing to do at breakfast and how simply getting fruit juice and bowls onto a tray in the morning is often an exercise in logistics. Which sometimes defeats me. Is it just me, or do other people feel that often they're simply hacking their way through the undergrowth of their own lives, with no real idea of what the direction might be, and every so often another gap that might be another path appears, and while you're out hacking away at that one, the original one gets overgrown again?... Oh. Yes, it is just me then. Sorry.

Whilst shooting quick-fire words at Kunu, it did strike me that my actual emotional connections to people are few and far between. Possibly the only really key people in my life thus far have been (a) my father and (b) Lord H. With a rather dreadfully long gap in between. Poor old Lord H - what on earth did he do to deserve this, eh?! Ah well, at least he gets his shirts ironed and gets to be married to an emotional hermit. Which has to have its advantages, one would think.

Post-counselling, I popped in to see Gladys - as I just couldn't bear the thought of going home and then having to go out again. Horror! Today, and with a weekend ahead of not being at home to consider, once I'm in, I'm in. Gladys was quite lively today - she complained that nobody sees her, but actually she's had three visitors during the week, and has a weekend with her niece to look forward to, plus a trip to the library next week. Sounds way too busy to a party-hater like me. I'd be exhausted and lying adrift on the sofa after all that. And even while I was there, two other people turned up, so really it was much like Piccadilly Circus on a Saturday afternoon. To my mind.

This afternoon, I have finished off a short story I started yesterday - well, it's more of a mix between story and fact. And I've done a little (a very little) to The Bones of Summer. I've got to a section where I have to put Craig and Paul in Alexandra Palace, and I always find description difficult - I have to really work on it. Lordy, but it would be nice if writing got easier, but I'm afraid it doesn't! I've also packed boxes ready for this weekend's conference (http://www.writersconference.co.uk) and worried about if I'll get there at the right time, if I'll be able to set up the table all right, how hyper I might be if people ask me something, and how nasty the publishers I'm seeing will be. In my experience, that could be pretty nasty then! But never mind, I have the memory of Ansley's (http://www.myspace.com/ansley_vaughan) review of A Dangerous Man to see me through - and the knowledge that 2 or 3 people have actually ordered it because of that. Thanks again, Ansley!

I've also practised my poetry reading for next week's meeting for the Writewords (http://www.writewords.org.uk) London Literary Circle. Again. Lordy, but I'm sure I'm doing it differently each time. Must remember to take calming pills to work with me that day - will never survive without them!

Oh and I think my underarm problem is triggered by deodorant with alcohol in it. I'm back to using Lord H's again, which doesn't have alcohol, and things seem better. I hope to goodness I'm not scratching like a deranged monkey all through the ruddy conference. That'll certainly put a dampener on my attempts to sell books and look like a normal writer, ho ho.

Tonight, I'm going to watch my video of "Will and Grace", and there's always "My Name is Earl" on later on. But I'd better aim for a relatively early night, what with the conference coming up. I'll be way too hyper to sleep much during the weekend.

As I'm not back (please God let the car work this time so I can actually get back!) till very late tomorrow night - I never stay at the conference as I'm pulled always by my overwhelming desire to get home - I won't blog again till Saturday. So have a great Friday, all!

Today's nice things:

1. Counselling
2. Writing
3. TV.

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

Because I'm worth it!...

Happy birthday to me!
Happy birthday to me!
Happy birthday to me-eeeeeeeeeee!
Happy birthday to me!
Yay!

What a lovely day I'm having. Thank you soooo much for all the good wishes, cards and virtual cards which have been crowding my inbox and hall table since yesterday. I'm really grateful! I even had a virtual cake (thanks, Gillian!), virtual singing (thanks, Jackie!) and a virtual scary dancing frog - I think (thanks, Sue!). I have had chocolate for breakfast and chocolate cake for a very late lunch. So I am - for once - at home in my skin. As the French would say if they were ... um ... English.

And I have had - hurrah!! - the birthday strop. In a subtle, yet elegantly vicious kind of way, double hurrah. I mean: what birthday is truly complete without the Birthday Tantrum?? It just wouldn't be the same ... The cause being the receipt of a birthday card from the two university acquaintances (yes, they've definitely been downgraded from "friends" now) who wouldn't speak to me because they couldn't deal with people with depression. Well, sod that for a game of soldiers, say I. So I tore the thing into shreds, along with its envelope, and recycled it. And wrote a birthday poem:

Vanishing Acts

So your card arrives –
a sop to twenty years of friendship
and several months of silence –
and I tear it up,
both card and envelope
splintering paper blood and anger
across your names.

When I drop the pieces
in the recycling bin –
always mindful of the environment
even in the face of
your shallow-hearted, elegant
brutality –

I think about spitting
on you both;
I’ve always appreciated
a spot of good high drama,
you see.

But in the end, you’re just not worth it
to me.


