Life after Church by Brian Sanders: a narrow view of God

This is all very worthy, but only really speaks to evangelical or charismatic Christians. For those of us who are neither of these, this book is unhelpful at best and damaging at worst. Sanders has a rather judgemental attitude that I definitely didn't warm to, and I suspect his vision of God might be far too narrow. Read it if you must, but take any advice it offers with a large pinch of salt!

Anne Brooke Books

The Heart's Greater Silence: Gay Erotic Romance

Gay erotic romance The Heart's Greater Silence is now available on Kindle for only 99p or FREE with Kindle Unlimited. Here's the blurb:

Mark isn't sure he believes in love, especially when he's torn between two very different men: his reliable boyfriend, Craig, and his illicit lover and priest, Richard. Mark knows what he should do, but he can't bring himself to give Richard up. The sex with Richard is unlike anything he's ever known with Craig, and he hungers for it as much as - if not more than - the truer intimacy he finds in his boyfriend's arms. 

When Craig discovers his betrayal, Mark is forced to look at his life more closely, but the path to self-knowledge is never an easy one. Richard seeks the way back to God, but Mark finds no solace there. Can he ever discover the truth of his own soul, or is he too afraid of what he will - or won't - find inside his heart? 

Reviews: 

"Anne Brooke has written a somber and beautiful story of a man who had everything and lost it all because he coveted two very different men. It is dark and solemn and resonates with a sense of conflict and despair that wove the ideal atmosphere. It was moving and played beautifully against the knowledge that sometimes free will and human nature simply don't leave room for happy endings." (The Novel Approach) 

"This was an intense and moving story that caught me up from the very start … it does a wonderful job of poking at that line between love and lust as Mark gets caught up in his two different needs and sadly finds they can only be satisfied by two different people." (Joyfully Jay Reviews) 

"Anne Brooke is one of my favourites. I love the picture she always paints in her books - of a town, the people, the streets, the body language of the characters. Body language is an integral part of communication and not every writer can do this well, if at all. I like the fact that her writing is quirky, realistic and (I believe) comes from someone with keen observational skills … Short, realistic, terrific read." (On Top Down Under Book Reviews)

Find out more here. Happy reading!

Anne Brooke Books
Gay Reads UK

Blog hops and bestsellers

Book News:

Just a quick reminder that I am taking part in the Scorching Blog Hop until 6 April, and there are loads of giveaways, as well as a grand prize. Leave a comment at my below blog and you'll be in with a chance to win a FREE ebook of gay romance Who Moved My Holepunch? Don't forget to visit all the other participants too. Good luck!

Indeed, already Who Moved My Holepunch? has received a lovely review from On Top Down Under Reviews, which included the following:

"I find Anne Brooke writes a mean short story … If you are looking for a witty, sexy, M/M office romp, then I highly recommend Who Moved My Holepunch? It is a great title and the content matches the cover, sexy and interesting." 

Thank you, Karen! Another review, this time a 4-star one, can also be found at MM Good Book Reviews, and this includes:

"It was a fascinating read. I laughed. I gasped. And I felt the exquisite chemistry this author achieved between her characters. The world they were put into was not something I anticipated, but even college administrative jobs can be fascinating with a creative mind. A lovely novella not to be missed."

Other reviews can be found at Goodreads, including a 4 star one and a 4.5 star one. Many thanks to all readers there for your comments. You can also now find this book at All Romance Ebooks, if that's your preferred shopping venue.

In addition, another prize giveaway that's running at the moment is for fantasy novel, Hallsfoot's Battle, the second in my critically acclaimed Gathandrian series.

At Goodreads, you have the chance to win one FREE paperback of this novel if you add your name to the list by 23 April. Whilst at LibraryThing, there are two FREE ebooks up for grabs (scroll down to view) if you request it by 7 April. Good luck to all!

I'm also happy to note that I was the No 5 bestselling author at Untreed Reads for 2012, well gosh. A BIG thank you to everyone who has bought a copy of my books there and put me in those charts.

Finally in this section, I'm thrilled to be included in an interview about gay romance and religion over at the Lambda Literary magazine. It's a pleasure to be there.


Life News:

Last week, I spent three fascinating days in snowy Edinburgh at a work conference, and got a heck of a lot out of it, I must say. Some very thought-provoking seminars indeed. The only down side was the pesky weather, but Edinburgh is of course still a beautiful city.

K and I also spent a day with Mother on Good Friday, accompanying her to the Hour of Remembrance as usual. And the Easter Service was of course packed and very enjoyable. I particularly appreciated the champagne and chocolate eggs after the service, but fear we're possibly not getting those every week, alas.

Over the last couple of days, K and I have visited Clandon Park, along with their lovely garden centre, where I succumbed to two gorgeous Senetti plants. And today we've visited Hatchlands, and come away with two very reasonably priced lupins. Sadly, though, both K and I are battling with a cold/flu-type thing, so haven't done as much gardening as we'd have liked. That said, I took out most of the wretched ground elder yesterday - a weed which I'm sure will survive a nuclear winter, should it ever come upon us. Hey ho.

Hope you're all having a glorious Easter week!

Anne Brooke
Gay Reads UK
The Gathandrian Fantasy Trilogy
Biblical Fiction UK
Lori Olding Children's Author

Coughing at Christmas

Life News:

Um, not much life news this week, I fear. I've been ill since last Sunday so everything else has sadly passed me by, alas. Christmas? Has it happened yet?... A lot of coughing, snorting and nose-blowing has happened however, so I've not been entirely idle. Haven't managed to get into bed to sleep (it's worse if I lie down, on the whole) but the plus side is I am now engaged to the living room sofa, hurrah. And I've read a hell of a lot of free Kindle books and solved (or, more accurately, failed to solve) a lot of crossword puzzles. K has been a total saint and really should be on the local New Year Honours list for Services to Sick Wives.

Astonishingly, I'm still not over it, and I'm told it may last another week - but hey at least that means I'm likely to enter 2013 in exactly the same way that I leave 2012, so top marks for consistency. Hey ho.

