Books, flowers and the Olympic Blog

Book News:

It's the start of Ebook Fortnight at Vulpes Libris Reviews, where you can find my post confessing how ebooks saved my life, amongst other fascinating articles. Happy (e-) reading.

Gay comic romance Angels and Airheads received an A rating at Brief Encounter Reviews, and over at Goodreads, The Delaneys and Me gained a 4 star review, and Entertaining the Delaneys a 5-star one. Thank you to Kazza for those comments. And, talking of the Delaneys, I've just given the final edits to Amber Allure for The Delaneys At Home, which is due out on Sunday 3 June. Not long to go now!

Meanwhile, there's a sale of all my books over at Books on Board - so hurry over and don't miss out ...

And we GLBTQ UK 2012 Conference writers are not letting the Olympics go unnoticed. We've started a daily Carrying The Torch Olympic blog, and my first post there is all about the joyous cream teas and toilets of Exeter. Perfection indeed!



Recent meditation poems are:




Meditation 658
Power comes
when it will
and leaves
when it must:

its promises
thrill,
though it’s nothing
but dust.




Meditation 659
In these days
prophets are few
and far between

their wisdom
cooling in the air
while the leaves are green

and if we seek them
their shapes are only shadows,
sight unseen.


Life News:

Returning briefly to the importance of supporting the GLBTQ community, Go All Out seems to be a good place to be, so I've added it to my favourites. The focus there is on building a world where we can all live freely and be accepted for who we are - and there's nothing fairer than that. Come and join me - I make good cake! Well, sometimes, eh ...

The last couple of days have been wonderfully garden-friendly. Our strawberries are developing nicely, the choisya is out, the sunflower seeds are starting to sprout, and the remaining two rhododendrons are coming into flower and are both going to be purple. Bliss indeed. On the minus side however, I discovered yesterday that our internal food bin was providing a home from home for a very determined ant community, so I dumped it all into the outside food bin, and it's being recycled tomorrow. Whilst driving out the interlopers, the food bin closed itself very nicely on my finger and I somehow managed to cut myself. Which is pretty impressive, seeing as it's plastic. Luckily I worked the injured digit free, as otherwise the ants would have been in clover, ho hum.

Today, I have planted out the flowers we've grown from seed - so the beds are now full of our jubilee (red, white and blue) petunias, plus verbena, antirrhinums, sweet peas and cuphea ignea. I looked quite charming in my floppy hat and carrying my trusty trowel. It felt like being in an episode of Midsomer Murders before the body is discovered ...

Later on, I'm getting my hair cut, so I'll be able to see out, and then tonight, K's boss is taking us both out for dinner as it's K's 10 year work anniversary. Well done indeed! And what a star boss he has.

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

Blog tours and beauty

Book News:

Well, it's almost here - as of tomorrow until 16 February, my literary gay short story The Heart's Greater Silence is going on tour and will be appearing at a variety of venues at a computer near you. Don't miss out! Especially as there's a big bag of goodies and other fun stuff to give away while we're travelling. Plus don't forget you only have till Monday 5am UK time to preorder and be in with a chance of winning a year's supply of books - happy shopping! Also because of the tour, I'll be posting a quick blog each day to update you as to where I am and what I'm up to (in the politest possible sense, naturally ...).

In addition, I'm pleased to say that I've received a few very nice reviews for The Heart's Greater Silence in the past couple of days: there have been three 5-star reviews at Goodreads, one from Nithu, one from Suzette, and one from Aija. Thank you so much to all of you, both for reading and commenting. Plus there's also a lovely 4.5 star review at TWLIB Reviews - many thanks indeed, Nicci.

Meanwhile, my Buy One Get One Free offer continues - so if you purchase a copy of my fantasy novel The Gifting in ebook OR paperback version, you get a FREE ebook from anything on my backlist as well. This offer absolutely has to end on 7 February so don't miss out on that one either!

Keeping to the subject of The Gathandrian Trilogy, I was thrilled to receive back the first impressions from my independent editor in response to the final part of the trilogy, The Executioner's Cane. She very kindly said it's a "powerful evocative final book for the trilogy." Gosh, thanks, Sarah! This was especially welcome as the so-far poor sales record of The Gifting has left me feeling rather down recently, and I was wondering if I had the ability to finish it properly at all. Well, maybe I have, and maybe it's not as awful as feared. I hope not anyway. I'll certainly be getting lots of edits and alterations from Sarah (I hope - as I really love getting my teeth into a good editing task), but now I feel there might be something there worth improving. You never know, eh.

Other book news is that there's a 20% discount on my Sunday Haiku collection direct from the publisher, so it's the ideal opportunity to slip some nature poetry into your shopping basket. Enjoy. Speaking of which, here's my latest Sunday haiku:

This golden evening
dreams away the honeyed time,
making winter warm.


Life News:

As both a traditional Christian and a staunch believer in LGBT equality, I'd like to draw your attention to this petition to allow vicars to bless the civil partnerships of gay and lesbian couples in church in the UK. It's something I believe in very strongly indeed and I've already signed it, so I hope some of you out there will consider signing it also. One day - surely! - the church has to show at least some understanding of equality and justice ...

On a more practical level, our roof problems continue. The third roofer chappie came round for a third time this week to discuss options, and he's coming round again next week with a scaffolding expert so he can begin to get together a proper quote for us. Really, it's all fun and games here in the shires. As always.

Plus there's wonderful local news: I've won a free MOT with our local garage in Elstead, so I'm looking forward to taking that up later in the year. And my neighbour and friend, L, and I sipped champagne on Friday afternoon at the reopening of our local beauty salon, hurrah, and hic! It looks marvellous, and we've both booked treatments for next week. I'm having the rebalancing facial and they're going to cut through my eyebrow hedge at the same time. Good luck to them on that front, eh ... Honestly, I'll be a new woman next week - you won't recognise me.

Astonishingly, I also managed to win our golf game on Friday morning - I can't remember the last time I beat Marian so we were both severely shocked. Perhaps I've been swopped with an alien? Who can tell ... I've also had a haircut which I'm very pleased with and can now see out (well, apart from the eyebrows problem), hurrah. And on Friday evening, we had L & J, and R & G round for dinner, which was fabulous. Our first dinner party at the house, dahlings - what fun! K really pushed the boat out, and we ate pate and crispbreads, followed by mushrooms in Yorkshire pudding with potato wedges and green beans, all finished off with pears roasted in honey and pine nuts with clotted cream. Oh and not forgetting the cheese & port course, and coffee and chocolates. Bliss .... That should keep us nicely going through this sudden onset of winter.

Because, arrggh, the snow! Horrid. Though thank goodness it appears to be melting. Let's hope that continues. After all, I don't want anything coming between me and my new eyebrows next week, ho ho ... Perish the thought.

Anne Brooke
The Gathandrian Trilogy - critically acclaimed but commercially sagging
Gay Reads UK - for intelligent kink (as it were)
Biblical Fiction UK - for a new look at those old stories

Showers, sherry and the chance to vote ...

Book News:

Great news indeed! The cover for gay thriller A Dangerous Man has made the finalists of the Rainbow Cover Awards 2011 and you can even vote for it to win, should you be so inclined. If you do, then thank you very much in advance. In any case, I'm really thrilled it's got this far, especially as the cover is just so perfect for the book, in my opinion.

Not to be outdone, gay erotic short story Dating the Delaneys gained a lovely review at Brief Encounter Reviews - so thank you, Jen, for that.

I've also added the link to children's story The Origami Nun to my main website, just in case anyone fancies a change of pace and theme. Enjoy!

