Books, buttons and dance

Ooh gosh, I actually seem to have sold one or two more copies of Thorn in the Flesh – so huge thanks to the University Health Centre for their enthusiasm! I’ve also managed to get the book news onto the University intranet and the commercial noticeboard, so I feel I’m PR-ed out now. For a while.

This morning, I’ve carried out a VDU assessment for a new employee and discovered that my assessee (is that a word even?) has been given so short an extension lead to her keyboard that she can barely reach the thing when in the correct typing position. And if she does manage to get the keyboard where it should be, then it slowly pings back to the wall. I’m hoping the powers that be will grant us a longer lead soon – it’s certainly the merciful option!

Ooh, and I’ve posted another couple of copies of Thorn out, and had a very in-depth chat with the lovely post lady while doing so. The poor thing’s been going through a hell of a time, so no wonder the post office has been closed recently – I quite understand it now! At least, things seem to be improving at the moment, which is a relief for her. Odd how so many people seem to be going through bad times this year – let’s hope it gets better for us all …

Whilst running around campus, delivering works of literary genius (ho ho) to the favoured few, the last of my buttons fell off my ruddy coat. Big sigh. I don’t think I now have any buttons on any of my coats, and I also have a large collection of coat-free buttons collected over the years. One day I will get them all together and have a very big party. Where I’ll definitely get Ruth’s husband to do the catering.

And one of my friends in IT who is retiring later in the year has very thoughtfully sent me photos of her wonderful Spanish villa where she will be living from October. Curses galore, Carruthers, but my teeth are well and truly gnashed! Why, oh why can’t it be us? I love Spain … and the villa looks utterly wonderful. If my eyes weren’t already green, they would have turned so now.

This lunchtime, I took the minutes for the Student Affairs Committee – I haven’t looked at the papers for so long that I felt like I was winging it for most of the session. So no change there really. The only trouble is having to write the darn things up. Sigh. It was rather sweet though the way people kept passing notes around the room in order to communicate without disturbing the discussions in hand – it doesn’t really work, I have to say. Best to just interrupt and have done with it really.

Tonight, I’m braving my Scottish country dance class, even though I haven’t been able to go for ages. Hope I’ll be able to keep up. And I must dash back for the glories of “Torchwood”. My midweek isn’t complete without it, you know. Somebody get me my torch …

Today’s nice things:

1. Selling some Thorns
2. Dance
3. Torchwood.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Stories and pork pie mysteries

Was delighted to see last night that my piece of flash fiction, “A vegetable year”, is now on the Storytellers’ Café site – hope you enjoy the read. I was obviously in feminist mood … The site itself is great and well worth a browse – some marvellous stories and excerpts on there from some top-notch writers. I particularly loved the FAQs section. Now if only someone would tell us the answers, eh.

This morning, I am still neck-deep in marketing projects, some of which involve copy typing (hurrah!) which I love. It’s the ideal opportunity to look busy whilst not having to think. My perfect job indeed. Now if only I can get through the whole day like that.

This lunchtime, I’ve had a wonderfully relaxing time in my Pilates class – bliss! – and then tonight it’s Scottish country dancing. Which will sadly be the last time I can go for about three weeks, what with holiday, two launch parties (one being mine) and half-term coming up. Goodness me, by the time I come back I shall have forgotten everything entirely. Hmm, that’ll please our tutor for sure.

And later on it’s the joys of “Torchwood”. I am so excited I can hardly wait! Sadly … Lord H is excited too, as the focus is on Tosh (ah, in so many ways …) tonight and he’s rather fond of her.

Ooh and, talking of Lord H, I am now officially Shocked of Godalming: having been married for 15 years (15 years, mind you!!), the man of my dreams has finally summoned up enough courage to tell me he doesn’t like pork pies. This in spite of the fact that I have been regularly getting them for him as a treat for all this time!!! Men!! What is it about them?! Why won’t they communicate? Am I such an ogre? No, don’t answer that … But I am definitely going to upload all these questions onto my own personal website FAQs section, just as soon as I can work out how to put the darn thing up. Sigh!

Today’s nice things:

1. The Storytellers’ Cafe
2. Dancing
3. Torchwood.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Reviews and Interviews

First, I must say thank you to Jane, Ang & Jane’s mother for a wonderful evening out last night. I think we put Godalming to rights and we talked a great deal about vomit. My ideal evening really. Jane’s mother also managed to dissuade me from breaking into the (naturally shut – but it was evening so I forgive them, this time …) briefcase shop which is opposite the restaurant. Probably a wise move. Even I can see it might have been tricky explaining it to the police …

Had a very nice review of A Dangerous Man today on the Obsidian review site. Many thanks, Val - and I’m glad you liked the book.

And the lovely Lisa Glass, author of the marvellous Prince Rupert’s Teardrop, has interviewed me today for the Vulpes Libris site and you can find the interview here under today’s date. I nearly sound normal too – which is an achievement! Many thanks, Lisa – I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

Back at the coal face, Carol is back and unable to get into her computer. I fear it is the amount of comings and goings to do with keyboard changes, but we hope she’ll be able to use the machine soon. I have confessed however, and she is still smiling at me. Phew! And it’s the boss’s birthday, so we are celebrating with cakes and strawberries. As you do.

This lunchtime, I have the first of my beginners’ Pilates classes – so I’m hoping it will be less scary than the super-scary open class. I’m going to quiver at the back and look sad. Well, it’s a life plan. UPDATE: The beginners’ class is fab – and the woman who takes it is really, really lovely. I felt soooo incredibly chilled and relaxed when we finished. Not a feeling I have very often, I can tell you. More please!

And I’m busy hacking my way through the system to try to produce enough leaflets for students to have – we’re running rather low, and I’m making a bid to have access to my own template, rather than sending stuff off to other people all the time. Heck, I am becoming the Marketing Queen after all. Sigh!

Tonight, I’m off to Scottish Country Dancing, and then I must dash back to catch “Torchwood”. I really need to know what my next online mission will be soon, so I can practise holding the torch. Lord, but I am so sad.

Today’s nice things:

1. The Obsidian review
2. The Vulpes Libris interview
3. Pilates.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Meetings, dance and ooh more totty

Back to the grindstone today. That’s the trouble with having a day off in the middle of my working week – it makes going back deeply confusing. And it’s as if I’ve never been away – we’re still in meeting muddle and I am juggling minutes, bids and yet more meetings with increasingly desperate intensity. I really have no idea what’s supposed to be happening and I’m not convinced anyone else does either. Sigh. Even those who might – if I shine a light in their eyes – have some inkling of what’s going on have fled to the hills. Ah well. We struggle on.

