Waiting for the dance

Trogged through today, not really functioning on all cylinders. So no changes there then. Didn’t get much sleep last night and felt wiped out, which probably explains it. Must attempt to get an early night at some stage – sleeping hours are becoming distinctly squeezed. I must say all this isn’t helped by the irritating and long drawn-out focus on the wretched Children in Need charity on Radio Two. Bring back a normal Terry Wogan slot – please! Very sorry and I know it’s totally non-PC these days, but I can’t abide all the talking about bids and children – it’s soooooo dull. I’m having to listen to Classic FM or Radio Three – whichever plays the nicer tunes …

At least I’ve managed to catch up with personal correspondence though, which included writing to the GP (aka That Cow!) and letting her know the blood test results and what I’m taking for it. Well, even if I don’t want to talk to my doctor, I’d rather keep my medical notes up to date. Who knows, the surgery might even get round to looking at them before an appointment one day. Miracles can occur! Heck, they should be grateful I haven’t written I told you I was right, so why did I have to arrange my ruddy blood test myself then??! No, I’ve been gracious, m’dears, and haven’t said that. Though if I see the GP in the street, I will take her condescension and her mealy mouth and stuff both of them where the sun don’t shine. With no feelings of guilt either. Harrumph!

In the meantime, outside the office window a man in a suit appears to have set up a makeshift office on the walkway, using a table that has been left there all night. Ye gods, we can’t even afford to give our lecturers inside rooms these days. The poor chap has his briefcase out, a wad of papers and is leaning against the bike lock-ups, chatting away on his mobile. If he stays there for much longer, IT will set him up with a computer and a landline.

Anyway, it’s caused us much amusement in the office on this relatively quiet day and, speaking of bizarre situations, Ruth tells me that her sister-in-law works as a police inspector and once turned up for work in full uniform but with her fluffy pink slippers still on, as she’d been running late. Not sure how that affects the prospects of promotion to chief inspector … although perhaps these days that actually raises your chances. Not only that but the sister-in-law in question was at a school fete one day and was persuaded by her children to have her face painted with a cat picture. Yes, you’ve guessed it – she then had an urgent call to attend an accident on the M25 and didn’t get time to take the paint off. Ah the police – a marvellous organisation indeed.

Oh and we may be getting to that stage in evolution where we can no longer tell our different types of phone apart; yesterday Sally from Advice came in with her landline phone in her handbag as she’d got it muddled up with the mobile. Needless to say, it didn’t work so well. But I’m starting to think they should really bring back wires for home phones – at least you can’t go too far with it then!

Went to listen to some relaxing music at lunchtime at the weekly concert. So nice to sit down for an hour and not have to do anything. Bliss! The bluesy jazz band at the end were particularly fab.

Tonight, I’ll be strutting my stuff at Scottish country dancing, and then popping into Jane H’s to collect my supply of Nutrimetics products. Oh, I do come close to being a real woman sometimes, you know!

Today’s nice things:

1. Laughing at the outside office man
2. Laughing at police antics
3. Dancing.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Meetings, doctors and writers

Rushed around this morning sorting out papers for meetings and changing agendas until my brain imploded. Mental note to self: it is a bad thing to arrange two very similar meetings within two days of each other, particularly with the same Chair. I am guaranteed in such circumstances to get the wrong papers in the wrong meeting or worse – have two lunches turn up on one day and none on the other. Sigh. I can see I’m going to have to stock up with my Rescue Remedy spray for the end of November, not to mention Quiet Life pills.

I’ve also had my follow up appointment with the Hormone Guru at the Surrey Park Clinic to get my test results. Another sigh. There’s good news and bad news. Isn’t there always?? The good news is that she thinks she can sort out my insulin problem just by diet and exercise, rather than going on the scary insulin pills. Alas, this means going easy on cakes, biscuits and chocolate, and developing my relationship with lean meats, fruit and vegetables. But at least I’m allowed to drink 1 or 2 glasses of wine a week, rather than completely abandoning the vine, hurrah! Which, I suppose, means I can at last make use of the wine bottle stoppers my mother has bought me virtually every Christmas since I got married. Goodness, she will be pleased. We have acres of them.

The bad news is that my oestrogen levels are apparently so appallingly low for my age that I might as well grab myself a penis, strap it on and start subscribing to Motor Monthly. Well, that’s not quite how the doctor put it, but you know what I mean. Anyway the upshot is I am going on my own tailored HRT programme (not, sadly, the one that makes me into a Class One Bitch who salivates over younger men – what do you mean: what’s the difference then??) which will consist of rubbing oestrogen gel into my legs each morning and in the evening too if I feel the need. My, Lord H will be so pleased.

However, apparently, if I get my hormones sorted out (dahlings, a wide variety of experts have tried for years to no avail thus far, but at least the Hormone Guru seems to be more on the ball, as it were … which just goes to show if you want a problem at least acknowledged, sod the NHS and go private instead), it might mean that the insulin issues improve a little too. Who knows: in a year’s time, I may well be running for Miss World 2008. Or possibly Miss Knackered Woman 1960s. One of the two. Watch this space, eh …

Anyway, enough of the health-related gnashing of teeth and virtual wailing – though I would advise against asking me how I am if you see me in the street over the next couple of weeks or so – you may well be given more information than you really want …! Tonight, I’m planning to take the next section of my anti-novel to Guildford Writers and attempt to make sensible comments on everyone else’s work. Though whether I actually get there or not will depend on how I’m feeling after today’s ups and downs (Update: hell, I'm staying in). Ridiculously, I do feel more fragile about the whole thing than I expected to. Wish I’d ruddy well gone private ten years ago. Dammit. And hey ho.

Back in my other life, I’ve got the edits back for Thorn in the Flesh from Jackie so I’m looking forward to getting on with those. Funny how we both finished the edits of each other’s book on the same day – spooky, eh … I do feel that an Addie (from Jackie’s Tainted Tree) and Kate (from Thorn) sequel is surely in the offing at some stage – after all, Addie lives in Guildford and Kate in Godalming, and they both love the theatre – how could they not meet?!?

And here’s a piece of flash fiction for the Writewords Flash Fiction 2 Group challenge for this week, which is on the theme: Playing with fire:

Playing with fire

‘So,’ Anita said, putting down the Dove Body Firming Gel she’d been using on her thighs for the last two weeks. ‘Do you think my legs are better or worse? With this new gel, I mean?’
Douglas paused in the act of buttoning his shirt. Always the same question and in twenty years of married life it had been impossible to answer. At least with yes or no. This time, it was going to be different.
He smiled, knowing he was playing with fire, and opened his mouth.



Today’s nice things:

1. Getting my upcoming meetings under control
2. Getting to the truth – slowly – about the hormone stuff
3. Getting to the end of the day – soon, please God!

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford books!

Books, calendars and editing

Busy morning today – rushed around doing lots of glorious copy-typing (I really do love it – you can take the girl out of the typing pool, but you can’t take the typing pool out of the girl …) and hardly noticed when the Magical Monday Time of 12noon appeared. Astonishing! I also discovered that the boss’s wife has much better handwriting than the boss, and so documents she’s commented on are far easier to read. I did suggest that he might like to think of dictating his thoughts to the wife (a la Milton dictating to his daughter) so I could understand them in the future, but I’m not sure that suggestion will be taken up. Thank goodness I’m the right side of review time, eh!

