I'm delighted to say that there's now only about one week (give or take) to go before the Pink Champagne and Apple Juice website (http://www.pinkchampagneandapplejuice.com) is launched, courtesy of the wonderful Sue Haywood and her equally wonderful husband, Frank (http://www.teafriendsandchocolate.com/sue/). It's not up there yet in all its glory but, having had access to the offline version, I can tell you it's great fun! You'll be able to read about the author (um, that'll be me then ...), the book (still available from http://www.goldenford.co.uk by the way), the characters and indeed which actors might play them best in a film. And I have to say there are some pretty hot people in there - especially in the Philippe section (ooo-err, missus!). Not to mention the ability to make your own choices, download a chapter or two and mix your own cocktail to accompany your reading matter. All good fun, and I'm extremely grateful to Sue & Frank for dreaming it up. Many thanks, both!
The rest of you can of course tell all three of us what you think when the site goes live next week. The (pink) plot thickens ...
And, due to the site launch preparations, I have been discovering how to send large pictures by FTP. At least, I think that's what I've been doing - one can only hope it worked. And it was fun watching it do its stuff, I have to say. I'll be dragged into 21st century technology yet. Just you wait and see.
The rest of the morning was spent struggling round Sainsbury's, attempting to shop sensibly. Goodness, it seems far more expensive than good old Tesco's. And the woman at the till was distinctly stroppy and kept flinging school vouchers over my head to the lady at the next till, as well as throwing my vegetables in all directions. I am now a dab hand at fielding a courgette. Must be the post-Easter return to work crisis. Which thankfully I won't have to face till next Monday, so you're all more than welcome to hate me till then. Ye gods, I would.
I've also been slogging away - and it's been a real slog today; I don't think my creative juices are functioning fully, if at all - on The Gifting. With little result - I've barely moved Simon on from the bed where he was standing when I left him to the door where he is now. Hell, sometimes it's like that. But it's not pleasant. If I can get the poor bloke out into the fresh air by tomorrow, I think I'll be lucky.
Oh, and talking of my menfolk not moving on in their lives, I've sent Maloney's Law out to yet another small publisher yesterday, in the rapidly decreasing hope that someone out there might be interested in Paul. Poor old chap - he's my most feted character in terms of the awards he's won or been placed in, and still no-one will give him the time of day. Which is something of an irony as he is himself a time obsessive and will probably be able to tell you the exact number of minutes between me finishing him in ... um ... 2005 and where we are now. And will no doubt have a double shot of good whisky while doing it. He's just that kind of a guy. Vulnerable, but cute. Just the way I like my literary men. Sigh. Oh and, Erastes (http://www.myspace.com/erastesdotcom), if you're reading, Paul's sex scenes may not be as frequent as Michael's, but they are more graphic! Well, he's more direct about himself, so I thought he'd earned it, tee hee.
Tonight, I'm planning to scrawl some more pen over the page in Simon's story - if only to see if I can actually form any words at all - and then everything stops for the last episode of Life on Mars on TV. Oh Lord, but I'm longing to see it and dreading it at the same time. Without it, my Tuesday nights will be empty and meaningless, for sure. I just can't believe that they're not doing any more, but I do admire the ability to stop something when the ending is right. Ah the joy, the pain of being a crime TV addict ...
Today's nice things:
1. Looking through the Pink Champagne website
2. The struggle with The Gifting - somehow!
3. TV.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
ANNE BROOKE BOOKS: Independent writer of modern fiction
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Monday, April 09, 2007
A review, a lot of laziness and some scribbling
Hell, that's what Bank Holidays are for, surely? I've been soooo lazy today that I haven't even been out of the flat, and I've spent a glorious two hours this afternoon napping on the sofa. Bliss. I am well up there for the shortlistings for the Lydia Languish Lethargy Awards. If they make it an Olympic sport, I'm going for Gold.
I've also been much cheered by a very kind and also very balanced review from Erastes (http://www.myspace.com/erastesdotcom), the author of the marvellous Standish (available from http://www.amazon.co.uk) and Director of the Erotic Authors Association (http://www.eroticauthorsassociation.com) about A Dangerous Man (http://www.flamebooks.com), which I reproduce below (as for some reason I can't persuade it to upload to my website at the moment, sigh!):
“It's taken me a day or two to mull over this book, because I wanted to think about how it made me feel. It's unlike anything I've read before, because mainly I've read gay historical stories, other than short stories – and contemporary is kind of beyond my ken. I don't know how the modern gay man in London feels or what the scene is. (Ok I don't know that for 1800 either but then neither does anyone else so that's ok). I enjoyed it. Let me say that at the first. It's well written by someone who obviously knows how to write, who knows how to use the language to describe place with what seems an effortless grace so you always have a sense of your surroundings, whether it be a seedy bar in Hackney, or a graceful house in Islington. You can smell the leather, feel the heavy crystal, feel the grit under your shoes. Michael (don't call me Mikey) is an artist, struggling to make ends meet, and is not averse to a little part-time prostitution to help those ends meet. He lives with Joe and Paul, Joe owns a gallery but won't hang his paintings – Paul knocks money off the rent for a little sexual action. Then one day Michael gets the chance of a commission in a City firm and falls head over heels in love with Jack, his potential new patron. And this is where it all kicks off. The plot moves swiftly on from this point, never leaving the reader bored. It's a first person novel, but although Michael does spend a lot of time in introspection it’s rarely repetitive, not over angsty, and gradually as the book moves on and Michael is "forced" from one position to another, you slowly get the feel that all is not quite well with Michael and the title becomes clear. The choice of first person for this book is very clever, because you don't really get into Michael's head at all- and that's because he doesn't even allow himself in there. Characterisation: Each character is well done, and it's interesting from my point of view that the one character that we don't actually get a full picture of is Paul, but that's probably because Michael has no interest in describing him more fully for us. I particularly liked Jack's family because Jack's mother reminded me very forcibly of my own, with her motherly concern. I also liked the landlord of the pub that Michael pulls tricks in. I was a little annoyed at Michael's inability to work – he's a bit of a sponger – and immediately turns tricks when he needs £500 when it's not explained why he couldn't just get a job. Artistic temperament, I suppose. But he's not meant – or that's how I read it – to be an attractive character. He's an opportunist and he knows what he wants and that's how he gets to be where he is by the end – by reacting to external stimuli and not thinking first. The artistic pieces were particularly well done; Anne Brooke thanks a friend for help with these and I would never have known that Anne wasn't an artist herself, she seems to get right under Michael's skin when he draws – if we can't understand the feeling ourselves, she describes it so well that we feel what he's feeling as he does it. I loved the section when Michael was explaining (to Jack's father) how he draws, and it's totally unintelligible to everyone except Michael. I could just see their blank faces, but to Michael it makes perfect sense. This book could easily have gone the typical romance route, and that's actually what I was expecting, it even lulled me into a false sense of security at one point. But it's not, so don't go looking for happy ever afters. The ending is raw and bleak and wonderful, and I can't say any more really without spoiling it, but there's a lot of room for reader conjecture as to what actually happens – or at least that's how I read it. I ended up, as I'm sure I was supposed to, feeling desperately sorry for Michael, when he'd annoyed me so much throughout. On a personal note, for a contemporary gay story, I would have liked the sex scenes to be more explicit. It was a very grown-up story, and the sex scenes were handled with a fade out or "We made love and it was very good", perhaps not in every scene, as Michael does do it a lot, but I'd have liked some of the (no pun intended) seminal scenes to be more graphically described, particularly as the sexual aspect of Michael's nature is so important to the book. But that's just me and my dirty mind. But all in all a good book. If you are looking for a predictable tale of love, then this isn't for you, but if you like a book that gets under your skin and makes you think long after you've closed the last page, like it has for me, then try “A Dangerous Man”. I'll certainly be looking out for more of Ms Brooke's work.”
Thanks, Erastes! Much appreciated. But I must admit I'm not even going to try for more sex content in my next one - I simply don't have the skills to be an erotic author, I'm afraid. Must be something to do with living in Surrey ...
So, fired up with enthusiasm, I've made a start on Simon's big story-telling scene in The Gifting - not much done, but at least it's a beginning. And, hey, it's a bank holiday so I'm not pushing it. That's tomorrow's job. And I've also done some sudokus and the odd crossword, so my brain is now too tired for anything more.
Tonight, it's sausages, chips 'n' beans, plus beer and ice cream. Oh and we've had chocolate too - so this is the ultimate anti-health zone right now. Though I did do some exercise this morning, plus stare at my Brite Light, so I am keeping flab and depression at bay. Sort of. And later it's a new series of "New Tricks" on tv, so that'll be bliss. Must remember to video the programme on Jackie magazine on the other side though - heck, everything I learnt about life I learnt from that magazine! If only I'd kept all my copies, I'd be worth a fortune now ...