This lunchtime I am also confused: am I supposed to be going to scary Pilates, or am I having lunch with Julia? I really don’t know. I’d prefer lunch with Julia by far, to be honest, but I can’t get hold of her. If she too has vanished, I’m not sure I have the emotional energy for Pilates. I might just wimp out anyway and wait for the Beginners’ class to start next week. I’m not sure I can face the humiliation otherwise. UPDATE: In the end, I went for a walk round the campus, and popped into the photographic exhibition on the way, which was very relaxing. Honestly, I’d forgotten how much I love just walking round the place by myself with no need to talk to anyone, as it’s ages since I had the chance. It’s bliss. I swear I can feel myself unfolding by the second. Also lovely to see the daffodil shoots already out and to sit by the lake and stare at the birds for a while.

This afternoon, I have yet another meeting – oh joy! This time, it’s the Nursery Group, so at least they’re less spaced-out, and I have some chance of knowing what they’re talking about. I swear I am slowly drowning in unwritten minutes and eventually they will destroy me entirely. Still, I did know January was going to be touch, work-wise – I just hadn’t realised quite how tough.

Tonight, it’s Scottish Country Dancing – hurrah! – and then – double hurrahs! – the joys of “Torchwood” and yet more hot totty. Thank goodness for something to look forward to, eh.

Today’s nice things:

1. The lunchtime walk
2. Dance
3. Torchwood.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Back to the dance and an alien keyboard

Gosh, some nice news to start the day – the lovely Verda – my editor for Maloney’s Law at PD Publishing – has now completed her edit and emailed me with changes and a covering note to say what a wonderful story it is and how much she loved it. Gosh, thanks, Verda! I can honestly say that’s the first time that’s happened with a commercial publisher – it’s so nice to be treated as if I’m a real person rather than a number in a very long list. My experience with PD is certainly proving very pleasant indeed. They make me feel like a worthwhile person – shock, horror!

This morning, I have deeply confused the day by opening the bathroom cabinet and realising that in the general rush and frantic busyness of last night (um, I didn’t get to bed till nearly midnight, in spite of resolutions to the contrary …), I had failed to put my make-up back in its customary place. Everything was totally mixed up and my usual sadly anal routine shot to pieces! I had to think before 9am. Whatever next?? I can only hope that this strange concept of original thought doesn’t pop up during the remainder of the day – I’m wiped out already and don’t have the energy for it, darlings …

This lunchtime, I’m off to my first Pilates class of the year, so I’m hoping I don’t have to speak to anyone and can just lie there and do odd things with my inner core. Or whatever it is. Mind you, if I ever find my inner core, the rest of me will be so shocked that I might disappear entirely. It’s the flabbiness that’s keeping me together, you know. UPDATE: ye gods but she’s worked us hard. I am obviously the class dunce! Even the retired people do it better than me. It was bizarrely relaxing though, so I’ll definitely keep going. Depending on work commitments and the threat of Wednesday lunchtime meetings of course.

I am also waiting for the last of my sets of papers to come through for Monday’s meeting and then I can send them off into the ether, lie down and have a snooze, ho ho. The whole thing of course is somewhat complicated by the fact that I have two back-to-back meetings on Monday about entirely different things (which idiot arranged that then? Oh. I did …) and have to be alert for both. Hmm, I don’t hold out much hope for that then.

And, bizarrely, I’ve had to change my keyboard as this morning my usual one started adding in extra letters even when I wasn’t typing them. Do you think I am at last being contacted by aliens and this is their chosen method of communication?? Really, m’dears, it wouldn’t surprise me. If my keyboard comes up with an actual sentence on its own, I shall lie down and wait for the Mother Ship to arrive. Again.

Tonight, it’s back to Scottish country dancing, hurrah! Even though I can’t remember any of the steps. I’m hoping it will all come flooding back though, as my dancing brain is an utter blank right now. Mind you, it’s really never been anything else. I’m also being brave and taking along a copy of Pink Champagne and Apple Juice as at our last class my dancing partner, Jackie, said she’d like one. I’m hoping she’s remembered. Or I’ll look like a really pushy sad author with no life. No – say nothing! I know – it describes me perfectly.

Today’s nice things:

1. Verda’s lovely comments
2. Pilates
3. Scottish country dancing.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

The mysteries of Boris & Horace and a dance extravaganza

Had our first puzzle card of the season yesterday – we do always seem to get one we can’t interpret, at least for a while. Is this just me or does everyone have this problem?? Anyway, the card in question appeared to be from someone called “Sulele” and the note inside read “I’m still working on Boris & Horace. Enjoying it very much.” The plot was thickening in a suitably mysterious manner so I asked Lord H. He read the card, put on his best Russian accent and said: Ah, I am working on Boris & Horace, but I believe they will crack soon and tell me everything they know. Hmm, it’s this sort of response that makes me wonder about my husband sometimes … Thankfully, I’ve now worked out who it’s from – one of my friends who writes children’s books (hello, Angela! – what wild writing you’ve got!) – so MI5 are unlikely to be calling round. Yet.

Today, it’s so ridiculously cold that I’m wearing a jumper, a fleece and a coat. In the office, I’ve only removed the coat. I’m keeping the rest on – I want to hang on to all my extremities for as long as I can. I’m also being super-brave and starting to look at updating our Personal Tutors’ Handbook, even though I have no real idea what is wanted or how it should be changed. Still, ignorance has never stopped me before, eh … I’m a great fan of the “let’s have a go and see what happens” style of working. In the meantime, a man with a mower is walking up and down the concrete walkway and patio area mowing it. Are we in the twilight zone?? There is no grass, people. I accept that we need to provide employment for the masses, but this might be going a little too far.

This lunchtime, I’m wrapping up well and off into town to pay in my cheque from Writers’ News – the third prize of £25 in the space poetry competition. I shall spend it wisely and well, ho ho.

Talking of poetry, here’s one:

Certain days

are blank; they arrive
wrapped in light
and promise

but are soon
revealed
as clouds

without substance,
a medley
of emptiness

and mist -
so there is nothing
to do but sit

waiting
for the night
to swallow them up

again.