In the meantime, over at The Angry Anglican, I'm waxing lyrical about peculiar priests and same sex marriage. As ever.

Book News:

Here, there is good news, well gosh! I'm thrilled to announce that psychological thriller Thorn in The Flesh will be republished in 2013 by Untreed Reads, so I can't wait for that. Plus I gained my first 5-star review for Christian novella The Prayer Seeker at Amazon UK (thank you, Claire!), where it's described as:

"thought-provoking, helpful, interesting and (dare I say it) inspirational ..."

Well, gosh.

Not to be outdone, gay religious short story The Heart's Greater Silence gained a 4-star review at Goodreads (thank you, Edina Rose), so the season is evidently making its influence felt, ho ho. Apparently, Edina is making me one of her favourite authors on the basis of the story, so that's lovely too.

Happy New Year to you all - hope you have a healthy one!

Anne Brooke
Gay Reads UK
Biblical Fiction UK
The Gathandrian Fantasy Trilogy
Lori Olding Children's Author

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

Dancing with Lions

I'm pleased to say that my biblical short story, Dancing with Lions, is published today and you can pick up a copy here - though I'm afraid you'll have to be patient as, for some reason, the links to Smashwords take an age to click through.

While you're waiting, you can read an extract from the beginning of the story and also enjoy the book trailer. Never say I'm not kind to you, and have a truly fabulous Friday!

Anne Brooke

Shrikes and Fruit

Great bird news this week! We've finally - after about four or five attempts and many miles covered - spotted a Great Grey Shrike on our trip to the New Forest yesterday, hurrah. Such a beautiful bird and a real pleasure to see. Especially as we'd just given up and were returning to the car when suddenly there it was. Bliss. A lifetime first. Two other lifetime firsts yesterday were the black-throated diver and the scaup. Triple huzzahs then! And we also added to our year bird count with a Dartford warbler, a little grebe, grey plovers, curlews, a Brent goose, sanderlings (hundreds of them) and a ringed plover. Big results all round indeed.

Other nice news is that How to Eat Fruit is now available at Amazon US in Kindle version. Ideal Valentine weekend reading, I'd say.

I'm also very pleased with a 4-star rating of Two Christmases on Goodreads - thanks, Jonathan. Very much appreciated, and so glad you enjoyed the read.

Finally, in Book World, Chapter Six of The Prayer Seeker's Journal is now uploaded and can be found here. In which Michael has his first experience of spiritual direction, which isn't entirely what he was expecting.

And here's this week's haiku:

Hidden amongst trees
crocus shoots point to the skies.
Deep green and slender.

Anne's website - always a fruitful place to be
The Prayer Seeker's Journal - finding its own direction

Marmite meanderings

A brief blog as I'm having an odd day off and tomorrow will be super-busy. Plus I'm just off to my Clarins massage (ah, bliss ...) followed almost immediately by the Bible group. Romans 9 - St Paul in full flow. What could be trickier? Hmm ...

Today at Vulpes Libris, I'm reviewing Kal Bonner's Climbing a Ladder Backwards. Another hmmm ... And a rather disappointing attempt to create a Bridget Jones for the new decade. Additionally disappointing, as I'm utterly convinced that this is not the novel Bonner should have written. It could have been oh so much more. If given a chance to breathe ...

Talking of reviews, I find myself unexpectedly heartened by a negative but incredibly thoughtful review of A Stranger's Touch on Goodreads by Winterjade. Whilst I'm obviously sorry she didn't like the story, I'm much chuffed by the fact that she recognised its ethereal and mystical qualities. That's exactly the effect I was aiming for, and it's marvellous that it's come across - all the more so to someone who disliked the story. Perhaps, as another writing friend has pointed out, it's simply because I've written a "marmite story" (at last! At last!), and people either warm to it or they don't. Either way, it's making me feel quite pleased. Or maybe I am just weird after all? That wouldn't surprise me ...

Earlier in the week, the lovely Clare London was kind enough to showcase me on her Livejournal site and there you can find out a little more about my reasons for writing that marmite story mentioned above(!) and read an extract of it (WARNING: it's erotic). Thank you for the opportunity, Clare, and I hope your birthday month is proving truly bright and bubbly for you!

Finally, here's this week's poetry course offering:

Treasures and traps

The night found me
glooming, at the edge
of a past
not yet explored,
rare dominion
of dreams, sparse country
of flight –

this coloured
storm of the sea,
this history
churning me, yearning me,
onward, downward
and I’m spiralling
somewhere between

earth and sky,
uncaught.


A little strange perhaps but, hey, you should be used to that by now ...

Anne's website - an acquired taste, but harmless really
The Prayer Seeker's Blog - walking on the light side, possibly

Back to the battle, a gay solution and a competition prize

Still getting there on the health front today, slowly slowly. A lot of coughing and snorting - in fact I'm thinking of applying for a job as an old horse, should one be up for grabs anywhere. Really, I'd be brilliant. We've also been continuing to laugh a lot at MPs. Such joy to know that the criminals are all safely gathered in one place: Parliament. Ho hum.

We're also smiling at the Church Times which, as always, manages to grab the last word on the religious issue of the day - in response to the recent appalling news about the London conference encouraging homosexual people to be "turned straight" (Lord preserve us from such idiocy, we cry ...), one of their literature-focused columnists suggests that in fact the world would be a lot more pleasant and far more moral if there was a programme to turn us all gay - then Macbeth would have shacked up with Duncan rather than murdering him, Jane Eyre would have managed to talk Mrs Rochester down from the roof and Romeo would have settled down happily in Verona with Mercutio. There's much to be said for it indeed - where do we all sign up??