Plus you can find all my current Kindle fiction at the Kindle Users UK Forum for ease of reference, hurrah. And you can even recommend those you might have read and enjoyed, well gosh.

Here's the most recent meditation poem:




Meditation 594
When men listen only
to what they wish
with all their heart
to hear

then wisdom
will not be found
and we will always live
in fear.


And the Sunday haiku is:

This frosty morning
has scattered a thousand stars
on my acer tree.


Life News:

This week's excitement has to be Friday morning, when I not only fell in the shower, but actually slipped and fell out of the shower, bounced off the toilet seat and landed on my bottom on the bathmat, bringing the shower curtains with me. My, what fun we have in downtown Elstead, hey ho. Damage done includes: a slightly cracked toilet seat (but still workable with glue, phew), broken shower curtains (now mended by K, hurrah), a small bruise and some severely dented dignity. Ah well. I fear I probably won't be repeating this elegant manoeuvre in the upcoming 2012 Olympic gymnastic displays. At least not without alcohol. On Saturday morning, K offered to stand outside the shower to catch me when I catapulted out but I wisely opted for the bath option. I'll measure up to the beast (that's the shower, not K ...) on Monday when I hope to remain upright. Wish me luck.

Friday's other delights were my Christmas haircut in the afternoon at the local hairdresser who (bless her) still cannot believe that my hair colour doesn't come from a bottle. I'm thinking of wearing a t-shirt saying: yes, this colour is genetically created. Really ... But I fear nobody in the village will believe me. Much to my delight I was offered a Christmas sherry as well, so that went down well. And rather quickly too.

On Saturday, we had a thoroughly rural day and I spent the whole day in the garden. It was even warm enough (in December!) to have our morning coffee outside. I've now raked the lawn free of the remaining leaves, weeded the border on the right which I hadn't tackled yet, and re-weeded the bed behind the seats. Oh, and I've also cleaned the fountain and we've taken it in for the winter. As all the books tell us we must. Meanwhile, K has been painting and hammering for Britain and we now have a rather lovely trellis at the back on the right, which we hope to extend all the way across, depending on how we can work our way around the pretty little trees on the left.

This morning was the second in Advent, and K and I were once again the chosen people taking the bread, wine and water up to the altar during the collection hymn. I think I got it right this time and didn't canter up as if taking part in the local gymkhana. The congregation were no doubt stunned into silence by my unexpected dignity. Well, they hadn't seen me in (or rather out of) the shower on Friday, I suppose. Meanwhile K and I found ourselves giving some considerable thought to today's sermon which challenged us to think what John the Baptist's last word might have been if his head on Herod's platter might have been able to talk. K thought it would be: Surprise! Whereas I instantly thought it would be: Murderer! Well, it's what I would have said to the rather glorious Herod in that position anyway. Sadly, however, I fear we might have missed the point entirely as the vicar (obviously far holier than are we) thought it would have been: Repent! Which just goes to show, I imagine, that in extremis, K reverts to his trademark humour and I to my trademark melodrama. Ah, 'twas ever thus.

This afternoon, we've had lunch out and a look round Osterley Park, near Heathrow. Some lovely Christmas displays but the craft fair wasn't as large as I'd hoped, though nice enough. I must say the treacle tart and cream were to die for, however. Total bliss.

Anne Brooke
The Origami Nun

Space, surgeons and streams

Book News:

I've started producing a daily paper on Twitter, composed of articles I find interesting. Today's edition looks at pets, poets and fantasy so if you're interested in any of these subjects, do take a peek!

One of my publishers, DWB Publishing, has just started a children's book site so please do log on and find out what's happening there. It's a very exciting year for them indeed.

Meanwhile it's World Space Week and Untreed Reads is discounting all sci-fi and fantasy books all month. This includes some of my own books, so grab a bargain today ... Some are only 50p so you can't go far wrong!

Not to be outdone in the bargain basement, Amber Allure Press is offering 25% off my books throughout October, so there's plenty here you can snuggle up to as autumn begins.

I'm also writing the final scene of my current gay short story, In the Silence of the Heart, which features desire, obsession, faithlessness and religion. Which is everything you could possibly want in about 10,000 words, hey ho.

Anyway, in honour of National Poetry Day (which is today), here's a poem I wrote about my garden:




Scarlet joy
The rose I find
written in red
beneath the lattice
knows its own glory

and radiates the strength
of this dying sun
into a different life,
another story.


Recent meditation poems are:




Meditation 572
Behind this brief list
of jobs and men

lies the need
of one man

to clothe himself
in wisdom again.




Meditation 573
Peace cannot come
from the spilling
of blood.

Fire breeds fire.

There is no answer
that violence
has ever truly given

and war is always a liar.


Life News:

Key excitements this week have included K nobly clearing the stream (AKA drainage ditch, but really I prefer the word stream ...) at the bottom of our garden of all its weeds and overgrown nastiness. What a hero. As a result we now have more general foliage than can possibly be crammed into our composter, or indeed any of our neighbours' composters. I feel a trip to the council tip coming on.

On Monday, we staffed the last of our new students' information points and were kept surprisingly busy throughout the day. In the past, we've taken the decision to shut up shop at about 1 or 2pm as the semester begins in full, but this time we only closed it at 4pm, well gosh. It's proved very popular throughout and I think we managed to help a fair amount of people, hurrah. If only because we are supremely good at interpreting what the room numbers mean. This week has actually been horrendously busy in the office as well - and at levels we weren't entirely expecting, but I think we've managed to muddle on through. I hope! I have to say it's nice to have the campus full of students again - makes it all worthwhile, you know.

Yesterday, K and I paid our first and introductory visit to our new doctor, who seems very nice indeed. Rather sweetly, she has a new application in which you feed in your health and family background data, and then it gives you your percentage survival chance. What fun! Apparently, K has a 96% chance of surviving the next ten years, and I have a 99% chance of so doing. Might be worth treating ourselves to those longed-for ten year diaries in this case. Keep breathing ...

Today, I continue to be the Queen of Busyness. This morning, Tesco have delivered my shopping (hurrah!) and this afternoon, I am expecting (a) the tree surgeons to arrive to give us a quote for removing 2 big hedges, 2 tall trees, 2 round trees, 1 spindly tree and nine or ten stumps (and possibly a partridge in a pear tree as well, but I thought they might throw that one in for free ...); (b) to go out and get my hair cut for the first time in three months (I might even be able to see out, goodness me) and (c) an evening trip to the ballet in Woking, to see Cleopatra. I do so love the Northern Ballet Theatre - I think they're great. Mind you, this does depend on whether K manages to leave work on time as he's been hugely busy this week as well. Here's hoping, eh.

Anne Brooke
The Thoughtful Corner

Happy Easter!

Had a great time at the work conference in Nottingham Monday to Wednesday with David & Carol from the office - it's certainly much better going with people you know, though it was also nice to catch up with those I've met before from other universities. It was even nice travelling up the M1 on Monday morning as when I joined it at Junction 6 it was gloriously empty, what with it being shut from Junctions 1 to 4. I've never seen such a clear road ...

So, the weather was marvellous and the seminars and live debate sessions almost equally so. Heck, I even said something in all my seminars (brave me!) though I'd never dare to in any of the plenary sessions. Mind you, for some reason, I had a room on Nottingham campus the size of a button - and had to move the bin and the fridge (a fridge, in a room - heck, the students don't know they've been born!) in order to sit on the chair, ah well. I also woke up in the middle of the night on the first night wondering why my stomach was so terribly gurgly even though I felt fine, and then realised it was the fridge, not me. Phew ...