This afternoon, Carol and I have hand-delivered the papers for the Mentoring Board meeting next week as there are so many of them in different colour combinations (all coded of course …) that if we send it by email, it’ll just confuse everyone. There is something charmingly 1950s about it though. Take a letter, Miss Jones …

Tonight, it’s the last session of the Scottish country dancing class, so I’m taking drinks and nibbles for afterwards and I’ve even invited one or two friends to come along and laugh at me. And maybe have a dance as well – you never know! I did invite Lord H too, but he’s very reluctant to be dragged into an actual dance so I suspect he’ll stay at home. I’ll have to bring him back a mince pie or several.

I’m also beginning to need the year to be over. It’s been way too long and this term is (always) way way too long and I just want to stop and get some rest. Soon, please God!

I've also just finished reading Val McDermid's The Mermaids Singing. Um, yes well, nothing wrong with the writing, but there was far too much unnecessary violence and I didn't really like the main man that much. I thought he was a total prat, though the woman was nice. Have no idea what she saw in him though. My sympathies were (apart from the violence) with the serial killer. The only thing is I wish he'd managed to get the main man earlier and kill him off entirely. That would have been good. Deep sigh. I don't think I'll be getting another McDermid then.

Finally, we have yet another strange Christmas card - the downstairs neighbour has sent us one with a little note, saying he hopes we have a good Christmas, even though 2008 will be very unpleasant and bring lots of crises for us all. Eh??? Does he know something we don't?? Should we be battening down the hatches and waiting for the nuclear age?!? Or simply moving? Answers on a postcard please. But don't use a Christmas card, as it's just too scary ...

Today’s nice things:

1. Boris & Horace
2. Earning £25 from writing – hurrah!
3. Dancing.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Inner bitches, writers’ errors and a little bit of dancing

Dark rain clouds over the south today, m’dears. Plus lots of rain. Darnit. And I’ve planned to walk into town at lunch today to get a few bits and pieces, so I’d better dress up warm and not forget the brolly. UPDATE: actually it wasn’t raining and I had a nice, if brief, chat with one of the old Guildford Writers bunch whom I hadn’t seen for a long time. So that was great. I also bought the “Getting in Touch with your Inner Bitch” block calendar, as I thought the office would appreciate it. I was right … I particularly like the look of the “Niceness Detox Tips”, one of which is: Start a revolution in your life. Say “I don’t think so” at least once today. Fabulous! I hope to put it all into practice next year.

Ooh and the big shock of the day is that I’ve discovered that the last line of my Maloney’s Law blurb is almost exactly the same as the last line in my Thorn in the Flesh blurb. Arrggghh!!! I am now wearing a Writers’ Dunce hat as punishment but am too humiliated to provide pictures. The one good thing that can be said is that at least it shows that – even if I don’t stick to the same genre – my themes are similar. Ho ho. Which is surely one in the eye for all those publishers who object to my lack of predictability – hey there, I am predictable after all!! In the meantime, I have changed the last half line of my Thorn blurb so the glaring error is less glaringly obvious. It now reads:

“Can she overcome the demons of her own personal history before time runs out?”

Whereas before it was: “Can she overcome the demons of her own personal history and protect those she loves before it’s too late?” Way too similar to Maloney indeed!... Ye gods, I am starting to plagiarise myself. Should I sue?

Anyway, I shall run it by the Goldenford Girls to see if they’re happy. There’s still time, thank goodness. And all this existential angst of course assumes that the same set of people might read both – well, you never know …

In the meantime, the mystery of the strange outside table continues to puzzle us. This table which has been on the courtyard/walkway outside our office window for a few weeks has now been joined by a chair. Perhaps it is indeed one of the new faculty offices who simply can’t afford a roof? We’re thinking of placing one of our old phones on it and seeing if anyone makes a call. We could also make it pretty and put a plant on it – well we don’t want the poor hard-done-by admin bod to feel unloved.

Tonight, I’m off to Scottish country dancing – I’m hoping I can pick up on whatever I missed last week without too much embarrassment and confusion as I was too busy editing for Britain to go then. It’ll probably do me good – even I can tell I’m getting way too twitchy and anxious about stuff. I was panicking this morning before work about double the items I usually panic about: the iron, the hairdryer, the heater, the oven, the kettle, the computers: are they all off? To this obsessional list, I also added checking the book covers, checking the blurbs, worrying about not writing enough and staring at the computer screen whilst hyperventilating until my eyes imploded etc etc. I also did all of this twice, just in case I hadn’t panicked to the appropriate level of mania. I seriously need to reeeelaaaaxxxx. Maybe it’s time for a calming pill.

And later I’ll be glued to “Heroes”. How will it all end? It won’t be the same without my weekly dose of Hiro.

Today’s nice things:

1. The walk into town
2. Dancing
3. Heroes.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Thorns and Bones

Bloody hell, but I've actually done something literary today. Pause for blowing of trumpets and putting up of the bunting. Ah, I remember bunting. Brings back all those glorious '70s moments for me ... Does anyone still use this?

Anyway, I have changed all the names in Thorn in the Flesh that need changing and I'm sure my two secondary characters have grown sparkier as a result of being renamed to David and Nicky (or possibly Nicki - I'm still not decided). Strange what a difference a name makes. Even if only to my inner view of them. I've also added in a couple of phrases about Godalming Museum - well, if I'm going to have the launch there, then I'd better do the decent thing. Never let it be said that I, as an Essex Girl, am too proud to product-place in a novel. And even if the launch ends up being somewhere else, heck at least I'm showing local loyalty.

I've also typed up the Goldenford minutes and sent them out to the Golden Girls for checking. And I've done 787 (ye gods, that's more than 3!!) words to The Bones of Summer, which brings me to about 43,000 words. I think I'm about to go into a descriptive passage now too, so I'd better hang on to my hat and do my mental checklist: Do I have sight? Tick! Hearing? Tick! Taste? Tick! Touch? Tick! Smell? Well, not yet, but there's still time ... And not forgetting the most important ingredient of description: is this from the character's viewpoint entirely and absolutely and does it therefore reveal more of him? Oh Lord, but I hope so ... It's always the thing (amongst the many, many things) I have to rehash in the edit. And the one I struggle with most.

After all that, I have popped into see Gladys, who was quite chatty to start with but soon got tired. Hell, I have that effect on loads of people, so nothing new there.

