Hallsfoot, heucheras and hazelnuts

Book News:

I've just signed the contract for the second in my fantasy series, Hallsfoot's Battle, which will be published by Bluewood Publishing probably sometime next year, hurrah! Here's the blurb just to stimulate your interest:

In the second book in The Gathandrian Trilogy, Gelahn the mind-executioner begins his campaign. His powers are sublime, unmatched – even without the mind-cane in his possession. Using fear and pain he enslaves his victims, but next he will break and possess the Lammas Overlord. Recently appointed Acting Elder and left in sole charge of her people, Annyeke Hallsfoot draws on all her mind-skills and courage as the fight for Gathandria rages. The precious ancient Legends are her bedrock and she begins teaching their wisdom to the scribe, Simon Hartstongue, who must quickly learn to work with the mind-cane’s strange powers. But Simon is distracted by his own demons and only fears the artefact. Supported by Johan and Talus, her young charge, Annyeke plots a desperate strategy to defeat the enemy. As the Gathandrians rally behind their new leader, Gelahn strikes at the heart of the city.

And before Number Two in The Gathandrian Trilogy arrives, don't forget there's still time to read the first in the series, The Gifting. Don't delay - buy today! Here's the next small snippet:

It's damning for Johan in so many ways, as Chief Advisor to the Sub-Council of Meditation, but it's true.

Other good book news this week is that gay erotic short story For One Night Only gained a 4.5 star review at Top 2 Bottom Reviews - so many thanks to Michele for that. In addition literary thriller A Dangerous Man gained a lovely 4-star review at Goodreads - thank you so much, Blake. 

I've also uploaded a new blog to The Thoughtful Corner which, this month, concentrates on fresh starts and what they mean, or might mean. I hope you enjoy the read.

This week's meditation poem:

Meditation 570

A people said to be

as numerous as stars

must always remember

not to be distant,

sterile, and a reminder

only of history

but a light

in the darkness

and an absolute promise

of hope.

The Sunday haiku is:

The cardboard boxes

now unpacked and gone: old lives

give way to the new.

Life News:

I appreciate very much that today is a day of quiet remembrance, but it's also K's and my 18th wedding anniversary, so we've been celebrating, but quietly. We've had a lovely lunch out at The Woolpack and then wandered round Wisley Flower Show where we bought a Paris heuchera for one of the borders at the back - K has already planted it and it looks fabulous.

Other house and garden excitements this week have been: we've bought a shoe tidy, a washing line, pegs, a peg bag and some compost, well gosh. And I've hung the washing out to dry for the first time in our married life (18 years today, don't you know! Did I say that already? ...). A fact which, strangely, has made me extraordinarily happy - it's almost like being an adult really, ho ho. I've also sorted out the wardrobes so we know where everything is, and K has planted the French lavender, the rose and the azalea which Jane and Liz (thank you, both!) very kindly between them bought us as house-warming presents. He's also planted our own rose and nemesia, but we have yet to see how they cope with not being in a pot.

And, to cap it all, we've harvested the first hazelnuts from our hazelnut tree - all two of them, and yes they were utterly delicious. Perhaps we'll harvest some more one day ...

On Friday, Marian and I played golf for the first time in ages and I actually won, hurrah! Which just proves that I'm better if I don't play for a while - the weirdness of golf indeed. Practice makes me worse, ah well. And in the afternoon, Liz came round and we had coffee, cake and chat - all perfect for a Friday afternoon really. Ah, this is the life.

Yesterday evening, we took Liz & John to a Proms party at the house of a friend of theirs in Woking - supper and chat in front of the TV. What could be nicer? We were, sadly however, rather late, as I'd confidently programmed the route into Celia SatNav and merrily directed K there from the back seat - but when we "arrived" I realised it wasn't Liz's friend's house at all, but some other address I'd keyed in, and we had to start all over again. Ho hum. Naturally enough, someone else directed on the way back ...

And the Spider Sagas continue. Liz kindly lent us her new spider vacuum (which allegedly allows you to get the spider in a tube and then deposit it in a nature-friendly way in the garden) and we had occasion to use it earlier in the week when I got up at about 1am and discovered one of the evil beasts next to the loo. Well, one can't really go when there's an enemy in the camp so K nobly rushed to get the spider doom machine and attempted to vacuum it into the tube. Alas, the power wasn't strong enough to suck the enormous beast up the tube (as it were ...), and I was so desperate by then I had to dash to the other loo to answer Nature's call - thus abandoning poor K in the ensuite with a cylindrical plastic tube planted on top of a rather large spider. I think he understood, but I may well have lost Wife Points ... By the time I got back, he'd somehow tipped the spider into the loo and flushed it away, hurrah. So whilst I fear that the nature-friendly nature of the vacuum might have been missed, at least it did the job. Sort of.