Meanwhile, while I've been away, our house situation has moved on rapidly in one area at least - our buyer would like to move into our flat in mid-May so it's now all systems go to try to find somewhere in the area to rent on a short-term basis (two or three months, I would guess) some time over the next two weeks - which is basically all the time we have, as we're on holiday the week commencing 7 May and then back at the beginning of potential completion week. Heck, if it wasn't Lent I might be panicking, but I am trying to remain calm & logical, hey ho ...

Today, I've also viewed, as a buying option, a house in Bisley, and tomorrow K and I will view another in Knaphill. We're still keeping the Woking house option open as that slowly trundles through, but really we can't be bothered to chase any more. It's too exhausting. If something else comes up that we prefer, so be it, but if we do manage to get somewhere to rent, at least that gives us a breathing space. Come what may, it will be fantastic to be out of the flat ...

Whilst waiting for the estate agent to turn up at Bisley, I also heard my first cuckoo of spring, which was great. Everything's just so early this year, it seems. I hope summer doesn't end up being over by June! And I've had my last haircut with Lynda, who's cut my hair for 18 years but who doesn't travel as far north as Woking to do business. So I do indeed look lovely (trust me on that one) but will have to look for another hairdresser at some point - though of course it's not top of my To Do List right now.

Oh, and I thought last night's episode of Midsomer Murders was something of an improvement, at least in the realms of the relationships between characters - though the bitchy Barnaby definitely needs to treat poor Sergeant Jones a damn sight better before I'm any way near convinced ...

Finally I'm pleased to say that A Woman like the Sea gained a 5-star review at Goodreads - thanks, Jesse.

Happy Easter - hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

Anne Brooke

Prostitution, pimps and pornography

Book News:

Much to my delight, Brady's Choice gained an "Excellent" review at Well Read Reviews, and Entertaining the Delaneys received a 5-star review at Literary Nymphs Reviews, so many thanks to both reviewers for their comments.

My review at Vulpes Libris was on Jonathan Kemp's London Triptych, which must be the most unsexy erotic novel I've ever come across. Probably more pornographic than erotic, to be honest, and I certainly didn't take to it. Still (and strangely), many have, so I am obviously a lone voice of dissent in the reviewing wilderness. Again!

My latest meditation is:




Meditation 503
When the work is done
the party starts

so he captures their strength
and then their hearts.


And the Sunday haiku is

Small bright narcissi
dance in the shade of the house
where my neighbour lived.


Life News:

I've had a good haircut this week and played a bad game of golf, so the universe is balanced once more, hurrah. The haircut must have been more radical than I'd thought as I popped in to the local Quaker service again today and they didn't recognise me. Though, on second thoughts, they don't often recognise me, bless them, so I must try to make more of an impression. Perhaps I'm simply too quiet?? No, don't laugh ...

Yesterday, K and I had a lovely day out at The Vyne, near Basingstoke. The gardens and woods were very relaxing though there's not much out yet in terms of flowers. It should be wonderful in two or three weeks or so however. We'd forgotten, in our tour of the house, how keen the National Trust volunteers are in the early part of their season to talk to you and tell you everything they've just learnt. I did have a desperate urge to rugby tackle one sweet old gent just to make him be quiet for a second, but managed to stifle the urge. That said, the volunteer in the Stone Gallery was great and I learnt a lot of interesting stuff about the Kent school that was evacuated to The Vyne during the war. Some fascinating stories there.

And last night, we attended the Guildford Choral Society concert at the Cathedral and cheered on Robin, Gavin, Beryl and Liz (yeah, all!) in their singing endeavours. I enjoyed the Rutter piece in the second half, but thought the first half might have been a tad too relaxing. It was great to catch up at the bar after the show too - it's the first time the Cathedral has left the bar open after the interval's done and I'm sure it's a tradition in the making. One hopes.

Anne Brooke

Haircuts and hospitals

Life News:

Great news! Someone at work actually noticed my new haircut! Gosh indeedy. So a big thank you to Andrea, and also to Carol, for commenting on it - positively of course - and without having read my blog too. I'm still smiling.

This week I've also had my appointment with the lovely specialist (hello, Alli!) who has been reading my blog and therefore commented on my wonderful new haircut - not sure whether that might have been cheating or not, now I come to think of it, but thank you anyway! Health-wise, I'm much happier than I was a couple of weeks ago, so we've decided to keep off the HRT for the moment and see how things progress between now and when I next see her in February. It makes sense, but I'll keep an eye on it to see if I suddenly plunge into the slough of despond again. You never know really. They also took a blood test to see how my oestrogen levels are doing, post-HRT, so that will be interesting to find out too. Never say the middle years of a woman's life are not exciting, eh ...

In the meantime, I've been struggling with estate agents, again. There are still zilch viewers for our poor unloved flat, which continues to be hugely frustrating, but we've decided to go and see three houses this Saturday anyway, just to keep our hand in. Interestingly, one of them in Woking is on the market at a price we could actually afford without even having to sell our flat, which is certainly food for thought. I do like the look of it as well, but we'll see. The thing that really got my back up, however, is the fact that when I rang up to arrange a viewing for one of the other houses with an agent new to us, the extremely callow young man was very rude when he found out our flat was on with Mann Countrywide. What is it about callow young male estate agents (well, apart from the evident lack of brains, that is)??? Don't they have any concept at all of professionalism??? I am therefore extremely proud of myself that I stopped his boring sales spiel and bitchiness in mid-flow, and told him in no uncertain terms not to be so rude about his fellow professionals as I thought it was frankly appalling. (Say what you like about Mann Countrywide but they have never at any time been rude or bitchy about other estate agents, at least not in my hearing, and that is something I do admire, whether or not they know how to get viewers for us ...). Said Callow Young Man's response to that was weak laughter, which I didn't take kindly to either, so I told him I wasn't interested in his opinions, but I simply wanted him to arrange an appointment and confirm it with me without more ado. The loser ... The good thing is that CYM isn't available on Saturday, so a colleague will show us round. Thank God for that, really. I hope the colleague is more pleasant, but I don't hold out much hope. But good to know that being a stroppy-minded woman in her forties has some benefits - I would never have dared express an opinion such as that in my twenties, more fool me.

Anyway, tonight, K and I are off to the theatre in Woking to see House of Ghosts, which is a play featuring Inspector Morse, so it should be interesting for sure.

Book News:

I'm happy to say that A Dangerous Man gained a lovely 5-star review on Amazon, so many thanks, Amos, for that. The novel is now also available at The Book Depository with free worldwide delivery, so that's good to know. It's even got a sales ranking there too, which is heartening.

This week's meditations are:


Meditation 462
A wild ride,
vain hope of escape
and certain knowledge
of death

reveals to us all
how this need to live
drives us onward
until the last frail breath.


Meditation 463
I’ve always liked Jezebel:
the way she puts on
her eyeshadow
and arranges her hair

before a bloody,
undignified death
is, I feel, a lesson
for all women, everywhere.


Meditation 464
Call me too delicate
for the world we live in
but the concept
of seventy dead men’s heads
lined up in baskets
really doesn’t suit me
as an appetiser.


Really, they were a funny old lot in the Old Testament ...

Anne Brooke

Rhubarb and remembrance

Book News:

I'm very pleased to say that my poem, Meditation 21, appears in the Winter 2010 issue of Eat a Peach poetry journal today (scroll down to view), and of course can also be found amongst its friends in my poetry collection, Salt and Gold, which is now available at a discount at Lulu Books. Ideal Christmas present for your poetic and/or religious friends, naturally ... And speaking of wintry gifts, this time ideal for the darker and more sinister Christmas (and really what could be nicer?), don't forget that crime novel, Thorn in the Flesh, continues to be eligible for free delivery at Amazon and comes with some very nice reviews too.