Oh and I must say that I had a great time at Scottish country dancing last night - I managed to grab a partner rather than having to dance with the tutor, and I'm sure I pick it up quicker that way. I thought my poussettes were wonderful and I was okay on the weaving in and out in a line thing - whose name I have now forgotten - but my stripping of the willow was sadly lacking. Oh well, there's always next week. I think my main problem is the uncertainty under pressure of which is my left and which is my right arm. I think at one point I might even have swopped sexes. It was hard to say. Dahlings, it always is ...!

Tonight, Lord H and I are off to see the Northern Ballet Theatre perform "A Midsummer Night's Dream" at Woking Theatre. So I'd best make sure my tutu is ironed and my pointes are pressed. Ah, it could have been me, if only I hadn't grown too tall ... not that I'm bitter or crabby about my lack of ballet skills. Of course not - perish the thought!!

Today's nice things

1. Editing Thorn
2. Writing more of Bones
3. Ballet.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Names and Teardrops

A long blog, for which apologies – but I’ve put a fairly in-depth review of Lisa Glass’s Prince Rupert’s Teardrop at the end – well worth a read (the book – and the review, I hope!). Had great fun at the Goldenford meeting last night sorting out our upcoming book signings and fairs etc. Christmas is always a busy period. So if anyone’s in Farnborough at all on Saturday 24th November (this Saturday) between 11am and 1.30pm-ish, do pop in and see us in Book Boyz bookshop in Kingsmead, Farnborough – we’ll be happy to see you!

Still no definite date for the Thorn in the Flesh launch, as it will be easier to see how much production time we need once the edits are done. Ooh and talking of edits, Jennifer wants me to change the names of my two secondary characters. Which is fair enough as I’m rubbish at names – at the moment they’re Kevin and Jane Fletcher. Which she thinks is way too dull. She’s right too. So I’m thinking about rebranding (ooh, a managerial word – hush my mouth …) them to David and Nicola (Nicky for short) Fletcher. Or maybe it should be Nicki? Hmm, I don’t know. She’s definitely not a Nikki – far too modern and twenties for a mid-30s woman.

Funnily enough, I had the same problem with Pink Champagne and Apple Juice where up until the very last minute, my heroine was called Angie Soames – which I’d basically taken from a friend of mine (hello, Ang …) with a very similar name at the time. Jennifer queried it just before we went to print and I cast around for another surname, looked desperately at my colleagues here at the University and took the surname of our Dean of Students – so goodbye Angie Soames and hello Angie Howard. Much better indeed.

And since then I’ve taken to using colleagues’ surnames in my novels – Thorn in the Flesh also has a McLeod and a Dickinson, and I’ve got a Clutton (briefly) and a Langley in The Bones of Summer. Not sure I can really find a place for a Faux (the Deputy Dean) though – as no-one can ever pronounce it properly and I probably confuse my readers (that small and blessed band!) enough, without adding in something they can’t say in their heads as they read.

Popped into the lunchtime concert again today – very enjoyable. And tonight it’s Scottish country dancing – my eye seems a lot better today, so those agonising moments of Lord H holding me down and forcing eyedrops in whilst I scream may have been worth it as I’ll be able to go to the ball, ho ho.

In the meantime, here’s a poem – it’s vaguely seasonal:

Carol conflagration

We left the candle on
the night we went to church

so while others were singing
of shepherds on cold hillsides,

mysterious loud angels
and babies in sheds,

all I could see were great swathes
of flame devouring

carpets and tables,
pictures, wallpaper, books

and all I could hear
was the crackle and hiss of destruction.

Later we arrived home
to a still night only, a steady room

and a guttered, quietened
candle.


And, as promised, here’s a review of Prince Rupert’s Teardrop by Lisa Glass, which I’ve just read:

This is an utterly fascinating and incredibly literary novel. Extremely poetic and as dark as a winter night without the Christmas glitz. The main character, Mary, is a tour de force – ageing, prickly and a complete misfit, she provides a piercingly perceptive voice on the world around her. Which is also the world around us, of course. Through Mary, we understand again the utter strangeness of the world we live in, and feel the edginess and potential danger of our everyday lives. Yes, it’s the story of a loner and how she collides with the threatening world around her – but in that sense it’s the story, surely, of all of us.

Interestingly, the actual narrative, concerning the disappearance and possible murder of Mary’s mother, is almost irrelevant – what counts is the poetic power and literary nature of the text. This reminds me of the best passages in Lawrence or even Joyce and I wonder in fact if, in years to come, the character of Mary in Prince Rupert’s Teardrop will be seen as one of the forces driving the novel to a different type of expression. Not that narrative and the need for it will ever be left behind, but it’s exciting to see that the genre can be moulded into a significantly new shape. As a result, the ebb and flow of the surface story here becomes the least attractive part; even the glorious chapter about the Armenian struggles is, admittedly, a work of art, but out-of-place in the context of what is being done with the book. This kind of novelistic oddity is, however, not uncommon; Hardy occasionally does the same.

Before I read this work, the author asked me to let her know if I thought the secondary character of the killer, a man who may or may not be called “Roo”, was real or simply a product of Mary’s wild imagination, as this was one of the points which had apparently come up in discussions. Actually, bearing in mind what I’ve already said about this work, I think the issue is irrelevant. A novel of course is never “real” and the characters in it are always made up. Even Mary. But the fact that we don’t know about the status of “Roo” within the text is another, very subtle way of playing with reader expectations concerning what a novel is or should be.

In conclusion, there are three questions which need to be considered:

1. Is this a difficult novel? Yes, in the sense that, for me, it stands outside the novel genre and is more comfortable with the “label” (if we must have them) of poetic prose, or prose poem.
2. Is it a novel worth reading? Absolutely yes, but slowly and giving yourself time to savour the experience. Much like Lawrence, a page or two a day gives the optimum pleasure.
3. Is it a novel that will stand the test of time? Though I say this in a novel culture where the best-written and most interesting works are sometimes shunned, I’d like to think so, yes.

Finally, I would state that if this is the standard of Glass’s work, then I’ll be first in the queue when her next offering comes up. And if it’s a poetry collection, I’ll even pre-order! Fascinating stuff indeed.

You can find it here.

And, to cap it all, Equinox magazine has just accepted one of my poems for their next edition, hurrah! So thank you, Equinox!

