Cars, contracts and cash

Book News:

You'll be pleased to hear that my US lawyer and I have agreed a wording for the new termination contract, so we've sent that off and await to hear a response ...

In the meantime, I'm carrying on with the final pre-submission read-through of Hallsfoot's Battle, the second in my Gathandrian trilogy. There are only about 100 pages to go now, so I'm hoping to get that done by the weekend (though it does depend on whether or not I have another day like today - see below ...). Once that's done, I'll send it to Bluewood Publishing and see what they think about it. Keeping with Bluewood, I've sent back the final proofs of literary short story, Dido's Tale, to them and that should be coming out soon, hurrah.

I'm also happy to say that The Hit List gained a lovely 5-star review at Amazon - many thanks, Sharon! It's especially pleasing as I know my main character, Jamie, isn't easy and people either love him or hate him, with nothing in between. Hmm, there's a lot of me in that bloke, you know - which probably says it all really. And For One Night Only gained a 4-star review at Goodreads - so many thanks, Enny.

Here's the next line of the prologue in The Gifting:

Neither is she the only one who weeps, but he cannot admit the full reasons for this now.

This week's meditation poems are:




Meditation 547
When even touching
God’s covenant box
in order to save it
is a mortal sin

then best to let
your treasures die
than use a box
to keep them in.




Meditation 548
Of all the gifts
in all the world
my first choice
would never have been
cedars and stonemasons;

the quiet dignity
of stone
and the gnarled depths
of this ancient tree
all but bypassed me.




Meditation 549
A sound in the trees
that is neither the wind
nor the cries of some night bird

but something absurd:
a reminder for we who have sinned
that somebody still sees.


Life News:

The mortgage survey for our Elstead house has finally come through and looks okay. Our new conveyancer has also contacted us to say she's going over the land searches now and has contacted the vendor's solicitors to ask for the necessary information from them. At the same time, the estate agents have rung us to say it's possible that we could exchange in three weeks' time and complete two weeks after that - which would bring us near enough to the end of August/start of September - and this is the first break point in our rental contract, so that would be convenient. However, I'm now never convinced by the optimism of estate agents, so I'm maintaining a wary approach to it all. But I have rung our moving company and so far that timing is good for them, although obviously dates disappear the nearer we get to any potential move day. Lordy, it's all go here in the shires, you know.

I've also fitted in a regular visit to the doctor (I was too ill to go last week ...) and everything with the anti-depressants looks good for another two months, so that's a relief. I really do think they're brilliant - I could probably never cope with all this hassle coming our way without them, and they certainly do make me feel more like I think I should, that's for sure. Never scorn the joys of normality, eh ...

Mind you, I've certainly needed their calming effects today. This morning, I popped in to see a good friend of mine in one of the local old people's homes, and on the way back, the alarm on my car dashboard went off and lots of red lights started flashing at me to say that the car engine was overheating. When I looked at the dial, it was way past 120 degrees centigrade and well into the red-light zone. I was panicking like a trooper (a wimpy, panicky trooper ...) so drove the few minutes to the nearest supermarket (where I was intending to go anyway to pick up some lunch) and waited for the engine to cool down while I phoned K and sobbed down the line at him like a 1950s teenager. My, I'm so dignified, you know. As if. Anyway, K suggested ringing the RAC for help, but I thought if it was just a coolant problem, then I could get some more coolant and put it in without disturbing our Knights of the Road too much. The supermarket unfortunately had no coolant so I drove to the garage attached to it whilst keeping a close eye on my dashboard and they had no coolant either. So there was no option but to drive home, at which point the dashboard went crazy again and the alarms sounded. It was only a couple of minutes to get home but honestly every traffic light was against me and every cyclist in Woking today insisted on getting ahead of me and not letting me pass, so I was praying and swearing in equal measure as I limped home.