On a very different note, Tommy's Blind Date was strutting its stuff at No 31 in the Amazon charts, though has now slipped somewhat. And I was also pleased to see my latest poetry collection, Sunday Haiku hanging on in there in the Amazon poetry charts. Returning briefly to Lulu Books, I'm happy to announce that all my books at Lulu now have very worthwhile discounts and some are even free, so definitely worth a browse!

And a big thank you to Stephanie for her 5-star review at Goodreads of The Hit List - many thanks, Stephanie.

This week's meditations:


Meditation 460
A shadowy room,
the faint glitter of skin
and the subtle flow
of oil

bring a blessing
he will remember
when the celebrations
and plots begin.


Meditation 461
God is like
a man in a watchtower
waiting for your arrival;

he is like
a horseman galloping
to find you

in the fields of Naboth;
a messenger who refuses
to leave your side

once the words
are spoken; he is
an arrow through your heart.


Sunday haiku:

I search for my word
lurking at the edge, eerie
and dark: discontent.


Life News:

I must say that Tesco's rhubarb crumble cake, though bizarrely named and yes it doesn't look like much, is seriously scrummy with one's essential cup of tea - highly recommended. Rush out and buy some is what I say. Anyway, in between the rain (honestly, where does it all come from?...) I have managed to squeeze in a game of golf with Marian - not my best game, but my putting was pretty damn cool and on the first I actually chipped in from the green, hurrah. Who needs a putter? Just call me Smug. Marian did.

Saturday morning, Lynda came to shape up my hair which now looks lovely, though I say it myself and shouldn't - and this morning I've even managed to get it looking like some faint echo of how Lynda does it, though I'm unlikely to do that again, wash-and-go being my main aim in life. K is primed to say how lovely it looks as soon as Lynda leaves - much like Pavlov's Husband, if Pavlov had a husband. Which is a good thing as I think I can count on the fingers of half a hand the times in my life when anyone has actually noticed I've had a haircut - a sad fact of life that does make me a bit snippety as I try to make sure I do comment on everyone else's haircuts if I think they've been done. Positively of course! Despite what you think, my Bitch Quota is quite low really. Anyway, I must wear some kind of invisibility cloak over my head for the week after The Haircut, but I swear I don't know who puts it there. Ah well.

Yesterday, we were at the Cathedral listening to Guildford Choral Society (nice singing, Robin, Gavin & Liz - well done, all!) perform not one but two requiems. The Faure one and the Durufle one (sorry, no idea about how to get accents on either of those). A great performance, even though I'm not a huge fan of the requiem per se, and think that when you've encountered one you've probably encountered them all. Much like Madonna and Child paintings, really. And even K thinks two requiems might have been a requiem too far. The programme for next year looks more my style though, so I shall look forward to that.

This morning, K and I have of course attended the Remembrance Service at Shackleford. I particularly like their take on this as when we're all standing around the War Memorial in the village, the names of those from the village who died in the First World and Second World Wars are read out and people come and place crosses on with the appropriate name in the soil as they're being read. I do find that very moving and it brings it all home really. This time we also didn't get a sermon but instead one of our congregation told us the story of his father who'd been in the army and spent five years as a prisoner of war in Germany during the Second World War - fascinating stuff. As the senior officer in the camp, he'd been in charge of coordinating the escape plans, and also of getting essential information back to the UK government by means of a series of letters supposedly to the Tiptree Jam Factory (near where I grew up, coincidentally) and in code. He was rescued by the Americans at the end of the war, as he wasn't allowed to escape himself as he was too useful to the British government where he was. Which just goes to show  another side of the war, and I was gripped by it. Great stuff.

Meanwhile, at home, the neighbour's chimney isn't quite finished yet, and has suffered something of a setback - the foolhardy builders rested one side of the scaffolding on the kitchen roof instead of on the ground (the fools! The fools!) and it's now caused damage to the roof and broken the glass in the window, dammit. Gisela and I were running around trying to contact said builders this weekend to get it sorted, but luckily they came round yesterday and the scaffolding is now resting on the ground. Where it should have been in the first place - this is a Victorian property after all! It's not made to support scaffolding ...

Finally, on a happier note, I'm thrilled to see the good news that those Somali pirates have finally let the Chandlers go - double hurrahs and thank God for it! They've certainly been on my mind for the past year and I'm glad they're free now. Great news for us all.

Anne Brooke

Golf, haircuts and Hit Lists

Is it Friday already? Well golly gosh indeed. Here's today's poem:

Meditation 231

While one man
betrays his town

to a bloody death,
another is lowered

from a city wall
in a basket

and creeps away
into night.

Perhaps it’s better
to be a woman after all.


Managed to play some pretty dire golf again today, but thankfully it wasn't as bad as last week. If I could only try to remember to hit the ball with the clubhead rather than with that funny sticky thing, I think everything would be a damn sight better. Ho hum. Mind you, both Marian and I ended on a rather triumphant par, so honour was satisfied. Partially.

And there's good news on the hair length front: my hairdresser has been trying to get my hair to be the same length all the way round rather than in layers for months and months and today we feel we've finally arrived at those dizzy heights, hurrah! Right now, I look quite presentable, though I fear it will not last. Experience dictates this ...

Meanwhile, I attempted to release some of the tension I've gathered during the week at my Alexander Technique lesson - really, I do make the tutor work for the wages. This week coming I have to focus on having a floaty head and breathing with my back. Ye gods, anything could happen, but it makes some sort of sense. Honest.

And I've been busy with the edits to The Hit List. And still enjoying it too. It's odd how that novel has been the one I hate to remember, but when I actually look at it seriously it's not that bad. Yes, I need to kick the crime section into touch, and bring out the romance which is, in my opinion, what the book is really about - but in some ways it feels as if it's always been there. Waiting for me to get down to this edit, I suppose. Maybe I just didn't have the confidence before.

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Golf
3. Haircuts
4. Alexander Technique
5. Editing The Hit List.

Anne Brooke
Sexy Scavengers Competition - book prizes galore!

Reviews, pars and reports

What an exceptionally sparkly day it's been - we had a glorious moment at lunchtime when it began to rain heavily whilst the sun was still shining and the raindrops were all glittery. Just like a Disney film. Wonderful. It could only happen in the shires, you know. Anyway, here's today's meditation:

Meditation 203

Some old men
won’t lie down

but keep knocking
on your door

to demand land
and armies

and honour.
Whilst younger men

won’t stay dead
but arrive at supper

to show you
blood and pain

and a strange
breathable peace.


I'm thrilled to say that Christina at Romance Junkies Reviews has given The Bones of Summer a 4.5 star review which you can read here. An extract of the review is below:

“The Bones of Summer by Anne Brooke is an exceptionally well written and thrilling mystery novel. This novel grabbed a hold of me almost immediately and would not let go. I found myself reading until the early morning hours. The plot is quite interesting but what really intrigued me most about this book is Craig himself. He survived a terrible childhood. I admired his resilience. His father’s fanaticism is extremely disturbing and also very sad. The last few chapters are especially chilling and will stay with me for a long time.”

Thanks so much, Christina - I really appreciate that.

Golf this morning was fantastic too - my score wasn't as good as last week's dizzy heights (shame ...) but I managed to get the grand total of three pars. Three!! It's unbelievable, especially as the one on the eighth hole went in from a chip off the green. As it were (does this make sense to anyone but a golfer?). Who needs putters?... I parred the final hole too, which I felt pretty damn good about. Especially as when we walked back to the clubhouse, I was congratulated on it by not one, but two groups of male golfers. Result eh! It's amazing I can get into the flat at all with a head this size ...