Today's nice things:
1. Erastes' review
2. Writing more of The Gifting
3. TV.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
I've also been much cheered by a very kind and also very balanced review from Erastes (http://www.myspace.com/erastesdotcom), the author of the marvellous Standish (available from http://www.amazon.co.uk) and Director of the Erotic Authors Association (http://www.eroticauthorsassociation.com) about A Dangerous Man (http://www.flamebooks.com), which I reproduce below (as for some reason I can't persuade it to upload to my website at the moment, sigh!):
“It's taken me a day or two to mull over this book, because I wanted to think about how it made me feel. It's unlike anything I've read before, because mainly I've read gay historical stories, other than short stories – and contemporary is kind of beyond my ken. I don't know how the modern gay man in London feels or what the scene is. (Ok I don't know that for 1800 either but then neither does anyone else so that's ok). I enjoyed it. Let me say that at the first. It's well written by someone who obviously knows how to write, who knows how to use the language to describe place with what seems an effortless grace so you always have a sense of your surroundings, whether it be a seedy bar in Hackney, or a graceful house in Islington. You can smell the leather, feel the heavy crystal, feel the grit under your shoes. Michael (don't call me Mikey) is an artist, struggling to make ends meet, and is not averse to a little part-time prostitution to help those ends meet. He lives with Joe and Paul, Joe owns a gallery but won't hang his paintings – Paul knocks money off the rent for a little sexual action. Then one day Michael gets the chance of a commission in a City firm and falls head over heels in love with Jack, his potential new patron. And this is where it all kicks off. The plot moves swiftly on from this point, never leaving the reader bored. It's a first person novel, but although Michael does spend a lot of time in introspection it’s rarely repetitive, not over angsty, and gradually as the book moves on and Michael is "forced" from one position to another, you slowly get the feel that all is not quite well with Michael and the title becomes clear. The choice of first person for this book is very clever, because you don't really get into Michael's head at all- and that's because he doesn't even allow himself in there. Characterisation: Each character is well done, and it's interesting from my point of view that the one character that we don't actually get a full picture of is Paul, but that's probably because Michael has no interest in describing him more fully for us. I particularly liked Jack's family because Jack's mother reminded me very forcibly of my own, with her motherly concern. I also liked the landlord of the pub that Michael pulls tricks in. I was a little annoyed at Michael's inability to work – he's a bit of a sponger – and immediately turns tricks when he needs £500 when it's not explained why he couldn't just get a job. Artistic temperament, I suppose. But he's not meant – or that's how I read it – to be an attractive character. He's an opportunist and he knows what he wants and that's how he gets to be where he is by the end – by reacting to external stimuli and not thinking first. The artistic pieces were particularly well done; Anne Brooke thanks a friend for help with these and I would never have known that Anne wasn't an artist herself, she seems to get right under Michael's skin when he draws – if we can't understand the feeling ourselves, she describes it so well that we feel what he's feeling as he does it. I loved the section when Michael was explaining (to Jack's father) how he draws, and it's totally unintelligible to everyone except Michael. I could just see their blank faces, but to Michael it makes perfect sense. This book could easily have gone the typical romance route, and that's actually what I was expecting, it even lulled me into a false sense of security at one point. But it's not, so don't go looking for happy ever afters. The ending is raw and bleak and wonderful, and I can't say any more really without spoiling it, but there's a lot of room for reader conjecture as to what actually happens – or at least that's how I read it. I ended up, as I'm sure I was supposed to, feeling desperately sorry for Michael, when he'd annoyed me so much throughout. On a personal note, for a contemporary gay story, I would have liked the sex scenes to be more explicit. It was a very grown-up story, and the sex scenes were handled with a fade out or "We made love and it was very good", perhaps not in every scene, as Michael does do it a lot, but I'd have liked some of the (no pun intended) seminal scenes to be more graphically described, particularly as the sexual aspect of Michael's nature is so important to the book. But that's just me and my dirty mind. But all in all a good book. If you are looking for a predictable tale of love, then this isn't for you, but if you like a book that gets under your skin and makes you think long after you've closed the last page, like it has for me, then try “A Dangerous Man”. I'll certainly be looking out for more of Ms Brooke's work.”
Thanks, Erastes! Much appreciated. But I must admit I'm not even going to try for more sex content in my next one - I simply don't have the skills to be an erotic author, I'm afraid. Must be something to do with living in Surrey ...
So, fired up with enthusiasm, I've made a start on Simon's big story-telling scene in The Gifting - not much done, but at least it's a beginning. And, hey, it's a bank holiday so I'm not pushing it. That's tomorrow's job. And I've also done some sudokus and the odd crossword, so my brain is now too tired for anything more.
Tonight, it's sausages, chips 'n' beans, plus beer and ice cream. Oh and we've had chocolate too - so this is the ultimate anti-health zone right now. Though I did do some exercise this morning, plus stare at my Brite Light, so I am keeping flab and depression at bay. Sort of. And later it's a new series of "New Tricks" on tv, so that'll be bliss. Must remember to video the programme on Jackie magazine on the other side though - heck, everything I learnt about life I learnt from that magazine! If only I'd kept all my copies, I'd be worth a fortune now ...
Today's nice things:
1. Erastes' review
2. Writing more of The Gifting
3. TV.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Saved by the National Trust
Ye gods, but going to church on Easter Sunday was a bloody mistake. I knew the moment I walked in to be faced by countless hordes of people that I really should have stayed at home and - if my mood felt good and the wind was in the right direction - had a few private moments with God. Instead, I had to run the gauntlet of the service whilst wishing I was as many miles away as possible. God only knows why I felt like that - and please don't ask me to explain it as I don't think I can - but I do.
Maybe the basic fact is I'm not sure I really like - or can trust - any of the people there right now (apart from Lord H of course), and if I can't relate to the church people around me, then it's a zillion times harder under those circumstances to relate to God. Add to that the fact that the service was taken by our old vicar - a fly-by-night non-people person if ever I saw one - and you can imagine the scenario. I think that if the new vicar - Paul - had taken the service then I might even have made it to communion. As it was, I stayed put in the pew as if glued to the ruddy seat - and Lord H stayed with me, which he didn't have to do as I would have been fine if he'd gone up to communion and I hadn't, but his notions of marital loyalty were running high. Which in a way was nice, so far be it from me to complain - except that now I'm convinced that the church believes I'm leading my husband down the primrose path to paganism and sin. (Lord H's response to this: oh goody, when does that start?).
Also, I'm not sure, but does not taking communion at Easter mean I am flung from the church without hope of reprieve? No idea really - and I can't say that right now I'm bothered either way. However, I suspect that I won't be darkening the doors of St Peter's for quite a while now. Make of that what you will. Meanwhile, the call of the Quakers becomes ever more enticing ...
After making good our escape from the arms of the Lord (complete with 2 chocolate eggs for Lord H and me - hell, we bloody well deserve it! - and I ate four more mini ones while I was there), we nipped home for a quick turn-round before heading off to visit the newly-opened National Trust property of Hinton Ampner - in Hampshire.
It was bliss. Bloody hell, but walking round that house, gardens and shop was the most peaceful I've felt for a long time. The weather was perfect, and there weren't many people around. Also the stewards didn't leap up and confront us (National Trust stewards are, unfortunately, rather prone to that kind of behaviour), so we could wander round, stare at stuff and just take the whole thing in. Only the ground floor is open, but it's a marvellously soothing mix of beauty and lived-inness (is that even a word? Hell, you know what I mean). And the gardens were lovely - beautiful views over Hampshire, and the occasional waft of scent. Plus a rather fetching yellow butterfly that followed us around, and a small bird that looked like a linnet, but probably wasn't. And I bought two chocolate mice in the shop (the reliable provision of chocolate mice is one of the NT's many strengths indeed), and a new fluffy pen to add to my work collection. Though, to be honest, it was more curly than fluffy. And vibrantly orange too. Hurrah!
Then home for a late lunch, and an evening watching DVDs, I hope - as there's nothing on TV really, though we might watch some of the golf. And we've also managed to get the cleaning done, and check the car tyres, water etc, as well as make a shopping list, so I am brimming with domestic nobility.
This week, I've done two haikus, as they were both nagging at me, so here they are:
The first for Simon and my attempts to finish The Gifting:
The end of the novel:
Last two scenes to go:
my pen drags over the page,
trailing blood and hope.
And, in response to the very hairy emu at Birdworld yesterday ...
The emu stalks me,
splayed claws poised for the attack:
a thatched roof on legs.
Today's nice things:
1. Hinton Ampner
2. Chocolate mice
3. Lord H.
Happy Easter to all.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Maybe the basic fact is I'm not sure I really like - or can trust - any of the people there right now (apart from Lord H of course), and if I can't relate to the church people around me, then it's a zillion times harder under those circumstances to relate to God. Add to that the fact that the service was taken by our old vicar - a fly-by-night non-people person if ever I saw one - and you can imagine the scenario. I think that if the new vicar - Paul - had taken the service then I might even have made it to communion. As it was, I stayed put in the pew as if glued to the ruddy seat - and Lord H stayed with me, which he didn't have to do as I would have been fine if he'd gone up to communion and I hadn't, but his notions of marital loyalty were running high. Which in a way was nice, so far be it from me to complain - except that now I'm convinced that the church believes I'm leading my husband down the primrose path to paganism and sin. (Lord H's response to this: oh goody, when does that start?).
Also, I'm not sure, but does not taking communion at Easter mean I am flung from the church without hope of reprieve? No idea really - and I can't say that right now I'm bothered either way. However, I suspect that I won't be darkening the doors of St Peter's for quite a while now. Make of that what you will. Meanwhile, the call of the Quakers becomes ever more enticing ...
After making good our escape from the arms of the Lord (complete with 2 chocolate eggs for Lord H and me - hell, we bloody well deserve it! - and I ate four more mini ones while I was there), we nipped home for a quick turn-round before heading off to visit the newly-opened National Trust property of Hinton Ampner - in Hampshire.
It was bliss. Bloody hell, but walking round that house, gardens and shop was the most peaceful I've felt for a long time. The weather was perfect, and there weren't many people around. Also the stewards didn't leap up and confront us (National Trust stewards are, unfortunately, rather prone to that kind of behaviour), so we could wander round, stare at stuff and just take the whole thing in. Only the ground floor is open, but it's a marvellously soothing mix of beauty and lived-inness (is that even a word? Hell, you know what I mean). And the gardens were lovely - beautiful views over Hampshire, and the occasional waft of scent. Plus a rather fetching yellow butterfly that followed us around, and a small bird that looked like a linnet, but probably wasn't. And I bought two chocolate mice in the shop (the reliable provision of chocolate mice is one of the NT's many strengths indeed), and a new fluffy pen to add to my work collection. Though, to be honest, it was more curly than fluffy. And vibrantly orange too. Hurrah!