I was soooo tempted with the spitting bit (for those moments, m'dears, when simply nothing else will do ...), but I didn't want to upset the very sweet recycling men. See how socially aware I am even in my incandescent rage!...

I also got a very lovely rejection - bizarrely - from Penny Thomas, the Fiction Editor at Seren for Maloney's Law, which - as it's so lovely and as I've decided now to not go the mainstream publishing route with it, I thought I'd include here:

"Many thanks for sending Maloney's Law to Seren. I'm so sorry it has taken us such a long time to get back to you (actually, it was only six months, so I thought it was unseasonably short - I sometimes don't hear anything for a year/18 months) - we are a small company and have been inundated with manuscripts in the last few months. Another reason for the delay is that I have been quite tempted by this novel. It is seductively written, with a strong clear plot and that all-important page-turning factor. In addition, your characters and their relationships are at once credible and intruiging. Unfortunately Seren has not yet really stepped into the thriller genre and, with my lists currently full well into 2009, I don't think I am able to find a space for a change of direction at present."

Thanks, Penny - it's one of the nicest rejection letters (actually, I've never had a novel acceptance letter as such - Flame emailed me for A Dangerous Man) I've ever had. And the terrible, soul-shaking sting you get from the "near miss" is for once pleasantly absent, I imagine from having made the decision not to pursue mainstream publication for Maloney's Law further.

This morning, I've had my usual counselling session. Kunu was impressed with my new feeling of power, from having ditched my real family and found myself a virtual little sister (how are you, Caroline (http://www.myspace.com/caroline_biesse)? Hope you're having a good day too!). And we've decided that church structures are just too disempowering for words - way too much of the awful "we love you because that's our duty as Christians and not for your own sake" - I mean: what is that attitude???!! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. It's somehow very dehumanising, which is I'm sure not at all what Christ actually meant. I think I've said this before, but the older I get the more I'm convinced that Christ didn't come to earth to make us Christians at all, but simply in order to encourage us to be more human. More of who we can be. Anything that dehumanises us (and the church, in my experience, often does just that) or makes us less than we can be is surely against the overarching will of God? Anyway, I've decided that I'm going to create a new religion which will meet with fellow believers in each other's homes between 6pm and 7pm on Wednesday evenings. It will consist of half an hour of angry ranting at God and the general populace, involving real good solid adult tantrum stuff, and then half an hour of quiet meditation. It'll revolutionise the middle of your week, get you in touch with your inner selves and - bliss! - leave the ruddy weekends free. What more could you want? Actually, even Kunu looked quite interested. Maybe I'm on to something here?...

After counselling, I had an hour and a half of Clarins facial - bliss! Then I went shopping. Hell, it's my birthday and I'm worth it! So I bought six pairs of glittery stud earrings in different colours from "All That Glitters" in Guildford (what a marvellous shop!) - from a lovely woman who wished me a happy birthday and hoped I'd enjoy the rest of my day. Thanks, I have. I then hit Marks & Spencer, and bought 5 tee-shirts and 2 shirts, all at very reasonable prices and in a wonderful range of light summer colours, and all from the men's section. My, but the boys do get the best colours, you know ... They don't know how lucky they are!

On my way home, I popped in to see Gladys, who's had a bit of a fall this week, but was in spritely mood, in spite of the pain. She'll be soooo glad to see the back of Blair. Which at nearly 92 isn't bad going. And I've bought a short story collection from Salt Publishing (http://www.saltpublishing.com) - thanks, Jen (http://www.myspace.com/jenatsalt)!

Presents received from the noble Lord H:

One box of Lindor milk chocolates (bliss!)
The DVD of "Casino Royale" (oh, Daniel, how will I ever watch anything else now?...)
The DVD of "The Queen", with Helen Mirren
Mark Haddon's "A Spot of Bother"
Anne Tyler's "Digging to America"
Murakami's "Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman" (short stories)
Julia Glass' "The Whole World Over"

Plus money from Mother (which I've already spent! See above ... Thanks, Mum!), who also bought me a very peculiar floral toilet bag, which I suspect might be for her own virtual daughter - you know, the fluffy, female one she always wished she'd had ... Bloody hell, perhaps my mother and I are more alike than I'd suspected, and we both have virtual families?? Now, there's the start of a (rather scary) novel ...

Tonight, I'm in the pizza, garlic bread, ice cream, and more chocolate zone, plus as much champagne as you could sink the Titanic with - and, hey, it's nearly time for Lord H to come home! Hurrah! Have a great evening, all!

Today's nice things:

1. Birthday tantrums
2. Birthday presents
3. Birthday dinner (Hmm, is there a connection here, do you think?...)

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

The birds have flown ...