Meanwhile, Ruth is having strange dreams about gutting fish on a fish farm. Does this say something about our student care approach? The mind indeed boggles … Anyway, lunchtime found me at the usual weekly reflexology session – what would I do without them? It makes everything worthwhile, you know. And I’m also starting to look at a venue for the Thorn in the Flesh book launch, which I’m hoping will take place in February/March 2008. I’m quite keen on the Godalming Museum, as the book is set in Godalming, and it’s friendlier than the Godalming Borough Hall though not as large. We’ll see. I may yet end up back at the Guildford Institute. At the same time, I’m working out what my Thorn dedication and acknowledgements should be. I always like to have them. Lord knows I need all the help I can get – novel-writing is a funny old business.

Oh and I’ve found the ideal Christmas present for Mother – the Men doing the Housework (with very little on …) calendar here. Mmm, maybe I’ll get one for me too. Mind you, I’ll have to get her and my stepfather the Farmers and Lady Farmers naked calendars as well – they always look through to see if they spot someone they know … And what could be better than supporting the British Farmer - they're a needy beast (I should know - I'm a British farmer's daughter and stepdaughter!) so buy early, buy often! And talking of Christmas, if you're looking for a book, my advice is to get yourself to the website of the best small publisher in the south and pick whatever takes your fancy. There's loads of choice - it's cheaper than going through Amazon, there's something for everyone and heck it'll put a smile on my face at Christmas!

Tonight, I shall be editing more of Jackie’s novel and also – possibly – watching the Stephen Poliakoff drama on TV. And I hope to get back to some of my own novel writing later in the week – ho ho. If only I had any ideas. I’m really not sure where I’m going with The Bones of Summer, if anywhere, but I’d better think of something. And soon!

And whilst I’m on the subject of fish, here’s a poem:

Fisherwoman

Fish spin
on the knife
in your brain.

Their mirror eyes
stare back
as gills, guts,

blood slide
oozingly
to the floor.

You don't know
where they come from
or why they seem

so familiar
but their smell,
their history

clings to you
as they vanish
into the sea.


And alas I fear I've lost all contact with my agent. I can't even get him to reply to comments I put on his blog, poor chap. Even now he's probably fleeing the country, attempting to escape from my no-hope career. Ah well.

Today’s nice things:

1. Copy-typing
2. Reflexology
3. Poetry.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford - you know you want to ...

Remembrance, trees and edits

Lord H and I were organised enough to attend the Remembrance Service at St Mary's today. I took two extra poppies in case there was a disaster, but the original two held firm and all was well. I shall have to add them to the growing poppy mountain in the drawer after tonight. God but I'm anal. Anyway, the service was very good, and the sermon particularly moving. Jenny (the vicar - or one of them) mentioned one of the verses of the old hymn, "Oh Valiant Hearts", and made the point that, after the crucifixion, God linked himself to all suffering of all people, for all time. Certainly an interesting point - one I've heard before, but well worth the retelling. I also enjoyed the fact that after the service, we walked outside to the War Memorial in Shackleford and had the actual Remembrance Service there. Sometimes it's good for the traffic to be held up for a while, I think. Another good thing - which I haven't experienced before - was the fact that they handed out small crosses with the names on of all the people from Shackleford who'd died in the two world wars and, as each name was read out, the person holding the particular named cross walked up and planted it in the soil near the memorial. Highly appropriate indeed.

The only negative thing about the occasion was the fact that, after it was over, I heard the middle-aged tosser next to me say to the young man playing the bugle that it didn't sound as good as if it had been a real military bugle. I was all for turning round and stuffing the said instrument up the complainer's bottom, but Lord H thought that might not be wise with the traffic police around. But really! I thought the bugler was fab and did an ace job! Some people should just keep their ruddy mouths shut!

After church, we wandered around Winkworth Arboretum for a while, admiring the trees and the new lake walkway. All very nice indeed. The colours weren't, I suspect, quite as stunning as before this week's bad weather, but still well worth the viewing. We managed also to catch the glorious sight of a family of long-tailed tits flitting from tree to tree, as well as our first white-fronted goose. Hurrah! And bizzarely, we spotted a flowering daffodil and a foxglove. Has global warming gone mad?

At home, I have washed the car (Goodness me! I think I might hire that ace trumpeter from today to play me a triumphant march!) for the first time in way too long to remember, and made a sort-of pear crumble for lunch. Sort-of, in the sense that we couldn't find any crumble topping (whaddya mean: make your own?? Are you mad?!?) at the shop yesterday, so I had to buy pudding & suet mix instead. And sort-of in the sense that the pears we had were all rotten, so I had to use tinned pears and some eating apples in their place. Ah well. I was trying so hard for Wife Points too. Foiled again, Carruthers ... Still, nobly and with utter sacrifice, Lord H has eaten the ungodly mix that resulted and is still smiling. Even though I'm not sure that my failsafe cookery salvation method of drowning it with custard entirely worked ...

Meanwhile, back at the Goldenford edit, I am now on Chapter 26 and roaring with all cylinders towards the end. Still sobbing like a baby at times, and also sighing with happiness at the budding romance, hurrah - Jackie as ever knows how to tug at the heart. Ah, if only I had one, eh ...

Tonight, I will be glued to the "Strictly Come Dancing" results. Surely it's time for Kate to go? Or empty-headed Kelly. Who surely must be prime contender in the Woman with the Most Irritating Laugh contest. Or the Woman with No Brain contest. She's hot to trot in either, really. And, if we get rid of Kelly (even though her dance was fab), it would save all that effort of turning the sound down whenever she comes on the screen. Ah, I wish, I wish.

Oh, and here's a poem:

Golfer’s autumn pause

I am flummoxed by leaves,
knee-deep in mulch,
searching for that mythical
golf-ball – small, white, lost –
which never lands
precisely where I want it.

Birds flutter, people call out
and somewhere in the distance
a dog yelps.

The wind breathes deep
and all the world moves on.

Only I am still.


And not forgetting this week's haiku, inspired by yesterday's shopping trip (the one with no crumble topping):

Sliced ham and roses
adorn your shopping trolley:
one hell of a soup.


Today's nice things:

1. Remembrance Service
2. Winkworth
3. Writing poetry.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Unrequited and Visiting Mr Green

Spent this morning editing for Goldenford and I'm now up to Chapter 23 of Jackie's upcoming novel. The plot continues to thicken indeed!

Have also just finished the marvellous Unrequited by James Bennett, which I thought was hugely enjoyable. If you like gay psychological thrillers, it's the book for you!

This afternoon, Lord H and I went into town to attempt to buy shirts and trousers - result: failure. Sigh! It's not often I don't like anything at all in Marks & Spencer, but I managed it today. We also saw "Visiting Mr Green" at the Yvonne Arnaud, which was very good indeed. Short but sassy, and a tour-de-force by the two actors in it, one of which was the great Warren Mitchell. It always sooooo wonderful to see a real play and then come out of the theatre with that particular floating feeling that only a good play well acted can produce. If it comes your way, then grab a ticket - you'll regret it if you don't.