Then home for a late lunch, and an evening watching DVDs, I hope - as there's nothing on TV really, though we might watch some of the golf. And we've also managed to get the cleaning done, and check the car tyres, water etc, as well as make a shopping list, so I am brimming with domestic nobility.
This week, I've done two haikus, as they were both nagging at me, so here they are:
The first for Simon and my attempts to finish The Gifting:
The end of the novel:
Last two scenes to go:
my pen drags over the page,
trailing blood and hope.
And, in response to the very hairy emu at Birdworld yesterday ...
The emu stalks me,
splayed claws poised for the attack:
a thatched roof on legs.
Today's nice things:
1. Hinton Ampner
2. Chocolate mice
3. Lord H.
Happy Easter to all.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Birds and antiques
Not feeling very well today, I have to say. Seems to be the same, strange sub-flu-ey thing I had a month or so ago. Aches, a deep weariness and something that's not quite a full-blown cold, which comes in waves. Still, at least it's familiar. Or maybe it's the onset of the menopause, and I should expect sweaty nights and long periods of fancying younger men (cue Lord H's cry: how will I tell the difference then?...)? The plot thickens.
Anyway, due to the above we decided to skip going to Blenheim Palace today (which had been our original Easter Saturday plan) - which actually we really have to go to sometime as the last time we were there over thirteen years ago was the last day of our honeymoon and we weren't speaking, which made for an interesting tour. And no, neither of us can remember what the hell that was about - can you ever?!? So, instead, we popped into Birdworld near Farnham and admired pink one-legged flamingoes, hairy emus (which looked like thatched roofs on legs), cute new-born ducks and chicks, and fluffy rabbits. So our Easter duties are thereby fulfilled.
We then decided to pay a brief visit to a local antiques place to continue our five-year hunt for a pair of bedside cabinets (result: failure once more, but we're so used to that by now that if we ever do find something we both like, we won't know what to do about it ...) and have lunch. Which also failed due to the gifted ability of the waitress to completely ignore us, though she did keep apologising for her slowness. After about fifteen minutes of this, we gave up and went home for soup. And Lord H also made an impromptu banana split, so that cheered us both up.
I then spent the rest of the afternoon collapsed in a heap on the sofa (well, dahlings, birds and not getting lunch is soooo exhausting ...), only just surfacing in time for pizza, pink fizz and Dr Who. Which was marvellous - lots of fun with Shakespeare and would-be witches. Bliss.
Tonight, I might watch some of the golf, but I'm planning an early night laced with as much Lemsip as I can carry. And I have absolutely no energy for any writing. Simon, I think, will need more of my guts than I can currently offer for his remaining scenes. Still, he's used to waiting by now.
Today's nice things:
1. Baby birds at Birdworld
2. Napping
3. Dr Who.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Anyway, due to the above we decided to skip going to Blenheim Palace today (which had been our original Easter Saturday plan) - which actually we really have to go to sometime as the last time we were there over thirteen years ago was the last day of our honeymoon and we weren't speaking, which made for an interesting tour. And no, neither of us can remember what the hell that was about - can you ever?!? So, instead, we popped into Birdworld near Farnham and admired pink one-legged flamingoes, hairy emus (which looked like thatched roofs on legs), cute new-born ducks and chicks, and fluffy rabbits. So our Easter duties are thereby fulfilled.
We then decided to pay a brief visit to a local antiques place to continue our five-year hunt for a pair of bedside cabinets (result: failure once more, but we're so used to that by now that if we ever do find something we both like, we won't know what to do about it ...) and have lunch. Which also failed due to the gifted ability of the waitress to completely ignore us, though she did keep apologising for her slowness. After about fifteen minutes of this, we gave up and went home for soup. And Lord H also made an impromptu banana split, so that cheered us both up.
I then spent the rest of the afternoon collapsed in a heap on the sofa (well, dahlings, birds and not getting lunch is soooo exhausting ...), only just surfacing in time for pizza, pink fizz and Dr Who. Which was marvellous - lots of fun with Shakespeare and would-be witches. Bliss.
Tonight, I might watch some of the golf, but I'm planning an early night laced with as much Lemsip as I can carry. And I have absolutely no energy for any writing. Simon, I think, will need more of my guts than I can currently offer for his remaining scenes. Still, he's used to waiting by now.
Today's nice things:
1. Baby birds at Birdworld
2. Napping
3. Dr Who.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Friday, April 06, 2007
Day with Mother, and murderous locals
Argghhh!! Oh, sorry, that just slipped out. Apologies ... But, hey, I've done my Easter mother visit, so I can be Good Daughter for a while. It wasn't so bad actually, bearing in mind that she seemed unable to stop talking even when I was virtually asleep on the sofa and she was promising to be quiet for five minutes. Which gave Lord H the giggles, I must say. Still, I suppose my stepfather is not big on conversation, so I imagine Mother probably has to get all the words out at once. Worryingly, however, Lord H and Mother did seem to be wearing virtually the same colour cords, so I am now concerned that I have actually ended up marrying my mother after all (arrggghhh!!) and in a few years' time, Lord H is going to shrink down to about 4' nothing from his current 6'2". You heard it here first ...
Mother is also still worrying about why I am not yet famous or why none of my books can be found in the normal shops - one would have thought she'd be used to this by now. I fear the days of her being interviewed as the mother of a well-known author will never arrive, which is a shame as she would have been so excited by the thought of a Woman's Hour slot. Ah well.
On the more positive family side, at least she is being distracted by thoughts of my elder nephew's attempts to get to University and whether the Student Loan Company can be persuaded to give him money to do it or whether she needs to sell the family silver (if we had any ...) to finance his no doubt up-and-coming student drug habit. We also discussed whether my cousin's wife's sudden desire to go to Gateshead (oop North for the uninitiated) to study fiddle and folksong for two years is (a) a perfectly sensible means to self-expression, or (b) a cry for help and a sign that all is not well in the family of my aunt. If (b), this would be an aha! moment for my mother, who suffers from having children who can't stand each other, don't talk and are two-thirds divorced (ie I'm the only one of the three who isn't - so far!), whereas up to now my cousins have all been irritatingly perfect, horrendously loving and basically a red-headed version of the Stepford Wives. Never say there is no competition in this family ...
But the best news of my mother visit is that she's rediscovered all my old teenage LPs and I've now brought them home with me - so I have my 70s/80s delights of Chris de Burgh, the Tom Robinson Band, the Carpenters, Abba, Steve Forbert and Meatloaf etc etc clutched in my hot little fingers. My what catholic tastes I had indeed. All I need now is a bloody record player and I'm laughing (though Lord H might well not be ...).
Oh, and we do have some Easter excitement in the Godalming world - after many, many years of having absolutely no news whatsoever in a ten mile radius (best local paper headline in 13 years: "Body found in grave" ...), we now have (a) the murder of a 6 year old boy in the next village (Farncombe), apparently by his father who was then arrested two hours later in north Wales. Which, as Lord H said, begs the question: how the bloody hell did he get to north Wales from Godalming in two hours? What was he doing - riding Black Bess??, and (b) a local psychiatric nurse who has taken to sleeping with patients in tents. Dear me, I didn't realise you could even get that on the National Health these days. I always thought you had to go private for that kind of treatment. I'm obviously going to the wrong doctors.
Anyway, all this murderous/naughty activity definitely stands up to Mother's best local trauma, when a body was found in the local pond and ended up being a drugs murder. Honestly, all those years in rural Essex when I was young and I never even caught a sniff of any drugs. Now they're all at it in between ploughing matches and straw-sucking ... Lucky devils.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I've done another poem, inspired by the RA exhibition:
Charles-Alexandre de Calonne by Elisabeth-Louise Vigée-Lebrun
It’s not the rich crimson damask
of the curtain,
echoed as it is
in the fabric of the chair he chose.
Neither is it the black satin gleam
of his suit,
salted a little at the collar
by the softness of his powdered wig.
Nor is it, I think,
the accoutrements of royal favour
at the table:
the elegant quills; the golden pots;
the letter to the king.
No. It’s something about the glow
of the man’s face,
his relaxed and open posture,
which speaks to me
of gentleness and warmth.
And I sense,
Elisabeth-Louise,
that you might have liked him also,
enjoyed his company for a while
in the painting of him,
allowing your artist’s brushstrokes
to speak to me now,
so many centuries on,
of friendship
and all its surprises.
Today's nice things:
1. Local criminal excitement
2. The not-so-perfect cousins
3. My old records.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Mother is also still worrying about why I am not yet famous or why none of my books can be found in the normal shops - one would have thought she'd be used to this by now. I fear the days of her being interviewed as the mother of a well-known author will never arrive, which is a shame as she would have been so excited by the thought of a Woman's Hour slot. Ah well.
On the more positive family side, at least she is being distracted by thoughts of my elder nephew's attempts to get to University and whether the Student Loan Company can be persuaded to give him money to do it or whether she needs to sell the family silver (if we had any ...) to finance his no doubt up-and-coming student drug habit. We also discussed whether my cousin's wife's sudden desire to go to Gateshead (oop North for the uninitiated) to study fiddle and folksong for two years is (a) a perfectly sensible means to self-expression, or (b) a cry for help and a sign that all is not well in the family of my aunt. If (b), this would be an aha! moment for my mother, who suffers from having children who can't stand each other, don't talk and are two-thirds divorced (ie I'm the only one of the three who isn't - so far!), whereas up to now my cousins have all been irritatingly perfect, horrendously loving and basically a red-headed version of the Stepford Wives. Never say there is no competition in this family ...