Meanwhile, I've finally got myself back into writing more of Hallsfoot's Battle and am now at 118,500 words. Mind you, I'm getting hugely twitchy now and I just want to (CAPITALS DELIBERATE) GET THIS DANG FIRST DRAFT FINISHED and have a bloody good lie-down. Please??? I'm sooo nearly at the end of the wretched battle scene, then I have to finish the mopping up, get Simon, Ralph, Johan and Annyeke in the places where they should be and I'm done. Honestly, it's as if I can glimpse the finish line in the distance, but the sweat in my eyes is meaning the whole damn thing's a bit blurred and I'm not sure I'll get there in one piece. Or, more accurately maybe, it's like a piece of classical music Lord H and I were listening to on the radio a few days ago where just as you thought they'd played the final chord, there was another ... and another ... and then another. And only THEN was it over. Writing the end - or trying oh so desperately to write the end - of Hallsfoot is hugely like that. Goddammit. I'm tired, I've had it up to here and I need to start something else. Soon.

But there's more positive literary news too, thank the Lord. The lovely people at First Edition Magazine are offering a complete and signed set of my novels as a competition prize in their June edition - which is out now in WHSmith's, hurrah! My name is even on the front in a big red circle, so that's lovely. I'm just hoping and praying that some kind people out there might actually enter the competition (the answers are easy and can be found either in my interview in the May edition or on my website, hint hint ...) -as the humiliation if nobody enters and they have to ditch the books or (worse!) send them back to me doesn't really bear thinking about. Though of course I am doing nothing else but thinking about that scenario, sigh ...

Tonight, I'm gearing myself up for the joys of Primeval and then we must watch as much of Eurovision as we can bear. The honour of the country, don't you know. Ho ho. It won't be the same without Sir Terry however - and I really don't think much of that dreadful UK entry. I tried to listen to it on YouTube earlier in the week and could only manage about 30 seconds without losing the will to live. So, bearing in mind the undoubted influence of my cultural opinion on the music (or indeed any other) business, that probably means the damn thing will be an outright winner. Lord preserve us once more.

Today's nice things:

1. Church Times articles
2. Limping to the finish with Hallsfoot, slowly
3. Being a competition prize - at last, at last!
4. TV.

Anne Brooke - aiming high at nul points ...
Cancer Research Race for Life - all donations very gratefully received

Scintillating covers and a nice little cheque

Was utterly thrilled last night to get the cover art for my short story, Painting from Life, which will be published as an eBook by Eternal Press on 7 May. I totally and absolutely love it, and I think the artist, Amanda Kelsey, is a genius. I can't wait until it's up on the publisher website and I can reveal it to you. It's one of the most striking covers I've seen in a long time and perfect for the story's themes. Thank you, Amanda! Big time.

Alongside that happy news, I also have an advance cheque for The Bones of Summer from Dreamspinner Press, which they hope to publish late summer. Appropriate really, given the title. Admittedly, they're a small publisher, so it's only $50, which comes out at about £35 in our money, and will be even less than that once the bank has taken their cut - but hey it's more than I've seen for A Dangerous Man thus far, so I'm not complaining one jot! I shall spend it on earrings, I think. Hell, I deserve it.

I also forgot to say yesterday that I've taken another of those fun prejudice tests and I now discover that I'm moderately biased towards the Jewish faith as opposed to any other faith. Which is an interesting result for sure. I always did enjoy the Old Testament, I suppose - though I imagine that I won't be able to call it that now. Next time in church when Jesus is mentioned, I shall be sure to purse my lips and sigh gently. Keep the faith, as they say - well, one of them anyway.

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

Meditation 89

Bright grapes hang down
from the branch
the two men steal away.

They glisten green in the sun,
whispering of promise
and danger.

When the vineyard is planted,
their bursting beauty
brings only death

and the dryness
of wanting.


This morning I have played golf with Marian - rather badly, I have to say, but it was nice to be out and see the daffodils. Such a glorious yellow (says she dully - but really they are!). And after that I managed to nip into Godalming and get everything I need in record time, hurrah. Plus I remembered to recycle the books we've read and don't want to keep that have been piling up over the last few weeks - so space is created for ... um ... more books. Sigh. It's a neverending cycle, don't you know.

I've also taken Hallsfoot's Battle to the dizzy heights of the upper 99,000 words level so the big 100,000 is even now beckoning to me. It'll have to wait though - there'll be no more of it done today as I've learnt what my limit is, thank the Lord. Interesting though how much I've enjoyed writing this new section where at last Ralph, Simon and the mind-executioner are together again - they're a sparky little trio, and when they're on the page the writing flows much more easily for sure. I suspect that in the rewrite I will have to look at ways of getting them together for their usual verbal/threatening battles before they actually do meet up. If you see what I mean. Well, in the mind-world anything is possible, as long as I can justify it.

This afternoon, I've reaped the benefits of my Alexander Technique lesson - and hell but this week I've needed it. I don't know what it is but over the last few days my back has really been playing me up. Is it the shock of getting back to work and having to sit in front of the computer all the more?? Possibly ... I shall see how it goes over the weekend anyway.

And today is Red Nose Day and Lord H has gone to work in his usual suit but with a bow tie (real of course ... come come, people ...) instead of a tie in response to the demand for casual dress. Well, that is casual dress here in the shires ... I must say though that he looked hugely stylish in it, as if he was about to present a BBC4 art programme. A new career beckons, I feel ...

Today's nice things:

1. The Painting from Life cover art
2. The Bones advance cheque
3. Fun prejudice tests
4. Poetry
5. Golf
6. Writing Hallsfoot
7. Alexander Technique
8. Bow ties.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - getting the big 100,000 in her sights ...

Poems, physio and coping with the gloom

I don’t think I remembered anything about yesterday’s Bible readings – it was as if any sense had been sucked from my head by a mental hoover. A common occurrence really. Which caused me to write this:

Meditation 2

Black marks on snow
signify nothing; the electrical
link from the word
to the brain

is missing today. Tell me:
when does meaning start?


And they say Bible reading does you good. Well, maybe – and only if you can remember it for more than 30 seconds afterwards. Ah well. Negative spiritual points again, Carruthers. Heck, I’ll add them to my total.