Lynda has also arrived for my haircut and I now look almost sophisticated, my dears. Whatever next? I've also been working away on my review of Julian Fellowes' Past Imperfect for Vulpes Libris. I've now got the basis of what I want to say. I just need to sort out the quotes to demonstrate it. The book really is a fascinating read, even in its not-quite-perfect state.

This afternoon, my back has been duly stretched and widened into the shape it should be at my Alexander Technique lesson, and it certainly does feel different now. Ah if only I could remember and put into practice what I've learnt during the week to come, then I'd really be laughing. Whilst looking tall and elegant. Ho ho.

I've also received my critique from The Literary Consultancy about Hallsfoot's Battle and I'm happy to say that it's not as damning as I feared it might be. They did give the original version of The Gifting something of a pasting (and rightly so), so I was worried about this one. Yes, of course there are fairly major things to alter or kill - but that's par for the course (sorry) for me in the editing process. But I see what they mean and I think I can visualise how it might be, and that at this stage is certainly something. I might fiddle around with changes a little before our upcoming holiday, but I think the bulk of the next tranche of the editing process will happen afterwards. After all, it's not as if there's a rush for it ...

Tonight, it's mammoth flat-cleaning time (arrgghh!) and then there's a programme about a British bull-fighter on TV later, which I absolutely have to watch. This will bring me brickbats and shame, but I have to say I do like bullfights. Sorry, but there it is. We used to go to Spain a lot when I was a child and I loved them back then (which probably says something rather disturbing about me, but then again rural children are rarely sentimental about animals), and I took Lord H to see one when we were in Seville a few years back and I loved it then too. Lord H was not so keen, but he possesses less blood-lust than I do. Considerably less. He did look rather startled when we exited the building but it's no worse than a night out in Colchester when the army are on the razzle. Ah, my teenage years, eh ... Anyway, back to Spain and bullfights, I think for me it's that glorious combination of genuine danger, out-and-out machismo, blood and ballet. Not to mention the men in tight trousers. Marvellous.

Anyway, wiping that psychotic and lustful gleam from my eye, onwards and upwards. Here are today's nice things:

1. Sparkly weather
2. Poetry
3. A review of The Bones of Summer
4. Golf
5. Haircuts
6. Working on another Vulpes review
7. Alexander Technique
8. The report on Hallsfoot
9. TV.

Anne Brooke - bloody but relatively unbowed
The Bones of Summer - guaranteed: no bull

Golf, battles and that upstart tea boy

I am battling with sickness and hope in this morning's meditation, which possibly isn't a subject fit for such a bright and sunshiny day but here it is anyway:

Meditation 136

Hold his sickness
in your hands
and bear on your shoulders
death’s strange knowledge.

When you find the words
you came for,
hurry back
to where your heart lies,

carrying the light
in the circle
of your arms:
your last and clearest hope.

Have spent a very enjoyable morning on the golf course with Marian - we both played well but not, sadly, as well as last week. However, I have to say that my putting was rather good - unexpectedly so. Can't imagine why that should be but, hey, I'm not complaining. We were accompanied round by that distinctive trill of chaffinch song (in case you don't know, it's the long phrase of notes which usually ends with three little notes in a high-low-high trio that can sound like the bird is saying "ginger beer") - but the usual woodpecker was missing. Ah well, you can't have it all.

Back home, the marvellous Lynda has come to cut my hair, so I can now see out (very useful for golf) and I've spent the rest of the day getting to the final stage of the great Gathandrian war in Hallsfoot's Battle. I have to convey the fourth and last legend and somehow intersperse it with the Gathandrians' attempts to rescue Simon and the mind-executioner as they slug it out regardless. Hmm, no pressure then. Mustn't forget the snow-raven either - I've left him rather up in the air (always a good place for a raven really, of any colour) and will have to give him something useful to do at some point. If only I could remember where exactly he was right now. I think I'll make that tomorrow's problem though - after all, Gathandria wasn't (re-)built in a day.

I've now read the first of the Vulpes Libris book review package which arrived last week, which happened to be Jill Dawson's novel about Rupert Brooke, called The Great Lover. As I'll be writing a review for Vulpes, I won't reveal much about it now, except to say that I was much amused to see two brief mentions of my grandfather, Justin Brooke (no relation), who was at Cambridge with Rupert and one of his neo-pagan set. He's charmingly dismissed as "the Brooke Bond Tea Boy" - which probably says it all, hey ho. Still, it's better than how Justin is described in Nigel Jones' biography of the great Rupert. There, my less-than-illustrious ancestor is described as a young man who at Cambridge "continued to devote most of his energy to the stage, often playing female parts, to which his clean-cut, boyish good looks and 22-inch wasp-waist predisposed him." Really, my dears, perhaps Dawson let us all off lightly. If you think too deeply about it, it's probably an astonishment I'm here at all. Hell, no wonder I write what I do - it's in the genes. Anyone for a cuppa?...

Tonight, I shall watch Have I Got News for You? and the last episode of Reggie Perrin, but I must video the Sheila Hancock poetry programme for watching later. It looks interesting for sure.

And, finally, after being gently castigated by the good Tony for failing to mention this in yesterday's Nice Things List (look below, Tony!), another special mention must go to Lord H for a second toothpaste pre-squeezed onto toothbrush moment today - what a marital hero that man is! I really will start a new tube soon.

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Golf
3. Haircuts
4. Writing Hallsfoot
5. Books - and strange grandfathers
6. TV
7. Marital toothpaste moments! See - I remembered!

Anne Brooke - wondering why the hell nobody inherited that wasp-waist, sigh ...
Cancer Research Race for Life - helping the nation's health

A landmark word count, literary sex and a Bones publication date

Was supposed to play golf this morning, but rain stopped play, as they say. Though actually that was probably quite useful as otherwise today would have been a social free-for-all, well in my mind at least. And it gave me time to visit the post office this morning to send off the parcel containing a signed set of four copies of my novels as prizes for the upcoming First Edition Magazine competition.

Talking of this morning, here's today's meditation:

Meditation 108

The secret
of being content

with what one has
lays bare

the deep inadequacy
of dreaming

and is therefore
not to be embraced.

For most of the day, I've been creeping forward with Hallsfoot's Battle and have reached the landmark word count of 110,000 words. Hurrah, hurrah! Only another 10,000 to go and I might have the bare bones of a fantasy novel. You never know. I also had a sudden idea for a battle plot strand whilst writing it, which I'm pleased about, so I'll see how that goes. It completes the story arc for the First Elder so that feels as if I'm working towards an ending. Or the beginning of the end, or possibly the end of the beginning. As Churchill might have said.

Other lovely, lovely, totally exciting book news is that I have a provisional publication date from Dreamspinner Press for The Bones of Summer and it's 22 June - which is the day after my birthday. Gosh and double gosh, what a week that's going to be, eh! And apparently I should have the edited manuscript soon so I'm very much looking forward to that. It's so wonderful to get a tentative date for this one as, even though it might well slip, it's always good to have something to look forward to. So get your cash ready for then, folks, and find out what happens to Paul Maloney after the end of Maloney's Law from the point of view of his brand-new partner, Craig. I for one can hardly wait ...