Tonight, I shall be glued to "Strictly Come Dancing" and then we have takeaway Chinese to look forward to. Bliss. There are also a million and one marvellous Poliakoff things on TV, but I'm not really feeling literary or intellectual enough to watch them. Though if you haven't seen "Friends and Crocodiles", my advice is do. It's classy and a complete one-off. Even though my mother and I were the only people in the country to like it. It's about friendship. Big time. Ignore what the critics said - they were talking out of their arses.

Oh, and a fun marital moment (careful!) when last week I came over all romantic (believe me, that's a rare occurence) and rushed into the kitchen where Lord H was working on the computer, flung out my arms and said: you know, I'm really, really glad I found you! Ah, how sweet... Or would have been if Lord H hadn't looked bemused and replied: yes, I'm in the kitchen!. Oh well. On such misconnections are true marriages made. As they say ...

Today's nice things:

1. James Bennett's Unrequited
2. The play
3. "Strictly Come Dancing".

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

The Editing Queen with more than a touch of golf

Struggled round the golf course with Marian today - not so much due to the standard of our game (which was better than last weekend), but we were flummoxed by leaves. Hmm, there might be a poem title there somewhere, but I'll have to think about it. I do love the word "flummoxed". Anyway, because of last night's wind (careful, people ...), there were so many leaves all over the place on the course that it was virtually impossible to find your ball once you'd hit it. Yes, yes, I know the non-golfers out there will be thinking: what? Golden leaves and white balls - you must be joking!! But with the winter light as it is and half the leaves showing the white undersides, you have to be standing on your ball (careful, again ...) before you can see it. At one point, in the hunt for Marian's ball - which had ended up in a ditch stuffed full of autumn leaves - I found myself hitting the leaves with my club and snarling, "Don't worry, Marian, I'm going to beat the damn ball to death which will save you having to hit it", whilst giggling helplessly. Never say I am not a supportive and professional golf partner ...

I then popped into Godalming in order to stock up on Dead Sea Soap and the Surrey Advertiser. As you do. Really, m'dears, my weekend is incomplete without them ... For the rest of the day, I've been editing Jackie's book for Goldenford and sobbing once more at the tearjerker sections. My mother is just so going to enjoy it when it's published - she loves a good saga! I'm now on Chapter 21 of 30 and thoroughly enjoying the journey.

Tonight, I really have to try to watch last week's "Ugly Betty" on TV before this week's turns up - but I'm not sure quite where I'm going to fit it in. As we really have to do some cleaning at some stage, dammit.

Oh, and Lisa Glass's Prince Rupert's Teardrop has arrived, so thank you for that, Lisa! I'm still reading James Bennett's Unrequited but, once that's finished, PRT is next on my list! Mind you, I couldn't help but read the first couple of pages and already I love Mary, the main character. Completely off-the-wall, and my how I wish I had the courage to be that destructive at work. In my dreams ...!

Today's nice things:

1. Golf
2. Editing
3. Lisa's parcel.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

The three witches

Yes, you've guessed it - I've spent a day at Mother's (arrgghhh!!) with my newly-widowed aunt, and we've actually had quite a nice day. I think my aunt manages to diffuse the normal family tension a little, which can only be a good thing. Though I do suspect that the older we get, the more we do become terrifyingly like Macbeth's witches. If the rest of the family start losing body parts and there's a cauldron brewing, they will know who to blame ...

Mind you, the journey down (two hours there and three back, thanks to the hold-up at the Dartford Crossing) was hell. Normally Lord H does it and I nap (well, I like to provide wifely support when needed), but I thought this was more of a girls' occasion so went alone. The last hour on the road was the worst - I had to keep telling myself to focus and singing songs to make sure I was still awake. There's something about the dark and the rain and the windscreen wipers that's ridiculously hypnotic.

Three interesting items from the witches' brew:

1. It's rare for a mother to know exactly what their grown-up children or grandchildren actually do for a living. How the Terrible Two long for the days when people were policemen, teachers or secretaries - you knew where you were then. My aunt spent about ten minutes attempting to explain what her eldest does for a living, then gave up and admitted she didn't really have a clue, as jobs are so much more complex these days. This prompted my mother to admit that she's never really had a clue what I do either, but she thinks it's something to do with new students. From there, we went through the entire family, and indeed the whole lot of them are a mystery to us. Much like Chandler in "Friends" - no-one ever knew what he did for a living either, not even Monica. Naturally, I didn't enlighten my mother any further as to myself - I like to keep an aura of mystique. It keeps the wolves at bay.

2. Uncle Leonard died before he could syphen off this year's wine supply (itself something of a long-standing witches' brew), and after much subtle persuasion and eventual wild laughter, we have convinced my aunt that it's better for society if she throws it away. It's a mercy killing, really. And apparently she never liked it much either. Ah, the suffering of wives, eh!

3. My mother will always tell me at some stage during a visit how good red wine is for the heart - even though nobody was drinking it today - and will ask me if she should keep the gravy hot on the stove or put it all in the gravy-boat at once. Bearing in mind that the gravy-boat is always too small for the amount of gravy made, this is a no-brainer. In fact we're thinking of having these conversations when I first turn up to save time and clear the way for other stuff.

Back home, I am attempting to superglue my eyes open and get some editing done tonight. And I wrote a poem yesterday:

Woodpeckers

Green woodpeckers
swoop through the air
round the house.

We hear them laughing
and follow from window
to window

laughing too -
our day's ungrasped
illumination.

They leave behind
a scent of mown grass
and one small feather.


And a special thanks to Casdok who has just finished A Dangerous Man and enjoyed it very much - thanks for letting me know, Casdok!

Today's nice things:

1. Surviving the Three Witches' meeting!
2. Poetry
3. Casdok's comments.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Books, trains and dances

Trogged my way through today, sorting out agendas and attempting to look efficient and professional. Ho ho. I’ve even been brave enough to ask for papers for one of the meetings – always a scary move. Lord preserve us but some punter might even give me a set of them. Horrors! Ah well.

Posted a copy of A Dangerous Man to Lisa Glass, author of Prince Rupert’s Teardrop as we both write in a similar dark and twisted area so thought we may as well swap products. Am looking forward to reading PRT, Lisa! I’m sure it will be just my sort of thing … Mind you, getting back from the University post office was something of an obstacle race – the automatic doors refused to open for me and I had to bang on the window with my nose in order to get the attention of the person on the other side, who did at least seem able to open them. Which proves my thesis that I am indeed not of this planet. Even the electronics don’t rate me as human …

Decided not to walk round campus at lunchtime – as I think my wretched ankle needs all the rest it can get prior to tonight! – so sat and listened to the weekly University concert instead. I used to go quite a lot, but haven’t been for ages since I started my back exercise classes last year. But since these have been taken over by a tutor who wants us to do everything in pairs (heck, what is exercise for but a chance to be alone for an hour??), I haven’t signed up for the next series. And I rather enjoyed just sitting and listening to music – very relaxing indeed.

We are also in the process of deciding what our office Christmas giving should be – which is something we do instead of having to buy presents for each other. Last year, we sent a sheep to Africa (I sometimes wonder how it’s getting on, you know …), and this year we might well do a similar thing, but with a more personal focus as Carol knows someone through her church – here - who’s doing good works in Burundi. At least it takes some of the pressure off the hell that is Christmas gift buying anyway! So, I have made a box into a donations point and stuck pictures on it of cows – in colour, hurrah. I’m calling it the Goat Box, but bizarrely can’t find a picture of a suitable goat. Ah well.