Meanwhile at work I am still struggling away with those pesky minutes. Twice over, dammit. I suspect I am typing the same things over and over again with no real resolution being in sight. Hmm, much like writing a novel then, but without the necessary tension.

Due to this afternoon’s physio appointment, I worked through lunch (drowning in minutes) and attempted to maintain a cheery demeanour. Ho ho. I think I needed my appointment as my neck is certainly stiffer today. I’m hoping it doesn’t do my shoulder in again. My, that would be fun.

Afterwards, I whizzed back to the office to add a little more to those dang minutes, but mainly (I’m not that noble, obviously …) as the English Department is hosting a reading by the poet Fiona Sampson at 6pm. It should be good – but I must admit I read the reviews of her latest work, Common Prayer, just now and didn’t understand a word of them. I hope it’s not too intellectually terrifying. I don’t respond well to intellectual poetry – I dinna really understand it, cap’n … I also hope I can contain my usual literary jealousy and avoid tearing the poor innocent woman limb from limb for being a successful and established writer. Best plaster on that plastic smile and think holy thoughts then. Not something that comes naturally, I can tell you. Hey ho, soon home, I hope … UPDATE: Fiona was lovely and it was a very successful event, so well done to the English Department for arranging it, hurrah! I particularly liked the (pretentiousness alert!) sense of light and space in her work, so ended up buying two of her books, which she kindly signed for me. Mind you, I had to rush home and look up what the heck "liminal spaces" were, as there was a lot of discussion about those in the question-time afterwards and I was completely and utterly bamboozled, my dears (though I did keep nodding wisely so I didn't look like a complete buffoon, as you do). My vocabulary is rapidly diminishing as age sets in, you know. Anyway they're spaces at boundaries or thresholds, apparently, so that kind of makes sense. To those of us, like me, who left our degree years behind a long, long time ago, that's "edgy". I can see I'll have to read up on current literary theory the next time I go, in case someone asks me to explain something (God forbid!) ...

In the meantime, I did at least remember something from today’s Bible reading:

Meditation 3

Trap the waiting air
in acacia wood.
Seal it up
with bronze

and carry it with you
always,
a portable shining altar
for your heart.


I’ve finished Early Graves, the latest of Joseph Hansen’s Brandstetter novels. Can’t remember reading this one before – and it’s as utterly gripping as the rest of the series. And, hey, it looks as if Dave and Cecil might just get back together again. Well, that’s a relief. I, for one, was worried … I also think it’s the least clichéd literary handling of the AIDS crisis that I’ve ever read. Hansen focuses mainly on the effects of the illness on others and is very subtle about it too. And he doesn’t do it to the detriment of plot or character – it’s simply a part of the whole. So very refreshing indeed – not like most other gay novelists I’ve read, who tend to shove AIDS descriptions and politics down one’s throat for no apparent novelistic purpose except to beat their own drum. Sorry, I know it’s a terrible disease and society desperately needs a cure, but it’s true. Sermonising, however worthy or well-intended, doesn’t have a place in fiction.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Physio
3. The anticipation of home
4. Books.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - guaranteed no complicated words!

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 ...

Crawling through the day ...

Ho hum, it's back to the doctor's for me, I think. Had something of a rough night last night - though thankfully not as rough as it's been in the past. And, hey, I did get a lot of sudokus done, so it's not all bad news. But I still think I need something stronger from the medical powers that be to kick my ear/nose/throat problems into touch. Or at least more into touch than they are currently! Also, looking back in my diary, I can see I had the selfsame thing exactly one month ago - so nobody can accuse me of not being regular. On such stalwart reliability was the Empire won ... And lost indeed.

Anyway, even Lord H thinks a quick trip to the doctor might be a good idea, so I'll ring tomorrow to see if I can get an appointment this side of the next Millennium. Hmm, don't hold your breath then. However, the good news on the doctor front is the mad doctor who'd taken to asking me to pray with him at the end of each session (and it's so bloody difficult to say no to such requests, especially if you're feeling ill, dammit) has retired at last so I don't have to run the gauntlet of inappropriate religious requests. Thank God. I just have to make sure I avoid the bitchy female doctor and the overbearing male plonker one, and I should be okay. Famous last words.

Talking of which, in the shades of last night (is it just me or is 1.30am always the start of the most depressing time of the night?), I suddenly came over all weepy thinking, oh God, I've probably got some ghastly disease and I'm going to die horribly and go to hell because I'm such a wicked person, and Lord H won't be there. Honestly! Am I a wuss or what??! In the cold light of day, such musings seem terribly childish of course, but there you go. That's what an Anglican upbringing and ex-Evangelical guilt can do for you. And this morning Lord H reassures me that, yes, of course he'll be in hell with me, so I won't be entirely alone - accountants never get to heaven apparently. It's a known theological fact. Ah well, at least it won't be cold ...

All this nonsense means that I've had to cancel golf and lunch out today, and I am simply staying indoors and not eating very much. Though, as usual, I'm drinking a hell of a lot of Lucozade. So, as well as being ill, I'm now completely hyper and have bright orange teeth. Lovely. It's astonishing Lord H doesn't run screaming to the hills, demanding his money back. If anyone deserves an NVQ Level 5 in Marital Loyalty, it's him.

Tonight, I'm doing sod all, and hoping to get some sleep. It's a busy week ahead. I really don't have time to be the Lydia Languish of Godalming. Still, I wish I had half her style.

This week's haiku:

Novels are shy birds
coaxed out only with breadcrumbs
and endless patience.


Today's nice things:

1. Lord H
2. Lucozade
3. Being too ill to worry about work tomorrow!

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

The birds have flown ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today's nice things:

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

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

Post-holiday blues

Is it just me or is getting back into the normal routine post-holiday just hell? It feels like a non-day really, the calm before the storm of work. A space between two definite engagements. Groan. I was vaguely thinking of popping into the Quakers again today, but couldn't be arsed, frankly. So I have had a super-non-spiritual day tripping my way down the primrose path to sin. As it were. I think that might be some kind of Medieval image, but can't think where it comes from - possibly Chaucer? Who can say?