Inspired by all this, I've actually started an erotic short story today. Well, when I say "started", I actually started it three years ago and then put it on hold for a while - so it's been on hold for longer than originally anticipated, I must say. Heck, those poor blokes have been waiting a ruddy long time for the action to happen, I can tell you. They should really ring Character Line and complain about their author. They have every right. Well, I've now picked up the tale of David and Jeff once more and am hoping to finish it over the next few weeks. I have a market in mind, but we'll see. There's always hope, even after a three-year literary sex ban. As it were.

You'll also be pleased to know that I've had a much-needed haircut today and look rather less like a startled Highland cow (you know, the grumpy ones with the fringes) and more like a real member of the human race. Hmm, that's not likely to last long, is it? I've also been to my Alexander Technique lesson and have had my back stretched into its proper shape once more, after having spent two weeks crumpled up in a heap of illness and groaning. Goodness me, did I need it!

Tonight, Lord H and I must go to bed early (steady, people, steady ...) as we have to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow in order to go on a 4.45am Dawn Chorus walk, and the starting point is about an hour's drive away. Hmm, whose ruddy idea was that then?? Oh, mine. Bugger. The things I do for Nature, eh.

Today's nice things:

1. Posting my novels prize package
2. Poetry
3. Getting to a landmark word quota with Hallsfoot
4. A provisional publication date for Bones, hurrah hurrah!
5. Revisiting an erotic short story
6. Haircuts
7. Alexander Technique.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - enjoying a red letter day

Golf, haircuts and Hallsfoot

My, what a busy day. But actually I've quite enjoyed it, I haven't had a headache (hurrah!) and, strangely so far, haven't needed a nap. All of which may be a lesson to me in thinking again about what I believe to be good for me and what isn't. Ah well. Anyway, enough philosophy already - after all, it's the ruddy weekend and thinking deeply is out-of-bounds. Here's this morning's poem:

Meditation 82

In the length of your hair
lies all the purposes
you have towards God;

every strand, every shade,
whether burnt by sun
or darkened in wind,

tells a story.
Let it speak
when you cannot,

waiting only for the day
you give it back again.

This morning, I've had an early golf appointment with Marian, and we had a great time on this bright Spring day, especially as nobody else appeared to be taking advantage of it. More fool them. We both played okay, but I have to say Marian was more okay than I was, so she won by one point. Darnit. I blame that lovely new club of hers, myself. Maybe I should get a new wood too? Or maybe a lesson or two with the pro is on the cards. We'll see ...

Straight after that, the hairdresser came round and I now look like a 21st century woman. For a while. What a relief to us all, eh. It's amazing what seeing out from under the great wad of hair I have can make such a difference to the mood. Totally the opposite from today's poem then.

I've also managed to squeeze in some writing time and have added another 1000 words to Hallsfoot's Battle. I'm thinking of another plot twist too, which will give some oomph to this part of the novel. It'll mean I'll have to go back and alter stuff later, but hell I'm used to that. Sometimes up to 80% of the first draft vanishes in the rewrite, so at least there'll be room, ho ho. So I'm on over 96,000 words now and I'm hoping to reach the magical 100,000 marker by the end of March. Hang on to your hats, people. I have the bit between my teeth. But which bit, we cry ...

This afternoon, it's been bliss getting back into the Alexander Technique zone. I felt as if I was settling into it a lot more during today's lesson for sure, with some greater idea (though really I couldn't have been any worse than I was before) of how everything is supposed to feel. Still a long way to go before I'm treading those catwalks though, so no need to pack for the Paris fashion shows (should they exist - I really don't know!...) just yet.

Oh, and I've sent out yesterday's rejected poems to another potential publisher, so I am managing the pain fairly adequately. For me anyway. Tonight, we really need to do some cleaning before the Domestic Police arrest us for house mismanagement. Again. And there's some TV on but I can't get my head round it or what I want to watch (if anything) - so I'm afraid I'm really no help to my fellow TV addicts this evening.

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Golf
3. Haircut
4. Thinking of a new plot line for Hallsfoot
5. Alexander Technique.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - getting nearer the zone, if she only knew where it was ...

Theatre seats, Hallsfoot and a surprising venture

Well, my dears, well. What more can I say? Lord H and I were somewhat disappointed by our trip to the theatre last night - our name plaques were not yet on our seats (even though they'd been promised) and so our moment of glory is delayed once more. Sigh ... Naturally I fired off a "Disgruntled of Godalming" email to the theatre, and they have replied saying the plaques will be there next week. We live in hope, eh ... After all, I don't want to be chaining myself to the stage door. Again. These winter nights are perishing cold. I also have to say that Life & Beth isn't one of Ayckbourn's best. By a long chalk. I think Lord H's analysis was (as ever) spot-on: it would be best as a one-act play that can be combined with something really funny in the second half. That would do it, I think ...

But to today. Here's this morning's meditation:

Meditation 55

Something is lost.
Between the entrance
and the altar

the gift of guilt
slips through
your fingers,

leaves you
with nothing.
Take hold

of the air
in your lungs.
Let it rise, sifted.


I'd expected a horrendously overpacked day today that would wipe me out completely, but as it turns out it's not been too bad. We didn't play golf this morning due to torrential rain so that's given me an essential breather, though I've missed actually playing. In the extra time alloted me, I've written another 1000 words of Hallsfoot's Battle, which brings me to 81,800 words or so. When I tackle it next, I'll return to see what Johan and Annyeke are up to. On the brink of total disaster, they need to come up with something. And I mustn't forget Ralph either. Lordy, the responsibilities we novelists have - all these characters are beating away at my head, demanding attention, and I feel totally unable to provide for any of their needs. The poor dears. We struggle on together ...

I've also, much to my surprise - though I do admit that it's a story that's been going round my head for quite a while - written my first lesbian erotic short story, Truth or Dare. Indeed, my first erotic short story of any kind. Well, better out than in, they say. And hell it was fun to write, I have to admit - just a shame that the hairdresser arrived in the middle of it, and I had to get out of my lesbian sex head and into my normal Surrey Woman head. Pretty damn quick. Otherwise, poor Lynda might have had to flee for the hills, never to return ... Anyway, both our honours are intact (phew!), and it's now written. It feels like a companion piece to The Secret Smell of Lemons, so it will be interesting to see if anyone bites. As it were. Meanwhile, my hair looks fabulous, dahlings, fabulous.

Oh, and I've managed to write a non-meditative poem, so I have not been idle. I've also had my second Alexander Technique class, which I am hugely enjoying. I can see the differences, even this early on. The woman who teaches it is easy to get on with too, so that's a relief.

Tonight, Lord H and I are at the panto (Oh no you're not! Oh yes you are! And so on ...) seeing Ruth's husband, Douglas, play the dame in Mother Hubbard. He's totally marvellous on stage so I'm looking forward to that. He's behind you! (Sorry, that just popped out ...). So, as you can see, it's just another ordinary day here in the Surrey outback. Hey ho.

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Unexpected free time
3. Writing Hallsfoot
4. Lesbian erotic stories
5. A nice haircut
6. My Alexander Technique class
7. Dame Douglas ...

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - a change is as good as a rest, you know

The search for echinacea and the haircut from heaven

For some reason which neither of us can understand, Lord H's alarm went off at 6am today and both of us woke up not feeling remotely tired. In fact we even got up, with enthusiasm - how astonishing. Usually, on work days, I lounge around till 6.15am and Lord H doesn't surface till 7. At least. Today, however, we were up with the larks and had already solved world hunger by 6.30am and brought peace to the earth by 6.45. God, but we're good. Our job here is done, Carruthers - it only remains for the mother ship to return and carry us home. Hmm, must be delayed on the intergalactic highway ... Ah well.