Once there, I thought I'd let the beast cool down again before tackling it. However the traumas of the day weren't over yet. As I was eating my lunch, the rental agent phoned to say they hadn't received our rental for July which had been due with them on the 1st of the month. I apologised, panicked again and rang K who said he was sure he'd filled in a standing order at the start of June. The other agent I've been dealing with (the lovely Jenny) said she was sure we had as well so didn't know where it had gone and would look into it. K rang our bank and they confirmed they had no standing order instructions for rent, so after I'd tackled the car crisis and poured the whole of our one bottle of engine coolant into the vast desert wastes of my engine coolant holder, I walked into town at about 4pm and tried to pay money for July and August as a bank transfer to the rental agent's bank, the Natwest. Well, ho ho and there's a bank that obviously don't like the colour of our money. They said (even though I've done this with Santander and goodness knows they're certainly not the best bank in the market ...) that I couldn't transfer money from the Nationwide to them as I'd have to go to the Nationwide in order to do so, but in any case the Nationwide wouldn't let me do that with such a large amount of money and I'd be better off taking out as much actual cash as I could and then walking it over to them. Well, I mean to say! As if anyone could actually walk across the metropolis of downtown Woking carrying great wads of cash and expect to be alive after ten minutes ... Words failed me!... In the end, I gave up arguing my point and accepted that Natwest in Woking appears to live in the 1950s, wrote them a cheque payable to our rental agent for two months' rent, and accepted it wouldn't actually go into the agent's account until next Friday.

When I rang the rental agent to explain all this to them, they were astonished also, and couldn't believe nobody would accept a bank transfer from me. The only explanation I can think of is that unfortunately I had to deal with a staff member who didn't know her proverbial from her elbow, and wasn't going to ask any higher-up staff member for help either. Alternatively, I have a face with the words Criminal and Fraudster tattooed across my forehead and nobody has ever had the heart to tell me, deep deep sigh ...

Anyway, whilst in Woking I thought I'd shop for a few bits and pieces, including spare engine coolant, and managed to get everything apart from (of course) engine coolant. Apparently, Halfords is a twenty-minute walk (or a short drive, if you have a car you can trust ...) outside Woking, so I bit the bullet, rearranged my shopping bags (thankfully, not too much) and headed off into the sunset. Ye gods, that was further than I thought, though I did get a nice view of Woking's mosque on the way. Luckily Halford's were open until 8pm, so getting there at 5.15pm wasn't a problem, thank the Lord. Mission accomplished, I trudged back down the wearisome rainy road, wearing my woolly hat and fleece and looking like the height of fashion, I'm sure, and eventually reached home at about twenty minutes to six. I deposited the fresh bottle of coolant in the back of the car so if I get into trouble tomorrow when I'm hoping to play golf with Marian, at least I'll have something to drink if things get too bad. Hey ho.

Really, if it weren't for the magic happy pills, who the hell knows where I'd be. Has anyone got the smelling salts? Surely today - this nice quiet day I'd had planned - must be over by now ...

Anne Brooke

Houses and haikus

Life News:

Well, we've finally made our decision: we've withdrawn our offer on the Woking house because of the general incompetence of our vendors' solicitors who in the last 3.5 months have been amongst the most inefficient people I've ever known. However, our own conveyancer has not been far behind: when we withdrew our offer formally on Friday, we were both annoyed but not at all surprised when the vendors' solicitors and estate agent both asked us what the point was of our decision when we couldn't buy their house anyway without selling ours - as of course we'd told them both about 7 times that the purchase was not at all dependent on the sale of our flat, so we were used to the fact that nobody was listening to us. We were rather more surprised when our own conveyancer emailed us to say she couldn't understand either as surely we "couldn't buy without selling, could we?..." I've never known K be quite so cross and indeed I felt very much like ringing the silly bint up, telling her she was a useless pile of shite and kicking her arse to kingdom come and beyond. But, being the calm and loving person that I am (ha!), I left it to K to send a snippety email saying we'd told her about 5 times that the purchase wasn't in any way dependent on the sale. Oh, and by the way, she was now sacked as our purchase conveyancer, we were making a formal complaint and she'd have to whistle for her fees. Put that in your pipe, love, and smoke it ...