Lord H has been busy typing up his latest essay, which he has to give in tomorrow. Tomorrow! I ask you! I should rename him LastMinutedotCom. Anyway, he's done it and I've proofread it now, so honour is satisfied. Thank goodness we didn't have anything planned though.

Have also done some of the ironing whilst watching my video of last week's "New Tricks". Not enough jokes in this episode, I think - I missed the usual quick-fire routine, but it won't be the same without it, as sadly it was the last in the series. Hope they start a new series soon. We've also got "The Last Detective" on the video, but probably won't watch it till later in the week, if there's time, as Lord H is still playing around with the essay.

Oh, and I finished a couple of books whilst on holiday: Peter Gaunt's Oliver Cromwell was utterly marvellous, and I really must get the full biography, as this was only a shortened version. Well worth a read if you're into historical biographies, or just into Cromwell. As I am. I also read Jon Mcgregor's So many ways to begin. Having loved Mcgregor's first novel (If nobody speaks of remarkable things), I was really looking forward to this, but I didn't find it quite so inspirational, to be honest. Being Mcgregor, it's probably still a work of genius, but really way too depressing to take on holiday. I think you have to be feeling emotionally strong to read it and, as I haven't felt emotionally strong since 1975, that was a bit of a bummer.

Have also just today finished off Richard Grayson's The Silicon Valley Diet - gay short stories. With bite. Very quirky, but probably way too post-modern for me to get the point of them. Good writing indeed (though being me I could have done with more sex - and you people thought there wasn't enough sex in A Dangerous Man (http://www.flamebooks.com/product.asp?prodId=32) - ha! I say, ha! Michael definitely sees more action than anyone in TSVD!...), but I may have missed the quintessential meaning of it all. So no surprises there then.

Tonight, Lord H and I will be glued to "Midsomer Murders" on TV - but how I wish they'd put it on earlier in the evening. I've already squeezed in one nap today, and feel I'll still have trouble lasting the course. Ah well, I never was a great mover or shaker - even in my teenage years, I was the one curled up with a good book and a lemonade come 9pm on a Saturday night. Which may explain why I'm currently living out all my wicked stuff by writing it. Hey ho.

And I've thought about writing more of The Bones of Summer, but can't raise the energy levels. Bugger, eh?

This week's haiku:

Over level plains
wind turbines glide like giraffes:
beauty built by man.


Today's nice things:

1. TV
2. Reading about Cromwell
3. Finding a gay male writer who writes less sex than I do - aha!

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

A nearly lazy Sunday

Half thought about going to the Quakers again today, but didn't get round to it. Which in itself made me feel good - as hey I can go with the flow too. On occasion. Which, in my carefully planned, ultra-controlled life, is a bloody miracle in itself really. Hurrah!

Instead I cleaned the car, did more to The Gifting (I am a scene-and-a-half-ish from the end!) and wrote out my birthday list. Which has pleased Lord H no end, as strangely he does like to buy stuff for me. Normally I am an extremely cheap wife, as I rarely buy anything apart from books, so it gives him the chance to let his wallet do the talking. Double hurrah! Mind you, seeing as my list consists of ... um ... books, oh and the almost compulsory Lindor chocolates (bliss - you must try them; the milk chocolate ones are best), the wallet doesn't get much of a chance. I am also trying to persuade him to buy paperbacks only, as I really don't like hardbacks as they're such an irritant to handle - but it goes against the grain for Lord H who sees hardbacks as classier somehow. As long as the stuff inside is good, I don't mind about much else.

And I have discovered the joy of not going to church in the morning - it means I have time for an hour's nap before lunchtime. Even with writing lists, writing novels and car-cleaning! Amazing really. And I've caught up with my video viewing and TV watching - "Ugly Betty" just keeps getting better. I love all the characters now and am unable to miss my weekly fix of the goings on. My, what fun they all have in fashion.

Oh, and the lovely Becky on Myspace (http://www.myspace.com/edie1964) has just finished A Dangerous Man and has given Michael a very enthusiastic review on her blog of today's date - which I also include here:

“I just finished A Dangerous Man by Anne Brooke and now I am more than ready to pick her brain about how she came to create this truly engrossing character study/crime novel. The narrator is Michael, a young, apparently very attractive, artist and sometimes hustler. His oeuvre is drawing in only pencil and charcoal – he has an aversion to paints and colors for reasons that are revealed later on. We come to learn that drawing is literally a necessity for him as his deepest, truest feelings can only be released on paper with the pencil and charcoal. In the course of trying to further his artistic career, Michael falls in love with Jack, an older but equally attractive businessman/art patron and it changes both of their lives forever. I don't want to get into much more detail here except to say that the story is very intense and descriptive, at times euphoric, violent, brutal, and always fascinating, and basically a damn good read. Anne has done such an amazing job with creating a fully three-dimensional character in the person of Michael Jones. Love him or hate him, you can't help but become interested in him, his life and how he came to be the way he is. His voice is so strong and clear like every good narrator's should be. The other main characters are equally well-developed (especially Jack) but it is Michael who really jumps off the page and captures the reader's imagination.”

I'm so pleased you liked it, Becky! Thanks so much for the mention. Michael sends thanks too, of course!

Tonight, Lord H and I are thinking of popping into Evensong (or Evensnog, as we like to call it) at the Cathedral later on, as you can come and go without being noticed and you don't have to join anything. That's the point of cathedrals really - you can view the whole show without the need to buy a ticket. I remember dropping in on Rochester Cathedral in my Kent days when I was between churches then (hmm, do I never learn?) and really enjoying the experience. Especially the day we sat in the front of the choir stalls as there were so few of us, and when the choir stood up to sing the opening anthem behind us it was like being blasted by sound. Fantastic. Say what you like about equality but I do think that an all male choir has the edge on mixed. Sorry, but that's the way it is. Girls? Girls? Ooh now, they didn't have them in them thar days, m'dear ...