However, we decided we really needed something stronger so when, after the Proms party, we discovered another spider, this time in my bathroom,  K dashed to get the real vacuum and we sucked it up to its doom in a matter of moments, aha. Nature? Bah, humbug and Death to the Enemy, eh. We are indeed the Spider Destroyers of Elstead - call us anytime, hey ho.

Anyway, for a week or so, our unwanted house lodgers will be safe as we're off on holiday cruising down the Rhone and enjoying the Colours of Provence and Beaujolais and, hopefully, having a lovely relaxing time from tomorrow.  I suspect it will be our last holiday abroad for quite a while but, hey, we definitely deserve it, though I think we'll both be looking forward, secretly, to coming back to our new home afterwards. Who wouldn't!

Anne Brooke

The Thoughtful Corner

Lions, Wolves and Angels

Book News:

I'm interviewed today about Dancing with Lions, so many thanks, Jenna, for that - much appreciated! I also think the whole concept of a 30-second "Drive Thru" interview is utterly grand.

I'm also happy to say that Maloney's Law found itself at No 24 in the Amazon UK Gay Fiction charts, but has slipped down somewhat since then. A brief burst of glory is always nice though. Talking of which, The Delaneys and Me is lurking secretively at No 40 in the Amazon Kindle Gay Books chart, well gosh. People are obviously taking a shine to gay twins and off-beat humour - for which I am very grateful, thank you.

I'm also thrilled that Martin and The Wolf received a lovely review at Jessewave Reviews, so thank you, Jenre - glad you enjoyed the read. Not to be outdone, Angels and Airheads received a 4-star review at Goodreads (thank you, Ami!). Is the paranormal coming into its own? Who can tell ...

Finally, in terms of news in this section, I'm delighted that the lovely Anders at Queer Magazine Online has published my article, entitled Things I've Learnt from my Fictional Gay Men, a subject which actually made me think fairly deeply about the eclectic mix of characters living somewhere in my head, Gawd bless them. If only I could take on board the good things about them all, then surely I might be a better, more together kind of person. I wish, eh.

Anyway, here's a poem about bananas:

Banana Road


One lone banana
waits on an English road
for a banana tree

to rise up
out of English tarmac.


This week's meditations:

Meditation 381
In matters of the heart
it’s true that mothers
may know best

as vengeance
and death
bring their men no rest.

Meditation 382
For a man
soon to be known

as the wisest
in the land

his first acts
are bathed

in blood and fear
proving that God

does indeed work
from the dark.


Meditation 383
You can vanish
in the city,

unnoticed by kings
or killers.

It is only when
the expansive skies

swallow you up
that your hours

are numbered.


Meditation 384
Finally he thinks
of asking
for wisdom –

a gift
willingly granted –
but many deaths

might have been avoided
if he’d only thought
of asking before.


Life News:

Bit of a difficult day today, as people seem to be proving tricky here and there, goddammit. So it's very much a "retire to the nearest cave and wait for the storms to pass" sort of a day, sigh. Still, I had a great time earlier in the week seeing Jane & Ang (hello, both!) for dinner at our local Italian - which was fabulous on all fronts, hurrah! And I've had a lovely time visiting the neighbour today and catching up so that's been nice too. I suppose we all have to hang on to the good bits of the week and let the tricksy bits go hang - sometimes easier said than done though. I just get cross!

Talking of which, I'm very angry and deeply disappointed that once again the Church of England has taken an historic opportunity and trashed it - a story which you can read here. When, oh when will gay people (not to mention women) be seen as equal in the church's eyes? Honestly, surely this injustice and inequality is enough already. It does deeply sadden me that the church leadership fails every time to see things as most of us actual churchgoers do. When will we have leaders who really represent us, or who have the courage simply to stand up for what is right and just and generous? I do feel very let down by this. I'd like to see an openly gay bishop in my lifetime, and a female one too, but I wonder if that's too much to hope for?...

Still, there are some things which remain good nonetheless: I must absolutely refer you to the totally stunning Rock Choir who are well worth your visit and who have produced a rollickingly good first album with some utterly toe-tapping tunes. I know this as I've just listened to the whole thing in the car and it's sing-a-long city! I'm thrilled with this on two counts: first off, my friend Marian from golf and also the lovely lady, Alison, who does my reflexology are both in the choir, so it's their first album - well done to both! And, secondly, if you buy a copy, profits from one of the tracks go to the UK charity, Refuge, which supports victims of domestic violence. A marvellous cause, I'm sure you'll agree, so please do consider buying the album - it's great!