Oh, great excitement and trauma this morning! The baby swallows on Springwatch (http://www.bbc.co.uk/springwatch) have finally flown the nest. I was peacefully getting ready at around 8am when a great shout from the computer room brought me running to Lord H's aid, assuming he was having some kind of crisis. He wasn't - instead, the first of the swallows had fledged and the remaining four were looking bemused: What was that then? How did he do that? Can we do that? Ooh, I don't know, Cyril. (Lord only knows why one of the swallows was Cyril, but he just was ...). Anyway, Lord H and I stood gloopily holding hands in front of the computer screen (and occasionally attempting to give one of the little birdies a nudge with the mouse), watching the rest of them work it out and fly away. It's so nice to see it happen on what is, after all, the last day of the Springwatch webcams. Mind you, I shed a few tears, I have to say. I mean now the baby swallows are gone, what will we do with the rest of our lives? How will we find meaning again? Lord H rose to the occasion (as ever) by suggesting chocolate. It worked too.

I must also say how good yesterday's counselling was. We talked about family - and Kunu thinks that my appalling lack of confidence might stem from being disempowered in the family and never really having a voice. Well, I was the only girl in a complete generation of boys (including the dreadful cousins ...) and the youngest born, to boot. So I suppose I'm not entirely surprised - and actually when she said it, something inside me went yes. I don't think I ever really had any confidence (apart from in academic stuff) until I met Lord H. She also thinks that's why I've always had trouble with my religion - when I became a Christian at the age of 18, I was simply swopping one overpowering, rather unhelpful traditional structure (the family) for another (the church), and not really moving on with the whole growing up as a person thing. Bloody hell, but she might be right too. No wonder, now I'm in my kick-ass "what the bloody hell have I been doing all these years??" forties, I'm kicking over the traces. Family and church, both. Sharp operator, that Kunu, you know ...

Anyway, she's suggested that, given the unhelpful setting of family and church that I spent my childhood in, and given my rather active imagination, I would find it useful to make up my own ideal family - and see how that makes me feel - and also do the same experiment with what might have happened if I'd become a Christian later in life, when I was more settled. Actually, the family exercise is easy: I would have loved to have been born in the late 70s, rather than mid 60s (which was such a cusp period - we were the generation who never knew if we were metric or imperial, new money or old, this or that ...); I wanted to live in the town rather than the country; I would have definitely been the eldest child of the generation, and my immediate family would have consisted of one younger sister and no brothers; my father wouldn't have died when I was 13; and my mother ... well, I'll have to think about that one! She's a law unto herself. Anyway, Kunu was impressed by how quickly these initial ideas came to mind, but I shall have to think of it some more. And do the Christian exercise as well.

Actually, over the course of yesterday evening and today, it is funny how much more confident - empowered even, if I dare use such a "counselling" word - I feel, if I imagine myself with that sort of background. Weird indeed. In fact I felt so confident that after counselling I immediately popped into Marks & Spencer and bought myself two natty little cardigans - sorry, soft jackets (including a gorgeously assymetrical and dusky pink one) from Per Una. Lord H was impressed.

Talking of family though, Lord H reminded me that, as I'd briefly gained an extra grandmother during our marriage, a new sister isn't too unusual. A few years into wedded bliss, he came home from work to tell me that his grandmother had died. To which my response had been: you have - well, had - a grandmother? You never said ... And he swears blind he tells me everything ... Sigh!!

Anyway, today, Marian and I played golf, and I was just cooking on gas. My tee shots were fantastic, hurrah! I think it must be my new sister. She's making all the difference, you know. I think I'll call her Teresa ... Hmm, I feel there might be a novel in there somewhere. Worryingly ... Oh, and I popped into see Gladys on the way back home, but she was busy eating lunch, so I'll try again next week.

The rest of the afternoon, I have drafted my article - or rather my opinion piece - on straight women writing gay fiction. I've given it a light-hearted note with, I hope, some hard-hitting points. Now all I have to do is sell the bugger (as it were), ho ho. So, to treat myself for my hard slog, I'm now going to pop into Godalming and have a whizz round before Lord H gets home. Maybe I'll take Teresa with me. I mean she'll need some new clothes now she's arrived, won't she?... Oh lordy lordy, somebody pass me the smelling salts. I've flipped this time for sure ...!

Today's nice things:

1. Golf
2. The bittersweet departure of the swallows
3. Writing my article.

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

The definitive Z-list feeling

Ye gods, but I'm feeling pretty Z-list today. It's the subtitle on the Blogger version of this journal (if you're reading that one) - someone once complained about it, but I kept it as it does seem to fit. Anyway, today, I am surrounded by writers who have already done it all, or are about to do it all, and are having utterly marvellous fulfilling times. And frankly, it's shit. Sorry, but it is. I know I'm supposed to rejoice in the wonderful success of others, but hell it's bloody hard sometimes. I honestly think that the older and more worn round the edges (and indeed the centre) that I get, the more invisible I become.