Today’s nice things:

1. Thinking about Thorn
2. Reviewing Prince Rupert’s Teardrop
3. Dancing.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Books, trains and dances

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

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

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

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

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

The last journey

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


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

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

Today’s nice things:

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

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Thorn cover art and the Devil amongst the Tailors

Had a fantastic time at Scottish country dancing last night - completely non-cool (whatever that means), I know, but it was great. Mind you, I was shattered after ten minutes, and the class was an hour and a half, so you can imagine what my muscles are like this morning. Not having a partner wasn't too bad either, and there were even numbers (more women than men, of course, but more men than I'd expected, and not all old!), so I could do most dances - one bloke sat out for a couple, but the tutor kept including me when I was least expecting it. While my mind (and everything else) remains something of a blur, I think we did four or five dances, all new to the class, but I can only remember the names for two of them: Dhoon, and the Devil amongst the Tailors. Which is a wonderful title so I just had to use it.

Anyway, I've signed up for the full monty today, so will be dusting down my kilt and funny socks ready for next week's class. The only worry I have is that my ankle didn't feel so good afterwards (the aftermath of twisting it on holiday, I'm afraid), but I have bandaged it up again today and am hoping for the best for next Wednesday.

This morning, I met Jane H for coffee & a bun in Godalming, which was great - soooo good to catch up, Jane! And the Slug & Lettuce cafe-bar surpassed itself by offering up hot blueberry muffins. Bliss indeed. Actually, the Slug & Lettuce appears - briefly - at the end of Thorn in the Flesh, but in a previous incarnation when it was rather less posh. I definitely prefer the new look.

Talking of which, the wonderful Penelope Cline has done a couple of superb cover options for Thorn, taking as inspiration a scene in the book, one of which I shall bravely attempt to add. Oh look, it's appeared! Isn't it fab? Thank you so much, Penelope! Hope to sort out with the Goldenford Gals soonest and get back to you!

On the way home, I popped in to see Gladys, who was tired, but brighter than she'd been last week, so I was able to stay a little longer than before. She tells me that in her younger days, she played the piano for a country dancing class, and would dearly have loved to try out the steps but was never able to, as she was the only piano-player in a five-mile radius. Shame really - I'm sure her rhythm would have been far better than mine.

For the rest of today, I've been editing Jackie's novel, Tainted Tree, for Goldenford. It's such a good story, and I do so love the heroine, Addie. She's a great character!

Tonight, I'll be carrying on with the editing, though I really have to catch up with the latest on "Strictly Come Dancing", and hoping for an early night. We have an action-packed weekend ahead!

And I've just finished Neil Rollinson's latest poetry collection, Demolition. He's always been one of my favourite modern poets, but I must admit this latest offering didn't quite do it for me. The passion seems to be diminished and the style more muted. Is it to do with age, I wonder? To be fair, there were one or two ace poems, but much of it seemed rather bland, in that particular blandness that 80% of modern poetry does seem to have now. Query: is it something they put in the water that they give to poets that makes so many of them sound the same? Or is it the "demands of the market" where publishers only want a certain type of poem, which they think sells? Hmm, much like the fiction business then. Lord save us all from losing our voices to the hum of the crowd!

Today's nice things:

1. Meeting Jane
2. Editing Tainted Tree
3. Strictly Come Dancing.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Marketing madness and the Scottish country dancing queen

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

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

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

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

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

Waiting for the Question

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



Today’s nice things:

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

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Bookstalls and the mysteries of time

Got up this morning to find that Lord H had very sweetly downloaded the first episode of the new Oz Clarke and James May wine tour programme - I'd missed it on TV as I'd been too busy writing. Shock! Horror! Yes, that does occasionally happen. And aren't computer downloads a wonderful thing? - modern technology never ceases to amaze me. Anyway, the programme was great and I loved their mobile home and friendly bickering. The Odd Couple of the new millennium indeed! Must try to remember to watch next week's episode on real TV if I can.

Managed to bash out 500 words of The Bones of Summer this morning before nipping into Guildford to help Irene and Jackie run the Goldenford bookstall at the Guildford Institute - part of the fun of Book Festival Week. We had a lovely lunch (the Institute food is wonderful!), a great chat but unfortunately no actual custom. Sigh! Still, as we were packing up, a lady did pop over to tell us how much she'd loved The Moon's Complexion which cheered Irene greatly, and how shocked she'd been (in a humorous way!) at the rudeness of The Hit List which amused me greatly. Especially as Pink Champagne and Apple Juice and A Dangerous Man are probably both far ruder!

A really good thing about being in Guildford though was the fact that I was passing Superdrug when I saw that they were offering walk-in appointments for flu jabs at £9.95 a jab, so I rushed in and took up the offer (having been brutally turned down for the same by the wicked new doctor ...). Result! And it only took ten minutes, so here's hoping it works! Not only that but the nurse assured me that having a plaster on my arm meant that I definitely couldn't do any washing-up or ironing for at least a fortnight. I have yet to break this good news to Lord H of course ...

And whilst in town, I also bought a new watch (I lost mine yesterday somewhere on campus, but the strap had been wearing thin for a while, to be honest) for me and one for Lord H, as they were offering a second one half-price. And Lord H hasn't had a watch with a strap for months, so has been carrying it around in his pocket. Not the best of solutions to time. The bizarre thing is how much you really do rely on glancing at your wrist to work out where you are in the day, as until I'd bought it I felt quite adrift in the morning. I was also late to the bookstall (wicked me!), but that was only because I was buying a watch so I could work out what time it was so I wouldn't be late. Which is a circular sentence you could probably lose yourself in, but true.

Anyway, on the way out of town, the peculiarities continued apace. I'd validated my car park ticket and attempted to put it in the machine at the exit so the barrier would lift, but the moment I stuffed it in the slot, the damn thing started whirring and spewing out other people's tickets at me instead. I panicked, thinking oh God I'll be stuck in the car park for ever and doomed to wander about trying to find an alternative escape route until the end of time, so grabbed all the used tickets and dropped them in my car. As the machine paused to work out what I was doing, I pushed my own ticket back into the slot, the barrier raised and I sped off, taking a decent handful of the Council's used paperwork with me. No doubt they'll be knocking on my door later asking for their property back, but in the interests of the environment I have recycled it.

This afternoon, I popped in to see Gladys (at last!), who was confused as to when exactly I'd been on holiday and when I might be going again - perhaps she's desperate to get rid of me and actually quite enjoyed the last three weeks when I haven't been able to go? - but hey at least she's enjoying the weather. As indeed are we all. Back home, I've scribbled down another 500 words of The Bones of Summer, watched the daily show of "Strictly Come Dancing" and am planning to look at the last of "Who Do You Think You Are?" on TV later on.