But the best news of my mother visit is that she's rediscovered all my old teenage LPs and I've now brought them home with me - so I have my 70s/80s delights of Chris de Burgh, the Tom Robinson Band, the Carpenters, Abba, Steve Forbert and Meatloaf etc etc clutched in my hot little fingers. My what catholic tastes I had indeed. All I need now is a bloody record player and I'm laughing (though Lord H might well not be ...).
Oh, and we do have some Easter excitement in the Godalming world - after many, many years of having absolutely no news whatsoever in a ten mile radius (best local paper headline in 13 years: "Body found in grave" ...), we now have (a) the murder of a 6 year old boy in the next village (Farncombe), apparently by his father who was then arrested two hours later in north Wales. Which, as Lord H said, begs the question: how the bloody hell did he get to north Wales from Godalming in two hours? What was he doing - riding Black Bess??, and (b) a local psychiatric nurse who has taken to sleeping with patients in tents. Dear me, I didn't realise you could even get that on the National Health these days. I always thought you had to go private for that kind of treatment. I'm obviously going to the wrong doctors.
Anyway, all this murderous/naughty activity definitely stands up to Mother's best local trauma, when a body was found in the local pond and ended up being a drugs murder. Honestly, all those years in rural Essex when I was young and I never even caught a sniff of any drugs. Now they're all at it in between ploughing matches and straw-sucking ... Lucky devils.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I've done another poem, inspired by the RA exhibition:
Charles-Alexandre de Calonne by Elisabeth-Louise Vigée-Lebrun
It’s not the rich crimson damask
of the curtain,
echoed as it is
in the fabric of the chair he chose.
Neither is it the black satin gleam
of his suit,
salted a little at the collar
by the softness of his powdered wig.
Nor is it, I think,
the accoutrements of royal favour
at the table:
the elegant quills; the golden pots;
the letter to the king.
No. It’s something about the glow
of the man’s face,
his relaxed and open posture,
which speaks to me
of gentleness and warmth.
And I sense,
Elisabeth-Louise,
that you might have liked him also,
enjoyed his company for a while
in the painting of him,
allowing your artist’s brushstrokes
to speak to me now,
so many centuries on,
of friendship
and all its surprises.
Today's nice things:
1. Local criminal excitement
2. The not-so-perfect cousins
3. My old records.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Michael reaches the Amazon ...
Rather cold-ridden today, I'm afraid, so have been lolling on the sofa with smelling salts pressed to my nose and a wet flannel clutched to my forehead. How charming. I like to think I'm a modern-day Lydia Languish, but fear the true image is more prosaic than that. Ah well. Never put your daughter on the stage.
I was going to do lots of writing, and leap into Godalming to stock up on essential oils and the Surrey Advertiser, not to mention visiting Gladys, but I have done none of the above. Well, I have done some writing, though as the stuff I put into The Gifting balanced more or less with the stuff I took out, the wordcount remains similar, alas. Ha! I've always wanted to use "alas" in a sentence and now I have. Hurrah. That said, I now have Simon almost at the end of his water experiences, which means I only have two big scenes to go and then the first draft is done. Ye gods indeed. The penultimate scene is his final story-telling one, which will be - I hope - the key to everything. I'm not starting it today though. I need a fresh morning for that. And a less snotty nose. But I might well do another poem on art - there's one lurking somewhere in the ether so I'll have to see whether I can entice it out. It'll be something to do while Lord H is at the Maundy Thursday service tonight doing his server duties and keeping the priest in order.
Which brings me to Michael (somehow!) who has finally made it into the clutches of Amazon and can be found here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dangerous-Man-Anne-Brooke/dp/0954594568/ref=sr_1_4/202-0915331-5590251?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1175785414&sr=8-4
No cover picture yet, though I have queried this with Flame (http://www.flamebooks.com), and no ratings of course, but at least he's there. So if anyone out there has read A Dangerous Man and feels able to put a few comments up on Amazon at anytime, please feel free to do so! I'd be very grateful (as long as you're not too rude!...). Talking of which, the lovely Erastes (http://www.myspace.com/erastesdotcom) has just started reading ADM and has already reached the one night stand scene. Ah, but it becomes so much more ... and glad you're enjoying it, Erastes!
Tonight, I've cancelled my counselling session with Kunu (it was moved from this morning), but I'm glad not to be going anywhere, to be honest. Instead, I'll be watching my video of "Life on Mars" from Tuesday, and working my way through my secret store of Lucozade bottles. Oh, and there's chocolate in the house ... chocolate, hmm ...
Today's nice things:
1. Michael being on Amazon
2. Life on Mars
3. Getting Simon to the start of his two ending scenes.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
I was going to do lots of writing, and leap into Godalming to stock up on essential oils and the Surrey Advertiser, not to mention visiting Gladys, but I have done none of the above. Well, I have done some writing, though as the stuff I put into The Gifting balanced more or less with the stuff I took out, the wordcount remains similar, alas. Ha! I've always wanted to use "alas" in a sentence and now I have. Hurrah. That said, I now have Simon almost at the end of his water experiences, which means I only have two big scenes to go and then the first draft is done. Ye gods indeed. The penultimate scene is his final story-telling one, which will be - I hope - the key to everything. I'm not starting it today though. I need a fresh morning for that. And a less snotty nose. But I might well do another poem on art - there's one lurking somewhere in the ether so I'll have to see whether I can entice it out. It'll be something to do while Lord H is at the Maundy Thursday service tonight doing his server duties and keeping the priest in order.
Which brings me to Michael (somehow!) who has finally made it into the clutches of Amazon and can be found here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dangerous-Man-Anne-Brooke/dp/0954594568/ref=sr_1_4/202-0915331-5590251?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1175785414&sr=8-4
No cover picture yet, though I have queried this with Flame (http://www.flamebooks.com), and no ratings of course, but at least he's there. So if anyone out there has read A Dangerous Man and feels able to put a few comments up on Amazon at anytime, please feel free to do so! I'd be very grateful (as long as you're not too rude!...). Talking of which, the lovely Erastes (http://www.myspace.com/erastesdotcom) has just started reading ADM and has already reached the one night stand scene. Ah, but it becomes so much more ... and glad you're enjoying it, Erastes!
Tonight, I've cancelled my counselling session with Kunu (it was moved from this morning), but I'm glad not to be going anywhere, to be honest. Instead, I'll be watching my video of "Life on Mars" from Tuesday, and working my way through my secret store of Lucozade bottles. Oh, and there's chocolate in the house ... chocolate, hmm ...
Today's nice things:
1. Michael being on Amazon
2. Life on Mars
3. Getting Simon to the start of his two ending scenes.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
The squeezed-out conference attender
Well, I'm back from the AUA (http://www.aua.ac.uk) conference up in Nottingham and feel like a squeezed-out sponge. It was well worth going, but these things are always very intensive and it's great to be back.
This isn't going to be a huge blog, I'm afraid (thank God, you all cry!), as I can barely keep my eyes open, and I still have to (a) wash up Lord H's sausage & chips supper (yummy) and (b) unpack. Not to mention the mountain of post to deal with - oh well, there's always tomorrow.
Highlights of the conference: getting an Easter egg as a goodie bag in the second seminar; actually bringing it home unwrapped for Lord H to share with me; having chocolate cheesecake for dinner on the first evening; seeing lambs in the fields next to the M1. Lambs with black legs and white bodies, no less. Ye gods, it must be Easter.
Oh, and a couple of times during the conference I think I almost sounded like a professional. But not for long, I fear.
And I've come back to a lovely review of "A Stranger's Table" (http://www.poetrymonthly.com) by Anna Avebury of the Ver Poets Society, as below:
“In this collection, the poet reveals a striking awareness of the power of poetry to enact a ‘strange sea-change’ on the ‘heated substance’ of the reader. The majority of poems are celebrations of the life of the imagination and the senses, skilfully crafted, timely reminders of an aspect of life all too often neglected. A veritable “Ice Dancer” herself, Anne Brooke communicates ‘the danger, the explosion/of words/into ice’. She explores the inner world of personal relationships with an acute awareness of its complexity and is able to share these insights in poems, which are richly sensuous. Nor does she neglect the mundane: “Calling” describes a fridge door crammed with telephone numbers and messages; although she finds the ‘net of community’ ‘unforgiving’ and ‘beyond our calling.’ “Things I fold away” lists not only the obvious ‘briefs, bras, (into nests) … socks, jumpers …’ but also ‘my history, silences … your disapproval … resentment, irritations …’ And ultimately, ‘life’. The last poem in the collection, “The cat’s response to yellow”, captures the elusive nature of inspiration and its transformation into art, leaving the reader pondering the experience of ‘the echo of yellow air.’”
That's kept the smile well and truly on my face.
Oh, and before I left, I finished the poem on Marat:
The Death of Marat: The Studio of Jacques-Louis David
One pale arm hangs down,
gripping a quill
with which he might have written mercy,
while the other holds the letter
that condemned him,
making the unseen woman
a murderess
and him a martyr.
High upon his body,
almost at the collarbone,
a thin trail of blood
trickles down over white skin
to the bath he ran to soothe it.
His head, wrapped in cream cloth,
rests on the nearest shoulder,
eyes closed in peace,
lips half-smiling
as if only asleep
or dreaming.