Here’s a piece of flash fiction I’ve done for the Writewords Flash Fiction 2 group. The remit was a story based on “absence of choice” and a train journey in up to 250 words:

The last journey

Always the same old route. Out of the station, the endless track pulling me forward. Away from trees, gardens, birds. Towards smoke, commutered city houses. No choice, no choice, no choice. Each day my load gets heavier. No-one cares how I feel, though I think they used to. The weight of human flesh presses against my floors, lines the great stretch of my carriages as all the seats are taken. They’ve thought about giving me more carriages, but I don’t have the strength for it any more. I don’t know if I want it. More people means a greater load. I don’t care much for them now. They’ve never cared much about me: feet on seats; graffiti across windows; vomit – and worse – in toilets. Nobody cares, nobody cares, nobody cares. I’ll not be kept for much longer. New stock coming up, with facilities on board I could never dream of. All my old companions have gone and I’m not far behind. I’ve heard what the flesh in uniforms say. I’m not going down with a whistle and a metallic sigh. This time they’ll know my last journey for what it is. I’ve thought about it for a while. I haven’t any choice. Look, the houses are crowding around me. I see the great circle of sky-seats, and the people are stirring. Soon I’ll be at Waterloo. Soon it will be over. Let’s see then what it is I can do to them. Let’s see, let’s see, let’s see.


I’ve also just finished David Leavitt’s The Lost Language of Cranes. It was something of a slow-burn and I have to say I was immensely irritated with the amount of flashback and meaningless emoting I had to wade through. However, the ending is stonkingly good and he seems finally to get into his stride about three-quarters through. I do however think that the main character is not the one the author thinks it is – I cared far more for Rose than I did for Philip or Owen – she’s a more interesting and complex person. Leavitt writes very well too, so I’d probably go for another one of his at some stage, if it came my way. But I must say that I was also riled by the cover – which has a crane (bird) floating elegantly off at the top. How charming, one would think – except that the cranes referred to in the title are machines, not birds!! Doesn’t anyone give these covers the once-over before they get picked? Deep, deep sigh …

Tonight, I am off to my second session of Scottish country dancing. I’m planning to take it easy – ah, the old war wound, you know; it’s not the same since the Crimea … – and either not do all the dances or leave early, depending on how I’m holding up. The real problem however is that this morning I couldn’t seem to remember any of the ruddy steps, or even how to skip. Dammit. Lord H reassures me that it will all come flooding back on the night, so I can only hope he’s right … We’ll see.

Today’s nice things:

1. Swapping books with Lisa
2. The lunchtime concert
3. Dancing (however much I manage to do!)

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

A trip to town and the mysteries of the duck-cam

Was much bemused by the new duck-cams on “Autumnwatch” last night. Is Bill Oddie on drugs?? Surely no self-respecting duck will allow it anywhere near them? Or perhaps we’ll have lots of videos of ducks falling about laughing as they attempt to get away from the stranger in their midst … However, it’s good to see beavers back in the land again (as it were …).

And talking of nature, Lord H and I were wondering about whether we should have some sort of purpose in life, apart from running around looking at birds (us), attempting to write (me) and avoiding being social (him – well, us really, to be honest). He did suggest that maybe we should simply avoid the issue entirely and Adopt a Porpoise (rather than a Purpose ... - groan!) instead. It would save all that moral complexities/meaning of life stuff for sure.

This morning, I fiddled around with marketing and agenda planning. Which is probably my Porpoise in Life in itself. I also nipped into town at lunchtime to pay in a cheque (such a rare event in my life that I feel I must note it!) and do a spot of shopping. My ankle bore up pretty well, so maybe I will be able to go to the ball tomorrow after all. Will just have to clear the cinders from the hearth first and I’m there. Though I suspect I’ll have to take it easy nevertheless.

Oh and Lord H is taking over the organisation of the house building insurance – we’re three flats so we’ve always done it as a joint enterprise, but until now the downstairs neighbour has been in charge. He left a little note yesterday asking us to do it as he feels that now he’s in his mid eighties he wants to give some things up. Which is fine of course and more than understandable – it’s just that I felt quite sad that he might not be with us for ever. Henry is such a stalwart of the town and also of the house. I’d really miss him if he’s not there. And – I suppose – seeing as he was here when we moved in fourteen years ago, if things change, it will almost be like having to grow up ourselves.

And here’s a poem:

A scattering of apostrophes

You write the letter,
leave it for me
to look over.

Once read,
I take the silver bowl
at my right hand

and scatter apostrophes
like tiny stars
over the page.

They land
in the places
they wish to,

sparkle once
before vanishing
into the lines.


Tonight, I’m carrying on with editing Tainted Tree for Goldenford and will also have to see what’s happening in the world of “Strictly Come Dancing” gossip and “Autumnwatch” shenanigans. Heck, I do so enjoy this new dumbing-down of TV we’re having – I’ve been waiting for years to ditch the intellectual content of the viewing schedules, and at last my time has come, hurrah!

Talking of Goldenford, Jackie & Irene have been signing books in Book Boyz bookshop in Farnborough today – so hope it’s gone well for you both!

Today’s nice things:

1. Paying a cheque in
2. Editing
3. Writing a poem.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Reflexology, poppies and the trials of Tesco

Quite a calm start to the day – unusual for a Monday really. The boss is back too, after the birth of his second child – a daughter. Named Georgina – which is a great name. The family seem to be getting some kind of sleep too, which must surely be a miracle. Not that I like babies at all – or even children really – but it is nice when people get what they want. Such a surprise in today’s world!

Have spent this morning catching up with emails and sorting out student queries. It seems to be a bad time of year for them at the moment, poor things … Everyone is sick. Heck, I can sympathise though. I also remembered to bring in my over-the-elbow black gloves for Ruth who’s off to a fancy dress party soon and needed a pair. Good to know that I have my uses at times – and even more astonishing that I’ve worn them for real in the past. Well, my old company used to do ultra-posh dinner dances and you have to scrub up well.

This lunchtime, I chilled out in my reflexology session. I’m hoping it will do my ankle good too, as I’m still keen to dance on Wednesday. Had the weekly catch-up session with the boss during the afternoon, as he’s still on partial family duties tomorrow – when we normally catch up – and had two weeks’ worth of queries to motor through. A baptism of fire for us both indeed!

And, all the time, the new Starbucks café on campus is slowly coming together – it’s going to be next door to us once it’s opened, so I expect huge weight gains in the first week alone … Today, the green Starbucks lettering is lying all over the floor outside and we are pressing our noses to the window and salivating. So no change there then for us as an office.

Meanwhile, in spite of the fact that the Lord H/Mad Bitch Household actually has no fewer than four poppies, I have forgotten to wear a single one of them today. Sigh!

Tonight, I did the Tesco shopping – ah, where would I be without the fortnightly trial of it?? It’s always such a relief to get that chore over. However, I couldn’t bear it if I had to do it later in the week – even though not being able to reach homedotcom till later than usual on a Monday is of course horrifying. Hmm, or maybe that’s just me …

Joy at home though! The marvellous James Bennett's novel, Unrequited turned up today, so I shall thoroughly look forward to getting into that. A dark twisted gay novel - what more could I want? And talking of dark, twisted gay novels, A Dangerous Man has at last arrived at Tony's address, so it saves me having to get a torch out and wander round London trying to find poor Michael ... Thanks for letting me know, Tony, and I hope you enjoy the read!