Ooh, and talking of dancing, I had a nice chat with the tutor of the Beginners' Scottish Country Dancing adult education class earlier on, who has suggested I go for a taster session towards the end of October. Which I have decided to do. Well, I don't need a partner, and the tutor seemed to think it would be okay to join after everyone else has started, so I'm going to be brave. I like dancing (on the rare occasions I do it), and it might even be fun! Maybe I should buy a kilt? Hmm, not sure I have the knees for it though ...

Today's nice things:

1. The Goldenford stall
2. TV
3. Finding I can still write something - sort of!

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Space-hopper on a pogo stick

Now there's a scary image ... and one provided by the noble Lord H when I asked him last night how he would describe my normal state of mental and emotional balance, and whether he thought I was currently worse than normal. His response to the latter was that as the closest image to me in my 20s had been a rollercoaster on speed, now that I was in my 40s, a space-hopper on a pogo stick was actually more manageable. For us both! So there you have it! I am indeed as spaced out of my head as I suspected, but this may well just be me. And at least Lord H has not complained of boredom - yet.

Anyway, today, you'll be pleased to know, has actually been a better day for us all at work. Double hurrahs all round and crack open a beer! Or two. Though I have still been rushing around with marketing packages across campus until everyone was fed up with me, and attempting to steer people towards our care services event day. Which proved thin on the ground in terms of actual custom, I must say, but I had lovely and pleasingly human chats with Ram, Sally & Marc. So that was grand (as my Grandmother would have said, though in a northern accent and with the word "pet" tucked on at the end ...)

I've even completed one draft of minutes and almost finished another, so my fingers have been flying across the keyboard like gazelles. Oh, and I squeezed in my back class too, which was fun. I really have to fit in more physical exercise into my average day if I can - it does make things better. Ye gods, the health gurus might be right after all then. Hush my mouth and call me a banana. Or bring me one. Either will do. Talking of which (exercise, not bananas), I'm thinking of taking a Scottish Country Dancing class next year if I can and if you don't have to bring a partner for it (Lord H and dancing do not fit - though I think he underplays his talent really ...). I do like dancing, and watching "Strictly" has brought back the urge once more. It could have been me, you know, up there in the spangly dress and the eight inch heels!! Now, there's an image that would have them fleeing to the hills indeed ...

Anyway, tonight, I should have been attending the first of my planned-for Book Festival events, but frankly I'm staying at home. I need to this week, I think. So I suspect I won't be attending any of the events I have tickets for during the next few days - thus making me once more a prime contender in the Non-Attending Book Festival Attendance competition. As always, I have been torn between the requirement to attend (I am a reader, and a writer - I should bloody well be going!) and the desperate need to avoid (a) all those irritatingly successful authors showing us how well they've done, and (b) crowds of people at a time of year I can't handle them. Ah, if only the festival was during the easier spring or summer months, I'm sure I'd actually get to a few of the meetings. That's my excuse anyway ...

So instead I'll be watching "Heroes" and drinking beer. Three cheers for the literary no-hoper, eh!

Today's nice things:

1. Nice chats with nice people
2. Staying in, in spite of all the pressure to be out
3. Lord H.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Broken glass and the PR queen

Sad news today - the last of my mother's enormous sherry glasses has bitten the dust. Or rather sprayed fragments of itself all over the kitchen floor when Lord H tried to persuade it to go into the cupboard last night. This is a key bridge moment, as my mother's sherry glasses were one of the things I brought from home into our marriage - much like a dowry of old, I imagine - and which have seen us through many a sticky period. Believe me, there's no row that can't look a little less fraught with a few gulps of Harvey's Bristol Cream or Waitrose best own brand down the gullet. Ah well. It was amusing watching poor Lord H teeter on his bare toes on the tiling though, as he attempted to avoid dismemberment. I had to resort to dusting the bits up round his feet before the worst could happen; he's not at his best at the sight of blood. Least of all his own. I'll have to tell mother I nicked those glasses one day too - I don't think she's noticed yet ... She's more of a wine gal.

Today it has snowed. Which means that my Counselling appointment has been cancelled, and there's no dance tonight. Groan. But I am glad I don't have to go out in the white stuff, seeing as I hate it so much. And a complete day in the flat is always welcome!

A large part of my unexpected free time has been spent being a PR queen. With a lot of help from nice people. Chevonne from Flame Books (http://www.flamebooks.com) tells me that she's sending out 35 review copies next week of "A Dangerous Man", three of which are to authors I've met at workshops and who have therefore either seen sections of the novel or other parts of my writing. Special mention has to go to Andrew Taylor (a wonderful crime writer and a thorougly nice man - http://www.andrew-taylor.co.uk), Lesley Horton (another crime writer and a woman who tells it like it is, thank goodness - http://www.lesleyhorton.co.uk) and Valerie Blumenthal (a lovely woman and a great writer of "journey" novels - ie the journeys people make - http://writingworkshops.mysite.orange.co.uk). Astonishingly, they've all agreed to have a look at it and do a review, if there's time. Oh lord, I hope they like it, or at the very least it's not too much of a trauma for them. And so today I'm astonished by how generous people can be. Thank you.

It was also nice to speak to Valerie on the phone - she had some sad news, and some good news (in that order), and it was good to catch up, however briefly. By the way, Valerie regularly runs workshops in her Oxfordshire home - see the website above - and they'd be well worth attending if you're thinking about doing something like that. She's an inspiration.

In the midst of all this, I've also written two draft press releases and notified the YouWriteOn (http://www.youwriteon.com) site and Writers' Promote (http://www.writerspromote.com) site about ADM. It looks like I might be able to get some publicity on both (for which, thanks, Edward and David respectively ...) - I just need to persuade Chevonne to send me the front cover of ADM and I'll be rocking. Kind of. I can get flyers done too once I've got that - so at least the credit card people will get something other than the "Pink Champagne and Apple Juice" flyer in my monthly missives to them. Hmm, I'm sure they'll be grateful ...

Have also written another 800 words of "The Gifting" and have taken Simon to the end of the third stage of his journey. Only one more of his traditional stories to tell, and one more stage to go through now. Though it will be the most traumatic one. Hell, how I love a big finish. Just hope I can write one.