Anne Brooke
The Prayer Seeker's Journal

Golf, poetry and downright pizzazz

I'm not really sure I was fully in the mood for last night's concert, though I did think that the choir sang magnificently. Suffice it to say that Belshazzar's Feast isn't a piece I'd rush to turn the radio on for, but I have to admit it was a bold choice beautifully conveyed. Oh, and in case anyone's asking, I do think Delius is dull. Sorry, but that's just how I find him. If only A Walk to the Paradise Gardens could be remixed as a Jog to the Park, and I might be a tad less bored by it. Just a thought ...

Mind you, I did write a poem entirely based on a brief conversation between Lord H and myself while the applause was continuing, so the concert did have unexpected bonuses. It's still making us chuckle:

The varieties of men

The conductor turns
to take a bow.

"A wonderful homage
to the benefits

of Grecian 2000,"
you whisper.

"At least he has hair enough
for the attempt," say I.

"Ah, Death before Dishonour,"
you reply.


Anyway, this morning, Lord H and I have hit our way through a bucket or two of balls at the golf range, as per the Physio's instructions. And my shoulder is doing okay so far, I think. Shame the same can't be said about my golf swing. I was so enthusiastic about my first attempt with the wood that I knocked my own golf bag over in the backswing. Ah the shame ...

This afternoon, I have caught up on last night's wonderful "Outnumbered" (surely one of the best and most natural comedies on TV) and the glitter and pizzazz of Strictly Come Dancing. Wow, what a show! Austin's tango was truly shit-hot and the best thing I've seen on the programme so far. More than equal to Cherie's rhumba of a few weeks ago. Tom was pretty damn good too with his salsa, which was neat, bright and very very sharp. And even John & Kristina's American Smooth was his best dance so far. Very endearing indeed. I must say I didn't like Rachel's rhumba though - it didn't deserve all those 10s. To my mind. Certainly not a patch on Cherie's!

In the midst of all that, I've bumbled away with the continuing adventures of Ralph and his family emeralds in Hallsfoot's Battle. He's not fully in control of their mysterious power at the moment, but then again neither am I (haven't got a fecking clue, my dears ...) so I can't really blame him. Anyway, it now stands at 56,000 words, so we're getting there. Somewhere ...

Tonight, I was thinking of going to meet some of the people at Spirited Exchanges (a group of people who struggle with church, basically) as the venue is near Guildford for the first ever time. But I do so hate meeting new people, it's a Sunday night when I should be huddled up in front of the TV and I've a busy week ahead, so really I just can't face it. I might do better in the new year when the nights are lighter, but we'll see. So my Spiritual Points are at an all time low (again), but at least I've written another poem - based on this morning's brief Bible reading. I'm stuck in Moses' temple decor and the parable of the sower at the moment. Not an obvious mix for sure:

Meditation 1

My head is filled
by gold candlesticks
and silence;

measurements; regulations;
and the wild sowing
of untested seed.

The heart’s strange pastures
bloom yellow, unaccountably striped
with sin.


And, of course, I mustn't forget this week's haiku:

My neigbour's garden:
a sea of leaves, russet-gold.
More than trees may hold.


Today's nice things:

1. Golf practice
2. Poetry
3. TV
4. Writing.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - getting into the rhythm ...

Curious shoulders, writing delights and vintage Ayckbourn

Woke up this morning with a strange kind of shooting pain in my right shoulder and the usual (well, usual since the op) numbness in my left. All very odd. It’s as if my shoulders have decided that, rather than share the burden between them, they’re each going to go for opposite ends of the pain spectrum. So today I am distinctly lop-sided – hmm, so, once again, there’s no change there.

Had a lovely time on the way to work – I’d got bored with Radio Two (didn’t like the song – I’m never bored with Terry W!!) and switched to Classic FM. Still bored – I hate the morning presenter. So I went over to my usual third choice of Radio Three. It was piano music, which I’m not a particular fan of (I’m a big orchestra kind of girl, you know …), but I kept it on as it was relatively pleasant. A few minutes went by and I found that (whilst paying due attention to the road conditions of course!…), I was listening with great attention, and that in fact the piece I’d assessed as “relatively pleasant” was actually totally charming, beautifully understated and curiously gripping. As well as being played brilliantly. I loved it, but had no idea what it was. At the end, the presenter gave the composer and player, but really I was none the wiser, so I’ve looked it up on the Radio Three website. It’s Galuppi’s Sonata No 5 in C and it was played by pianist, Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli (a name to die for indeed). Wonderful stuff – and it’s now on my To Buy list. No doubt, my ignorance of both these good people shows how appallingly musically unaware I am, but hey what can you expect from an Essex Girl whose parents both hated music? Rush out and listen to it if you can – it’s extraordinary!