Lordy, what fun we're having right now, eh! Who indeed will rid me of these troublesome conveyancers, and are there any good ones in the whole of Surrey?? Alas, I believe not ... In the meantime, we continue to be utterly bemused that it seems so incredibly difficult for people to accept that we have (a) no chain; (b) savings enough and a decent mortgage to buy a house; and (c) the desperate desire to give vendors money. Why won't the buggers take it?!?

So, back to the house viewing, and we've one lined up to see on Thursday, and 2 more I'm intending to get appointments for this week. Let's hope someone out there starts to take us seriously or I'm going to build my own bloody house in the middle of our former conveyancer's garden. Ha!

However, there is good news! The lovely Brucie finally gets a knighthood and we had a fabulous (and house/publisher crises-free) time wandering round the gardens and enjoying a cream tea at Nymans, and then wandering round yet more gardens at Wakehurst Place - both are definitely recommended.

Today we have got round to visiting our nearest high Anglican church in the area - All Saints Woodham - and, if trying out high church offerings, it's always best to go on Pentecost (today) - ah, the bells, the smells, the ritual, the bling. Bliss. All served (sorry) up with a hint of informality and laughter. We loved it. Plus the coffee they serve is real. Real ground coffee after a church service - we've never had that before! We'll definitely be back ...

And, this afternoon, we have done something we haven't done since our honeymoon nearly 18 years ago (steady, people, steady ...) - we have used the dishwasher that comes with the flat. Gosh! Isn't it lovely. Everything's sooo clean and we didn't have to do it ourselves. How very grown-up we are becoming. Will definitely be doing that again too.

Book News:

NB THIS SECTION HAS BEEN REMOVED DUE TO LEGAL NEGOTIATIONS WITH THE PUBLISHER CONCERNED, AT THEIR REQUEST.

On a happier literary note, The Art of The Delaneys is now available at Amazon UK and Amazon US. And I'm really delighted to say that my Sunday Haiku collection gained a 5-star review at Goodreads, so many thanks to Vicki for that.

This week's meditation poem is:




Meditation 536
It takes 212 men
to guard the temple gates

which just goes to show
women are more dangerous
than you think.


And the Sunday haiku is:

A slow-falling note
soothes this melodious air:
the greenfinch's song.

Anne Brooke

Writing? It's riskier than you think ...

Book News:

NB THIS VERY LONG SECTION HAS BEEN REMOVED DUE TO LEGAL NEGOTIATIONS WITH THE PUBLISHER CONCERNED, AT THEIR REQUEST.

Meanwhile, back in the quieter world of writing (remember that?), The Gifting is now available for purchase at All Romance Ebooks. And, hey, selling a few might even help towards my legal bills, so at last I must have made it as a serious writer, ho ho! I'm also pleased to say I've received my first review for the book, and it's a 5-star one, so many thanks, Sarah, for that - I'm thrilled you enjoyed the read.

Speaking of reviews, The Art of The Delaneys gained a 4.5 star review at Top 2 Bottom Reviews - thank you, Lisa!

I've also uploaded a review of Apex Hides the Hurt by Colson Whitehead at Vulpes Libris, which is an interesting satire, but rather too heavy for my taste. Worth a look though.

Just one meditation poem this week so far:




Meditation 535
Bakbakkah
is an angry man.
He stands at street corners
and glowers.

He chews over
the wrongs of the past.
His griefs
come in showers

and he’s never content.
Pity him.


Life News:

I have a life? Goodness me. Delights of this week include the discovery that we have a nesting song-thrush just outside the spare room window (where I work at my computer), which is lovely. She doesn't seem disturbed by our comings and goings either, or even when we open the window, so we're hoping for the pitter patter of tiny bills at some stage. I'll keep you posted.