In line with the tilt of his face,
the woman’s knife lies
abandoned,
his life’s blood still staining
its ivory handle.
And, above,
only the vast, uncharted dark
hangs waiting.
Today's nice things:
1. Coming home
2. The review
3. Lambs.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
This isn't going to be a huge blog, I'm afraid (thank God, you all cry!), as I can barely keep my eyes open, and I still have to (a) wash up Lord H's sausage & chips supper (yummy) and (b) unpack. Not to mention the mountain of post to deal with - oh well, there's always tomorrow.
Highlights of the conference: getting an Easter egg as a goodie bag in the second seminar; actually bringing it home unwrapped for Lord H to share with me; having chocolate cheesecake for dinner on the first evening; seeing lambs in the fields next to the M1. Lambs with black legs and white bodies, no less. Ye gods, it must be Easter.
Oh, and a couple of times during the conference I think I almost sounded like a professional. But not for long, I fear.
And I've come back to a lovely review of "A Stranger's Table" (http://www.poetrymonthly.com) by Anna Avebury of the Ver Poets Society, as below:
“In this collection, the poet reveals a striking awareness of the power of poetry to enact a ‘strange sea-change’ on the ‘heated substance’ of the reader. The majority of poems are celebrations of the life of the imagination and the senses, skilfully crafted, timely reminders of an aspect of life all too often neglected. A veritable “Ice Dancer” herself, Anne Brooke communicates ‘the danger, the explosion/of words/into ice’. She explores the inner world of personal relationships with an acute awareness of its complexity and is able to share these insights in poems, which are richly sensuous. Nor does she neglect the mundane: “Calling” describes a fridge door crammed with telephone numbers and messages; although she finds the ‘net of community’ ‘unforgiving’ and ‘beyond our calling.’ “Things I fold away” lists not only the obvious ‘briefs, bras, (into nests) … socks, jumpers …’ but also ‘my history, silences … your disapproval … resentment, irritations …’ And ultimately, ‘life’. The last poem in the collection, “The cat’s response to yellow”, captures the elusive nature of inspiration and its transformation into art, leaving the reader pondering the experience of ‘the echo of yellow air.’”
That's kept the smile well and truly on my face.
Oh, and before I left, I finished the poem on Marat:
The Death of Marat: The Studio of Jacques-Louis David
One pale arm hangs down,
gripping a quill
with which he might have written mercy,
while the other holds the letter
that condemned him,
making the unseen woman
a murderess
and him a martyr.
High upon his body,
almost at the collarbone,
a thin trail of blood
trickles down over white skin
to the bath he ran to soothe it.
His head, wrapped in cream cloth,
rests on the nearest shoulder,
eyes closed in peace,
lips half-smiling
as if only asleep
or dreaming.
In line with the tilt of his face,
the woman’s knife lies
abandoned,
his life’s blood still staining
its ivory handle.
And, above,
only the vast, uncharted dark
hangs waiting.
Today's nice things:
1. Coming home
2. The review
3. Lambs.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Golf & some small successes
Some good news this morning - the Bird and Moon 55 word website (http://www.birdandmoon.com/55words/) has nominated my 55-word fiction, "When the phone rang", for their Readers' Choice category awards, and you can find the story here:
http://www.birdandmoon.com/55words/readerschoice.html
under the February category. If you like it, please vote by 20 April! Many thanks! It's nice being shortlisted for a Readers' Choice in anything - a first for me indeed.
And I see also that the Momtazi website (http://www.momtazi.com) has now published my poem, "One small song", in their writers' gallery section, and you can find it here: http://www.momtazi.com/Gallery/index.php?do=poem&action=cat&cat=3. Heck, that feels nice too!
This morning has also been marked by a lazy lie-in and our complete non-attendance at the Palm Sunday service. Hell, I don't feel guilty at all. Which, I suppose, must be progress of a sort. I'm still intending to grace the church doors with my presence next week at Easter though - so I hope nobody keels over with the shock.
The majority of the day has been spent playing a wonderful round of golf with Marian & Siegi - though Siegi can't play very much at the moment due to recovering from a recent shoulder operation, though he did manage a few shots on the walk round with us. But we were not too bad at all, especially off the tee. Though I seem to have perfected my trick putting shot of going round the hole a couple of times before actually dropping in. Now if only I could work out how I'm actually achieving that, I could probably make a fortune. Hey ho. Lunch at Marian's was also very pleasant - and I've also been very brave (pause for astonished gasps and the odd cheer) as when the subject of church came up (which it sometimes does in their company though they're not church-goers), I admitted that I'm having something of a break from it. Lord, but I felt brave - it's quite rare for me to tell the truth when a social lie would be so much easier. Maybe I'm discovering a personal morality at last? Goodness, but my mother will be pleased. Anyway, we had a short discussion about it, and they were surprised but sweet, so I've lived to tell the tale. Phew.
Tonight, I'll have to finish packing for my three day conference in Nottingham next week (Monday to Wednesday) and then I have a slump in front of "Persuasion" on TV planned. It's my favourite Austen novel, I think, so they'd better do it well. It's got some hot boy chick (whose name I have forgotten - Rupert Somebody or Other? - but I can't be arsed to get off my ... um ... arse and check it out, sorry) in the role of her long-lost lover, so if I don't like the production at least I can admire the totty. Hurrah.
If I get a moment, I might well also start scribbling a poem about one of the paintings I saw at the Royal Academy exhibition on Friday, as I can feel the ideas quivering under my skin (yes, it's weird, I know but it's the closest description I can find to how I feel ...), but I doubt I'll finish it tonight. Which will be irritating as I usually like to finish a poem on the day I start it, or I get twitchy. Gosh, that's me well and truly out of my poetry writing closet, isn't it? Usually, when the poets I go to listen to start talking about how many weeks they've spent on their verses, I nod wisely and look sympathetic - but to be honest I haven't a fecking clue what they're talking about. If I haven't finished a first draft in an hour and polished it enough for public comment and advice after another hour, then I lose the will to live. I may well change stuff around later, of course, depending on comments received and my own instincts, but it's really only fiddling. Get 'em out, get 'em written, get 'em filed is what I say. As you can see, I have many hidden poetic shallows ...
Talking of which, here's this week's haiku (which I suspect is more of a thought I'll expand on into a larger poem later, so just call it a marker poem):
The Death of Marat:
One pale arm hangs down,
eyes contemplate peace while
the bloodied bath grows still.
Oh, and as I'll be away from Monday to Wednesday, I won't be blogging till Wednesday night, but I hope the start of all your weeks is as good as possible!
Today's nice things:
1. Being in the running for a Readers' Choice
2. Online publication of a poem
3. Golf.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
http://www.birdandmoon.com/55words/readerschoice.html
under the February category. If you like it, please vote by 20 April! Many thanks! It's nice being shortlisted for a Readers' Choice in anything - a first for me indeed.
And I see also that the Momtazi website (http://www.momtazi.com) has now published my poem, "One small song", in their writers' gallery section, and you can find it here: http://www.momtazi.com/Gallery/index.php?do=poem&action=cat&cat=3. Heck, that feels nice too!
This morning has also been marked by a lazy lie-in and our complete non-attendance at the Palm Sunday service. Hell, I don't feel guilty at all. Which, I suppose, must be progress of a sort. I'm still intending to grace the church doors with my presence next week at Easter though - so I hope nobody keels over with the shock.
The majority of the day has been spent playing a wonderful round of golf with Marian & Siegi - though Siegi can't play very much at the moment due to recovering from a recent shoulder operation, though he did manage a few shots on the walk round with us. But we were not too bad at all, especially off the tee. Though I seem to have perfected my trick putting shot of going round the hole a couple of times before actually dropping in. Now if only I could work out how I'm actually achieving that, I could probably make a fortune. Hey ho. Lunch at Marian's was also very pleasant - and I've also been very brave (pause for astonished gasps and the odd cheer) as when the subject of church came up (which it sometimes does in their company though they're not church-goers), I admitted that I'm having something of a break from it. Lord, but I felt brave - it's quite rare for me to tell the truth when a social lie would be so much easier. Maybe I'm discovering a personal morality at last? Goodness, but my mother will be pleased. Anyway, we had a short discussion about it, and they were surprised but sweet, so I've lived to tell the tale. Phew.
Tonight, I'll have to finish packing for my three day conference in Nottingham next week (Monday to Wednesday) and then I have a slump in front of "Persuasion" on TV planned. It's my favourite Austen novel, I think, so they'd better do it well. It's got some hot boy chick (whose name I have forgotten - Rupert Somebody or Other? - but I can't be arsed to get off my ... um ... arse and check it out, sorry) in the role of her long-lost lover, so if I don't like the production at least I can admire the totty. Hurrah.
If I get a moment, I might well also start scribbling a poem about one of the paintings I saw at the Royal Academy exhibition on Friday, as I can feel the ideas quivering under my skin (yes, it's weird, I know but it's the closest description I can find to how I feel ...), but I doubt I'll finish it tonight. Which will be irritating as I usually like to finish a poem on the day I start it, or I get twitchy. Gosh, that's me well and truly out of my poetry writing closet, isn't it? Usually, when the poets I go to listen to start talking about how many weeks they've spent on their verses, I nod wisely and look sympathetic - but to be honest I haven't a fecking clue what they're talking about. If I haven't finished a first draft in an hour and polished it enough for public comment and advice after another hour, then I lose the will to live. I may well change stuff around later, of course, depending on comments received and my own instincts, but it's really only fiddling. Get 'em out, get 'em written, get 'em filed is what I say. As you can see, I have many hidden poetic shallows ...