Meanwhile at work, I’ve been rushing around sorting out meeting papers, yet more timetable issues (my favourite!) and delivering handouts to strange and remote corners of the university. Ah, it’s good to get out, so they say. But today’s super-exciting news which has SERIOUSLY made my day is that one of my Writing Group people, Mick Finlay, has had his first two stories accepted for publication – one for Open Wide Magazine, and the other for the Frogmore Papers. I’m absolutely, utterly thrilled for him, and even more pleased that both of the stories were written as homework I gave the writing group, and read out as a first draft there! Ye gods, I might have a purpose to life after all – who could have guessed it?! Mind you, Mick is an incredibly good literary writer and I suspect he actually doesn’t need us to get on. Still, it doesn’t stop me preening in the limelight though, tee hee … (when does it ever??). Well done, Mick!

Had another easy stay-at-my-desk-and-slump lunch-hour, though I really ought to try doing some gentle exercise at some point. If I go on for much longer like this, I will be completely circular, you know. Scary thought.

Tonight, Lord H and I are out at the theatre to see Ayckbourn’s Absurd Person Singular which I’m hugely looking forward to. I could do with a great night out. Lord H is also looking forward to it, though I do suspect that might have something to do with the fact that Honeysuckle Weeks is in it, and he’s always had a soft spot for her since she was in Foyle’s War …

Today’s nice things:

1. Odd shoulders comedy
2. Discovering Galuppi – and Michelangeli
3. Mick’s good writing news
4. A night at the theatre.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Fifteen years old today and some unashamed nostalgia

First of all, huge congratulations to Lord H and me for having been married fifteen years today, hurrah! Have a glass of champagne on us to celebrate:



And we have a bottle cooling in the fridge for tonight as well, hurrah (medicines or no medicines, dammit)! Premier cru vintage too - not that I've ever found anything to better Tesco's blanc de blanc £12.00 standard, but heck live dangerously for once, eh. Apparently, fifteen years married entitles us to crystal, glass or a watch. As we don't need any of those things, we have settled for clothes, books and the CD of Purcell's Fairy Queen, which is on the menu for next year's Glyndebourne. There's nothing like a piece of baroque music to lift the spirits, to my mind - although Lord H is less keen, bless 'im. He's more an appreciator of modern atonal music, if truth be told. At least, more than I am anyway.

More than all that though, I am at last wearing the eternity ring - triple hurrahs and wave the bunting in all directions. And it's seriously beautiful. I love it hugely. Goodness my left hand is sooooo heavy now that it's astonishing I can type at all ... I love love love it. It's looks amazing with the engagement ring, and without. And with. And without. But with is my favourite. Well, having it on at all is my favourite, actually. In case you hadn't guessed that. But, glory be, it's true - I have at last turned into my jewellery-obsessed (keep the ring! Always keep the ring!) mother, Lord preserve us. Arrrrggghhh!!!

But thinking of fifteen years of wedded bliss (which probably translates as 12 years of wedded bliss and 3 years of arguments, but hey that's a damn good ratio, I feel) has brought me out in an unexpected fit of nostalgia, Lord preserve us. Again. I have to admit to totally and absolutely loving my wedding day - even though I also have to admit it was the start of a huge and unsurmountable split in the family, which in itself was well, well overdue. So you could say that in some aspects it was in fact the day I began to grow up. And as I got married at 29, growing up was long overdue also. Anyway, the wedding was fabulous - the dress (something simple and ivory with no fuss) really suited me, so much so that even my stepfather said how good I looked (and was rightly astonished to be saying such a thing as well!); the trumpeter turned up with his trumpeter son (whom we never did paid for as they very sweetly waived his fee as they'd had such a good time) and looked amazing in their bright, military-style suits. And the way they played really made the day - they sounded astonishing. I remember thinking as they and the organ played Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring as we were signing the register that it was, and would always be, the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. Fifteen years later, they still hold that honour. And I'm still grateful.

More than all of this though was the way that everything around us simply vanished when Lord H and I were saying our vows to each other and we suddenly and somehow genuinely were the only people in the church and possibly the only people on the planet. I've only ever had that incredibly magical feeling twice: once when Lord H and I first kissed (and to make everything vanish in the middle of a busy night out in London is some damn trick, I can tell you); and once on our wedding day. It was great. I'm sorry I probably can't explain the sensation any further, but I'm glad it happened once, and incredibly lucky it happened twice. I do understand that.