On the other hand, we heard mid-week that our vendors' solicitors have apparently been waiting (for about 3.5 months now) for us to sell our flat first (some hope, eh ...) before they do anything with the purchase we're trying to make from them - and this in spite of the fact that we've told them five times that our buying their client's house does not in any way depend on the selling of our flat. Deeeep groan - no wonder nothing's happening ... Anyway, their incompetence and inability to listen has meant that, if nothing happens by tomorrow (Friday), then we're withdrawing our offer and frankly they can whistle for it. Tough luck to them is our view. We prefer a house we can actually buy.

Anyway, today, my head filled with bitterness and fantastical thoughts of revenge (so the ideal moment really ...), I've gone on a planned retreat day at the Acorn Christian Healing Foundation which was very nice indeed, despite the evangelical tone, which I don't warm to. Why, oh why does one have to sing a chorus three times when the words meant so little the first time round? It's a holy mystery indeed ... However, there were a couple of interesting talks, I found some like-minded folk, which was lovely, and also had a wonderfully quiet chill-out time in the garden. Bliss.

Anne Brooke

A wobbly week

Life News:

It's been a bit of a wobbly week, being back at work this week, I must say, and I don't think I've been my usual jolly self (ho ho). My head is so full of vast quantities of stuff that it's proving really tricky to sort it all out so I haven't really been trying. Office tasks seemed very long and complex when they probably shouldn't have been, plus I'm worrying (well, it's after Lent so I'm allowed to) about when our flat exchange date might be, if our buyer is going to hang on or give up, if we'll still be able to go to the rental property we like if we do suddenly have to move or if we'll be homeless, and whether our removal firm can fit us in even though I'm unable to explain anything useful to them at all. On top of all that, we're now seriously looking at other houses again if we can fit viewings in as nothing's moving on the house we've "bought" and it's been three months now and still no sniff of an exchange date, and the vendors' solicitors are being as unhelpful as ever, sigh. I honestly can't now remember what we liked about it, and neither can K really. It feels like a purchase someone other than us has made.

Anyway, today we've seen two other houses, one in Knaphill which we did like but K thinks it might be the "safe choice" and there's nothing that individual about it even though it's well within our price range, so I'm probably keener than he is. The other one in Pyrford was okay but way too near the main road, and therefore too noisy, which we both hate. On Saturday K is going to see another house in Woking that he's really keen on but I can't go as I'm seeing a friend in Kent. The plus points for that one are it's quiet, in a nice area, and there's no chain (though I understand the tenants are rather tricky, so that's a bit worrying), but it's over our budget and I'm a bit worried by that. Well, we'll see, eh.

It's rather disheartening as K and I promised ourselves last September that we'd be out of this flat by my birthday for sure - but as that's only a month and two days away now, I fear there's not much hope. In that case I suspect a tear or two will be shed when I reach that great milestone, birthday or no birthday, ah well. On the other hand, when we get to September and we're still here (goddammit), I suppose I can bake a one-year-house-hunt-failure celebration cake. What joy.

This week, I've also had my regular appointment with the doctor to see how the anti-depressants are working. Well, what could I say? I just told her I was having a wobbly week due to being back at work and period etc (sorry, too much information, probably ...) and decided to leave the rest of it unsaid as I couldn't think of the words. No doubt the wonder pills are making things better on a personal level than they otherwise would be, so thank God for small mercies.

Book News:

Sometime this or next week, The Gifting should, I hope, be published, so I'm busy preparing a launch party for, I think, sometime early July. I'm hoping to hold that at Godalming Museum but obviously it depends on schedules etc. I've got a list of about 40 people I'd like to invite, so with a bit of luck I should get 25 or so coming at least. I've just got to think of something to say and which passage to read. Best get my thinking cap on then.

This week's meditations are:


Meditation 526
The only ones mentioned
are the leaders
and the fighters.

Nobody thinks
of the cooks, the plumbers,
the gardeners or the writers.




Meditation 527
Shaharaim divorced
two wives

granting them shame
but also their lives.




Meditation 528
The fewer the words
the greater the thought

for it is in the spaces
that wisdom is caught.