Am also planning to do more editing to Jackie’s Tainted Tree. I’m on Part Two now, so forging ahead. The end of Part One had me sobbing into my keyboard like a baby. It’s difficult to attempt editing when you have to keep blowing your nose … Less traumas, Jackie, please!!

Today’s nice things:

1. Reflexology
2. Getting home – eventually!
3. Editing Tainted Tree.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

An archetypal hacker

Rushed around attempting to do some cleaning this morning, thus earning valuable Wife Points which I can cash in later, ho ho. I also had a request from the wonderful Rhian of the It's a Crime review site, asking me to provide a book review for her Christmas crime books round-up. Great idea, Rhian! And thanks for asking. So I've done that and emailed the result off accordingly. I only hope it makes sense.

I've also been worried that I haven't written any poetry for about three weeks, so have come up with something about not being able to write (Lord, how pathetic!):

My head

used to be filled
with thoughts
and lines

but I think
they fled south
for the winter.

The land
is silent now.

Only the tumbleweed
passes.


I do feel quite pleased about managing a poem where the title serves as the first line also. I always think they're quite fun to do, and it makes me feel like a real poet. Almost!

We played golf with Marian this afternoon, and had lunch at hers afterwards. Siegi couldn't play as he's managed to put his shoulder out, poor chap, but we went round anyway. Mind you, it might have been better if we hadn't, as we were crap again! I am indeed the archetypal hacker - I seem to have lost the knack of hitting the ball with the clubhead - maybe I should think about using a snooker cue instead? Or just kicking the damn thing into rough. Fairways are so passe, you know. Lunch was grand though - casserole followed by rhubarb crumble and custard. Mmmm, lovely ... Stayed clear of the alcohol options though, as I'm determined to keep to my go-slow until I get the blood test results. Bloody shame though - what's an Essex Girl without her vino, I ask you?!?

Tonight, I'm going to be doing some more editing to Jackie's novel - I can't leave Addie too long while the plot is thickening. I might miss something essential! Though I feel I will have to watch the "Strictly Come Dancing" results programme - will Kate survive to dance another day?? Hell, it's anyone's guess really. There are also two glorious dramas on to ease our Sunday night, but I fear I will end up watching neither. Not sure I'm in the TV watching mood. I feel more like a bit of an edit. In so many ways, eh!

This week's haiku (which is in honour of Lord H's comments when we were attempting to circumnavigate the new car parking system at Woking, sigh!):

New barriers form
triangles for cars to dance through:
pinball carpark.


Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Out with the luvvies

I must say that the Glyndebourne Touring Opera production of "L'elisir d'amore" last night didn't quite have the charm, colour or general pizzazz of the Opera South (Haslemere) production we saw earlier in the year. Nor the acting skills either. But it was a nice night out with some good tunes, and the famous aria at the end was beautifully sung, so a pleasant enough experience. I am thinking of writing to Glyndebourne though to ask why they insist on doing everything in shades of grey - is the costume department trying to tell us something? Really, it's a mystery. I would have thought that something with the punch and life of "L'elisir" is just crying out for reds and oranges, purples and greens, but not last night for sure.

Anyway, to today. Lord H and I have spent the day in the great metropolis (London, for the uninitiated ...). We were much taken by the moving pictures going up the escalator at Charing Cross Station - so modern! In fact, I shrieked out, "Look! Moving pictures! Whatever next?" Which caused (a) much amusement to the hardened Londoners around us, and (b) Lord H to reply (in his best Dorset accent): "Oo-ah, m'dear, these Londoners be strange creatures, you know. All we get in the country to entertain us is an evening's whittling. They be lucky up here for sure ..." Really, it's astonishing we weren't arrested at the Tube barriers.

The pictures of Scott's last expedition at the National Portrait Gallery were so cunningly hidden away that they didn't actually appear in the current exhibition information and I had to ask the manager to tell us where they could be seen. Which in a way is bizarrely fitting, I suppose. Not that many of them there either - only one cabinet - but definitely worth a look. Lunch at the NPG cafe was good too.

Afterwards, we trotted off to the Gielgud Theatre to see "Macbeth". But, alas, my second favourite man, the glorious Patrick Stewart, was too ill to perform and we had the understudy instead. Who was, I must say, very strong in the role, but I was still disappointed to miss Patrick. Sigh ... Still, he did come on at the start and apologise, and the poor bloke could hardly speak, his voice was so bad. It's a good production, for sure, and I can thoroughly recommend it. Some excellent touches with the witches and with Macbeth's final moments. Fab! Mind you, it is my favourite play ever, so I have to admit to positive prejudice!

Tonight, we have watched "Strictly Come Dancing", and were thrilled with the professionalism of Letitia's performance, and delighted to see that poor Kate can dance after all. Go, Kate, go!

Today's nice things:

1. Captain Scott, the ultimate icon of doomed courage
2. Macbeth, the most gloriously evil and gloriously human play in the world
3. Kate, the underdog makes good, aha!

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Balls and song

Hmm, there's a title to conjure with. This morning, I have played golf with Marian for the first time in about six zillion years (I've been away, I've been ill, she's been away, she's been ill, etc etc ...) and we were total rubbish. Understandably. Though the day was lovely and the colours on the trees are surely as near to heaven as we're likely to get this side of the Grim Reaper. Mind you, I was pretty shit-hot with my tee shots, which went straighter and further than they ever go when I play regularly. But the rest of my game was pants. I'm sure the ruddy holes kept moving. Even while I was putting, dammit.

Post-golf, I nipped into Sainsbury's to get lunch and also something for my ankle, which is playing up again today. I am trying bandages, Deep Heat Muscle Rub and prayer. As you do. But in the shop, I found a special ankle and wrist bandage (are they the same shapes??) which is supposed to cure all ills. However, I fear I may not fully understand the instructions, which involve a complex series of cuttings and foldings which is beyond me - so I will have to wait for Lord H to come home so I can do my special eyelash fluttering wimpy wife thing. No, as you're asking, it doesn't really work, no - but Lord H has a noble heart so I hope he'll take pity on me.

Anyway, back at the home front, I have caught up with my downloaded viewing of "Oz and James' Great Wine Adventure", which was even more off-the-wall than usual, with James giving Oz the challenge of finding the right wines to go with a series of classic cars at a show he'd detoured to see. Cue the next tranche of wine labels: a frisky little Riesling, just right with a Morris Minor ... Hell, it could catch on.

For the rest of the day, I have been continuing my edit of Jackie's Tainted Tree. Though, due to post-golf exhaustion, I haven't been going at my usual pace, I fear. Still I'm up to Chapter 13 now, so I'm getting there, Jackie! But I think I might schedule in a quick nap before tonight's outing.

Which will be very exciting, as Lord H and I are off to Woking to see L'elisir d'amore, which is such a fun opera, hell, it's almost a musical - so ideal for Woking really! And it's got good crits and sing-alone tunes, so what more could you want?

Oh, and I must say a belated hello to Kristian, the wild-haired fireman for this month's calendar shot. He's keen on martial arts, travel and wildlife, apparently, and certainly knows what to do with his hose. As it were.

Today's nice things:

1. Golf
2. Editing
3. Opera.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Thorn cover art and the Devil amongst the Tailors

Had a fantastic time at Scottish country dancing last night - completely non-cool (whatever that means), I know, but it was great. Mind you, I was shattered after ten minutes, and the class was an hour and a half, so you can imagine what my muscles are like this morning. Not having a partner wasn't too bad either, and there were even numbers (more women than men, of course, but more men than I'd expected, and not all old!), so I could do most dances - one bloke sat out for a couple, but the tutor kept including me when I was least expecting it. While my mind (and everything else) remains something of a blur, I think we did four or five dances, all new to the class, but I can only remember the names for two of them: Dhoon, and the Devil amongst the Tailors. Which is a wonderful title so I just had to use it.

Anyway, I've signed up for the full monty today, so will be dusting down my kilt and funny socks ready for next week's class. The only worry I have is that my ankle didn't feel so good afterwards (the aftermath of twisting it on holiday, I'm afraid), but I have bandaged it up again today and am hoping for the best for next Wednesday.

This morning, I met Jane H for coffee & a bun in Godalming, which was great - soooo good to catch up, Jane! And the Slug & Lettuce cafe-bar surpassed itself by offering up hot blueberry muffins. Bliss indeed. Actually, the Slug & Lettuce appears - briefly - at the end of Thorn in the Flesh, but in a previous incarnation when it was rather less posh. I definitely prefer the new look.

Talking of which, the wonderful Penelope Cline has done a couple of superb cover options for Thorn, taking as inspiration a scene in the book, one of which I shall bravely attempt to add. Oh look, it's appeared! Isn't it fab? Thank you so much, Penelope! Hope to sort out with the Goldenford Gals soonest and get back to you!

On the way home, I popped in to see Gladys, who was tired, but brighter than she'd been last week, so I was able to stay a little longer than before. She tells me that in her younger days, she played the piano for a country dancing class, and would dearly have loved to try out the steps but was never able to, as she was the only piano-player in a five-mile radius. Shame really - I'm sure her rhythm would have been far better than mine.

For the rest of today, I've been editing Jackie's novel, Tainted Tree, for Goldenford. It's such a good story, and I do so love the heroine, Addie. She's a great character!

Tonight, I'll be carrying on with the editing, though I really have to catch up with the latest on "Strictly Come Dancing", and hoping for an early night. We have an action-packed weekend ahead!

And I've just finished Neil Rollinson's latest poetry collection, Demolition. He's always been one of my favourite modern poets, but I must admit this latest offering didn't quite do it for me. The passion seems to be diminished and the style more muted. Is it to do with age, I wonder? To be fair, there were one or two ace poems, but much of it seemed rather bland, in that particular blandness that 80% of modern poetry does seem to have now. Query: is it something they put in the water that they give to poets that makes so many of them sound the same? Or is it the "demands of the market" where publishers only want a certain type of poem, which they think sells? Hmm, much like the fiction business then. Lord save us all from losing our voices to the hum of the crowd!

Today's nice things:

1. Meeting Jane
2. Editing Tainted Tree
3. Strictly Come Dancing.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Marketing madness and the Scottish country dancing queen

The last of the student care services marketing events in the library today – thank goodness, we cry!... It hasn’t been a roaring success – to put it mildly – and I’ve been really glad to get it over with. Grand total of people who’ve popped into see us over the last three weeks at our display: six. Though to be fair, I did have one email query today as a result of my electronic flyer, which I’ve sent out over the last couple of weeks to try to drum up interest. Unfortunately that student couldn’t come, but at least I could give some virtual advice. The only other response was a lass asking about her library books. Hmm, I suspect I may not entirely have got the message across then, Carruthers … Somebody pass me my rifle and put us all out of our misery …

Apart from marketing traumas, I’m afraid not a lot else has happened in my working day, though I have been attempting to unearth the online annual report from where I must have hidden it. Thank goodness I hadn’t got much of it done, as I feel I might need to redo it next week. Sigh. We’re also having an ongoing discussion in the office over where to put the big map of the UK, which is really too big to be where it’s been for the last year, and which finally fell down this morning. I think it might end up next to my desk – but that’s fine by me as maybe it’ll give me the chance to attempt a stronger link with the outside world, ho ho. Rather than living 99% of my life in the sewage system that constitutes my head. We can but hope, eh.

Tonight, I am strutting my stuff (so that won’t take long then) at the taster session for the Scottish country dancing beginners class. I’m wondering whether or not to wear tartan and carry a sword. Oh, sorry, that’s my usual get-up. So I’d best wear something different. Must admit to being excited as I really love dancing, but distinctly nervous as I really hate meeting new people. Especially new people who’ve already formed their personal groups in the weeks they’ve been doing it before and who will look on me with horror as “a stranger round these parts” when I pop my head round the door. Lordy, but I’m paranoid. But at least I know it.

And I must remember to video “Heroes” just in case I’m not back in time – the class ends at 8.30pm, but Guildford traffic can be wild. I am already traumatised by missing “Oz and James’ Wine Adventure” last night when out at Guildford Writers, but Lord H has nobly downloaded and saved it for me, so all is not lost!

Oh and here’s a piece of flash fiction for the Writewords Flash Fiction Group II challenge – which was to come up with something including the line of dialogue I have at the end:

Waiting for the Question

Gerald McFly strode down the High Street wearing his usual placard inscribed with the legend: The end of the world is nigh: please ask for details. He’d been doing this every Saturday morning for the last ten years and it hadn’t ended yet. But he was hopeful. Neither had he ever had anyone approach him. Usually they hid in shops or ran away laughing. He tried not to mind, but he would have liked a friend or, at least, someone who might understand. With a sigh, he kept on striding. Even if nothing ever changed, the cause was all; he must remember that!
Today, much to his surprise, would turn out to be very different indeed.
‘Young man! Young man!’
Gerald turned round to see an old woman hurrying towards him. Her grey hair was tied up into a bun and her plaid skirt was flapping in the breeze. He waited for her to catch up.
‘Young man,’ she said again, eyes blinking rapidly behind enormous spectacles.
‘Yes?’
‘I’d hate to miss Panorama. So can you tell me what time this end of the world might be occurring?’
Gerald smiled his first smile of the day.
‘I’ve always wanted somebody to ask me that,’ he said.



Today’s nice things:

1. Getting the last of the wretched marketing events done and dusted, hurrah!
2. Flash fiction
3. Scottish country dancing

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Minutes, doctors and writers

Phew! At last, I’ve got those dang Student Induction minutes done. And sent to the Chair to correct before I send out to the usual suspects. Which he usually takes a while over as he’s so busy elsewhere, but today he read them straight off and sent me a charming little note making only two small changes and commenting; “Excellent minutes from a rather unstructured meeting”. So that’s certainly made my day. Shame I’ve already had (and survived – another phew …) my review, eh.