I managed to be in Godalming at 9am ready to hit the shops. I've never seen the carpark so empty. I must try and aim for that time of day again sometime. And I actually managed to get everything I went out to buy, though I did have to go into every single pharmacist on the High Street - including the one I never go into because they're horrid and never have anything - in order to find my essential Echinaforce tablets (for colds, you know, though I do feel better today, thank the Lord). No, the horrid shop didn't have it. What a surprise. An additional surprise was that the alternative small pharmacist (yes, I'd already tried Boots and Superdrug by then - in vain) appears to have shut down. Perhaps they knew I was coming? Anyway, I finally found a huge bottle of the aforementioned medicine in Waitrose. Good old Mr Waitrose. Where would we be in Godalming without him?

Talking of Godalming, our death count is going up, m'dears. Hot on the heels of last week's murder, we now apparently had a dead homeless person in the middle of the High Street this week. Lordy, we are indeed becoming a hotbed of crime and tragedy and I am EVEN MORE determined to open the front door to nobody at all unless they have character references. At least. However, the slight good news about all this is I know it's not one of the two nice people who sell The Big Issue, as I checked: they were both there. Phew. Anyway, whatever next??

Back in the safety of home, I have added another 1000 words to Hallsfoot's Battle, and am now at over 52,000 words. I like the way the scene is turning out too - I'm bringing Simon into the Gathandrian Legends in a way neither he nor I anticipated, but hell it works, so I'm going with it. No doubt it will traumatise him even more, but I do need him to be angry. Because the heat will - I hope - rise in the latter half of the novel and I do need him to be angry for that, rather than terrified. Aha! We'll see anyway.

Lynda the hairdresser has also swept in with her usual charm and style, and now my hair looks pretty damn good, I have to tell you. I do like the way I'm growing it a little longer - I think it suits me and it's a softer, less serial-killer look. Hell, I'll be wearing skirts next and simpering. God forbid. Tonight, I need to do some heavy-duty cleaning and settle in for an evening's chilling. In the good sense - as my current chill levels are rather too high, and I've been wearing my scarf, fingerless gloves and Country Innovation padded waistcoat in the flat all day (on top of my usual clothes - please, people!...). Yes, the heating is on and yes it's still cold. That's the curse of living in the servants' quarters of a Victorian house, dammit. Roll on summer ...

Today's nice things:

1. Unusual energy
2. Finding the Echinaforce tablets, eventually
3. Continuing with Hallsfoot
4. Haircuts.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - stylish and sassy, don't ya know ...

Golf, haircuts and yet more hospital fun

Had a great time on the golf course today - amazing to see the summer at last. Mind you, I went out fully equipped in jumper, woolly hat, gloves and coat, and spent most of the time gradually stripping off. To a reasonable level, of course ... Not that there was anyone to see if I had gone rather more insane than usual as the course was virtually bare. Ho ho. All very odd anyway, but Marian and I appreciated being almost the only ones there. And I soooooo nearly got a birdie on the 9th. Honestly. I was only this much away from the hole. See? Still, I had to make do with a par. Oh how sad. I shall have to trade off the memory though as, what with Marian now being on a long holiday, we won't be able to play again for ages. Sigh.

Back home, I was just in time for the hairdresser, so now have a haircut that makes me appear normal. We're growing it long, you know. Soon I will look soft and feminine and elegant. Hmm, don't wait up then is my advice.

And I've spent a large part of the rest of the day ringing up clinics and booking myself in privately for my upcoming operations. Well, I'm covered via Lord H (neither the University nor my royalty penny stretching to such luxury, of course ...) so why not, eh? So, I've rung up PPP, then I've rung up the NHS hospital, then I've rung up the Clinic. Then I've rung up the Clinic again just to chase them, and have booked D Day as 9 -10 October in the very lovely Mount Alvernia Hospital. I then rang PPP again to let them know, plus the NHS hospital to cancel my place on their waiting list. I then sat down and completed the claim form which PPP kindly emailed to me, and on Monday - if I get a chance at the onset of Freshers' Week, groan - I shall copy it and send it over to the consultant at the Clinic - as she also works there as well as at the hospital, apparently. And then all I have to do is wait till the 9th, when she will no doubt take her revenge for my daring to answer back by taking my fingers off while she's fiddling around on the rest of me, sigh ... Oh, and I've cancelled the dinner with friends we'd scheduled for here on the 10th, as I suspect I won't be up to anything much more than groaning at the point. I'll have to reschedule later.

After that, I've had a well-earned nap. Which I desperately needed as I only got about 4 hours sleep last night as I was too busy worrying about all the crap and hyperventilating. As you do. At least I feel more in control today and am hoping for slightly more sleep tonight. Please God. Thank goodness for the joys of Ugly Betty and QI on TV though - can't wait.

Number of days since The Gifting submission: 3 months, 4 weeks, 2 days.
Bonus fact: Number of times I've actually met my agent in the 3 years I've been with him: None.
My consequent status as Viable Commercial Author: Low to negligible.

Today's nice things:

1. Golf
2. Haircut
3. Getting an operation date
4. Napping
5. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Golf, hair and holidays

Last day before our holiday today, hurrah! So I'd really better go and pack soon. For those of you keen on Norfolk, we'll be staying here for a few days. Shame it won't be that sunny though - indeed I'm packing for torrential rain. I fear lots of wet birdwatching days ahead - but what the hell, eh, it's a holiday and ye gods but I need the break. If only I can have five minutes of time and sunshine to sit in that glorious looking courtyard, then I will feel fulfilled.

Have had a good morning's golf today - my putting was shit-hot and I was getting the balls in when really I shouldn't have been. As it were. I was particularly proud of my long putt on the ninth which rattled in as if it was always meant to be and gave me a par. Ha! It makes it all worthwhile, you know.

Back home, the letter from the specialist has come, confirming what I already know, and asking my own doctor to refer me to the Royal Surrey. However, I was rather brightened by the fact that she doesn't think my non-standard cyst is likely to be "of any sinister pathology" (a turn of phrase I can only admire), so it will be interesting to see what they do think the bugger is. Once they've had a chance to have a good look at it of course. My bet is on my old school tie still. But at least it looks more hopeful now, thank the Lord. Talking of which, here's a poem I wrote yesterday when I was staring in the mirror and wondering which toothpaste to use, and which is very tongue-in-cheek - honest!

The cautious optimism of teeth

The medical profession
might be frowning
over the state
of my ovaries

but I continue to floss,
confident
that at the very least
I’ll die smiling.


In preparation for my holiday, I've also had a haircut and now look utterly amazing - Lynda is such a genius really. Shame it'll all fall apart when I wash my own hair tomorrow - as ever. For now I am attempting to keep my head as still as possible so Lord H can be wowed by the state of his wife when he comes home. As always, of course.

I have also been regretting the fact that I haven't been taking my Vitamin B depression pills - I must remember that just because I'm feeling okay doesn't mean to say I shouldn't take them! Why don't I ever learn that?? Groan. Anyway, I was cast into a fit of weeping this afternoon when I realised that the shit-hot short story that I think is one of the best and most literary I've ever written got precisely nowhere in a competition I just found out about today. Yes, yes, I know - this is normal and I shouldn't be making a song and dance about it, but quite honestly I felt truly gutted. Sometimes it feels as if you try and try sooooo bloody hard, you edit until your hair falls out, and you can't make what you've written any better - and still it's not bloody good enough. Really, writing can be the most soul-destroying job in the world sometimes. It's the only thing that can make you feel a complete failure within seconds. No matter how good past stuff has been. Sigh. Anyway, I managed to drag myself to the kitchen and take a Vitamin B pill, plus a De-Stress pill. Plus the last slice of chocolate orange cake. The combination seems to have helped a little, thank God ... But I'm still feeling fragile. A situation not helped by the fact that I think I'm coming down with another cold, bugger it. So I've taken a couple of Echinacea pills too. Hell, shake me and I'll rattle.