And now, fifteen years on, I can honestly say that Lord H is the only man I've ever been out with who has never, not even once, bored me. Enraged me to the point of screaming, had me darkly wondering if spousicide is a real word, yes - but bored me, never. There's always something more to find out, in my experience. The Lord H pool runs pretty damn deep and I doubt I'll ever find the bottom. Not in this lifetime anyway.

Though, talking of bottoms (careful, people, careful ...), and to bring my marriage monologue to an end (have I said we've been married fifteen years today?), I have picked up my other prescription from the hospital and now have an Estradot oestrogen patch stuck to my bottom. Ho hum, from the sublime to the ridiculous eh - I am indeed the mistress of that mystic art. The patch is damn small too, so one hopes I don't lose it on the vast acreage of my behind. Which is strange as it comes in an enormous wrapper about ten times its size (the patch - not my bottom ...) - when I'd ripped it open I did think at first there was nothing in it and I'd been sold a bum (sorry!) steer. As it were. But I eventually found it and stuck it on with the aid of a good mirror and some squinting. Apparently I have to wear it for three days (I'm told it even stays on in the bath, well gosh) before I rip it off and shove the next one on. My, what fun we do have here in the cultural outback of Godalming.

What with all this huge excitement, I have only done a few sentences of Hallsfoot's Battle today, so am now just in at 36,000 words or so. Would be nice to hit the big 40,000 marker before the end of September for sure. And I've had a two-hour nap - well, being married for fifteen years is quite exhausting, you know, and I don't want to wear myself out too soon. Tonight, we have lasagne, ice cream and champers to look forward to. I'm sure that will help keep my strength up - all good healthy stuff, you know!

Today's nice things:

1. Our 15th wedding anniversary
2. Our 15th wedding anniversary
3. Our 15th wedding anniversary (did I tell you that yet?...)

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Birds, postmen and Guildford Writers

Forgot to say (or perhaps I’m too ashamed to confess it), but Lord H and I bought a birdsong CD at the end of last week’s holiday, so we could wow our friends with our amazing ability to distinguish a woodpecker from a sparrow. However, there are 99 tracks on it, plus a booklet (which unfortunately doesn’t include pictures of said birds, which might have been more useful), and we’re so far only up to track 12. Well, there’s only so much constant tweeting you can take really. But I do think I have recognised a blackbird since listening to one on the CD. And I now know that if you’re walking in woodland and hear something you haven’t heard before (birdsong, people, birdsong …!), then it’s probably a great tit (as it were), as they have a notes range so vast that no-one can log it all. It also surprised me that birds of the same species can sound so different, as they’re all little individuals. Just like people really. Astonishing. A statement which probably goes to show just how birdist I have been in my life.

This morning, Lord H performed another of his shapeshifting tricks – he left the flat looking entirely like his usual self but, by the time I was waving him off down the path, he’d changed into the postman. Suspicious, eh … I fear the mother-ship may be calling him home. However, fear not as, once the postman had vanished next door, Lord H turned up as himself again, pointing helpfully to his head so I could know it was him. Mornings in downtown Godalming are so exciting, you know.

Oh, and on the radio this morning, I heard a lovely song – “Grace” – by someone called Simon Webbe (whom I’ve never heard of, which probably just goes to show how ignorant I am). Sorry. Anyway, must get the CD sometime – I loved it.

It’s a bit flat at work at the moment. Yesterday’s flurry of activity has obviously stunned all my usual correspondents into silence. I’m waiting on a barrel-load of people to reply to my pleas for attention, but am held in a vacuum until they do. Welcome to the Secretarial World, eh? ’Twas ever thus.

Took my usual stroll round campus at lunchtime, and stopped in at the new exhibition at the art gallery. Sat by the lake for a while too – it’s such a good place to think in (if you get my meaning). Watched the coot (or are they moorhens? Who can tell?…) family – the youngsters were picking grasses from the parent bird, when really they should be old enough to do it themselves by now. Hmm, we obviously have more in common with the bird world than we thought. And there was also a grey squirrel rolling in a soil bath at the bottom of a nearby tree – perhaps we should all do this occasionally? It certainly looked like fun. Oh, and I thought I heard a tweeting from the bush behind me that I’m sure I’ve heard on the birdsong CD– but just couldn’t remember which of the tweeters it might be. Darn it. I think all this nature rambling must be due to age - when I turned 30, I suddenly developed an undying love for Dutch flower paintings (which I'd always hated before) - now I can't get enough of them. Give me a Dutch flower painting - even a postcard will do - and I'm your friend for life. In the same way, I think my 40s will be the decade of the bird. You have been warned ...