Later, there's "Dalziel and Pascoe" on TV, which clashes with "Kingdom". I know which my money is on - I'll take a detective over Norfolk any day - but have yet to discuss with Lord H. Oh, and I must ring Mother and sound normal. Again.

This week's haiku (in honour of Lord H):

Amberley Working Museum
Old machines and memories:
you spot your mother's mangle
and you're five again.

Today's nice things:

1. Writing
2. Becky's review
3. Maybe Evensnog? Maybe TV? Can't tell yet ...

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

Saved by the National Trust

Ye gods, but going to church on Easter Sunday was a bloody mistake. I knew the moment I walked in to be faced by countless hordes of people that I really should have stayed at home and - if my mood felt good and the wind was in the right direction - had a few private moments with God. Instead, I had to run the gauntlet of the service whilst wishing I was as many miles away as possible. God only knows why I felt like that - and please don't ask me to explain it as I don't think I can - but I do.

Maybe the basic fact is I'm not sure I really like - or can trust - any of the people there right now (apart from Lord H of course), and if I can't relate to the church people around me, then it's a zillion times harder under those circumstances to relate to God. Add to that the fact that the service was taken by our old vicar - a fly-by-night non-people person if ever I saw one - and you can imagine the scenario. I think that if the new vicar - Paul - had taken the service then I might even have made it to communion. As it was, I stayed put in the pew as if glued to the ruddy seat - and Lord H stayed with me, which he didn't have to do as I would have been fine if he'd gone up to communion and I hadn't, but his notions of marital loyalty were running high. Which in a way was nice, so far be it from me to complain - except that now I'm convinced that the church believes I'm leading my husband down the primrose path to paganism and sin. (Lord H's response to this: oh goody, when does that start?).

Also, I'm not sure, but does not taking communion at Easter mean I am flung from the church without hope of reprieve? No idea really - and I can't say that right now I'm bothered either way. However, I suspect that I won't be darkening the doors of St Peter's for quite a while now. Make of that what you will. Meanwhile, the call of the Quakers becomes ever more enticing ...

After making good our escape from the arms of the Lord (complete with 2 chocolate eggs for Lord H and me - hell, we bloody well deserve it! - and I ate four more mini ones while I was there), we nipped home for a quick turn-round before heading off to visit the newly-opened National Trust property of Hinton Ampner - in Hampshire.

It was bliss. Bloody hell, but walking round that house, gardens and shop was the most peaceful I've felt for a long time. The weather was perfect, and there weren't many people around. Also the stewards didn't leap up and confront us (National Trust stewards are, unfortunately, rather prone to that kind of behaviour), so we could wander round, stare at stuff and just take the whole thing in. Only the ground floor is open, but it's a marvellously soothing mix of beauty and lived-inness (is that even a word? Hell, you know what I mean). And the gardens were lovely - beautiful views over Hampshire, and the occasional waft of scent. Plus a rather fetching yellow butterfly that followed us around, and a small bird that looked like a linnet, but probably wasn't. And I bought two chocolate mice in the shop (the reliable provision of chocolate mice is one of the NT's many strengths indeed), and a new fluffy pen to add to my work collection. Though, to be honest, it was more curly than fluffy. And vibrantly orange too. Hurrah!

Then home for a late lunch, and an evening watching DVDs, I hope - as there's nothing on TV really, though we might watch some of the golf. And we've also managed to get the cleaning done, and check the car tyres, water etc, as well as make a shopping list, so I am brimming with domestic nobility.

This week, I've done two haikus, as they were both nagging at me, so here they are:

The first for Simon and my attempts to finish The Gifting:

The end of the novel:
Last two scenes to go:
my pen drags over the page,
trailing blood and hope.

And, in response to the very hairy emu at Birdworld yesterday ...

The emu stalks me,
splayed claws poised for the attack:
a thatched roof on legs.

Today's nice things:

1. Hinton Ampner
2. Chocolate mice
3. Lord H.

Happy Easter to all.

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

Counselling and reviews

This morning's counselling session felt very thoughtful. Or rather I was doing a lot of thinking about how things had been in the past, and how they are now. Kunu seemed keen to get me onto the subject of religion and church, which I suppose had to happen sometime or other. I hadn't been sure how I'd feel about that but, in the event, it was okay. We talked about how and why I'd originally become a Christian, how it had been then and how it was now. Short answer: very bloody different. But then having been wrung out and mangled by the evangelical church, and spewed out, shattered but generally intact, at the other end, I suppose I should have anticipated that. Hey ho.

It was interesting though how Kunu picked up on my problems with organised communities in general. And she also asked questions about why it is I try (or have tried in the past) so hard to conform. Maybe I'm not sure whether the church per se has ever really "fitted" - it's simply that I thought that was the only way to express my faith. And of course it's (at least on my mother's side) the family tradition I've been brought up in. At heart, I don't think I've ever been a team player. Ye gods, even the phrase "family service" is enough to bring me out in a rash, "family" being one of my key stress words. Much like "religion" itself, or even "community". We did have an interesting chat about the parable of the lost sheep though - and I thought for the first time that maybe the ruddy thing didn't want to be found and brought back to the ruddy flock. Maybe it was actually in possession of a perfectly good map and a compass and had been trying to find its true home. Maybe it didn't want to be returned to its fellow sheep, but was perfectly happy on its own. Bugger, eh.

Which, if I could only connect in true EM Forster fashion, would lead me to think that if the church did suddenly turn up at the doorstep demanding to know what's wrong with me and begging me to return, I would probably flee to the Surrey Hills and beg them to leave me alone to make my own decision. Which of course rather puts the dampener on last week's blog accusing them all of cruelty and desertion. Double bugger. And of course it all goes to show how little I know my own mind and how easily I can swing from one strongly-held opinion to another in a matter of minutes without so much as a flare or a phone call. As Kunu said, we will need at some stage to explore the reasons behind my apparently desperate desire to be part of a community and my apparently equally desperate desire to avoid it. Hell, it's always good to have something to look forward to, I suppose. In the meantime, just stick a label on me and call me a hypocrite. I'll ring my own "unclean" bell ...