And I've attempted to resurrect my social life, making arrangements for coffee with one friend (thanks, Jane H!), and emailing two others about lunch and a night out in London - the latter being on the 16 Feb, coincidentally enough. Bloody hell, I think I'm due for a few glasses of vino on my ruddy publication date for sure!

Oh, and I've fitted in a nap as well - as I was just too wired to sleep well last night. With this in mind, I think I'm not going to do too much this evening - wallpaper tv is called for. Otherwise I'm in danger of exploding from my own head - much like my mother's sherry glass indeed.

Today's nice things:

1. Three real authors being nice to me - ye gods, but I feel quite choked up just typing this
2. Writing more of "The Gifting"
3. Making social arrangements (and therefore looking like a normal woman - almost ...)

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

Poetry, flash fiction and hoses

As it's the beginning of February today, I performed the ritualistic changing of the calendars last night - which is much like the Changing of the Guard, but less frequent. I must admit I'll miss gazing at the January picture of adorable Andy on my semi-naked firemen's calendar, but I now have Stuart, Mr February. Who isn't quite as sexy as Andy, but makes up for this by having a very big hose. And a nice smile. Meanwhile, Lord H has the redoubtable Uhura for February in our Star Trek kitchen calendar, so he too is smiling. Though I think he wishes they'd included her legs as well as her heaving bosom. She was always a great leg woman.

And, as is customary for the beginning of the month, I did my usual sending off of a selection of poems to the next magazine on my list. Which happens to be Smiths Knoll so, as they're renowned for returning work at the speed of light (at least in my case, sadly ...) I'm expecting my rejection tomorrow, though I haven't yet posted the envelope. I think this is what Uhura would call a temporal anomaly in the poetry world. Ho hum.

I've also written another piece of flash fiction for the Writewords (http://www.writewords.org.uk) Flash Fiction II Group competition which, this week, is on the theme, "Lie for your Life" and has to include a vehicle. I've come up with this:

Revenge:
She hadn’t wanted him to go. Not in her brand-new BMW. He smiled but his eyes were empty. ‘You don’t mind, do you? After all, I paid for it.’ She shook her head in reply. She wanted her life back. With the memory of what she’d done to the car, she knew she’d get it.

Interesting how all my flashes seem to focus on strong women - as elsewhere I write about them so rarely. Women? Love 'em but I couldn't write a whole one ... Hmm. Oh, and I've been thinking about sex scenes again today (surprise!) but haven't written one (I'm not sure sex writing and Lemsips mix, to be honest, at least not for fiction). But I have come up with a strange piece which I suspect may well be written in Michael's voice, with more than a hint of Paul from "Maloney's Law" - well, both of them are much better at this sort of thing than I am and, besides, it's probably time the man in my head had a word in edgeways (he doesn't like sickness):

Encounter

Wish I could touch you
you look so cool
there at the bar
the lights pulsating across your hair
the muscles in your arms
flexing
as you reach for your wallet
buy yourself a drink
one for your mates too
another night with the boys then
I wonder which one you’ll take home
or go home with
when you’ve danced and drunk
enough

wish it were me
though I know it won’t be
no hope of that
not when I’m alone
a man on the hunt
and you surround yourself
with a wall of playmates
I can’t break through
and even if I did
you’re too good-looking
too sexy for me to dream for
you’re not even noticing
I’m here now
are you
your eyes slide across me
every time you glance this way
so no chance

by wishing for me to unhook the buttons
of your designer shirt
release the smooth skin of your chest
to my eager mouth
no way on earth
for my tongue to touch
your lips your throat your nipples
while all the time
my fingers tremble at your groin
hardly able for excitement
to unpeel you from denim
and silk
for oh yes for a man like you
there would be silk
and then the taste of you
fire and salt
and a way of carving your shape
into my skin’s bright memory

all this and more wished for untested
untried
and still the music plays

wish you’d smiled my way just once
it could I think
have been good for you
but now even before we’ve properly met
we’re through


As you can see, Michael's not very hot on punctuation. Ah well. Nobody's perfect. For the rest of the day, I've been fairly lazy - still not 100% really. Though I'm pleased I managed to eat breakfast - the first time since Sunday, hurrah! And I've kept inside once more, which meant cancelling Counselling this morning and dance tonight. In fact I'm beginning to think that the outside world doesn't exist at all, and that I will be forced to stay indoors for ever, much like Emily Dickinson or the chap in that old TV series, "The Prisoner" (does anyone remember that apart from me and Lord H??), who could never escape the mysterious village he was in. Also, astonishingly, I actually enjoyed today's DVD romantic comedy offering! - "Along came Polly" with Ben Stiller (who has a very nice bottom indeed) and Jennifer Aniston. Hell, I thought it was sweet, and funny too. Or maybe my critical faculties are being drained away due to lack of social interaction? It's hard to say.

Oh, and good news on "A Stranger's Table", my poetry collection - it's going to be self-published via Poetry Monthly (http://www.poetrymonthly.com). Phew! I've just had a conversation with the editor, Martin Holroyd, who tells me he is thinking about the cover and will try to get the proof copy in the post to me tomorrow. So he must think it's worth advertising on his website then. Phew, again. But, bloody hell, that's certainly cut out the years of waiting before the rejection comes through, which is my usual experience. Why can't other publishers be like that? Self-publishing certainly rules the roost!

Tonight, I might try and scribble a few words of "The Gifting" down, but I really do need to finish the ironing at some stage. I am wearing unironed clothes again today, but don't tell Lord H and I should be safe ...

Today's nice things:

1. Writing
2. Watching my DVD
3. Beginning the publication process for "A Stranger's Table".

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

Toilets and talking

What a hive of activity today has been. Had my usual counselling session with Kunu this morning - we talked a lot about my family and early childhood memories, and how I did - or more accurately - didn't fit in to the family format. It was actually quite liberating to talk about all this stuff that I hardly give a second's thought to at any other time but which is obviously a big driving force even now. And I think I've got a lot to mull over during the week, though no homework this time - suspect we ran out of time, as I was on something of a roll. No surprises there then.

Afterwards, I did a spot of shopping (Lord H's birthday coming up fast over the horizon now ...) and then went and did some writing in the Library. Real writing - with a pen, ye gods! Just like the old days. Thoroughly enjoyed it too, and felt I was getting somewhere important with Simon and Johan in "The Gifting". Will have to type it up tomorrow and see how it looks. But maybe I'll do that more often. There's something about holding a pen and making actual contact with the paper that makes it far more exciting. Lord knows why.