On the PR front, the Goldenford (http://www.goldenford.co.uk) article that appeared in The Guildford Times a couple of weeks ago has also apparently appeared in The Cranleigh Times, so our fame is spreading … Today Cranleigh, tomorrow the world.

Oh, and I’ve written a poem – which is something of a relief as I haven’t written one for a while and was getting twitchy. Again.

Shedding the skin

These days
I want to do less
and my pleasure lies in saying no.

While others fill their days
with lunches, hobbies, evenings out,
an ever-widening circle of friends,
my first and strongest instinct
is to open the closed fist
spread the fingers wide
and simply let it all go.

Watching my life
spin outwards to nothing,
a distant echo
of who I used to be
comes back to me
but I don’t remember her now.

If to be myself,
I have to release
what I thought I was
or might be once
then maybe that’s what I’ll do
anyhow.


Double joy - the A Dangerous Man reviews from Erastes (http://www.myspace.com/erastesdotcom) and Becky (http://www.myspace.com/edie1964) have finally turned up on Amazon and can be found here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dangerous-Man-Anne-Brooke/dp/0954594568/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/202-0915331-5590251?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1181061968&sr=8-1. Many thanks, guys, I'm really grateful!

Tonight, there’s Guildford Writers (http://www.guildfordwriters.net), so that should be fun. Am planning to take the first page of The Bones of Summer along and get some feedback on that. I suspect I’ll be asked what my plans are for the book, as somebody usually asks me that whenever I start something. Um, and my answer is always the same – I’ll know when I write it, as it’s just as much of a mystery to me as it is to everyone else. It’s all done by smoke and mirrors, you know. That said, as usual I do have an end scene in mind, though I haven’t written it yet. I need to get the guys some way nearer it before I do that one (and even then no doubt it’ll change when I finally get there myself).

Today’s nice things:

1. Amazon reviews
2. Writing a poem
3. Guildford Writers

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

Day with Mother, and murderous locals

Argghhh!! Oh, sorry, that just slipped out. Apologies ... But, hey, I've done my Easter mother visit, so I can be Good Daughter for a while. It wasn't so bad actually, bearing in mind that she seemed unable to stop talking even when I was virtually asleep on the sofa and she was promising to be quiet for five minutes. Which gave Lord H the giggles, I must say. Still, I suppose my stepfather is not big on conversation, so I imagine Mother probably has to get all the words out at once. Worryingly, however, Lord H and Mother did seem to be wearing virtually the same colour cords, so I am now concerned that I have actually ended up marrying my mother after all (arrggghhh!!) and in a few years' time, Lord H is going to shrink down to about 4' nothing from his current 6'2". You heard it here first ...

Mother is also still worrying about why I am not yet famous or why none of my books can be found in the normal shops - one would have thought she'd be used to this by now. I fear the days of her being interviewed as the mother of a well-known author will never arrive, which is a shame as she would have been so excited by the thought of a Woman's Hour slot. Ah well.

On the more positive family side, at least she is being distracted by thoughts of my elder nephew's attempts to get to University and whether the Student Loan Company can be persuaded to give him money to do it or whether she needs to sell the family silver (if we had any ...) to finance his no doubt up-and-coming student drug habit. We also discussed whether my cousin's wife's sudden desire to go to Gateshead (oop North for the uninitiated) to study fiddle and folksong for two years is (a) a perfectly sensible means to self-expression, or (b) a cry for help and a sign that all is not well in the family of my aunt. If (b), this would be an aha! moment for my mother, who suffers from having children who can't stand each other, don't talk and are two-thirds divorced (ie I'm the only one of the three who isn't - so far!), whereas up to now my cousins have all been irritatingly perfect, horrendously loving and basically a red-headed version of the Stepford Wives. Never say there is no competition in this family ...

But the best news of my mother visit is that she's rediscovered all my old teenage LPs and I've now brought them home with me - so I have my 70s/80s delights of Chris de Burgh, the Tom Robinson Band, the Carpenters, Abba, Steve Forbert and Meatloaf etc etc clutched in my hot little fingers. My what catholic tastes I had indeed. All I need now is a bloody record player and I'm laughing (though Lord H might well not be ...).