Back at the ranch, I have had delicious fun writing another 1000 words of "The Gifting". God, but it's like coming home. Or journeying towards it. One of the two. Possibly because I've been writing the flashback sex scene between Simon & Ralph, and I've been having to think laterally about what's he's sensing in his mind as well as physically, what with Simon being telepathic. And it's been fun to write things slightly differently in that way. Actually, no, being honest, I always love doing the sex scenes and the violence scenes. No matter what. They're where I really feel I'm buzzing. It's the sections between that cause the angst ...

Oh and the lovely Jackie from Goldenford (http://www.goldenford.co.uk) has put a few very kind comments about A Dangerous Man (http://www.flamebooks.com) on her blog at http://jackieluben.blogspot.com under yesterday's date, which I include below also:

"I finished Anne Brooke’s A Dangerous Man yesterday night. (It was very different from anything I’ve read before and quite difficult putting myself into the mind of a disturbed young gay man.) Anne’s hero, Michael, takes you on a journey into a twilight world and into an environment that most of us won’t have encountered. Nevertheless, any creative person can empathise with Michael’s desperate desire for success in his chosen field, and most readers will understand his longing for love and recognition. Anne has shown great insight in stepping into the shoes of this dark and obsessive character, and in leading us through highs and lows to the book’s compelling climax."

Thanks hugely, Jackie - that means a great deal (though I'm not sure about the "great insight" - as you can probably tell from Sentence Four of your own review, Michael is pretty much me ...), especially as dark crime isn't a genre you warm to and your own books are so very life-affirming. Talking of which, if you haven't come across Jacquelynn Luben's books, then you really should - The Fruit of the Tree (http://www.amazon.co.uk) is a very moving autobiography about Jackie's experiences of cot death and her own journey through and beyond that, and of course Goldenford's own A Bottle of Plonk is a very witty and wise series of interconnected stories focusing on the travels of one very unique bottle. Now if only I could get Goldenford's hot, sticky hands on her next novel, The Tainted Tree, my life as a fulfilled editor would be complete!...

Oh, and the lovely Clayton (http://www.myspace.com/dwbsoho) has also just finished A Dangerous Man too and has emailed me to say how much he loved it, and that he thinks I'm a "fantastic writer". Gosh. Thanks, Clayton - that means a great deal too. Because, as I said, Michael had been worried about what you might think of him. My, how that boy does fret. And each time I tried to reassure him you'd be very sweet as that is your nature, he'd just mutter something unmentionable at me and go back to his drawing. Sigh.

This afternoon, I've popped in to see Gladys. She's not having so good a week this week, I have to say, so it was quite tricky to get her smiling again. But we did agree that she must keep breathing until Tony Blair has been beaten into submission and left the leadership, as otherwise she'd never forgive herself for not seeing him out of office. My, how she hates that man. Still, it gives her an aim (of sorts!) and that's only to the good. And we also talked about holidays and her travels through Denmark just after the war. Apparently, her long-deceased husband, Charlie, had a German penfriend (well, he lived in Denmark but was German, I believe) arranged through school which he kept up with through the war. Astonishing. And bloody good for him too - why ruin a perfectly good friendship just because some crazed madman is in charge of Germany? Unfortunately, the penfriend was killed during the war at some stage, but Gladys & Charlie went over to visit the parents afterwards. Marvellous stuff. And a lesson to us all in how lucky we are now indeed.

And I have at last let drop to Gladys that I am attending church less often (for less often, read not at all ...) and that therefore I only know what's happening via Lord H. It felt more honest to say it as, off-line, I've rather been keeping this under wraps. If anything can be under wraps for an obsessional blogger like me, of course. Anyway, she was fine about it, and we moved on. Phew.

Tonight, I think I'm going to do some more scribbling to "The Gifting", as it'll be interesting to see how Johan reacts to Simon's very strong memories of Ralph. Aha! I feel a major row coming on. Hmm. It'll be difficult to have a blazing row in the middle of a small boat on a vast ocean, I must admit, but I'll see what I can do. Ah, the power, the cruelty - I love it!

Oh, and Lord H has nearly finished his divorce essay for Theology class - which, as it should be handed in on Saturday, is actually pretty much advance planning for him. Mr Last-Minute-dot-Com is indeed his middle name.

Today's nice things:

1. Counselling
2. The two reviews of A Dangerous Man
3. Remembering the war years with Gladys.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com

Letters, novels and phone calls

Feel rather better today, thank goodness. Though I could enter into the British Olympic Sneezing team and do quite well, in all likelihood. Still, it's good to have a hobby. But for that reason alone, Lord H and I have decided to give the play we were planning to see tonight in Woking a miss. If I sneezed at a point of high drama, the serious Surrey playgoers would probably lynch me. It's like the old Wild West out here in the shires, you know.

I had a brief word with Mother this morning, who rang at 8.15am. Which is nearly lunchtime for her. You can take a girl out of the countryside, but you can't take the countryside out of the girl. Except in my case of course - but I was never really there in my heart at all. During the week, I've been getting strange messages which appeared to be from her - hey, my own mother is stalking me; what a great henlit plot that is! - so I rang last night and left a message to see if she was all right. I was starting to have visions of my stepfather having tied her up and locked her in the office, and her only means of communication was to dial my number with her nose to try to call for help. Yes, I know. I should meet reality one day. I might like it. Especially as my stepfather is quite harmless really and was only ever remotely cross the once, when I ruined his raspberry patch by accidentally driving his car over it. Hey, anyone can make a mistake! We knew he was cross then as he sighed and one eyebrow went up. Anyway, all that's happened now is my mother has a new phone system and the shortcut button with my number on it is supremely sensitive. She reassures me that she's sorted it out, so I shouldn't get any strange calls while she's in the Canary Islands next week. Or no stranger than normal.