This lunchtime, I finally made it to my Hormone Guru appointment at Surrey Park Clinic. And what an utterly charming, lovely and helpful woman she is – so different from my own (horrible) doctor. We had a fantastic in-depth chat, and she thinks I might be insulin resistant, which explains the messed-up hormones, the rollercoaster ride through a normal month and the bouts of depression. Apparently. And is also one of the joys one can expect if you come from a family riddled with diabetes and bowel cancer. Well, never say life isn’t exciting here in downtown Godalming!

Anyway, I’ve had my tests now and am going back to talk about the results in two weeks’ time so we’ll see what the game plan is after that. I fear though that my alcohol consumption is about to be kicked into touch, as she was super-keen that I go easy on it if she’s right about the insulin thing. Ah well. Best stock up on fruit juices and water then! But seriously, if the good Doctor B can sort me out, then quite honestly I’m prepared to do what it takes. We’ll see anyway!

Back at work, we’ve been discussing the possibility of putting on a Student Care Services Christmas quiz – I am cautiously enthusiastic (if such a state is possible …) as I seriously don’t want to get heavily involved in organising it. The last time I expressed enthusiasm for a work quiz was at my last job and then I appeared to be stuck with organising the darn thing for three years. And each year it grew ever more complicated. I swear I only left because I couldn’t bear the thought of another year’s quiz planning schedules.

Tonight, it’s Guildford Writers so I shall go along and take the next bit of waffle I’ve produced for my skit novel. That is, Page Two. Um, it ain’t happening fast, that one! I’m not sure I’m getting anywhere with it either, really, but I’m hoping some kind of anti-plot will come to light soon. You never know.

And I've just finised reading Lewis Grassic Gibbon's trilogy, A Scots Quair (which is comprised of Sunset Song, Cloud Howe and Grey Granite). It's a lyrical and difficult read (all that Scots language ...) but with some amazing passages, brilliant endings and a wonderful main character. Sunset Song is the best, for sure, but they're all worth a read. But you'll need to put serious time aside to get the best from it.

Today’s nice things:

1. Getting a nice comment back about the minutes
2. Meeting the lovely Doctor B, and being listened to seriously (such a rare joy!)
3. Guildford Writers

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

A weary Monday and a Goldenford near-coup

Is it just me or are Mondays in the winter season becoming increasingly wearisome? I’d like to start a campaign to stop them altogether – I’m sure it would be much more beneficial for all if we could just go straight to Tuesday, or even Wednesday. Oh yes that would be better. I wish! Mind you, the feeling probably isn’t made any better by the fact that this is the first working day since the dark nights have come upon us. Groan.

This morning, I muddled through the small collection of emails waiting for me at work though, sadly, none of them have been from the Chair of the Induction Group meeting I minuted at lunchtime. So I had to go into the wretched thing with nothing but draft papers and a bright smile. Hey ho, so much for the organised professional, eh. Still, at least the sandwiches were nice.

So, this afternoon, my brain switched off and I attempted to get some of the minutes done. Heck, it’s been one of those days – not much happens and when it does it’s a bit dull or intense. Possibly both, at the same time.

Tonight, I’ll be catching up on the latest in “Strictly Come Dancing” (oh, Gabby, Gabby! – you shouldn’t have gone. I voted for you and am missing you already …) and also starting the edit on Jackie’s novel, Tainted Tree, ready for Goldenford’s 2008 book lists. Hey, we sound almost professional when I put it like that! It also means we’ll have a backlist of books too, which sounds even better.

Oh and, talking of which, I must just say that one of the judges of last year’s Guildford Book Festival Novel competition took Jennifer aside during this year’s festival and said how utterly marvellous Irene’s The Moon’s Complexion was (we entered it for last year’s competition but heard nothing …), and how much the judge in question had wanted to shortlist it – but the panel hadn’t heard of Goldenford and so left it out. Which does, I have to say, leave a sick taste in the mouth but not an entirely surprising one. We in the small/self-publishing field grow accustomed to such attitudes. Though how we long for the day when a book is judged on its own merits, not on where it comes from. Ye gods, but there’s been some trash produced from the big publishing houses – you’d think people would begin to realise by now that there’s really no need to be snobby about it. Just look at the Booker shortlist, eh (if I dare say it!) …

And I've just finished David Leavitt's While England Sleeps. Which is well worth a read - and has a wonderful main character who is really not very nice at all but who still manages to be sympathetic. Somehow. An Everyman of the human condition perhaps? After all, none of us could really, at heart, be classed as "nice". I did find the amount of sex he had rather tiring however - at one stage, he was living with his male lover, shagging a woman he was hoping to marry and cottaging throughout most of London at the same time. It was astonishing he had time to breathe! Let alone have a cup of tea. But thanks for lending it to me, Guy, and I shall return it to you via Jane soonest. I'm also looking forward to my next Leavitt, but hoping the sex might be scaled down!

Today’s nice things:

1. TV
2. Editing Jackie’s novel
3. Having a night in.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Soaked to the skin

Up at the crack of dawn today to go birdwatching in Pagham Harbour. Goodness me, but it was wild and windswept in the south. Not to mention the rain. The first bird-hide we came to was distinctly strange as it was set on one side of a busy road with the lake on the other side. Cue cries of: Oh look, is that a redshank? No, it's a lorry. No, a bus! It was also tricky when you actually tried to open the window to get a clearer view as the Force 9 gale took your breath away and the sound of the traffic drowned out the noise of the birds. Ah well.

We then took a walk through the reserve, heading for the next hide. Which was lovely and bracing and stuff (Nature: red of tooth and claw, you know ...) and we spent much longer in the second hide watching the cormorants lose their island as the tide came in. Which ... um ... constituted something of a problem as we stayed so long laughing at the cormorants that the tide actually cut us off from the car, dammit! Birds: they always have the last laugh, you know. So we had to exit the reserve the long way round and go through several - thankfully shallow enough to walk through - bits of the sea to do so. Not to mention freezing cold and open to the wind fields and that busy road again. Ho hum. At least I've found out that Lord H's walking shoes are more water-proof than mine. New birds spotted: Brent Geese. Hurrah!

Once back at the car, we took a quick trip to Selsey Bill which, bizarrely, also contains the Manhood Peninsula. There's something to think twice about before you Google it indeed. Actually, it was rather thrilling as the sea was so wild that it was coming up over into the actual car park entrance and virtually attacking the cars. I loved it! So much so that I persuaded Lord H to get out with me and we took a short walk along the front to admire the force of the spray (cue a manhood joke here, but really, m'dears, I'll let you do your own), and found a small flock of turnstones. Another new bird - double hurrah!

On the way home, we popped into West Wittering Beach and took the longest walk ever round the salt marshes. It was okay going one way, with the wind behind us, but coming back, we were literally drowned in salt. Lord but we must be mad. Mind you, Lord H thought he might have seen a few sanderlings (final new bird seen today - triple hurrahs!), but my binoculars were frankly so caked with salt by then that they could have been anything. Exfoliation - it's a marvellous thing.

Hell, that's probably my exercise for the week. And we've done our civic duty, you'll be pleased to hear. As we found a parking slot in the road at home, someone opposite reversed into the car parked in front of us and simply drove off. Honestly - what an idjit. He must have seen me gesticulating at him (in a nice way of course!) - so we got his registration number and have put it under the windscreen wiper of the damaged car. Which presumably means that the Godalming mafia will ensure that a horse's head is put on our pillow tonight. Ah well, it'll save making breakfast.