Meditation 529
Long-forgotten names
are like stars:

a distant glitter
at the edge of your eye,

a strange coldness
patterning the sky.

Anne Brooke

Meditations, mascara and Royal Weddings

Book News:

Not much news this week on the writing front really. I'm continuing on with my gay erotic short story, For One Night Only, and, with only a couple of scenes left to do, should get the first draft finished over the next few days.

In the meantime, here are some meditation poems:




Meditation 522
So many sons
and not one daughter

which categorically
fails to demonstrate

a vision of life
as it oughta.




Meditation 523
Hushim has no siblings.
He stands alone,
shadowed in the evening light

and waits for the wind
to breathe over his skin

whispering of silence
and all that lies within.




Meditation 524
The Aramean concubine
had no name
but her sons
founded a dynasty
and in that there’s no shame.


Life News:

How a few days changes everything on the house-buying front, sigh. Earlier this week we were rushing round trying to find rental properties to move into as our buyer wanted to move in on the week commencing 16 May. We found a lovely one in Woking on Monday and were all set to give the go-ahead on Tuesday when our solicitor tells us that our tricky middle neighbours have just lost both their buyer and their solicitor all in one swoop. Lord only knows what's really gone on there!... I must admit I couldn't help but laugh but of course that (rather long) moment of schadenfreude has turned round to bite me. Because they no longer have a buyer, all our own flat transfer documents etc etc have to be redone with the nasty middle neighbours' details on it rather than the new middle neighbour (as really should have happened in the first place, but they would insist ...) - and of course now we have no legal hold over them with our possession of their transfer document, then they have no real reason why they should agree to our sale at all. Deep groan. We're waiting for our solicitor to let us know what (if any) response she gets when she writes to the middle neighbours, but I strongly suspect we're going nowhere on the week commencing 16 May, and may well lose our buyer if more delays occur. We also suspect we're possibly moving into a situation where neither of our flats will be able to sell as neither of us will be prepared to sign the necessary documents for the other. Though, on the other hand, it may be that the middle neighbours are so desperate to get rid of us (one can only hope!) that they'll do anything. We'll have to wait and see, eh. Honestly, you couldn't make this up.

In the meantime, and while our purchase of the Woking house goes on - and on and on - we're still viewing other houses, which has led to the point that one of the local estate agents who is apparently in the middle of helping our vendors buy a house has found out we're still looking, and is terribly anxious in case we drop out of our original purchase and therefore he in turn can't sell his house to our vendor. Ha! Really, I have little sympathy and at least it'll put more pressure on that agent to get the vendor out more speedily. Again, one can only hope ... However, if we can't sell our flat (see above ...), money's going to be tight though we can - just - do it, and we may have to think about renting it out instead. At the same time, we'll need to do it up, I suspect, before any lettings agent will take it on, and that takes money, which we'll have to watch etc etc. Goodness, what fun 2011 is turning out to be, hey ho ...

However, it's not all misery and moaning here in the shires - well, not quite anyway. The lettings agents of the flat in Woking we were intending to rent come mid-May is being an absolute star (thank you, Jennifer of Martin & Co) and says this sort of thing happens all the time and if anyone else expresses interest in the flat, she'll let us know. Above and beyond the call of duty, I feel, and very much appreciated. What a nice woman.

Not only that but I've had the whole of this week off as the University is closed until next Tuesday - and really, I've needed the break, and I can well see what bliss retirement is set to be. Dream on, sigh ... Whilst I've been away from work, TV has been good - loads of stuff on about the Royal Wedding which I have been lapping up, my dears, being a big softie at heart, and also I am getting seriously hooked on the zany but occasionally rather moving Campus. I can't bear to miss it now and I do hope there'll be another series. Some of those one-liners are seriously fantastic and the developing relationships are grand. Lovely. Oh, and The Suspicions of Mr Whicher was a top-class factual drama with a very classy main character and if you were unfortunate enough to miss it, do try to catch it online if you can. It's definitely worth it.