In the midst of all that, I've flung myself, gibbering like a loon, into Simon and Annyeke's story and now have c22,500 words of Hallsfoot's Battle under my belt. And that's where it'll stand for now, I think. Because I really do need to go and pack. And have some kind of a normal bloody life, ho ho.

And finally, the very enthusiastic and also delightful people at the Completely Novel website are celebrating their launch in October with a short story competition. Though, bearing in mind my last experience with short stories, I suspect I'll be happier if I don't enter. I have enough on my plate really. But still, it could be worth a look!

So, I hope you all have a lovely week and I'll catch up with you when I'm back on Friday!

Today's nice things:

1. Golf
2. Haircut
3. Writing
4. Holiday.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Bones, bodies and breakdowns

Lordy, what a rollercoaster of a day. Up with rosy-fingered dawn (lucky dawn) today as I'd booked an 8.30am haircut and Lynda is super-efficient and always turns up early. Indeed when Lord H left the house at 8.15am, he found her parked outside and sent her up. She'd probably been parked there all night. Perhaps I should have offered her breakfast? Anyway, after her tender ministrations, I now look fairly presentable. At least temporarily.

All this meant I could pop into Godalming first thing and stock up on essential local papers and jiffy bags (in case someone actually buys Thorn in the Flesh and I have to send it to them - hell, you never know!). I also spent my birthday book vouchers in Waterstone's, and the girls there were incredibly helpful and got me books I might actually want to read - ie dark, quirky and different, which was what I asked them to find. I suspect they might have been significantly less helpful if they'd known I was one of the hated Breed of Authors. Bookshops don't mix with the likes of us, you know. Interestingly, one of the girls also said how boring most of the stuff they had in now was and it was very dull that everyone was writing the same sort of book, and how lovely it was that I as a reader was making their jobs exciting by asking for something different. Cue my line of bringing Goldenford and our wonderfully different books to their attention, but I was too frightened to mention it, to be honest - it's not often bookshop staff are nice to me and I was too moved by the experience to ruin it ... Sigh. I am a Grade One Wimp, to be sure.

The big event of the day however was of course Penny's funeral. Her work friends turned up in force, which I was glad to see, plus long-term friends and family, so actually it was very fitting. And very "Penny". We had a laugh, along with a few tears as well, of course. In the end, it was sassy, straightforward and fun - much like the woman herself. Guildford Crematorium is a lovely place, I must say. I'll be very happy to end up there. And I got to know it extremely well too as after the service, my car wouldn't start. Goddammit. My, Penny would have loved that - she would have killed herself laughing, so it's probably a good job she's already dead. If I'm allowed to say such a thing on Funeral Day. Ruth was kind enough to wait until I'd called the RAC man and sorted out my time of rescue, and also bequeathed (couldn't resist it, sorry) me the remains (God, but I'm good) of her apple juice plus a mug to drink it with from the bowels of her campervan. Thanks, Ruth. So I had a pleasant hour-and-a-half sitting on a shady bench and admiring the funeral style of the next body in. Or possibly out. Funeral Number Two had a zillion mourners, truckloads of flowers and the black horses with the plumes. Way to go! It did make my car and the RAC van rather unpopular, as they could have done with the extra parking spaces, and we were obviously not of their ilk. Ah well. I also managed in the unexpected lull to write out a plot and themes for Hallsfoot's Battle. So that's got me excited and enthused about it again, hurrah! Not to mention having a brand-new battery and a car that works now, double hurrah.

It'll still have to be put on hold though as when I got back I found the report on The Bones of Summer (anyone remember that one?) from The Literary Consultancy. It was much better than I'd anticipated, triple hurrahs! So thank you, Sara Maitland, for your advice. It's very much appreciated. Her overall view was that the novel was "a very satisfying and dramatic tale", and she loved the whole Craig and Paul story arc. She thought I handled the sex very well (gosh!), as it was open and realistic without being "in your face". That's a relief then, as sex writing is one of my strong points, I think. Negative points are that I really need to up the ante of my plot (which I knew - I always need help with plot. It's my big weak point), and she gave me some wonderful suggestions for that. Alongside, I also need to give more life to the secondary characters, but her plot suggestions will go a long way to sorting that out. So I've started the edit and I'm looking forward to giving it some welly as I go through, along with some more exciting strands. My, how I love getting my teeth into the edit - as long as the report I'm basing it on is a positive one, that is!

Oh, and I see from a read through of The Surrey Advertiser that the police have "swooped" (why do they always do that??) on the nearby sleepy little village of Elstead, as they've discovered a cannabis farm there. My, how exciting! You would have thought they could have invited us round for a party first, dammit. It's getting more "Midsomer" here by the minute. And a Guildford man has been shortlisted for Husband of the Year in Eve Magazine's awards. How hugely embarrassing for him. Though, to my mind, Lord H could knock all of their entries into a cocked hat - I shall have to enter him for it next year ...

Today's nice things:

1. Haircut
2. Saying goodbye to Penny
3. Breaking down in a Crematorium (yes, I know, but it was funny ...)
4. Discovering a plot and some themes for Hallsfoot
5. Getting a positive report for Bones - and hey one I can use for improvement!

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Hallsfoot online, golf and a small competition!

Have finally managed to put Hallsfoot's Battle on the website and you can find it here. Oh, and the photograph with the novel entry is Madeira. In case you're wondering ... While The Gifting one is of Egypt. A free book to the first person who leaves a comment attached to this journal entry telling me - correctly! - which photo was taken by Lord H and which was taken by me. Give reasons for your choice! Hell, never say I'm not nice on occasion. I'll even waive postage. Mind you, the free book has to be one of mine, aha! Though you can't have it until I'm back from my hols, sadly. If you've already got all of my current books, thank you, thank you a thousand times and you can have the next one instead. As well as my undying affection - which is probably in itself enough to terrify you all ...

Have now reached the heady heights of 3000 or so words in Hallsfoot's Battle and I know what's happening in the next scene. Ha! That's a bloody first then, Carruthers. However, I shall make it easier for myself by not writing that particular episode until I'm back from Portugal at the end of next week. That way, it should be easier to get into. Famous last words, eh.

Anyway, I must also say that I've had an utterly wonderful game of golf with Marian today. It was my best game ever, in fact. I couldn't put a foot wrong, even if I tried, triple huzzahs! My tee-shots were spectacular and I could have putted for Britain and not put the country to shame. I think it must be to do with yesterday's massage - my shoulders are still so relaxed that my swing felt different. As it were. I would plan a massage before every golf game I play now, but I fear the money would soon run out. Sigh.

I've also had a haircut - even though I'm growing it - so now look quite acceptable for my holidays. Although of course when I wash it tomorrow morning, all attempts at style (I have a style? Ye gods and little fishes ...) will be lost.

So, tonight I will be making a feeble attempt at cleaning and a concerted attempt at packing. And hoping that the rain in Spain (or rather Portugal) is not as torrential as the forecast indicates. Oh hell, it's a holiday - what do I care? Foreign rain is nicer!

I hope you all have a a fabulous bank holiday and a glorious week ahead, and I'll catch up next weekend when I'm back.

Hugs!

Today's nice things:

1. Getting Hallsfoot online
2. Golf
3. Haircut
4. And holidays!!

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers