A quiet day and another review

Today I’m still quite croaky and sneezing a lot, but it’s better than yesterday, hurrah. Hey, I might even be allowed back into normal society soon. Hmm, can normal society (whatever that is) cope with that??

However, I'm cheered greatly by a very kind review of Painting from Life by the very talented Sharon Maria Bidwell who says the following on her blog today:

"I adored this short story of love as we seldom examine it; that love has many forms and many uses, fulfilling a variety of needs, all different, all necessary to our well-being. The first thought to strike me hard was that Anne Brooke paints beauty into a lined, lived-in face, and I’m very grateful that she does in a world where beauty is so often marked not by time but the skill of a surgeon. This very fact gives the story a depth right from the start that is missing in many books. The second thing to strike me was how descriptively she illustrates the problem all creative people face between living their day-to-day lives and spending time with their muse...and, in some cases, preferably with their muse. There’s a quintessential eeriness to this story reminiscent of the unfounded belief that the camera steals our souls along with our likenesses...for why else does an old man grow weaker as the artist paints him, except from human frailty and life, of course. This story leaves a disturbing, bittersweet taste, yet is undeniably haunting and memorable. Well worth the read!"

Thanks very much, Sharon - I really appreciate that!

Back in the office, we’re all having a lot of fun with the new national sport of laughing at MPs and their expenses. We thought we might set ourselves up as moat cleaning experts and wait for the money to roll in. Actually I really rather fancy a moat. Though I’m not sure it’s something I can justifiably ask Estates & Facilities to provide. And if Lord H and I started digging one at home, I’d only worry about the neighbours falling into it. They’re not in the first flush of youth, after all. Ho hum.

At work, I’m busy writing up the notes that the lovely Rosemary took at the rather complex meeting I missed on Monday. I must say her handwriting is a hundred times better than the boss’s, so that side of it is a joy. But I do think they seem to have discussed much the same things that were discussed at the meeting last month, but in a different order. Ah the life of a Minutes Secretary is a rollercoaster ride, don’t you know.

I was planning to stay inside where it’s warm at lunchtime, eat my special Starbucks prawn sandwich and read a book – but I forgot to bring the book, dammit. So I’ll have to find something else to distract me. Mind you, my spirits were raised by my first Starbucks decaff cappuccino in the new office. Wonderful – tastes just as nice as it did in the old office. The only problem is the longer walk rather more open to the elements to get it, but hey that’s splitting hairs.

Tonight, we’re staying in and I’m medicating with Lemsip whilst wondering why once again there’s nothing on TV. I’ll have to do a Sudoku instead and wait for the schedules to improve. From the look of next week’s Radio Times though, it isn’t going to be soon. We’re also fascinated by the local candidates for the upcoming European elections – all the usual suspects are represented and then there’s also about six or seven parties with a variety of names, all of whom basically hate Europe. How very Surrey. Oh, and let’s not forget the one sad representative of the Roman Party. What the heck do they stand for? A return to the Empire?? Who knows …

Today’s nice things:

1. A review for Painting from Life
2. Laughing at MPs and their moats
3. Prawn sandwiches
4. Decaff cappuccino
5. Sudokus.

Anne Brooke
Cancer Research Race for Life - please give generously!...

Submissions Sunday and the killer sudoku

A day focused on words today, or at least writing or thinking about them. Which has to be a good thing. First off, I've written a poem about magpies and coathangers today - always a challenging combination, but I think I've managed to say approximately what I wanted to. One hopes. Plus I've managed the morning's meditation piece:

Meditation 76

Silver can set you free,
its seductive glitter

whispering liberty
over your skin.

Wait for your measure
to be taken

according to the ability
to pay,

the measure you make
of yourself

being only your prayer’s
deep secret.

This morning, I've also added more to Hallsfoot's Battle and thank goodness it's proved rather more amenable to being written than it was yesterday. I'm now at well over 94,000 words and I've finally got Simon, Ralph and the mind-executioner all in the same place at the same time. About time really then. In this novel at least. Lord only knows what I'm going to do with them now, but I'm hoping it will prove explosive. In some measure or other ...

I've also added to my regular submissions file, and have sent off five more poems and a short story into the Great Beyond. They may well return to me unloved and (like Noah's dove) unable to find a place to set their feet, but at least I'll have tried, eh. After all that, I think I may well deserve a nap - I have to have something to prepare me for the week indeed.

Oh and there's good sudoku news, hurrah! For the first time ever and of course under Lord H's watchful eye, I have completed a diabolical killer sudoku in the Telegraph. And there weren't that many tears or bleatings (mine ...) either, so I feel I've done well there, Carruthers. Definitely time for a lie-down then - I don't want to strain something. Not so near to our holiday at least.

Tonight, we have a range of exciting programmes to look forward to on TV - what with The History of Christianity (though I can't say I'm much taken with the whole science/religion subject - it's so achingly last century ...), then Lark Rise for a spot of light relief, rounded off nicely with Jeremy Paxman's hearty helping of The Victorians. I'll be a better woman after all that, I can guarantee it.

And, talking of better women, I saw the first couple of hours of Love on a Branch Line yesterday - it's all very quaint and cute but rather dated. And I must admit that, being a country gal born and bred, it does bring on a large and irritated yawn when I see a programme based solely on the concept of a young man going to stay for a while in the country and having all the squire's three daughters stripping their clothes off and throwing themselves at him. Well, yawn and pass me the cliche monitor ... Obviously written by a heterosexual man with not much imagination then. Sigh. Speaking as someone who was born in the countryside - and worse than that, the Essex countryside! - it would be far more realistic if the daughters had simply torn him limb from limb and fed him to the pigs. After all, they'll eat anything, and a well-rounded pig will fetch a good sum at the market, thus allowing you to attract a suitable gentleman farmer with a large estate and several nubile young employees to pass your time with while your loved one is off fiddling his EU quotas. Which at least is a better cliche than the Branch Line one.

This week's haiku (inspired by yesterday's National Trust visit):

The winter garden:
a dazzle of crocuses
and lilting snowdrops.

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Writing Hallsfoot
3. Submissions
4. Napping
5. Sudokus
6. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - a killer instinct all of its own

Illness, angels and a new short story site

Still sick, my dears, dammit - not a great way to spend Valentine's Day really - though between Lord H and myself, we have gathered together a satisfying collection of books, chocolates, flowers and cards, so we are doing our bit to support the great saint (who apparently is buried in Birmingham, according to the Church Times, and they're never wrong - so there's still time to rush there and pay your respects ...).

And I'm smiling as one of my outstanding publishers has requested the full manuscript for The Bones of Summer, so I've formatted that in the way they specify and sent that off to them last night. Well, gosh - something that isn't a rejection (yet) is always good news. It would be so lovely if I could get the second (and final) part of Paul & Craig's story out into the public domain. I think it deserves an airing and, if I got lucky, it would be my first ever sequel - so a new string to the bow for me.

For most of today (which we had planned to spend worshipping at the Chocolate Festival in Polesdon Lacey, but sadly that's off the menu) I've stared at the television (Friends was fun this morning - how I do love Chandler and Monica; they're so made for each other), done some sudokus and slept. Well, getting up and getting dressed is just sooo exhausting, you know.

I've also uploaded my supernatural short story, Miss Dobson's Angel, to the new Shortbread Short Stories site and you can read it here. You may have to join up but it's free and you get such stalwarts as Alexander McCall Smith strutting his literary wares there, so it has class. Although having me on it as well is probably moving from the sublime to the ridiculous, but hey ho.

Ooh, and I've eaten a small lunch of some sushi, so am just about keeping body and soul together (possibly unlike poor Miss Dobson ...). Plus in a fit of confidence, I've added champagne to the fridge in case I feel up to alcohol tonight. Bloody hell, I'd better do - no Essex Girl has ever refused alcohol except under duress, so I don't want to buck the trend now.

So, whatever you're doing, have a good Valentine's Day and don't forget the most important person to love is yourself. Hell, where did that come from???!! Somebody pass me the bucket - my personality has obviously been swopped ...

Today's nice things:

1. Presents
2. A request for the full MS of Bones
3. TV
4. Sudokus
5. A new short story being available
6. Champagne (whatever my state of health).

Anne Brooke
Anne's Website - has a few tales to tell of its own ...

A slight relapse and a novel milestone

Had a great sleep last night, but bizarrely I seem to be suffering from a slight relapse. I'm not as good as yesterday, but thankfully not as bad as the day before. Something in between then - ah, as in writing, so in life, eh. I should be used to falling between two camps by now, ho ho. And I'm drinking so much Lucozade that it's likely I'm going to be awake for months to come due to the influx of e-numbers into my system, sigh. In illness terms, I also wish I was doing more sneezing (which is at least fun and you can jump up and down and squeak a lot while you're doing it - or is that just me?...) and less coughing. What I need, my dears, is a spittoon. There's something to be said for the Wild West after all.

Anyway, as a result, I've cancelled golf with Marian and also my Alexander Technique lesson, and have spent the day drooping round the flat and staring in a puzzled fashion at the computer. So no real change there then. I haven't been entirely lazy however - I've sent out The Bones of Summer to another publisher who might like it, so that's two live submissions on that front then. Which always makes me feel somewhat happier than the existential terror of having only one submission in the field - probably something to do with the fact that it's very rare (or vastly unlucky) to get two rejections back at the same time, so if one publisher says no, then at least there's an alternative still out there. Honestly, in this game, you have to build in all the mental support tricks you can think of - as otherwise you'll go under.