Oh, and we do have some Easter excitement in the Godalming world - after many, many years of having absolutely no news whatsoever in a ten mile radius (best local paper headline in 13 years: "Body found in grave" ...), we now have (a) the murder of a 6 year old boy in the next village (Farncombe), apparently by his father who was then arrested two hours later in north Wales. Which, as Lord H said, begs the question: how the bloody hell did he get to north Wales from Godalming in two hours? What was he doing - riding Black Bess??, and (b) a local psychiatric nurse who has taken to sleeping with patients in tents. Dear me, I didn't realise you could even get that on the National Health these days. I always thought you had to go private for that kind of treatment. I'm obviously going to the wrong doctors.

Anyway, all this murderous/naughty activity definitely stands up to Mother's best local trauma, when a body was found in the local pond and ended up being a drugs murder. Honestly, all those years in rural Essex when I was young and I never even caught a sniff of any drugs. Now they're all at it in between ploughing matches and straw-sucking ... Lucky devils.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I've done another poem, inspired by the RA exhibition:

Charles-Alexandre de Calonne by Elisabeth-Louise Vigée-Lebrun

It’s not the rich crimson damask
of the curtain,
echoed as it is
in the fabric of the chair he chose.
Neither is it the black satin gleam
of his suit,
salted a little at the collar
by the softness of his powdered wig.

Nor is it, I think,
the accoutrements of royal favour
at the table:
the elegant quills; the golden pots;
the letter to the king.

No. It’s something about the glow
of the man’s face,
his relaxed and open posture,
which speaks to me
of gentleness and warmth.

And I sense,
Elisabeth-Louise,
that you might have liked him also,
enjoyed his company for a while
in the painting of him,

allowing your artist’s brushstrokes
to speak to me now,
so many centuries on,
of friendship
and all its surprises.


Today's nice things:

1. Local criminal excitement
2. The not-so-perfect cousins
3. My old records.

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

Haircut and black tie dinner

Never say I don't lead the high life on occasion. This morning was a lazy lie-in followed by a half-hearted cleaning session in preparation for doing lunch for friends tomorrow. But there is some good news! - cleaning is much nicer with an iPod. It's true - technology works. It does make our lives nicer. I feel much calmer if I'm listening to Mozart while scrubbing the kitchen, and Blondie's "Sunday Girl" is a wow for washing the floors to. You heard it here first. And how Blondie takes me back to my school days - ah happy memories (at least in terms of secondary school anyhow). The only trouble was the sing-along moments disturbing Lord H's efforts to do his theology essay (not that he complained, and before anyone asks, yes, he had done his share of the cleaning by then ...) - I'm not sure I have the range that Deborah Harry had. Ever. In any circumstance.

Managed to squeeze in one episode of the original "Star Trek" (ah, they don't make 'em like that any more, more's the pity) before my hairdresser turned up to get rid of the neck flicks and fringe which have crept up on me over the last couple of weeks or so. Thank God. I was beginning to think that the '40s had come again.

Lord H has gone to the shops to stock up for tomorrow's lunch and tonight's wine offerings, but has actually now come back as the queues to get into the ruddy Waitrose car park were so long he'd probably be there till the next millenium. The hell that is Christmas indeed ... Anyone for fish 'n' chips tomorrow?

Tonight we're at Liz & John's for Liz's annual black tie dinner. We went for the first time last year, and rather enjoyed it - there are only about 8 people and it's in her home, so it's manageable even for me. Surely. Last year, I was on something of a high though, and suspect I didn't stop talking for three hours. Though I don't think they minded. Still, I hope to be on a calmer roll this year and try to avoid my usual performance defence mechanism. Now that would be nice.

Oh, and I've given up with my Handbook for Depressed Christians (or similar title - I can't be arsed to get off my ... well ... arse and check it, sorry) as it was getting on my nerves and was beginning to be so shallow I could have held it up and seen right through it. Not bad for 400 pages plus. Instead, I bought another book for non-religion specific depressed people last week - Tim Cantopher's "Depression: the Curse of the Strong" and ye gods, it's bloody good. Small, very readable and highly sane. Not bad for a psychiatrist author then. I'm getting more out of that than I did the other, for sure. Interestingly, Tim is actually a Consultant Psychiatrist at the University, though I've never actually met him - so at least I'm keeping it local.

And, for those of you keeping up with this kind of thing, did I get my copies of "A Dangerous Man" from Flame Books (http://www.flamebooks.com) this week as promised by them? Did I heck! I'm almost beginning to wonder if I did actually sign a contract with them last spring at all, or whether it's a figment of my overactive imagination. If the latter, this would explain their slight air of confusion when I call. Hmm. To be honest, if it is real, I don't mind the delay so much as the lack of communication. Even something saying: "we're sorry for the delay, there's no news but we thought you'd like to hear from us anyway to let you know we're still working on it" would be nice. And it can't cost much. Or am I asking the impossible from a small press? How I wish there was someone out there who could tell me. Till then, I'm stumbling on in the dark.