Which took me up to the belated work Christmas lunch which we had in Cambio's in Guildford. Bloody hell, what a long lunch it was indeed (and on my own time as well - though I'm definitely not complaining!) - and very nice too. The joy of Cambio's is they have the best loos in the known universe (or at least in Guildford) - lots of wonderful matt black tiles, vast expanses of mirror, rounded raised wash basins, gorgeous soap and (the crowning glory) individual hand towels to use and put in the linen basket. Bliss indeed. Can't wait till next year when I can use them all over again. I set a lot of store over what a place's toilets are like. Like my grandmother used to say, it's important to be comfortable ... In Cambio's, I went twice.

Tonight, Keith W and I are off dancing again. Am sooo looking forward to it, though I don't know what we'll be learning. I'm hoping for the Cha Cha, but will have to see.

Today's nice things:

1. Counselling
2. Writing
3. Cambio's toilets
4. Ye gods - it must have been a good day: Dancing.

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

Strictly Come Coursing

Today, I've attended not one, but two courses in the search for self-improvement, and jolly good they were too. Ye gods, but I've actually had a good day. The age of miracles is not dead. And speak it softly on the street corners but I think I might actually feel happy - it's hard to say as I can't really remember what the feeling is like, but I've heard rumours ... But (being me) I have to ask: how long will it last?... Pessimist that I am.

The full day course of today as organised by work was Coping with Change - and bloody hell but I got a lot out of that. Various highlights spring to mind, including: drawing a lifeline for ourselves to note key points in our lives and times when we were happy or sad. I seem to have spent a lot of time being unhappy, with key high times being academic success at school or university and getting married to Lord H. It was especially interesting that being married to said Lord H has given me the longest running bout of general happiness ever in my life. Three cheers for the man indeed! It also struck me that even the bad times didn't last for ever, so the three key points which came out of that particular exercise for me were: (a) Everything changes; (b) Bad times don't last; and (c) Marriage is nice. Okay, not the deepest revelations ever, but they suited me. We also watched a video about how to find where our happiness lies and how to keep up with where it is, as what makes us happy changes too. Which isn't something I've thought of before. So I have to learn to keep an eye on that, so I'm not doing something just because it was okay in the past - as it has to be okay now too. Simple ideas, but effective. I think I'm going to spend some of my weekend going over my notes again and taking it in more. Self-awareness and planning for being on an even keel - somehow! - is perhaps the key.

Also astonishingly, I also managed to do some writing networking which ended up with the course presenter asking for my personal and Goldenford (http://www.goldenford.co.uk) business cards. I even had them on me - which is another marvel. Sometimes, even I can look vaguely like a professional (but don't panic - I'm sure it won't last).

And straight after work, I've gone to my first ballroom/Latin American beginners' dance lesson - with a friend, Keith, from Woking. Neither his partner, Brian, nor Lord H were keen so it seemed like the ideal solution! Though there were some scuffles as to who would wear the glittery frock ... I picked K up from home and we had fun poring over his naked rugby calendar before we set off - verdict: not as good as last year's but what the heck, it's still naked men and you can't go wrong with that. And, hey, but the dance class was genuine fun, and we weren't bad at all, in my opinion. I think we might be able to discover our inner rhythm before too long at this rate. You never know. Tonight's dance was the waltz - which is more exhausting than you would think, and goodness me but my right arm was very tired indeed by the end of the lesson - all that keeping it straight out sideways, you know. I'm not very strong - obviously ... And it was only for an hour! Yes, I am a wimp.

Have just finished reading Maggie O'Farrell's "After You'd Gone". Ye gods, but it's bloody marvellous (though I could have done with a slightly stronger ending). I was gripped for 75% of the time and in tears for the remaining 25%. Which meant it didn't matter at all that the plot was obvious and could be seen coming from several miles away at all points - as I was so swept away by the power and emotion of it. I can definitely recommend it.

Today's nice things:

1. The Coping with Change course
2. Going waltzing
3. Catching up with Keith & Brian.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com

Sales nightmare

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

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

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

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

Today's nice things:

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

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

Christmas survived!

And, hey, it wasn't too bad actually. I even managed to go to church with Lord H and it was all right. Mind you, we sang "Oh little town" and, as I think that's got the most profound first verse of all the carols, we couldn't really go far wrong. And the visiting preacher was quite human too and didn't blow a gasket when I said how much I hated that famous beginning to John 1 and isn't Christmas ruined by the fact that we have to have it each ruddy year? To my mind, a little sensible editorial work would in fact have either cut it entirely or at least placed it at the end of the whole book. Start with the action is what I say. Other highlights of the service were the new utterly adorable, round woolly sheep that have been added to the manger. I nearly pinched them for home but Lord H raised his eyebrows and groaned a little too loudly. But I filched two chocolates from the Christmas tree - hurrah!

The big Christmas pleasure though was at the African waterhole which we always visit whenever we can via webcam (http://www.wavelit.com/index.asp?ch=Wildlife&sh=africam#) there was a pride of lions having a Christmas meal of (dead) wildebeest. Marvellous - nature red of tooth and claw. I love it! Oh and we saw a green woodpecker in the garden, so that was grand too. If not quite as blood-thirsty as the lions.

Other Christmas pleasures - Lord H buying me a ballroom/Latin American dancing beginners' book and a DVD to go with it. I shall have twinkling toes indeed when I start my classes next year. Something to look forward to indeed. And "Doctor Who" and "The Vicar of Dibley" on TV were first-class.

Which brings us to:

Boxing Day

Which has included a morning's (rather cold) golf, an afternoon snoozing in front of "Giselle" on TV and another evening's slump ahead. Bliss. Though I really ought to make a shopping list for tomorrow before the week gets too set in.

I have to admit that I'm enjoying the hols, but - being me - it will be marvellous to get back to our normal routine next week. I'm nothing if not a party pooper ...

Oh and I've just finished another marvellous book from Taichi Yamada - "In Search of a Distant Voice". Another Murakami in truth, and highly recommended. And I gave up on Andrew Martin's "The Lost Luggage Porter" at the end of Page 5: the hero has to be the most boring man on God's fictional earth. My advice is: don't bother. Stick to the Yamada instead.

Christmas' nice things:

1. Hungry lions in Africa
2. Dancing books/DVD
3. Golf.

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