Anyway, bloody hard graft morning today - did the Goldenford (http://www.goldenford.co.uk) minutes, sent them out, and the first response I got was a distinctly stiff command (not, I suspect, from any of the directors themselves, but from one of their administrators ...) not to send them to the address I was sending to as my email was Not Office Business. Well, sorry, but I'm doing my best, people. And the director concerned did actually ask me to use that address, so I was only doing what I was told. For once ...

I've also practised my Writewords (http://www.writewords.org.uk) poetry reading for the July event, and put together a few well-chosen (I hope) words for introducing The Gawain Quest (http://www.goldenford.co.uk) at the 23 June launch. And practised them too. Not only that, but Flame (http://www.flamebooks.com) have encouraged me to write an article on why straight women write gay fiction, so I've done a skeleton outline for that and made a couple of enquiries to possible article buyers. Ooh, and asked those women I know who write in that genre for any points they might want to include. However, I'm told that several pieces already exist in the same vein, so will probably change it to more of an opinion piece. We'll see. But it's a bloody hard slog - I'm not a natural at this game at all, I fear. Still, I'll do my best.

Then, lunch with Robin - which was lovely, as ever, but I was sooo hoping that she might say something about A Dangerous Man (which I know she's read now). However, there was nothing, and I was way too scared to ask. Yes, I know that shows how needy and desperate I am - but bloody hell, live with it! I am needy and desperate! After all, I always make some kind of comment on her concerts that I attend - even if I haven't enjoyed them (I'm not a great fan of requiems, though Lord H enjoys them), I can find something positive to say. Sigh! Still, we had a good time nonetheless

Just off to counselling now - Kunu couldn't see me this morning, so I'm popping in at 5.15 instead. How I hate the change in routine, but suspect I need the session. God, how I need the session! And after that, I'll be going straight to the Guildford theatre to see Ayckbourn's "Bedroom Farce", so hope that'll cheer me up. We'll eat at the theatre too. Salmon - yummy!

Oh, and poor Mother is having another cancer scare - bit of a bummer really, as she was so looking forward to her July holiday, which she'll now have to cancel. But I'm encouraging her to rebook for later in the year, as it'll be something to look forward to. Must admit we've been here before in terms of operations etc - being Mother, she's more pissed off by the fact that this time all the young doctors appear to be female, and she was so hoping for a nice young man - as ever, eh ... But we'll hold our breath and hope for the best. The good news is that they've caught it earlier than the last bout - thank God. Must rush and do my own essential checking then - groan! What a family indeed ...

And I do so wonder when Myspace (http://www.myspace.com) are going to allow me my blog comments facility back. Double sigh - was it something I said??

Today's nice things:

1. Lunch with Robin
2. Writing the launch party introduction
3. The theatre.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.pinkchampagneandapplejuice.com

Counselling and competitions

Got into town early today and posted the first completed version of The Gifting, plus synopsis (hurrah! hurrah!) to The Literary Consultancy (http://www.literaryconsultancy.co.uk), where it can fester away for a while waiting for a report to be done. It's such a relief to get it away onto the next part of its journey. Which is ironic really, as Simon does a great deal of journeying of his own.

Also good to get back into counselling with Kunu - who unfortunately has broken her wrist whilst on holiday and will have to have it in plaster for six weeks. At least it was the end of the hols rather than the beginning though - but it just goes to show that holidays are dangerous places ... Anyway, this week, we talked about my family and childhood stuff - which seemed fitting bearing in mind my cousin's mealy-mouthed email last Sunday. Bah we say to him (still), bah! It struck me (indeed, I think it struck us both) that I've probably spent the first twenty years of my life trying to fit in with what the family wanted and hiding as much as possible so they couldn't find me out. Not a great scenario for much development as an individual there then ... And, since leaving home, I've spent the last twenty years trying to work out who I actually am. So I'm probably up to the teenage years round about now then - all over again, dammit! And also I don't think church has helped much - it's just another traditional environment I can try to conform to and hide in. Hmm, so that one didn't work that well either. So here I am now, putting myself firmly outside the bosom of the family and the all-encompassing arms of the church, feeling the wind whistling through the gaps (wherever they may be), but thinking like I might know myself a little better for the first time in ... well ... forever. Hey, it may be chilly here in the twilight zone, but the view's nice. There's still just enough light to see it by ...

Well, I always did say that Kunu was a woman who relished a challenge.

Anyway, on the way home, I popped into see Gladys, who's looking perky but has obviously forgotten everything I told her two weeks ago about leaving church. Ah well, at least she remembered for a while. And she's enjoying the new poetry book her niece has just bought her - Matthew Arnold, which brought back some happy memories for me. Gladys does love her poetry. I left when the Meals-on-Wheels lady turned up - but not without making a brave attempt (thwarted cunningly by Gladys) to steal the food to save me making lunch. Ah, foiled again, eh ...