Talking of which, here's this week's haiku (which I suspect is more of a thought I'll expand on into a larger poem later, so just call it a marker poem):
The Death of Marat:
One pale arm hangs down,
eyes contemplate peace while
the bloodied bath grows still.
Oh, and as I'll be away from Monday to Wednesday, I won't be blogging till Wednesday night, but I hope the start of all your weeks is as good as possible!
Today's nice things:
1. Being in the running for a Readers' Choice
2. Online publication of a poem
3. Golf.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Saturday, March 31, 2007
An afternoon with Antony Sher
Last night was great - the Royal Academy's (http://www.royalacademy.org.uk) "Citizens and Kings" exhibition was wonderful. I felt really calm wandering round. The star picture for me was "The Death of Marat", which took my breath away. I stared at it for ages. It's the one they're using to advertise on the website and which I attempted to be witty about yesterday. Hell, it's had its own back. I couldn't take my eyes off it. I've bought the catalogue so I can keep staring. I think it's something to do with Marat's arms and the whole bath thing and the true story behind it. Like a secular Pieta indeed. And there was also a good scattering of female artists of the time, which to our shame you don't often see. I was particularly taken by Vigee-Lebrun whose paintings hit you in the eyes with sheer luminosity. In front of her picture of Charles-Alexandre de Calonne, I thought: yes, you liked him, didn't you? You got on with him and the two of you probably had a laugh together while you were painting it. The affection shines through the canvas. Great stuff indeed. Slight amusement at the end of the exhibition when I picked up our stuff from the cloakroom; I strode right up to the counter, completely and utterly not seeing the small queue to the left and started collecting my stuff. When I gazed round, I suddenly saw one of the men in the queue, coloured up and started apologising but, quick as a flash, he came back with: "don't worry about it - it's good to know who the kings are and who the citizens are", and then we all got the giggles. Love it! And lovely to see Jane W too - I can really talk to her. Also the curry was grand.
However, I feel shattered today. I really have to attempt to get an early night sometime or I can see it's all going to go to pot. As they say. Had strange dreams in the night too - about being back at University again (as a student) and having no idea what I was supposed to do or how to get to speak to my tutors - typical stress stuff. And in the middle of it all, a woman was walking by holidng a baby tiger. God only knows what that was about. No wonder I could hardly get myself out of bed this morning.
Went to Guildford for my regular Clarins facial today, and stocked up on some stuff, which I really shouldn't do as I'm trying to save money this month. Lord H picked me up and we made a quick detour so he could give his theology essay in at last. Hurrah! Just hope he's got the right house to deliver it to. Then back to the house to get some cleaning done, and then to the Cathedral for lunch. Rather busy today, as some of the refectory was being used for a graduation lunch. Consequently we made room on our table for two lads who had nowhere else to go - and got absolutely no acknowledgement, smiles or conversation from them at all. What is it with some people? If someone makes room for me under any circumstances, I feel the least I can do is say thank you. Rude buggers! Probably one of our Science student lot - they have no finesse.
Then into Guildford again - where I bought more books in Waterstone's, when I really shouldn't have but what the hell - and onto the Yvonne Arnaud theatre to see Antony Sher in "Kean". I love Sher - I think he's one of the best actors of our generation and I try to catch his stuff whenever I can. "Kean" was incredibly good and made my toes shiver while I watched it. My knees too. It's sooooo good to see a real play well done. Honestly, it's one of the best things in life. I was tempted to hang round the stage door afterwards to get his autograph, but was overcome with an attack of shyness, so slunk (slinked?) away instead. Am really regretting that now. Damn it!!
Back home, we've finished off the cleaning (almost) and then glued ourselves to the sofa to watch the first episode of the latest series of "Dr Who". Loved it - it was great. I think the new woman assistant is going to be seriously hot. I loved her.
Tonight, I might do some more scribbling to "The Gifting", or maybe type the stuff up that I did on the train to London yesterday - we'll see. Oh, and I've just finished Erastes' (http://www.myspace.com/erastesdotcom) homoerotic historical novel, "Standish", which I really enjoyed. Two great main characters and a gallop-along plot (does that make sense? Hell, you know what I mean). The sex scenes were good too - especially in the way they showed character. Love it when that happens. Also I particularly liked the secondary character of Fleury, and hope he might have his own book one day - he could definitely carry it! At the same time I've also finished Spencer Johnson's "One Minute for Yourself", which was okay-ish, but not as meaningful for me as his "Who Moved My Cheese?" which I thought was really good. Ah well, can't win 'em all.
Today's nice things:
1. Reading "Standish"
2. Antony Sher in "Kean"
3. The "Citizens and Kings" exhibition (which was yesterday, but never mind).
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
However, I feel shattered today. I really have to attempt to get an early night sometime or I can see it's all going to go to pot. As they say. Had strange dreams in the night too - about being back at University again (as a student) and having no idea what I was supposed to do or how to get to speak to my tutors - typical stress stuff. And in the middle of it all, a woman was walking by holidng a baby tiger. God only knows what that was about. No wonder I could hardly get myself out of bed this morning.
Went to Guildford for my regular Clarins facial today, and stocked up on some stuff, which I really shouldn't do as I'm trying to save money this month. Lord H picked me up and we made a quick detour so he could give his theology essay in at last. Hurrah! Just hope he's got the right house to deliver it to. Then back to the house to get some cleaning done, and then to the Cathedral for lunch. Rather busy today, as some of the refectory was being used for a graduation lunch. Consequently we made room on our table for two lads who had nowhere else to go - and got absolutely no acknowledgement, smiles or conversation from them at all. What is it with some people? If someone makes room for me under any circumstances, I feel the least I can do is say thank you. Rude buggers! Probably one of our Science student lot - they have no finesse.
Then into Guildford again - where I bought more books in Waterstone's, when I really shouldn't have but what the hell - and onto the Yvonne Arnaud theatre to see Antony Sher in "Kean". I love Sher - I think he's one of the best actors of our generation and I try to catch his stuff whenever I can. "Kean" was incredibly good and made my toes shiver while I watched it. My knees too. It's sooooo good to see a real play well done. Honestly, it's one of the best things in life. I was tempted to hang round the stage door afterwards to get his autograph, but was overcome with an attack of shyness, so slunk (slinked?) away instead. Am really regretting that now. Damn it!!
Back home, we've finished off the cleaning (almost) and then glued ourselves to the sofa to watch the first episode of the latest series of "Dr Who". Loved it - it was great. I think the new woman assistant is going to be seriously hot. I loved her.
Tonight, I might do some more scribbling to "The Gifting", or maybe type the stuff up that I did on the train to London yesterday - we'll see. Oh, and I've just finished Erastes' (http://www.myspace.com/erastesdotcom) homoerotic historical novel, "Standish", which I really enjoyed. Two great main characters and a gallop-along plot (does that make sense? Hell, you know what I mean). The sex scenes were good too - especially in the way they showed character. Love it when that happens. Also I particularly liked the secondary character of Fleury, and hope he might have his own book one day - he could definitely carry it! At the same time I've also finished Spencer Johnson's "One Minute for Yourself", which was okay-ish, but not as meaningful for me as his "Who Moved My Cheese?" which I thought was really good. Ah well, can't win 'em all.
Today's nice things:
1. Reading "Standish"
2. Antony Sher in "Kean"
3. The "Citizens and Kings" exhibition (which was yesterday, but never mind).
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Friday, March 30, 2007
Soggy golf and drunken art
Had a real thrill this morning when Paul Burston (http://www.myspace.com/paulburston) who edits the Gay Section in Time Out emailed me to say how much he'd enjoyed A Dangerous Man (http://www.flamebooks.com), as below:
"I finished off A Dangerous Man and I have to say I loved it. Michael is a wonderful character. An artist and part time prostitute - where on earth did you find the inspiration for him? And the story had me gripped. Everyone go out and buy this book! And please let me know in advance when the next one is coming out so I can find you review space in Time Out."
I particularly enjoyed the "Everyone go out and buy this book!" comment - that would make Flame love me, for sure! Many thanks indeed, Paul. Much appreciated. And I'm looking forward to your "Lovers and Losers" being published next week too!
This morning, Marian and I played golf in spite of a steadily increasing rainfall and, actually, we did very well - for us. We even did a few really good shots when a family playing waved us through (an action normally guaranteed to make us lose any poor skills we might have thought we had ...) and looked like real golfers for a while. Result! I ended up utterly soaked through however, so hope I don't catch something nasty.
I also gave up any ideas of going into Godalming to get shopping done and have also failed to do any writing or housework. So not the most productive day on record, I have to say. Sigh. No doubt I shall wallow in guilt later on in suitable Sad Person fashion. However, I have been thinking of writing - and it struck me yesterday that perhaps the reason why I seem to have changed my writing habits with "The Gifting" (in that I am now scribbling first and typing up on the computer later, rather than doing it straight onto the computer as usual) is that of course part of Simon's job description is his role as scribe. He writes everything down - on parchment. Far-fetched perhaps, but it's made me feel that much closer to him, which can only be a good thing.
Tonight, I'm up in London with Jane W to see the "Citizens and Kings" exhibition at the Royal Academy (http://www.royalacademy.org.uk). I must say the picture advertising the exhibition looks much like myself after a hard day's scribbling but I suspect I'd probably wrap something green around my head in preference. Afterwards we will, I hope, soothe our artistic brows with a nice curry, so everything will seem fine. And I can drink to my heart's content as the noble Lord H is picking me up from the station. As long as I get off at the right station. You do, I think, always need to drink wine when looking at art - which reminds me of a friend of mine who once said she loved "King Lear" and indeed the rest of Shakespeare, but could never really get through a whole one without a choc ice in the middle. I could only agree ...
Oh, and I was jesting (not itself a word you hear often nowadays - am I in a time loop?) with Lord H yesterday, wondering why the Iranians won't give us our sailors back as, after all, God knows we have so few and they can't be needing them - to which Lord H's answer was the Iranians will have to wait their turn for being invaded, as that seems to be what we do these days, and they'll just have to be patient. Hmm. Let's hope that doesn't turn out to be prophetic, and let's hope the poor buggers are allowed home soon. Perhaps we can do a swop. Anyone for Blair?...
Today's nice things:
1. Paul's lovely comments about "A Dangerous Man"
2. Thinking about writing
3. Art.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
"I finished off A Dangerous Man and I have to say I loved it. Michael is a wonderful character. An artist and part time prostitute - where on earth did you find the inspiration for him? And the story had me gripped. Everyone go out and buy this book! And please let me know in advance when the next one is coming out so I can find you review space in Time Out."
I particularly enjoyed the "Everyone go out and buy this book!" comment - that would make Flame love me, for sure! Many thanks indeed, Paul. Much appreciated. And I'm looking forward to your "Lovers and Losers" being published next week too!
This morning, Marian and I played golf in spite of a steadily increasing rainfall and, actually, we did very well - for us. We even did a few really good shots when a family playing waved us through (an action normally guaranteed to make us lose any poor skills we might have thought we had ...) and looked like real golfers for a while. Result! I ended up utterly soaked through however, so hope I don't catch something nasty.
I also gave up any ideas of going into Godalming to get shopping done and have also failed to do any writing or housework. So not the most productive day on record, I have to say. Sigh. No doubt I shall wallow in guilt later on in suitable Sad Person fashion. However, I have been thinking of writing - and it struck me yesterday that perhaps the reason why I seem to have changed my writing habits with "The Gifting" (in that I am now scribbling first and typing up on the computer later, rather than doing it straight onto the computer as usual) is that of course part of Simon's job description is his role as scribe. He writes everything down - on parchment. Far-fetched perhaps, but it's made me feel that much closer to him, which can only be a good thing.
Tonight, I'm up in London with Jane W to see the "Citizens and Kings" exhibition at the Royal Academy (http://www.royalacademy.org.uk). I must say the picture advertising the exhibition looks much like myself after a hard day's scribbling but I suspect I'd probably wrap something green around my head in preference. Afterwards we will, I hope, soothe our artistic brows with a nice curry, so everything will seem fine. And I can drink to my heart's content as the noble Lord H is picking me up from the station. As long as I get off at the right station. You do, I think, always need to drink wine when looking at art - which reminds me of a friend of mine who once said she loved "King Lear" and indeed the rest of Shakespeare, but could never really get through a whole one without a choc ice in the middle. I could only agree ...
Oh, and I was jesting (not itself a word you hear often nowadays - am I in a time loop?) with Lord H yesterday, wondering why the Iranians won't give us our sailors back as, after all, God knows we have so few and they can't be needing them - to which Lord H's answer was the Iranians will have to wait their turn for being invaded, as that seems to be what we do these days, and they'll just have to be patient. Hmm. Let's hope that doesn't turn out to be prophetic, and let's hope the poor buggers are allowed home soon. Perhaps we can do a swop. Anyone for Blair?...
Today's nice things:
1. Paul's lovely comments about "A Dangerous Man"
2. Thinking about writing
3. Art.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Counselling and reviews
This morning's counselling session felt very thoughtful. Or rather I was doing a lot of thinking about how things had been in the past, and how they are now. Kunu seemed keen to get me onto the subject of religion and church, which I suppose had to happen sometime or other. I hadn't been sure how I'd feel about that but, in the event, it was okay. We talked about how and why I'd originally become a Christian, how it had been then and how it was now. Short answer: very bloody different. But then having been wrung out and mangled by the evangelical church, and spewed out, shattered but generally intact, at the other end, I suppose I should have anticipated that. Hey ho.
It was interesting though how Kunu picked up on my problems with organised communities in general. And she also asked questions about why it is I try (or have tried in the past) so hard to conform. Maybe I'm not sure whether the church per se has ever really "fitted" - it's simply that I thought that was the only way to express my faith. And of course it's (at least on my mother's side) the family tradition I've been brought up in. At heart, I don't think I've ever been a team player. Ye gods, even the phrase "family service" is enough to bring me out in a rash, "family" being one of my key stress words. Much like "religion" itself, or even "community". We did have an interesting chat about the parable of the lost sheep though - and I thought for the first time that maybe the ruddy thing didn't want to be found and brought back to the ruddy flock. Maybe it was actually in possession of a perfectly good map and a compass and had been trying to find its true home. Maybe it didn't want to be returned to its fellow sheep, but was perfectly happy on its own. Bugger, eh.
Which, if I could only connect in true EM Forster fashion, would lead me to think that if the church did suddenly turn up at the doorstep demanding to know what's wrong with me and begging me to return, I would probably flee to the Surrey Hills and beg them to leave me alone to make my own decision. Which of course rather puts the dampener on last week's blog accusing them all of cruelty and desertion. Double bugger. And of course it all goes to show how little I know my own mind and how easily I can swing from one strongly-held opinion to another in a matter of minutes without so much as a flare or a phone call. As Kunu said, we will need at some stage to explore the reasons behind my apparently desperate desire to be part of a community and my apparently equally desperate desire to avoid it. Hell, it's always good to have something to look forward to, I suppose. In the meantime, just stick a label on me and call me a hypocrite. I'll ring my own "unclean" bell ...
Back at the ranch, I have had delicious fun writing another 1000 words of "The Gifting". God, but it's like coming home. Or journeying towards it. One of the two. Possibly because I've been writing the flashback sex scene between Simon & Ralph, and I've been having to think laterally about what's he's sensing in his mind as well as physically, what with Simon being telepathic. And it's been fun to write things slightly differently in that way. Actually, no, being honest, I always love doing the sex scenes and the violence scenes. No matter what. They're where I really feel I'm buzzing. It's the sections between that cause the angst ...
Oh and the lovely Jackie from Goldenford (http://www.goldenford.co.uk) has put a few very kind comments about A Dangerous Man (http://www.flamebooks.com) on her blog at http://jackieluben.blogspot.com under yesterday's date, which I include below also:
"I finished Anne Brooke’s A Dangerous Man yesterday night. (It was very different from anything I’ve read before and quite difficult putting myself into the mind of a disturbed young gay man.) Anne’s hero, Michael, takes you on a journey into a twilight world and into an environment that most of us won’t have encountered. Nevertheless, any creative person can empathise with Michael’s desperate desire for success in his chosen field, and most readers will understand his longing for love and recognition. Anne has shown great insight in stepping into the shoes of this dark and obsessive character, and in leading us through highs and lows to the book’s compelling climax."
Thanks hugely, Jackie - that means a great deal (though I'm not sure about the "great insight" - as you can probably tell from Sentence Four of your own review, Michael is pretty much me ...), especially as dark crime isn't a genre you warm to and your own books are so very life-affirming. Talking of which, if you haven't come across Jacquelynn Luben's books, then you really should - The Fruit of the Tree (http://www.amazon.co.uk) is a very moving autobiography about Jackie's experiences of cot death and her own journey through and beyond that, and of course Goldenford's own A Bottle of Plonk is a very witty and wise series of interconnected stories focusing on the travels of one very unique bottle. Now if only I could get Goldenford's hot, sticky hands on her next novel, The Tainted Tree, my life as a fulfilled editor would be complete!...
Oh, and the lovely Clayton (http://www.myspace.com/dwbsoho) has also just finished A Dangerous Man too and has emailed me to say how much he loved it, and that he thinks I'm a "fantastic writer". Gosh. Thanks, Clayton - that means a great deal too. Because, as I said, Michael had been worried about what you might think of him. My, how that boy does fret. And each time I tried to reassure him you'd be very sweet as that is your nature, he'd just mutter something unmentionable at me and go back to his drawing. Sigh.
This afternoon, I've popped in to see Gladys. She's not having so good a week this week, I have to say, so it was quite tricky to get her smiling again. But we did agree that she must keep breathing until Tony Blair has been beaten into submission and left the leadership, as otherwise she'd never forgive herself for not seeing him out of office. My, how she hates that man. Still, it gives her an aim (of sorts!) and that's only to the good. And we also talked about holidays and her travels through Denmark just after the war. Apparently, her long-deceased husband, Charlie, had a German penfriend (well, he lived in Denmark but was German, I believe) arranged through school which he kept up with through the war. Astonishing. And bloody good for him too - why ruin a perfectly good friendship just because some crazed madman is in charge of Germany? Unfortunately, the penfriend was killed during the war at some stage, but Gladys & Charlie went over to visit the parents afterwards. Marvellous stuff. And a lesson to us all in how lucky we are now indeed.
And I have at last let drop to Gladys that I am attending church less often (for less often, read not at all ...) and that therefore I only know what's happening via Lord H. It felt more honest to say it as, off-line, I've rather been keeping this under wraps. If anything can be under wraps for an obsessional blogger like me, of course. Anyway, she was fine about it, and we moved on. Phew.
Tonight, I think I'm going to do some more scribbling to "The Gifting", as it'll be interesting to see how Johan reacts to Simon's very strong memories of Ralph. Aha! I feel a major row coming on. Hmm. It'll be difficult to have a blazing row in the middle of a small boat on a vast ocean, I must admit, but I'll see what I can do. Ah, the power, the cruelty - I love it!
Oh, and Lord H has nearly finished his divorce essay for Theology class - which, as it should be handed in on Saturday, is actually pretty much advance planning for him. Mr Last-Minute-dot-Com is indeed his middle name.