This morning, I finally got round to writing my letter to thank St Peter's for their book tokens gift. It's been preying on my mind all week, but I haven't really had the energy to put pen to paper. Well, today I've done it. It took longer than I thought it would, to be honest - I think because I wanted to say more than just "thank you and goodnight" - after all, whatever the current state of my religion (no, for God's sake, don't ask ...), they've been very sweet about the way I've been slowly withdrawing over the past year, ie coming off the Parochial Church Council, abandoning the prayer rota and finally giving my Sacristan notice in last September. I think I've hit the right-ish balance in the letter between keeping it light and being honest about things, but as always with one's own stuff it's bloody hard to say. I have to admit I got quite emotional at the end and had to sit and stare into space for a while before writing my final paragraph. It strikes me that I don't actually know what I'm saying goodbye to: being Sacristan? St Peter's itself? God? I don't know. This might be one of the few times in my life when I'm not sure which direction I'm heading in or where I'll end up, so it's hard being in this place of uncertainty and, yes, emptiness. Especially for an obsessive control freak like myself. After all, I've been a Christian for 24 years, in a variety of flavours and with a huge range of different dedication levels, and after an experience which was more deep, subtle and shocking than the sum of all my parts. It's difficult to let that go now.

Ah well. God, eh? Bloody hell, but you can't trust Him. And don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise ...

Anyway, gathering myself in, in the time-honoured fashion of many an Essex Girl, for the rest of the day, I've been chipping away at "The Gifting". 95,000 words done in total now, and it's feeling a little more like a real story rather than a series of disjointed scenes and sentences. I enjoyed it too. I may even have scaled my "middle of a novel hump", at least for the moment - though I'm sure there'll be more humps to come before the story finally disappears over the horizon and those magical words, "The End", arise mysteriously from the keyboard. Yes, I know - too bloody fanciful. I must get out more, and soon.

Tonight, I shall ignore the cleaning on the grounds of continued convalescence, watch mindless TV and not attempt the difficult sudokus - after all, that's what Lord H is for!

Today's nice things:

1. Speaking to Mother - strangely
2. Writing to St Peter's - bizarrely
3. Getting on with "The Gifting".

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

Reflexology, religion and guilt

A dull day in the office today. Most people were out in the morning and I was the only chicken left for a while. Last one out turn the lights off, eh?... Managed to get some more minutes sorted and continued reading about religions and higher education. Today’s focus: Christianity. The content of the brochure didn’t fill me with much confidence though, especially as the writer appeared to be splitting hairs between the religion of Jesus (aka live as the historical Jesus lived) and the religion about Jesus (aka live with Jesus as an inner spiritual presence). Well, that’ll muddle the pew-dwellers for sure. Ye gods, what’s wrong with having both? Why does everything have to be an either/or situation? And what the hell does it all mean anyway?? I know I’m not very keen on the whole Christianity circus right now, but even I know that’s not an issue that keeps the Pope (or indeed the Archbishop) awake at night. It makes me wonder about the accuracy of the other brochures though …

Anyway, the desert of the day was punctuated by the oasis of reflexology at lunchtime. Much-needed bliss. Wish the therapist might be able to make me feel better about the ruddy publishing world, as well as physically, while she’s at it. But I accept that may well be beyond her remit, or even skills.

Tonight, it’s our first Goldenford (http://www.goldenford.co.uk) meeting of 2007, and I’m supposed to be doing the minutes as usual. But I have to admit that I really don’t feel up to it at the moment, as yesterday’s rejection winded me and I’m still feeling raw – and not only that but my last half hour at work was spent having something of a contretemps with a colleague, which left me feeling pulped. Not that I did the sensible thing and said something reasonable about it at the time though – no, being me, I went for the laugh it off and lie option, so I now feel doubly shit. And at home, I’ve been hit by a wave of depression (hurrah – what a jolly evening I’m having, folks!) so I’m really not capable of going out tonight. Luckily one of my fellow Goldenford directors has said she’ll take minutes - so thank you hugely, Irene (http://www.thisthatfromireneblack.blogspot.com). However, I am still overcome with guilt at not going when I really should. Oh well, Dr Tim in the depression book tells me that guilt is better than resentment or exhaustion, so I suppose I’ll just have to live with it.

Oh, and I’ve written my first piece of flash fiction for a long time – which feels okay. Haven’t done that for months, possibly years. At least it makes me feel like I’m being creative in a fictional sense, rather than staring at my novel and weeping at the hopelessness of it all. Bloody hell, never say I don’t over-emote. Anyway, here is the piece:

Telephone list:
When the phone rang, she smiled. He always rang on Fridays. Today his call was not unwelcome. Stepping over congealing blood and just a hint of smashed bone, she picked up the receiver. ‘Good morning. May I help you?’ After a pause, she spoke again. ‘Oh yes. You were next on my list of people to see,’ she said. ‘Do come round.’

Oh, and for good measure, here’s another one:

The lesson:

‘What do you mean you don’t have the instructions?’ Grimes hissed, glancing at the couples passing by on the lane only a few yards away. Miranda felt her face redden. ‘I thought you had them,’ she whispered. ‘Aren’t you always telling me you’ll take care of the technical stuff?’ ‘Yes, but …’ he paused and she watched spittle form at the corners of his mouth. ‘How are we going to get the stash if we don’t know where it’s hidden?’ ‘I dunno,’ she shrugged. ‘We’ll have to search for it, I suppose.’ With a sigh, Grimes leaned over and began to rummage in the nearest dustbin. ‘Stupid cow,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll teach you a lesson later for sure.’ Miranda just smiled and felt her fingers close round the cold, metal bar in her pocket.

Today’s nice things (you see, Elle – I remembered!):

1. Reflexology
2. Writing two pieces of flash fiction
3. Not being at work right now.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com