Today's nice things:

1. Haircut
2. Dinner tonight
3. Star Trek.

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

Lunch with Julia and gay fiction writing

Quite a nice day at work today. For a Monday. Managed to look like a professional for most of the time and even get a few emails sorted. The good news is that I won’t have to come in on Friday after all, as the meeting scheduled for then has been postponed till after Christmas. Hurrah. Suits me, sir. And I looked like a young, cool person by taking in my new iPod and dropping it into the conversation every five minutes. Any conversation. At last! - I have a gadget that nobody else in the office has got. The sad thing of course is that any vestiges of coolness I might have been able to snatch at are washed away by the sort of music I actually downloaded onto the damn thing: um, that will be The Seekers, Tony Christie, the Monkees and a bit of Mozart. Ah well, I never was a rock chick. Even when young … Anyone want to know the way to Amarillo?

Lunch with Julia was grand, although Chancellor’s was packed with exam-demob happy students, so we were crushed into a corner on the bar facing the crowds. I had the same food I always have, but h. there’s a comfort in familiarity, you know. Actually, it’s been one wild social whirl this afternoon – I also popped into the Advice Centre’s Christmas do for a mince pie and a coke. Last of the great party animals, eh? In spite of being a social coward, I had a good conversation with the Deputy Dean of Students about writing and novels, and how the h. one does it all. I think I’m more of an organic writer than a high-powered planner to be honest; when I’m at the top of a page, I never know quite what’s going to happen at the end of it. What a contrast to my usual timetabled-to-the-point-of-obsession daily life indeed …

I’ve also been thinking today about why I write gay fiction – it’s a question posed by Clayton on MySpace (http://www.myspace.com) and it’s certainly a good one. I can’t give a logical reason (sorry, Clayton …) but it’s simply where I feel most at home. I don’t actually know what girls think (query: did I miss that lesson at school?...) but the man in my head (ah hello, Michael – I wondered where you’d got to) knows what he thinks all the time, and why, and I feel most fully alive when I’m plugged into him and his concerns. I suppose that, once again, it’s something organic and instinctual. I’ve been asked many a time why I don’t write from the point of view of a straight girl – and I’ve tried to fit in with what people seem to want (believe me, I’ve tried!) – but I’m never really happy with it for myself, although “Pink Champagne and Apple Juice” has been well received in the small circles it’s found itself in. But, hell, even there I gave that novel a strong secondary gay male character to make myself happier. I just don’t feel comfortable doing “straight” as a genre; it’s simply not “me”. I hope that makes some kind of weird sense. And, yes, I do realise (I’ve been told often enough!) that the fact that in my everyday life I’m a straight female makes it almost impossible to sell the books I produce. But, in the end I’m writing for me first and foremost, and for self-expression, and the rest of the game will have to play itself out as it may. Brave words, eh?...

Tonight (back to the mundane here), it’s shopping at Tesco, and a TV slump. Thank goodness for a night in.

Today’s nice things:

1. Lunch with Julia
2. Thinking more deeply about why I write
3. Showing off my iPod!

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

Art and a good Monday

Ye gods. A good Monday. I never thought that would happen. Well, not good, in that I was at work instead of at home, but still it was perfectly acceptable for the start of the working week. So much so that I didn't even stare balefully at the clock during the morning wondering when on earth 12 o'clock would turn up. It was actually 1.30pm before I noticed! Not that I had a great deal of urgent stuff to do, but I did loads of work on the Student Care Services website, and checked the links etc. Hell, but I'm a nerd sometimes.

At lunch, I visited the new art exhibition - it's marvellous! Lots of pictures of gorgeously coloured pots and the sea. I was stunned and inspired by the use of colour and the energy of it all. There was some equally energetic real-live pots too - and a quirky, funny Nativity set which was large, and ugly-beautiful. Great stuff. The woman's a local artist apparently - lives in Compton - Mary Wondrausch is the name, I think (though my spelling is probably up the creek) and she's about 180 years old. Allegedly. But is obviously producing far better stuff than Vaughn Williams could manage at 80. (Bitch, bitch ...)

Tonight, Lord H is at his last theology class of the term, and I'm planning to do a bit more on "The Gifting". Famous last words, eh ... And I've just finished Margaret Gill's book for teenagers - "The Eye of the Mandala". Great plot, lots of action and some good main characters. I enjoyed it.

Today's nice things:

1. The arty pots
2. Writing
3. Having a better Monday than expected (bloody hell!)

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