Tonight, I'll be glued to "Strictly Come Dancing" - being the fickle thing that I am, I think that my affections are slowly transferring from Gabby and Letitia to the utterly adorable (and surprisingly hot) Matt. I do hope he stays in. He could well be the next Mark Ramprakash (sp?).

Here is a short section for a Writer's Scream Moment instigated by the fact that a writing acquaintance on the Writewords site is upset as only 9,000 copies of her book have been sold in the first few months. The nice and supportive part of me wants to say well done, anyway, that's great, but my inner bitch (Gawd bless it) can only scream: arrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhh!!! Get real, people!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (cue sound of jealous gnashing teeth and existential rage). Hey ho.

Oh, and Lord H and I were chatting about computers and relationships this week, so here's a haiku for that occasion:

Computers need care.
If ignored, they can sometimes
switch off. Much like wives.

Today's nice things:

1. Seeing three new birds
2. The sea at Selsey Bill - fab!
3. Strictly Come Dancing.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Out-of-control theatre and a writing milestone

A lazy morning today - and goodness me but it's about time we had one of those. They don't come round often enough. As a result, Lord H and I had a fashionably late breakfast, accompanied by the fashionably late (these days) post. I was delighted to see that the latest edition of the Woking Theatre programme had arrived which tells me all the exciting plays I can see next year (I'm a Friend of the theatre, so I always get the programme early).

However, I fear that the Woking play planner (whoever he or she may be) has obviously been at the Pimm's a little too often or may even have been nobbled by a rival theatre company, as everything (everything, dahlings, everything) is a ruddy musical. What is this?? Am I in the twilight zone?? Must I don my glitter and ballgown and launch my top notes every time I want to go out these days? (A scary thought indeed and enough to clear the boards for sure.) But I jest not - here is next year's programme on the main stage:

1. Stomp (theatre, dance, comedy and percussion)
2. South Pacific
3. Aspects of Love
4. Zorro (a new musical by The Gipsy Kings - who???)
5. Disney High School Musical (What? Lord preserve us ...!)
6. The Rat Pack Musical
7. Tommy Steele in Doctor Doolittle (the Musical) - with the rather terrifying strapline of "You've never seen anything like it". No, I'm sure not. And is Tommy Steele still alive anyway??

And coming soon to the same main stage:

1. Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat
2. The Wedding Singer (um, the Musical)
3. Fiddler on the Roof
4. West Side Story.

Ye gods. Does no-one actually do plays any more?? Please God, give us some decent real drama (without music) to go to. In despair, Lord H and I turned to the smaller Rhoda McGaw fringe theatre programme in the hope of some dramatic oasis. Alas, none is apparent. The Rhoda McGaw programme next year consists of:

1. Oliver (performed by the Winston Churchill School)
2. When in Rome (a tongue-in-cheek musical set in the times of peasants and gladiators, beautiful princesses and devious villains - what? All of them??)
3. Oklahoma!
4. The Gondoliers
5. Oliver (again!!! But this time performed by the Karen Clarke Theatre Company, in case you might have missed the Churchill School attempt ...)
6. Young at War (a new musical set in World War 1. Words fail me ...)

They are also staging "Gangshow 2008 - 100 Years of Scouting", but I am too traumatised to mention it. But, yes, it does include music too.

Really, my dears, I am speechless. I fear Surrey is becoming a county of song and trivia, and soon we will all be harmonising our sentences and communicating by a series of notes and trills. I'd better start limbering up then for the new era ... Grab your earplugs now, people.

Anyway, for the rest of the day I have been working away on that sex scene (helped along by a significant slice of Guy's chocolate cake) in The Bones of Summer. Feel quite pleased with it now, and have worked out something dramatic to do at the end of it, which might help the plot along a little - at last! Not sure if it will work, but I'll see how it is when I get there. I've also finally made it to the grand total of 40,000 words, which is roughly where I wanted to be round about now, so that's given me a boost too. Here's hoping I can bash some more sentences out before year end. With or without song.

I've also caught up on my video viewing, managing to get to grips with the latest excitements on "Heroes" (no, no, Simone can't be dead - she can't be! And is it me or is Peter Petrelli seriously sexy when he's angry? Ooh-err, missus ...), "Ugly Betty" (no, no, Henry, you can't go, it's too traumatic ...) and "My Name is Earl" (don't press start on that tennis ball machine, no no ...). All great stuff indeed.

Tonight, Lord H and I are planning to go to see Gyles Brandreth at the Electric Theatre, which is part of the Book Festival programme. Which, as Lord H says, is something of a shame as if I didn't go it would mean I'd have made an entire clean sweep of the Book Festival and not gone to anything at all, aha! Something of a coup for a writer really, Z-list or otherwise.

Today's nice things:

1. Laughing (in a nervous way) at the theatre programmes
2. Writing
3. TV.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Haircuts and humanity

I must say how moved I was last night whilst watching "The Alan Johnston Story" on TV. It was both electrifying and astonishingly thoughtful. He - and those included in the programme - came across as very human and very honest. It strikes me that so much of what we see or read or experience these days seems to work against the fact of our humanity, and it was refreshing to watch a programme that, at the end of the day, entirely celebrated it. I suspect it may be the most godly (if I dare use that word) thing I've come up against for a long time. Here's hoping there are more of the same, and in other creative fields also, soon. And, if you didn't watch it, and it's repeated at some stage, I can thoroughly recommend you try to catch it.

Anyway, to today. This morning, I have been scribbling away doing a sex scene in The Bones of Summer. I think it's one of those where after it everything will change, but I don't know in what way yet. Tis ever thus, dammit. We'll see. In any case, I need to raise the tension a few notches at this stage and set the wheels rolling for the second half of the story. Bloody hell, but it's good to get those cliches out of the way. It's so cleansing.

Lynda the hairdresser arrived twenty minutes before my one o'clock appointment (which is quite late for Lynda) and I now have the perfect hairstyle. At least until I wash it tomorrow. Heck it's nice to see out. Afterwards, I finished off my sex scene - or as near as dammit (always leave your characters in a state of high excitement as that way you'll be keen to carry on where you left off as soon as possible ...), and I'm now at the grand total of 39,000 words with it. The whole thing, not just the sex scene! I'm hoping that I can squeeze out another 1000 words before November rolls in. 40,000 just sounds better.

Popped into Godalming before the shops shut to stock up on essential eucalyptus oil and detox tea. This will hopefully counter the effect of Guy's chocolate cake (thanks, Guy!), another delicious slice of which has been consumed today. The ideal accompaniment to sex scene writing indeed. I can see I'm going to have to rush out soon and buy cheese so I can write a murder. Lord, but sometimes I am so strange I actually frighten myself ... Still, I wait with anticipation the book (which someone must write soon) telling us all about the relationship between writers' plots and their diets. Surely a bestseller in the baking - sorry, making.

Oh, and Juli from Mighty Erudite has sent me a new poetry collection - this one from David Hill - to have a quick look through. So I'm hoping to start tonight, depending on how it goes. Though, as there are so many acres of TV on tonight, it might have to wait till the weekend.

Today's nice things:

1. Thinking about the Johnston programme (not nice, perhaps, but it made me think, and feel, in a positive way ...)
2. Getting a haircut
3. Writing a sex scene.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website