Plus, today, I have nipped into Godalming and bought my first lipstick and mascara for a whole four years - so the anti-depressants must indeed be working, Gawd bless 'em. I've even put them on and look somewhat more defined in the mirror than I usually am. Though whether that's a good or a bad thing is anyone's guess.

Finally, tomorrow from 8am I intend to be glued to the Event of the Year and I wish the happy couple, and indeed everyone else celebrating tomorrow, every joy in the occasion. Must rush and dust off my wedding hat ...

Anne Brooke

On reaching the end ...

Book News:

Fabulous news twice over on my Gathandrian Trilogy series: I've completed the final proof edits for The Gifting and sent those back to Bluewood Publishing so I'm looking forward to that one coming out in due course. At the same time, I've actually finished (yes, finished!) the first draft of the final part of the trilogy, The Executioner's Cane, which came in at 126,500 words, well gosh. I can't believe I've actually got a whole book I can edit and play around with at some stage. And now, having completed the story in full, it's surprising how very empty I feel, in spite of the fact that I've been longing and dreaming about this moment for months, my dears, months. I do still feel as if writing a whole trilogy is, for me, a huge personal achievement, but I swear I'm never going to write another one. Never, never, never ... But hell, I'm really going to miss thinking about those people, and the cane, and the raven, and, well, the whole dang thing actually. Lordy, but I'm confused. 'Twas ever thus.

Much to my delight, Brady's Choice was given a very nice review at Queer Magazine Online, so many thanks for that, Lena. And I'm also pleased to say that my lesbian erotic story, Butterfly Girl, has received over 1040 hits, which is lovely, even though nobody likes it much. Ah well. Mind you, this shouldn't come as a surprise to me after the latest comment on one of my reviews at Vulpes Libris where Gay Reader (Gawd bless 'em) tells me (in so many words) that I'm nothing but an envious, self-promoting, dried-up writer with neither heart nor soul, whose fiction is bland, flat and riddled with cliches, particularly in A Dangerous Man. I felt quite chuffed by those comments, and also impressed by the amount of passion and poetry in them. Mind you, as K says, does this mean I'm now set to win the Booker Prize? Oh goody! Anyway, my new strapline is now: bland, envious and self-promoting but served up with style. I hope you like the new improved image!

Here's some recent meditations:




Meditation 520
Hazzelelponi bears her syllables
with pride and despises
those with humbler names.

She has no need
of children to remember her by
and she walks tall

lifting her head
to the sun
whose warm rays

melt into her skin
and brand her
with a lesser glory.




Meditation 521
I remember Reuben:
I nearly played him once
at primary school
in Joseph

but was prevented
at the last minute
by a badly scheduled
hospital trip.

I’ve regretted it ever since
and forty years on
still have a rare sympathy
for this less important brother

where we share an understanding
of our place on God’s list
and taste the bitterness
of opportunity missed.


The Sunday haiku is:

When my chores are done
one pink shoe lies on tarmac
waiting for the night.

Life News:

Thursday at work was a heck of a long one, but that's always the case on the last day at work before Easter (as I'm on a University conference next week for three days). I got in at 8.30am and left at about 8.15pm. I worked like a Trojan and managed to get done everything I needed to, hurrah! Ah, the satisfaction of an empty desk has to be tasted to be believed, I'm telling you. Mind you, the sad thing was that, because of all that, I didn't manage to get to the performance of Annie Get Your Gun at Charterhouse theatre, starring Ruth's husband Douglas, which I was really sorry for - next time, I promise, both! And there was a hugely embarrassing moment at about 7.15pm when I went to the ladies, and then couldn't get back into the office as the security locks had activated. I had to go downstairs and get the security team, who laughed till they cried (and can you blame them!), to let me back in. Well, I do like to provide a certain amount of entertainment in the office environment now and again ...