At home, I've prepared my monthly poetry competition entries and also a submission to the next poetry magazine on my list. I'll get them posted tomorrow, so expect the rejection back by COP Saturday. Knowing my luck! And I've fleshed out the outline for The Bones of Summer - bloody hell! I've done an outline without starting the novel first. That's a first for sure! The change in writing practice is just too much for me and I shall have to go and have a lie-down soon.

Tonight, Lord H and I are at the theatre, seeing Priestley's "Dangerous Corner". We can't be arsed to cook so we're eating there - I've ordered smoked salmon, which is my utter favourite. Honestly, I could eat smoked salmon every day and never have enough.

And I've just finished reading Joanne Harris' "The Lollipop Shoes", which is a sequel to the adorable "Chocolat". Hmm. Have to say I was sorely disappointed with it - the beginning and ending were good (though the ending was rather cliched), but the middle needed the stern hand of an experienced editor to cut the flab. It really could have done with being slashed by a quarter. And, to be honest, I had real trouble differentiating the voices of the three main (female) characters - I kept having to go back and work out who on earth was speaking, which was tremendously irritating. I'm actually really sorry to have to write all this, as I count Harris as one of the best novelists of this generation, so I hope she's back on form for her next one ... In the meantime, if you haven't read any, I recommend "Five Quarters of the Orange" (her absolute best, in my opinion) or "Gentlemen and Players".

Today's nice things:

1. Counselling
2. Sorting out my writing admin
3. The theatre.

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

Pink Champagne, counselling and catching up

Have been doing some marketing for the up-and-coming Pink Champagne and Apple Juice (http://www.pinkchampagneandapplejuice.com or http://www.pinkchampagneandapplejuice.com/friends) website today - only one reaction so far but my responder liked the look of it - thank you, Robin! The launch date will be this Friday 4 May at 3pm UK time, so do pop in, have a look round (either now or on the day) and leave a comment in the blog if you'd like to. All visitors very welcome indeed!

Had a good counselling session with Kunu today. We talked about friends and about being in a creative limbo now that I've left the church and am not planning to replace it with anything regular. At least for a while. She seemed pleased that I've been doing things and thinking about making plans in a slightly different direction - eg tidying the flat and organising things that have, frankly, been left in abeyance for years, or thinking about what joint aims Lord H and I might like to have for the future. She thought this was actually quite positive, so made me feel more positive about it also. I mean, hell, if it is a mid-life crisis, then at least I'm dealing with it and not ignoring it. Hurrah! I get Counselling Points - as it were ... She'd also finished A Dangerous Man and found it gripping and moving - which was nice to hear. We've agreed to talk about it next time (which won't, unfortunately, be for another two weeks, due to university meetings/holidays etc) and how it relates to me, and also to look more into my childhood & family history. She's mentioned that before, but I slid past it at the time - but now it feels like something I'm more ready to look at. My goodness, what fun times ahead for sure. Not that there's anything that drastic in my childhood (best say this before Jane H's mother starts worrying again!), but a lot of emotional stuff did go on, which wasn't great. Hmm, funny how every single one of my novels - including the one I'm writing now - does have some quite edgy family problems at the heart of it all. Putting it mildly ...

Once home, I screwed my courage to the sticking place (probably a misquote, but what the hell, eh) and actually emailed my university friends, catching them up with (is that even a phrase?)what's been going on in the World of Anne over the last year. In a brief, very sweet (yes, I can do sweet, you know) and hopefully not too heavy, way. So, now if they do think I'm being peculiar, then at least they know something of why. I felt I owed it to them. Probably. I also suggested that perhaps we could do something over the summer if that works out, so we'll see. So there's my supply of emotional courage drained for the month. Possibly the year. Hey ho.

Popped into see Gladys this afternoon - rather frail today, I'm sad to say, so we didn't have much conversation. Though I was brave with a wasp. A large one too. Halfway through my visit, she did ask me how church was going, so I took a deep breath and told her. Again briefly and in a light way. She was really sweet about it. No, incredibly sweet. And then was gracious enough to let me move on to other topics. So at least she knows now. It'll be good not to have to remember all the lies I'm supposed to have been telling, I have to say.

At home, I've just finished Sharon Maria Bidwell's (http://www.myspace.com/aonia) eNovel, Snow Angel - hot, racy and fun! I enjoyed it - the two main characters were great, but maybe there was a tad too much sex for me (now there's an admission!), but of course it's the nature of the erotic genre, so I shouldn't complain. And I would have loved to know more about Dean's family too. Though I hated April, Jay's sister - but I was supposed to hate her. I could tell. My, how I love to have a character I can hate in a novel - it gives it teeth.

I've also finished a poetry anthology, "Look Closer (Poems about Works of Art)" - a rather mixed collection, but I enjoyed it, particularly stunning work by Marjorie Baker, Barbara Balch and Edward Storey. I've added their names to my ongoing poetry list, where possible, so they must have been good!