I've also managed to do quite well on my planned Johan scene in Hallsfoot's Battle which has veered off in an unexpected but somehow logical direction. Lordy how I love it when that happens. And - hurrah and put out the bunting! - I've reached the milestone of 90,000 words about two weeks before my deadline of doing so. Double hurrahs and crack open the champers. Only another 30,000 or so words to go and I might even have a quivery first draft of a fantasy novel on my hands. Admittedly, one that'll need countless changes and a whole lot of remixing, but hey that's the way it is in Brooke Towers.

So, this afternoon, I'm planning a nap and a hell of a lot of sudokus - and I really ought to think about food at some point as I still haven't eaten anything since I struggled with breakfast this morning (it defeated me) so am obviously on the Food Go Slow Conveyor Belt once more. Lordy only knows what I'm going to do with the pizza I got out of the freezer for tonight. Sigh. I feel Lord H might be on his own at the dining table again. Somebody pass me the gruel and those smelling salts ...

Today's nice things:

1. Submitting Bones to another publisher - hope springs eternal, eh!
2. Getting to the 90,000 mark with Hallsfoot, hurrah
3. Napping
4. Sudokus.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - anyone seen that pesky spittoon?...

Extra holiday, a monster of a book and poetry success

An extra day off today, hurrah! No particular reason, except that I never use my full quota of holiday during the year so I always end up having to use it before I lose it. I'm allowed to take 5 days over into the next holiday year (which starts in April), so I still have two more of these to go before March is over. Not that I'm complaining - extra short working weeks are always welcome, naturally.

Here's this morning's meditation:

Meditation 59

You hold your grief
in silence,

letting only the dying fire
speak.

Sometimes words
say nothing,

cannot match
the heart.

Imprison the truth
in your mouth’s bitterness

and taste it
to the full.


For most of the day, I've been struggling with Hallsfoot's Battle. Lordy but it's been a huge effort, I can tell you. Each ruddy word dragged out with the aid of only a rather raggedy rope and a lot of grunting. Hmm, not much change there then. Why is writing sometimes so bloody hard??? My dears, it's quite exhausting. Anyway, I've managed to drag myself, kicking and screaming, to 83,000 words, and I've got to the end of a scene. Thank the Lord. I think tomorrow I'll return to see what Ralph is doing. At least I might possibly have some ideas for him. But let's not count on it yet, eh ...

Mind you, my own particular writing battle has driven me to fit in a totally delicious late afternoon nap, so at least that's one good thing. And it's meant that the slow grumbling headache that's been nagging at me all day has faded away, so that's a relief for sure.

Talking of monsters of books (which we were, sort of), I've just finished Christopher Rush's mammoth tome, Will. That's been something of a struggle too, even though it's a fascinating book. Which doesn't quite succeed, in my opinion. Still, it's a brave effort and Rush certainly needs points for courage. It's supposed to be about Shakespeare's retelling of his life story on his deathbed to his lawyer. A wonderful premise for sure, and the writing is very poetic on occasion. But maybe that premise is where the trouble starts. First off, there's no real plot, as such. It's simply one man telling another about his life, and you're never allowed to forget that fact. This means that the action and emotion is unfortunately very distanced from the reader and you're told everything rather than being directly shown it through the text. It would have been much better if you'd had a prologue setting up the scene and an epilogue drawing it back again, with the rest of the book being allowed to sing unaccompanied. In a strange way also, it's slightly easier to read if you try to forget it's supposed to be a novel at all, and take it as a long - very long! - prose poem. Slightly easier anyway. It would definitely be interesting to see what Rush's poetry is like. I must also admit that the man Shakespeare as portrayed here rapidly became very wearisome and my sympathies were for those poor unfortunates he rubbed up against, such as Anne Hathaway and the long-suffering lawyer (just let the poor man eat his pie without carping on about it, for goodness sake!). So, as I imagine the real Shakespeare must have been quite fascinating, I suppose in making me dislike him so, Rush must at least be performing some kind of literary miracle. In a negative way. That said, the historical details are very vibrant and obviously well researched. Perhaps it would be better rewritten as a non-fiction study of the age? And it certainly needs an editor who's not afraid to cut - it outstays its welcome hugely in terms of length. So, a brave attempt at something different by an author who can obviously write (but needs much much tighter control), but in the end a magnificent failure, I fear.

On a far more minimalist front, I'm pleased to say that Faith Hope and Fiction webzine has been kind enough to accept three of my meditation poems for publication in March. Hurrah! And the lovely Tricia (thanks, Tricia!) must surely get a special prize for sending me the acceptance email only a few minutes after I submitted the work. I've never had such a speedy response! The good news (bearing in mind today's book review) is all together the three poems only come to 113 words, so nobody can accuse me of wordiness ...

Tonight, there's not much on TV so it looks like the sudoku pile calls to Lord H and myself. And ah I see he's left the tough killer one blank. Dammit. Cover your ears, people - there will probably be screaming ...

Today's nice things:

1. Holiday
2. Poetry
3. Getting to the end of a difficult writing session
4. Napping
5. Doing battle with an interpretation of Shakespeare (strangely ...)
6. More poetry success.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - having monster-like tendencies itself

Poetry success, Hallsfoot and chilling

Was very pleased to discover today that Eat A Peach webzine will be publishing my poem, Surrender, later in the year. Always good to have something to look forward to indeed. The good news has encouraged me to submit five more poems to another online magazine, so we'll see how those fare at some point too.

Today, I've also managed to take Hallsfoot's Battle up to over 82,000 words and have another idea for a plot development. So that's a relief. I might even get the required 120,000 words that fantasy fiction seems to need these days out of it. You never know. At the very least, all my characters are now up in the air with their own story lines and it's going to take a lot of spit, polish and elbow grease to get them down again. Maybe it'll be even longer? Who knows ...

And here's this morning's meditation:

Meditation 56

The desert expands
as far as the eye

can stretch.
But the door

you seek
is so small

it falls between words.
How can you find

one speck of gold
amongst so many?

Listen to the secret pattern
of your thoughts:

let your slow feet
follow.


We haven't done that much for the rest of the day really. After yesterday's excitements, I'm trying to chill. Big-time. Mind you, with Lord H's help, I've managed to battle my way, kicking and screaming, to the end of a killer sudoku (gentle version). So I hope that my efforts will stave off losing my mind entirely for another day or so. No pain, no gain indeed. I'm also planning a nap before the thrills and spills of tonight's TV viewing. We will be glued to the latest Christianity programme, especially as it's looking at the Medieval period this time - one of my favourite historical eras. And of course Sunday isn't Sunday without Lark Rise to Candleford. Bliss.

As a special treat, this week there are two unrelated haikus (well, gosh):

In alloted space
let the small gold seed flourish:
shadow, stillness, breath.

Playing here tonight:
an orchestra of bitterns.
Booming marvellous

Sorry! Couldn't resist that last one, though I suspect it will only mean something if you know what bitterns sound like!...

Today's nice things:

1. Another poetry success
2. Getting on with Hallsfoot
3. Poetry
4. TV
5. Haikus.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - not so bad, considering ...

Hallsfoot, Equinox and a clean getaway after all ...

Have spent most of the day working on Hallsfoot's Battle and am now at the grand total of 21,500 words. Or thereabouts. I've just got to the telling of the First Gathandrian Legend, which is basically Gathandria's creation story. So that's proving challenging to make up as I go along, for sure. Fun too. Annyeke and I are hoping this will be the first stage in helping Simon to come to terms with who he is and what he can do with the mind-cane but, really, it's anyone's guess just now.

I was also really pleased to see that my poem, The Death of Marat, is included in Issue 18 of the Equinox poetry journal. And I'm among some great company too. I think it's the best poetry magazine I've had the pleasure of reading for a long, long time. Bloody hell, I might even subscribe, if I can find the energy for it. I particularly enjoyed offerings from Nigel Humphreys, Navkirat Sodhi, Andrew Geary and Barbara Daniels. Thought I'd best name-drop in advance, just in case they become hugely and justifiably famous later, you know ...

And the postal service is becoming stranger - I found Mother's postcard in the mud behind the recycling bins, so I had to scramble around in the dirt in order to retrieve it. It was lucky I glimpsed it at all. Anyway, she's having fun in Cork. As you do. Though she was sorry to have missed Jersey - the seas were too rough. I would have thought she'd have been able to get there with her broomstick as usual, mind you. Perhaps she left it at home?

In terms of reading, I've given up in bored despair with the pretentious and poorly written No Country for Old Men. Shame on you, Cormac McCarthy! Have you not heard of speech marks? Dull claptrap, to my mind. I hope the film was better, for those of you who've seen it. The strapline for this book tells me: There are no clean getaways. Well, actually, yes there are: just remove the bookmark and start something else. That'll do it.

Meanwhile, at home.com, Lord H has returned from hunting the buffalo and leapt straight into fixing our very droopy telephone wire. And I hadn't even realised it was something we could fix - seeing as we're so high up here in the shires. Lord H's response when I asked how he'd done it: I have very long arms, you know. Hmm, I suspect it was rather a matter of pulling at the end and using a carefully positioned couple of nails and a hammer. Still, I could be wrong. It has been known.

Tonight, I'm planning an evening of sudokus and TV. I am strangely involved with "Lab Rats" now. Hell, I'll miss them when it's finished.

Today's nice things:

1. Writing Hallsfoot
2. A published poem
3. Abandoning a bad book
4. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Blood tests, Thorn Take 3 and Bonekickers

Up bright and early this morning for my second ovarian tumour marker blood test, which I’d booked for 9am. Actually I was there early and they just slotted me in, so at least I got that part over soon, hurrah. While I was there, I reminded them that my holiday starts on Saturday and ideally I’d like to know results and what the next stage will be before I go. The very sweet and chatty nurse suggested I ring in late this afternoon or tomorrow to get the results, which I will do – though of course that doesn’t take me any further forward in terms of what happens next, if that’s what’s needed. I also gather from the first results letter that they’re intending to bring my October scan forward as well, but as yet I don’t know to when. UPDATE: not great news, I'm afraid: my blood test is higher than the first one was (up is bad and down is good), so they're referring me to the Royal Surrey for further investigation. Groan. Sounds rather like a police operation to me ... I shall presumably await a letter telling me when I'm due to stand trial (as it were) once I'm back from holiday. Hey ho.

Meanwhile, and to take my mind off my ovaries (surely every woman needs that!), there’s yet more exciting news about Thorn in the Flesh – the Kindle eBook version is now available at Amazon.com and can be found here at a very reasonable price – so the ideal accompaniment to your Kindle machine. I’m thrilled at the new venture, as you can imagine. Here’s to healthy sales. I’m hoping I might get more American and other interest this time round, as I gather some non-UK people were put off by the postage price of the original paperback. eBooks solve that problem for sure!

It was too cold and wet to wander round campus at lunchtime so I just attempted to do a sudoku at my desk. And failed, sigh. I can see I’m going to have to call on Lord H’s skills in the logic arena this evening … Anyway, this afternoon, I’ve been sending out the annual report templates to people, even though it’s not due for a while yet. Ha! That’ll keep them on their toes, eh … And the Project Welcome team have asked me to minute their final pre-Freshers’ Week meeting, so I’d best get my brain in gear. Minuting meetings where you don’t know anything about what’s been said before is always scary – funny how non-minuters never seem to realise this. I’m sure they think we just swan in and start scribbling, but heck it’s honestly not that easy. Background is all. Though I suppose winging it is my middle name. But really only in novel writing …

As I’m feeling better today, I’ll pop in to see Gladys tonight on the way home – I’m not sure she really knew it was her birthday last week, to be honest – or she wasn’t too keen on the idea of being another year older. I’ll have to do a sneaky check while I’m restocking the bird table and see whether she remembered to open her presents.

Tonight, I’ll do some marketing for the new Thorn and then there’s the existential joy of “Bonekickers” on TV, double hurrah. I do so love that programme and have no idea why everyone bitches about it. Hey, people, it’s fantasy – live with it! After all, nobody ever complains about how unreal “Dr Who” is … And I’m beginning to bond with the Bonekickers team too – hmm, perhaps there is really no hope for me after all?

I've also finished reading Joseph Hansen's Skinflick - the next in my re-reading of his 1970s gay crime series. Marvellous stuff - the ending is so shit-hot. I was on the edge of my seat. Great characters, great dialogue and snappy pace - I love it.

Today’s nice things:

1. The Amazon.com Thorn eBook
2. Battling womanfully with sudokus
3. TV.
3. Reading

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

A slow day

Honestly, nothing much has happened today. It's one of those days in the universe which doesn't - at least here in cloudy Godalming - count for much. However, my stomach is less gripey than yesterday and I think that whatever I have is developing into a head cold with digestive accessories. (Would you like your head cold with digestive accessories, Ms Brooke, or without? Oh with, please doctor, it's so much more fun ...)

As a result, I didn't go for a day's birdwatching in Pulborough Brooks, but I encouraged Lord H to go anyway - there's nothing duller than being indoors with a sick wife. So one of us has had a nice day at least, hurrah, and he's come back loaded with Lemsips, Lucozades, the Saturday Torygraph (ah, here in Surrey, where would we be without it?) and - best of all! - a new cuddly bird, complete with appropriate song. What a superhusband. The bird in question is a cuddly songthrush, and my goodness but it's loud. Extra sensitive too - it's supposed to sing if you push its back but this one starts up if you so much as glance at it whilst passing. Perhaps it's trying to tell us something? So, a nice, if opinionated, addition to our cuddly bird collection.

Whilst Lord H was out, I have been lying on the sofa and doing a lot of sudokus. Ye gods, I'll have to be careful though - I can't imagine what would happen if there were no puzzles to do around the flat. I can see I'm going to have to stock up fairly soon. Not only that but I've been reading the gloriously talented Vicki Tyley's novel, Sleight Malice, which she has kindly let me have. Another great story with some kick-ass characters, Vicki! I am wildly in love with the main man, Fergus. When oh when will publishers have the sense to take this stuff on?? Deeeeeep sigh.

Meanwhile the US publication date for the eBook of Thorn in the Flesh comes closer. The final edits have been done and it's now with the designer apparently. I might even be able to sign it off before I go on holiday, which would be grand. It's certainly exciting and I'm looking forward to seeing the finished product very much.

And I've even managed to squeeze out another 500 words of Hallsfoot's Battle, though it has very much been a struggle today. I'm floundering around for ideas and some kind of forward motion - I suspect I'll have to rely on the mind-executioner to do that. He always does something off-beat everyone else in the book has to respond to. I hope. Anyway, I'm not going to do any more to it now - I'm feeling too old and too tired, and the other 500 words I'd like to have under my belt before the holiday can wait. Besides, there's a barrel-load of crap TV on tonight, and I need something light and fluffy that just goes over my head. Bring on that darn song-thrush eh ...

Today's nice things:

1. Slobbing
2. Thorn eBook development
3. Cuddly birds
4. Writing
5. Vicki Tyley's novels
6. Sudokus.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Hallsfoot, puzzles and post

Not much has happened today really. I have stepped neatly off the world for a day and spoken to no-one and not gone out of the flat at all. Bliss. Except I did nip quietly down to the shared hallway to pick up the post. It's all finances - groan. Honestly, I think the postman has seriously gone off us now and is obviously taking our exciting post to more deserving customers. Even the magazine was Accountancy Monthly - Lord H's, I hasten to add.

Apart from that, I have done another 1000 words to Hallsfoot's Battle, thus bringing me up to 18,000 of the little beggars. 2000 to go before my self-imposed holiday deadline then! But really, do I need a deadline? Or is it just something I take on in order to give me an imagined sense of control in a totally uncontrollable world? Hell, no, don't answer that ... As my Anglo-Saxon tutor once told me a long time ago: Anne, you are your own worst enemy, you know. Ye gods, but the old bugger might have been right.

I have also - much to my surprise as it so rarely happens - looked at my Hallsfoot theme/plot outline again, and even added in a few more chapter titles and writing notes into the text for when I go back to it. Lordy, but I might even have a plan, of sorts. So not me, dahlings - have I been switched with some kind of alien lifeform? Hmm, it's a puzzle, and probably quite likely ... Hell, somebody pass me the snuff box - I obviously need the drugs.

Talking of puzzles, I have been totally and utterly thrilled this morning by the fact that I completed the Radio Times Word Enigma Puzzle in record time and (shock!) without cheating. They said I should be able to do it in 26 minutes but (pause for smug smile and gloating) I did it in 10. Hurrah! I was helped hugely by the fact that (a) I instantly saw where the word "oxymoron" was, and (b) I recognised "alpaca", purely due to the alpaca stud farm next door to Glyndebourne. Ha! Which just goes to show how truly useful the opera can be in the modern age.

In the middle of all this excitement, I managed to fit in an hour's lunchtime nap and some existential weeping. As you do - really, m'dears, no day is complete without it. I am nothing if not overly dramatic and droopy when faced with potential diseases. Believe me, courage is so not my middle name. Mind you, even I realised I might have gone too far when I found myself wondering which priest might be persuaded to say a few words at my funeral (which will be stylish, elegant and small, if you're asking). At that point, I got up and had some lunch - much the best thing to do - and besides I could almost hear Lord H's tutting and that's never a pretty sight. Anyway, I'd already decided I didn't much like any of the priests I knew at all, so I may as well keep living. Which, bloody hell, is as good a reason as any not to panic!

Tonight, I might do a tad more scribbling, if I feel in the mood. Or possibly another sudoku or two, which are much like haikus but with numbers. Strangely Lord H has taken to demonstrating his undoubted genius by filling in the difficult sudokus in my book - but leaving gaps in different patterns or shapes of letters and then putting the book on my side of the sofa so I can come along and complete them later. God, but he's good. Or perhaps he's trying to communicate with me? Who can tell? I shall have to mark down the patterns and letters he leaves and see if I can crack the code. Ah, indeed marriage is the last great puzzle. Ye gods, but truly I feel a Bonekickers moment coming on. Where's that mystery sword when I need it?

Today's nice things:

1. Writing Hallsfoot
2. Puzzles
3. Marital communication.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

A quiet day

Really, nothing much has happened today. Though I have been feeling a sight better than yesterday, thank the Lord. I just feel utterly and permanently exhausted. Thus explaining this morning's gloriously long lie-in - no chance of my planned visit to the Quakers then - and this afternoon's two-hour (or thereabouts) nap. Days can be so tiring, you know. It's astonishing I get through them at all.

So instead of holiness or the creative effort of writing, I've been catching up with my TV viewing and sudokus. I'm pleased I have finally managed to see "Miss Austen Regrets" which I videoed about five hundred years ago and which has been lurking in the To Be Watched pile ever since. I quite enjoyed it really - but it was all very sad. If clever.

I did also manage to do a few more words to Hallsfoot's Battle yesterday. I'm starting off with Duncan Gelahn, the baddie, this time. It's about time he got a voice of his own in Book 2 of the Gathandrian Trilogy (as I'm calling it in my head) - he's only talked about and encountered (to hopefully scary effect) in The Gifting. Once I've got a decent looking Chapter One extract to Hallsfoot, I'll upload that onto my website too, but not yet awhile.

Oh, and the cuckoo is back, but later on a Sunday - not till 2.30pm. Dirty little stop-out. Also, I've just finished the next in Joseph Hansen's Brandstetter (gay PI) series, Troublemaker. Very enjoyable as ever - they're so sharply written you could scratch yourself on the pages and bleed to death, but I did get confused about the plot in this one. And Dave Brandstetter's boyfriend is an arse. Sorry, but he is. Thank God later in the series, Dave ditches him and takes up with the glorious Cecil. Actually, reading the whole twelve Brandstetter books is more of a re-read as I first encountered them all in my early teenage years. Which possibly explains a lot about my writing style and indeed my characters. Colchester Library has a lot to answer for, don't you know.

Tonight, I'm going to flop like a gutted salmon on the sofa and take in the delights of the third Indiana Jones offering. Yes, yes, I know "Brokeback Mountain" is on the other side, but really, dahlings, naturally I already have the DVD of that one, and anyway the book is a damn sight better. And even more so now I can read it and imagine the glorious Jake Gyllenhaal.

And this week's haiku is:

On this summer night
I wear the skin of the past.
It hangs looser now.


Today's nice things:

1. Napping
2. Reading
3. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Ways to keep breathing x2

Hey, I’ve discovered a way to keep breathing when attempting to sleep whilst ill – if I get a bundle of spare pillows and pile them all up underneath, I don’t feel sick when I lie down as I’m so propped up that I might as well be sitting up anyway. Result! Which gives me one fairly good night’s sleep, better breathing and – sadly – a cricked neck. Ah well, there’s always a downside, eh … But never mind – it did the trick, so I don’t care. And I’m definitely doing that again the next time one of these nasty bouts rears its ugly head.

Scary moment on the way to work today – a couple of cars on the A3 had obviously bumped each other so were parked in the slow lane and exchanging details. Insults too – as I passed, the man standing up slammed his hands against the window of the other driver (still in his vehicle) and swore virulently at him. Lord but I hate these road rage moments – they’re soooo frightening. Yes, I know I should maybe have stopped but I’m way too much of a coward – and I was at least reassured by the fact that Angry Man was walking back to his own vehicle when I looked in my rear-view mirror. So at least he hadn’t murdered anyone. Yet. Ways to keep breathing for us all then …

I’ve also managed to contact the doctor’s today and have made an appointment for next Thursday, which was the earliest they could do. The new doctor to replace the weird religious one seems to be called Dr Pigeon. Which really can’t be true, can it? Maybe they’re making it up?? Lord knows. Anyway – it’s a woman, so I shall reserve judgement – sorry if that sounds sexist (it probably is) but the doctors who’ve always been super-nasty to me have been women, so I am cautious. We’ll see …

Anyway, today, I do feel better, so have gone into work loaded down with Lucozades and doing a lot of sad coughing. Well, it’s always worthwhile going for the sympathy vote. And this lunchtime I had to minute the care services steering group, so by heck I needed that vote. Though thank goodness the colleague who was so “disappointed” with me last week wasn't there. The bugger. Lucky for him, indeed.

Straight after that, I had a meeting with the Marketing guys (always a scary prospect) about producing a mini-guide to student care services. As ever, I don’t have any real idea what I’m talking about, but that’s never stopped us producing something, so let’s hope that whatever we come up with works.

Tonight, I’m planning to crack on with more sudokus – Lord but I’m starting to be obsessed with the little devils now – and I’ve videoed “The Sarah Jane Adventures” – the Doctor Who spin-off – as for some reason they’ve put it on at 5pm on a weekday. Don’t they know that adults want to watch it too?? Anyone over the age of 40 – male or female – is of course in love with Sarah Jane. Who wouldn’t be?!

Oh and good news on the writing front. In spite of my weekend, I’ve made it to 30,000 words on The Bones of Summer. Huzzah! I might even know something about what happens next. Now that would be a miracle.

Today’s nice things:

1. Feeling better
2. Getting a doctor’s appointment before 2008
3. Reliving my youth with Sarah Jane.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

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

It's just not Cricket ... is it?!?

Honestly, the Sunday after you come back from holiday but before you go back into work is just so a day out of time. Like a bridge between two worlds. Which feels somewhat more twitchy this time, I think, as without my luggage I'm still not properly "back" yet. I hope to God that BA do deliver it tomorrow - I want my books! And my face cream. And my jumpers. Not to mention everything else that maximises my reality factor. Damn it.

Had a lazy lie-in today, a fact not entirely due to my lack of bedside clock. Lord H has spent the whole day working like a demon on his divorce essay Theology class - which has to be emailed to the tutor by the end of next week. Hope he doesn't get any ideas from it, eh ... While that's been going on, I have ambled round the flat, creating lists for shopping (including items I desperately need if my case never returns), doing sudokus, scribbling a few more paragraphs to "The Gifting" (hey, I still might be able to write - you never know!) and checking the oil, water & tyre pressures of the cars.

I've also just finished Paul Auster's marvellous "The Brooklyn Follies" - which is great, and edgy and fun - apart from the rather bored ending. Did he just run out of interest? Hard to say - but still a worthwhile read. A great main character and a stonkingly good plot.

And this week's haiku (can you spot a theme?) is:

We took a short break
to Madeira. Our luggage
took a longer one.

Hmm. I can see I'm going to get obsessive about this. Why, oh God, why??! Anyway, it's good to come back into a world where cricket is at last made interesting. Good for everyone but poor old Bob Woolmer of course. But, hell, what a way to go. Poisoned and strangled. It's cricket, Jim, but not as we knew it ...

Have had a lovely nap this afternoon, post my fix of "Ugly Betty". I so love that woman. And tonight, I will have to ring mother before settling down to (a) a nice soak in the tub, and (b) "Northanger Abbey" on the TV. Bliss.

Today's nice things:

1. Napping
2. Doing another few paragraphs to "The Gifting"
3. The peculiarities of the New Cricket World.

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

Rugby and relapses

There seems to have been a lot of rugby this weekend, which Lord H has been glued to when he thought I wasn't looking or was too ill to tease him about it. But actually I like Johnny Wilkinson - for a rugby player (I don't like muscle-bound men), he's really quite cute. And I don't really mind rugby either (though don't tell Lord H as teasing him is such fun) - of all the ball sports, it does seem to be the one where every so often all the teams get together and have sex on the pitch (though Lord H always sighs at this point and says it's a scrum), so I'm not complaining. And they do have good thighs.

Well, I'm sorry to say that today has seen something of a relapse in the convalescence arena (yes, it is easy to tell I have worked in consultancy, sadly ...), which meant I was up all night again yesterday watching TV and doing sudokus, though I did manage a couple of hours dozing on the sofa, thank God. But I did enjoy the late night (well, late night for me) film - Bruce Willis in "Unbreakable". Great stuff - subtle and very clever, with a stonkingly good performance from La Willis. It's funny how much I can't stand the bloke when he's doing his action hero stuff, but when he's doing his quieter, more reflective roles - and actually acting - I think he's as sexy as hell. Ah, there's something about that glorious mix of macho vulnerability that gets me every time. Some day, I shall have to watch "Sixth Sense", as I'm sure I'll love him in that too.

So today Lord H has been to church on his own, doing server duties for the new priest - who apparently was more nervous than a man of his age really ought to be in a new church. I do realise that St Peter's does have a rebellious reputation in the diocese (dark mutterings of bloody St Peter's, always stirring up trouble have been heard in secluded corners at synods ...), but what did he think the congregation were going to do? Riot? Tear him from the altar and pin him to the vestry door as an example? Throw pew bibles if the sermon was bad? Hascombe isn't exactly a hotbed of positive action. Lord H thinks they'll get used to him in the end though and, besides, what the priest does or wants the congregation to do has never swayed the church before. This is the country, not the town. St Peter's is much like the London Symphony Orchestra who, as an old friend who used to play violin for them once told me, inevitably perform the music on the night in the same way they've always done it, no matter what the conductor is doing or what they've pretended to do during rehearsals.

Oh, and I've been very brave today and posted the next section of "The Gifting" (ie the start of Chapter 4) onto the Writewords (http://www.writewords.org.uk) site, as I've been too twitchy to post any for ages. What a wimp, eh? It'll be interesting to get comments, as they always think of stuff I haven't spotted. And at least I've performed my one brave act of the week, so I don't have to worry about planning any more derring-do for the next seven days. Hurrah.

For the rest of the day, I'm going to do nothing. I think today's problem might indeed be that I overdid it yesterday, and am reaping the consequences, damn it. Hell, I am beginning to sound more and more like a slightly fragile Victorian heroine - I expect the doctor will pop round any day now and demand that I be bled to bring the fever down or attach leaches to my forearm. Well, they are thinking of closing the local hospital, as too many people are being cured by it, so we in the Godalming area (which will become known as the "death zone" if the hospital is closed, as we will then be more than an hour away from any help at all ...) must use what means we can find for survival ...

And this week's haiku is:

January: colds,
flu, Lemsips, Vick and coughing.
Thank God for the spring.

Well, there's always hope, eh?...

Today's nice things:

1. Men having sex on a rugby pitch
2. Bruce Willis doing sultry and vulnerable
3. Sudokus (this week, where the bloody hell would I be without them?!)

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