Friday, Marian and I had a completely amusing game of golf and were laughing so much we could hardly hit the ball at all. Which may possibly have been a good thing. And it cheered me up greatly from the ongoing drama of our attempts to buy a house. Groan, and double groan. It appears that the lovely package of papers sent to our solicitor by the vendors' solicitors on Wednesday contains nothing but copies of what we've been sent before, and therefore our sixteen unanswered but actually very simple questions remain outstanding. No sign of any exchange date there then. We are therefore going to write one last firm email today, and send it to our solicitors, the selling estate agents and the vendors' solicitors, and if there's no movement by the end of this week, then we will withdraw our offer. It's a shame that a relatively simple process has been messed about so much by the sheer incompetence of the vendors' solicitors, but that is their look-out and not ours. In the meantime, we saw a very nice house in West End Village yesterday which will be empty in June as the tenants move out and the sellers are already living in Scotland, and that seems a very attractive option right now. Plus next week, while I'm away on conference, K will be checking out another couple of good options in Bisley, just to see the lie of the land.

Yesterday, we got away from it all briefly by visiting the Spring Garden Fair at Loseley Park, which was very pleasant indeed. And today we have done our bit for Palm Sunday (big palms! little crosses! all those great processional hymns! though, sadly, no donkey ...) and I've done some packing ready for tomorrow's trip. Golly, how organised I am. I've even managed to complete the ironing, triple gosh.

Tonight it's Lewis on TV, so a pretty good Sunday, really.

Anne Brooke

The British are coming!...

Book News:

Next week sees the start of UK Fortnight at Brief Encounters Reviews, which will include spotlights on lots of good authors and your chance to win prizes! Enter now to avoid disappointment ... My own special day will be Tuesday 22 March so do pop in to Brief Encounters Reviews on that and indeed any other day. Satisfaction guaranteed.

At the same time, I'm happy to say that Entertaining the Delaneys is now available as a Kindle book both at  Amazon US and Amazon UK and should liven up your Sunday afternoon no end - so buy early buy often. As they say.

During the week, A Dangerous Man received an interesting 4-star review at Goodreads - many thanks for that, Rod. And you can find out what's coming up at Vulpes Libris this week, which includes exciting new authors, Macbeth and the Bay of Pigs, so never let it be said we don't work hard to revolutionise your reading lists indeed.

The latest meditation poems are:




Meditation 504
Even if you give away
everything you have
and the best of your heart

God cannot be bought
by tricks, deceit
or a liar’s art.




Meditation 505
If you must die
make sure there are men
and chariots enough
to mourn you;

the last thing you desire
is the enemies
of your land
to scorn you.


And the Sunday haiku is:

Waiting by the sink
the pink cupcake umbrella
expects a girl, soon.


Life News:

In a last-ditch and, may I say, really rather generous attempt to sort out the pesky middle neighbours (and their increasingly snippety solicitors - how rude can they get!...), we have tried to make contact with the new middle flat buyer directly via his estate agent to ascertain his address, confirm the ownership of the internal stairs, and a couple of other issues our own buyer has asked us for (and which those wretched solicitors won't answer either). The estate agents are proving very amenable, but so far no response from the middle flat buyer or his solicitors. We will wait and see - but K can foresee a time where we simply have no option but to refuse to sign the transfer agreement for the middle neighbours and they no doubt will refuse to sign the same agreement for us. It may yet be that nobody will be able to sell their respective flats, a situation we don't particularly want to happen in terms of our plans (though we don't care two hoots about them, really) but we may have to live with. Ah well. As I say, we will see, but we are in all honesty doing the best we can under very difficult legal circumstances. Sigh.

To cheer us up, K and I spent a really lovely day yesterday wandering around Nymans Garden and nearby Wakehurst Place (Kew). And for the first time it felt really springlike, which was wonderful. The rhododendrons and camellias were beautiful.

Finally, I must say what a gripping, well-acted and truly classy drama last night's Christopher and His Kind was on TV. Matt Smith really owned that role and, for the first time, I began to see what people see in him. Great stuff - more like that, please. TV producers, take note.

Anne Brooke