Tonight, I'm planning to do some more to The Gifting and move Simon along a little towards his natural ending. I've rather abandoned him over the last couple of days, and I suspect he needs some attention. Poor dear. Hey, but don't we all!

Today's nice things:

1. Counselling
2. Dealing with the new Champers website
3. Reading.

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

A day of two halves ...

Very up and down today, I must say. In that order. Both me-wise and weather-wise. This morning was good. On all fronts (ho ho). Went into Guildford early and stocked up on underwear at Marks & Spencer. Where would I be without that shop? Today I've been bold and rebellious and actually bought bras that weren't white. Or black. Which are my usual bra colours. No, today I have bought, amongst other items, one pink and one light taupe bra. So I feel wild and free and liberated. Hurrah.

Also had a counselling session with Kunu. As I did things I enjoyed at the weekend, I think she's pleased with me. Though of course I know that isn't the object of the exercise. We talked about shopping and the Quakers, about friends and books. We agreed that perhaps the reason why I've been stuck on the last chapter of The Gifting is that I've been worried for days about whether I should or shouldn't go up to London to see the university gals. Then when I make the decision yesterday not to go, I felt some inner knot untie itself (heck, there's psycho drama for you) and then spent some time late last night telling Lord H what my last chapter would contain. Hell, it all came flooding out, and I had to rush to scribble the notes down. Luckily he has promised to expunge it from his memory so it won't spoil his reading if it ever comes to the page. Zip zip and the memory is gone ... it's amazing how Lord H can do that, y'know. Must be a boy thing.

Anyway, back at the counselling, Kunu is sure there's a link there somewhere. We talked about the uni gang for a while actually, and I think the trouble is that we're all performers to some extent or other. I think we spent a lot of time when we first met pretending things were different than they actually were. Sometimes that particular group friendship is like being on stage and we're all performing our own versions of a play which doesn't quite gel. Maybe over the years we've all changed so much and yet still, whenever we meet, we're back performing our usual roles, come what may. It can make it feel - at least for me - very awkward, and I get very tense and jittery about it all. And yet ... and yet ... I freely admit that, without them, I would never have managed to get through university. Or indeed my early 20s. Where did it all start to change? God knows. Maybe I should invite them all round for my birthday in June and just have a normal chat. Whatever that is. Again, God knows. I'm in two minds. As ever.

Though I have to say in my defence that it's not only me who's decided not to go to London tomorrow - someone else has dropped out to. For reasons more valid than mine. But at least it makes me feel less guilty. Which makes a bloody change then.

After counselling, I popped for tea & chat at Jane H's (hello, Jane!). This was lovely - I really enjoyed it. Sooo relaxing. And we covered so many topics. From recycling (we are both very excited about the new food recycling project in Guildford - my, how "Surrey" we both are indeed! - and I am desperate for it to come to Godalming too ..) to my mother's strange feelings about houses (they have atmospheres, you know), from the children (eat your veggies, little people, and stop pouting ...) to horse-riding, and from Roman soldiers to hearing voices (me, not her, I hasten to add, but then you knew that ...). Talking of which, Jane's mother has also apparently read A Dangerous Man (http://www.flamebooks.com) and was desperately worried that I'd had some past trauma that caused me to write such stories and was wanting to know how to help. Jane was able to reassure her, saying apparently that it was only that I heard Michael's voice in my head and just wrote down what he was trying to say. Strangely, this did reassure her - perhaps finding out that I'm probably a complete nutter was not a total surprise ... Still, I was very touched she'd been worried - so thank you, Mrs R.

Also, whilst at Jane's, I ordered some more Nutrimetics (http://www.nutrimetics.co.uk) products, so won't have to worry about running out of same. Hurrah!

Back home, I come to my emails, and was instantly plunged into the slough of despond to realised that my first quarter (ie 13 Feb to end March) sales of ADM have been ... um ... 44. Which Flame Books have now understandably downgraded from good sales to promising sales. To be honest, I'm surprised that anyone should think 44 is good sales, but perhaps they all came in the first two weeks and they were hoping the sudden spurt would continue. Ah well. No, I'm sounding too philosophical now. Actually, I cried, but it did start raining at the same time so at least I'm doing my bit for the ongoing literary tool of pathetic fallacy. To be honest, I was upset as I was hoping it might be in the 80s figure, maybe even more (though that for me would be serious dreamland only 2 months or so after publication). Though, once I'd dried my tears and had a banana, I checked my records and did remember that I've sold 11 copies myself, so have dragged the figure up single-handedly to 55. Hurrah indeed. So, in royalties terms (the 11 sold author copies don't count of course for that), I've made £35.20. Which I won't get of course as they don't, understandably, pay royalties until the figure goes over £100. My, how it makes me laugh when people think I earn money from books. Slap my thighs and build me a garret.

And, if I'm trying to be sensible, I will be lucky if I reach 100 copies sold with this one. Michael is a specialised (and possibly very acquired) taste. Looking back on my past books, The Hit List has only sold 93 in the three years since I published it, and Pink Champagne and Apple Juice (my biggest success so far!) has only sold 105 since last year. So the disappointing sales of ADM are, I suppose, at least par for the course. I pride myself, however, on having round about 40 very discerning readers - to you all, thank you. I hope you might read me again. Small is beautiful indeed. Should any publisher ever be idiotic enough to take yet another chance on me, that is.

Meanwhile, the rain has stopped and the sun is trying to come out. Ye gods, I know how it feels.

And I've done about 1000 words to The Gifting. Which, under the circumstances of feeling like a demolition tool had whacked me in the stomach, is pretty good going, I think! Oh, and bizarrely I've had two emails and two phone calls from the university gang, in various sexes. And I know I should be answering them and being normal in some way but, really, I just can't summon the emotional energy for that right now. Sorry, gang. It's beyond me at the moment.

Tonight, it's the Goldenford (http://www.goldenford.co.uk) meeting, so I shall keep my head down, have no opinions, agree with everything and just take minutes. I think that's the way through it. And maybe a sherry or two when I get home. Oh yes, please God yes.

Today's nice things:
1. Counselling
2. Seeing Jane H
3. Writing.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com

Counselling, competitions and the curse of the TV

Bit slow this morning, so had to dash to get to my counselling session (http://www.castlestreetclinic.com/). Must say that Kunu had a lovely summer skirt on - I was really impressed, but didn't dare say anything in case she thought I was being more weird than normal. Or maybe she's just used to that by now? Anyway, we had a good session, better than last week, I think. We talked about my weekend of silence, and how Lord H and I communicate differently and want very different things. Well, that's something I've known for a while but it's good to talk about it to someone else.

We also talked about faith, how I felt about possibly going to the Quakers and whether I thought that I might not go anywhere for a while in fact. Again, all subjects I've mulled over myself, but it's great to get them into the open. She asked me what I thought my faith actually was, and I tried to say that really it's what it isn't and what it might be that helps me most. Sometimes it feels as if my beliefs are a huge shadowy thing lurking underneath or to the side which I can occasionally glimpse, but if you try to grasp it or label it, it simply vanishes. It's only by not looking that you sometimes see, I think.

Funnily enough, (and bear with me, because it does make sense in the end ...) I think "Foyle's War" on Sunday was helpful - the police station spent two hours trying to solve a card trick where they had to form a swastika (or fylfot in its original 15th century Christian form, before the Nazis ruined it) with only four cards. They failed. Then Foyle told them to look at the background behind the shape of the cards rather than the cards themselves, and the problem was solved. That's what I feel about faith, I think - it's not the words which count, but what's behind them. I've spent long hours in churches over the years saying the words and doing the actions, but all the time the phrase, "this isn't what I believe or at least how I best express it" is jangling through my head. Trying to express my beliefs in words is like trying to put an elephant into a suit made for a mouse. It's just not bloody possible.

Also, it's similar to what I feel about facts and the truth. For me, the two things are very different, and truth isn't found in whatever facts are flying around at the time. I've tried to explain my opinion on this to people once or twice and always received the brush-off, but I still believe it. The truth of a person, the real truth, isn't found in the facts. People are more important than that. Which is why, I think, that when people - or I - lie about myself or lie in some other area (and I do - don't we all?), the lie may not be the facts, but it might well be the truth. In a deeper sense. We're all bigger than the sum of our parts. That, for me, is what faith is. Anyway, I think Kunu got my meaning, but God knows how she's going to write all that up ...

Back home, and armed with the Radio Times and a fresh wad of much-needed cash, I've been sorting out this month's competition entries, which include my poetry and novel entries for this year's Writers' Conference (http://www.writersconference.co.uk) - the brochure arrived yesterday, and I've had fun choosing my seminars and trying for a couple of one-to-ones with editors also. Ye gods, there's always hope. I'm putting both Thorn in the Flesh and The Gifting into the novel competition, but highly doubt Piatkus Press will be that into either. Way too violent in the former case for them, and way too much gay fantasy in the latter. I fear it's a waste of £7 (£7!!! Those entry fees get higher every year, I swear!). But there you go.

That done, I popped over to see Gladys, who is very frail and confused today, but did at least know who I am. Ye gods, she's one up on me then. We spent a pleasant hour finding the Radio Times (again!) and her trusty calendar to see if we could work out what day it was, and then I showed her how to turn on her television, as she'd forgotten. Can't say I blame her on either count, to be honest. Besides they don't make TVs simple these days. The remote control has way too many buttons on for normal folk. They should make something easier to operate - what is wrong with these companies!?

Tonight, I must try to do some more to The Gifting, as I'm beginning to get that pull. Like a long wire being drawn in from my chest towards my pad of paper. God, maybe I am weird. No wonder nobody (except Julia - thanks, Julia (http://www.myspace.com/juleswalker!) answers my emails. Oh, and there's "Sea of Souls" later on TV, so Lord H and I will have to watch that. He's always so hopeful it will end happily, and always so let down when it doesn't. Ah well.

Today's nice things:

1. Counselling
2. Browsing through the conference brochure
3. Watching TV.

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

Counselling, virtual worlds and a wasp battle

Had to get up at a non-writers time today (ie before 9am - ye gods, how will I survive the length of the day?...) in order to get to my Counselling appointment this morning. We talked about families and church. So no change there then. But I have now got to the point when I realise that, for the moment, I'm not going to go back to St Peter's. And I'm not looking for another CofE church to replace them either. Hell, it feels like a decision, and it also feels as if I'm finally - at least in one small part of life - attempting to be me and make my own choices. Rather than attempting to please everyone else and do what is expected. I may well go to the local Quaker meeting in Godalming this Sunday, but it will depend on how I feel on the day. We'll see. It is interesting though that last week I did finally get round to opening the bumph the Quakers sent me a couple of months ago. The envelope has been lurking at the side of the sofa for so long that I was starting to forget about it entirely. But it's open now, and even partially read. Again, we'll see.

Kunu's parting shot this morning was to say that I should look into enjoying more in life, rather than being hung up with achieving lots. She's said it before, I know, but it doesn't come easily. Maybe my achievement conveyor-belt lifestyle is what's stopping me being me, properly at least. Hmm, another thought to ponder a while. I fear. Anyway, whilst in town, I mooched around Marks & Spencer for a while, wondering where all the lovely things they show us on TV are actually kept, and failing to find them. Asking an assistant is way too much commitment. But I did find some nice t-shirts for £5, and in a 3-for-2 offer, so may well pop back in on Saturday to make real-live purchases. If it comes under my new enjoyment quota, that is.

At home, I've typed up more of the current scene from The Gifting onto the computer. And I know where that part of the book is going now, so that's clarified things for me. Just have to write the ruddy stuff really. Once again, a slower writing day today, but it's - hell - enjoyable.

I've also broken my one last connection with St Peter's; I've cancelled my standing order to them, emailed the church treasurer to tell him this (though I don't expect any reply, as these days it seems that neither church people nor my old university set have the courtesy to answer any of my missives any more. At least not in ways I can understand, bitch bitch!...). In its place, I've sent off a form to give regular payments to the Yvonne Arnaud theatre (http://www.yvonne-arnaud.co.uk) in Guildford. Well, I've worked out that I get far more enjoyment from the theatre than I do from the church, so what the hell, eh.

This afternoon, I paid Gladys a short visit - she was worrying about dandelions in the garden and a small fallen tree, but has a man coming on Monday to sort it out. I'm always a great approver of men who come to sort things out. A wonderful and dying breed. Sadly. Also, I was incredibly brave (for me) as there was a nasty looking wasp in her living room whilst we were talking, and I managed to (a) not scream and run sobbing from her house, and (b) get rid of it through the window for her. Really, I'm astonished at myself. It's probably my Courage Quota for the month. Maybe even the year. And please God don't let there be the swarms of wasps there were last year - I really can't stand it! It's like being invaded. In my own home too. Damn it.

Ooh, and Flame Books (http://www.flamebooks.com) have joined Myspace (http://www.myspace.com/flamebooks) and sent me a Friends invite. Thanks, Sean! Much appreciated, and welcome to the strange virtual world we all dwell in these days. Sadly though, so far I seem to be Sean's only friend, so I hope his social calendar fills up soon. If Michael had a Myspace profile, I'd send him round at once, of course.

Talking of virtual worlds, I must admit that I have times of getting really fed up with the Writewords (http://www.writewords.org.uk) world these days. It is (or it was) a good site, and the Groups are great, but I think the forums are getting way too cumbersome and sometimes downright unfriendly these days. Possibly it might be a victim of its own success, which is a shame. Recently I've found myself trying not to get involved with it quite so much, and I definitely feel far less supported on there than I used to be. There's just too many people, and the personal touch has gone, to my mind. Though I really don't want to leave it entirely, especially as parts of the site are incredibly useful, actually I feel far happier on Myspace, to be honest.

And I've just finished reading Jed Rubenfeld's The Interpretation of Murder. Marvellous novel - a pleasure to read, although I do think it was rather too convoluted, especially towards the end. But that doesn't matter, as the characters are just so hot, and it's got some top-notch one liners. A delight really. Go out and read it before they make the film.

Tonight, I'm planning some more scribbling, and it's Catherine Tate on TV later. Bliss. I love her. We redheads must stick together. I always admire a woman with attitude. Bliss.

Today's nice things:

1. Writing
2. Winning a battle with a wasp - for once
3. The pleasures of Rubenfeld's book.

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