Today's nice things:
1. Counselling
2. The two reviews of A Dangerous Man
3. Remembering the war years with Gladys.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
It was interesting though how Kunu picked up on my problems with organised communities in general. And she also asked questions about why it is I try (or have tried in the past) so hard to conform. Maybe I'm not sure whether the church per se has ever really "fitted" - it's simply that I thought that was the only way to express my faith. And of course it's (at least on my mother's side) the family tradition I've been brought up in. At heart, I don't think I've ever been a team player. Ye gods, even the phrase "family service" is enough to bring me out in a rash, "family" being one of my key stress words. Much like "religion" itself, or even "community". We did have an interesting chat about the parable of the lost sheep though - and I thought for the first time that maybe the ruddy thing didn't want to be found and brought back to the ruddy flock. Maybe it was actually in possession of a perfectly good map and a compass and had been trying to find its true home. Maybe it didn't want to be returned to its fellow sheep, but was perfectly happy on its own. Bugger, eh.
Which, if I could only connect in true EM Forster fashion, would lead me to think that if the church did suddenly turn up at the doorstep demanding to know what's wrong with me and begging me to return, I would probably flee to the Surrey Hills and beg them to leave me alone to make my own decision. Which of course rather puts the dampener on last week's blog accusing them all of cruelty and desertion. Double bugger. And of course it all goes to show how little I know my own mind and how easily I can swing from one strongly-held opinion to another in a matter of minutes without so much as a flare or a phone call. As Kunu said, we will need at some stage to explore the reasons behind my apparently desperate desire to be part of a community and my apparently equally desperate desire to avoid it. Hell, it's always good to have something to look forward to, I suppose. In the meantime, just stick a label on me and call me a hypocrite. I'll ring my own "unclean" bell ...
Back at the ranch, I have had delicious fun writing another 1000 words of "The Gifting". God, but it's like coming home. Or journeying towards it. One of the two. Possibly because I've been writing the flashback sex scene between Simon & Ralph, and I've been having to think laterally about what's he's sensing in his mind as well as physically, what with Simon being telepathic. And it's been fun to write things slightly differently in that way. Actually, no, being honest, I always love doing the sex scenes and the violence scenes. No matter what. They're where I really feel I'm buzzing. It's the sections between that cause the angst ...
Oh and the lovely Jackie from Goldenford (http://www.goldenford.co.uk) has put a few very kind comments about A Dangerous Man (http://www.flamebooks.com) on her blog at http://jackieluben.blogspot.com under yesterday's date, which I include below also:
"I finished Anne Brooke’s A Dangerous Man yesterday night. (It was very different from anything I’ve read before and quite difficult putting myself into the mind of a disturbed young gay man.) Anne’s hero, Michael, takes you on a journey into a twilight world and into an environment that most of us won’t have encountered. Nevertheless, any creative person can empathise with Michael’s desperate desire for success in his chosen field, and most readers will understand his longing for love and recognition. Anne has shown great insight in stepping into the shoes of this dark and obsessive character, and in leading us through highs and lows to the book’s compelling climax."
Thanks hugely, Jackie - that means a great deal (though I'm not sure about the "great insight" - as you can probably tell from Sentence Four of your own review, Michael is pretty much me ...), especially as dark crime isn't a genre you warm to and your own books are so very life-affirming. Talking of which, if you haven't come across Jacquelynn Luben's books, then you really should - The Fruit of the Tree (http://www.amazon.co.uk) is a very moving autobiography about Jackie's experiences of cot death and her own journey through and beyond that, and of course Goldenford's own A Bottle of Plonk is a very witty and wise series of interconnected stories focusing on the travels of one very unique bottle. Now if only I could get Goldenford's hot, sticky hands on her next novel, The Tainted Tree, my life as a fulfilled editor would be complete!...
Oh, and the lovely Clayton (http://www.myspace.com/dwbsoho) has also just finished A Dangerous Man too and has emailed me to say how much he loved it, and that he thinks I'm a "fantastic writer". Gosh. Thanks, Clayton - that means a great deal too. Because, as I said, Michael had been worried about what you might think of him. My, how that boy does fret. And each time I tried to reassure him you'd be very sweet as that is your nature, he'd just mutter something unmentionable at me and go back to his drawing. Sigh.
This afternoon, I've popped in to see Gladys. She's not having so good a week this week, I have to say, so it was quite tricky to get her smiling again. But we did agree that she must keep breathing until Tony Blair has been beaten into submission and left the leadership, as otherwise she'd never forgive herself for not seeing him out of office. My, how she hates that man. Still, it gives her an aim (of sorts!) and that's only to the good. And we also talked about holidays and her travels through Denmark just after the war. Apparently, her long-deceased husband, Charlie, had a German penfriend (well, he lived in Denmark but was German, I believe) arranged through school which he kept up with through the war. Astonishing. And bloody good for him too - why ruin a perfectly good friendship just because some crazed madman is in charge of Germany? Unfortunately, the penfriend was killed during the war at some stage, but Gladys & Charlie went over to visit the parents afterwards. Marvellous stuff. And a lesson to us all in how lucky we are now indeed.
And I have at last let drop to Gladys that I am attending church less often (for less often, read not at all ...) and that therefore I only know what's happening via Lord H. It felt more honest to say it as, off-line, I've rather been keeping this under wraps. If anything can be under wraps for an obsessional blogger like me, of course. Anyway, she was fine about it, and we moved on. Phew.
Tonight, I think I'm going to do some more scribbling to "The Gifting", as it'll be interesting to see how Johan reacts to Simon's very strong memories of Ralph. Aha! I feel a major row coming on. Hmm. It'll be difficult to have a blazing row in the middle of a small boat on a vast ocean, I must admit, but I'll see what I can do. Ah, the power, the cruelty - I love it!
Oh, and Lord H has nearly finished his divorce essay for Theology class - which, as it should be handed in on Saturday, is actually pretty much advance planning for him. Mr Last-Minute-dot-Com is indeed his middle name.
Today's nice things:
1. Counselling
2. The two reviews of A Dangerous Man
3. Remembering the war years with Gladys.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Queer Up North and hobnobbing with the stars ... almost
A fairly relaxed day today. It feels soooo good to get my luggage back. Everything feels much calmer, as if I’m really here now rather than being in transit. Hmm. Maybe I do attach too much importance to my things after all. But they’re my things. Thank goodness it’s counselling tomorrow, eh? I obviously need the input.
And the office is glad I’ve got my case, as it means I can finally donate the Madeiran honey cake to the National Office Cake Shortage Society. Hmm. It’s lovely too – even Ruth liked it, and she’s not usually a sweet-toothed gal. Carol too was glad of the extra snack input as she spent most of Monday and Tuesday not being able to get into her chocolate biscuit drawer which had jammed. Horror indeed. Luckily, Estates & Facilities treated it as an emergency and it was opened yesterday afternoon. Phew! We in Student Care Services are unable to care for our students without the proper culinary support, you know …
Oh, and I forgot to say that yesterday was especially nice as one of our students came in to thank the Dean for helping her through a bad year and therefore enabling her to get her degree and with two interviews lined up too. Fantastic! We so rarely get to hear the good news stories here – normally people only come in to complain. We were all quite choked up with the surprise of it all.
Meanwhile, back to today, I spent quite a while chatting (oh, sorry, networking) with the gals in the Student Advice Office, which made a nice change. We mainly chatted about holidays and religion & health. As you do. And what with term being over for now, we’re not too busy. Back at my desk we had a visitation from the delightful Melanie from Central HR, who’s apparently lined up to take over the care of Student Care Services once the HR restructuring is completed. Hey, we have an owner at last – hurrah! Mind you, now she’s met us, perhaps she’ll beg for a different job (please God, not Student Care Services - anybody but them!) …
On the novel front, Adam Pushkin of Queer Up North (http://www.queerupnorth.com/) seems interested in having a review copy of “A Dangerous Man”, so I’m hoping he might like it. Thanks hugely to gay author Jay Mandal (whose books are great fun and can be found on Amazon) for the tip-off!
Went for a much-needed walk (note to self: must get back into my exercise regime if only for the sake of my blood pressure!) round the campus at lunchtime. This afternoon, I have caught up with the AUA (Association of University Administrators - http://www.aua.ac.uk/) newsletters in all their various formats, so I am primed for their conference that I’m attending from Monday to Wednesday next week in Nottingham. Thank goodness I’ve got my case back, eh. Another couple of days and there would have been no real need to unpack the darn thing. It did amuse me that one of the AUA newsletters mentioned a recent study that’s been done on how many people have affairs during conferences (oh Lord, how clichéd can you be – really, people!!) but the editor put a little aside (as it were) at the end reassuring us all that such things would never happen at the AUA, of course! Phew, that’s a relief then. I need my beauty sleep, you know.
And a former colleague from my last job, Ronnie, rang up to catch up on the news, which was unexpected, and fun. He's a part-time consultant now as he's been retired for years, but his son, Alex Yearsley, is very knowledgeable in the diamond smuggling trade (in terms of being on the side of the law!) and was apparently involved in drafting some of the script for a new film, "Blood Diamond", which opened recently. As part of the perks, he was invited to the first night, took Ronnie as a surprise, and both of them got the Red Carpet Treatment, and ended up shaking Leonardo di Caprio's hand. Bloody hell, eh! I'm obviously not quite in the inner circle of fame and will have to try harder next time. Though I have to admit to not being able to stand L di C. Didn't tell Ronnie that though ...
Catching up on books I read whilst in Madeira:
1. "The Mystery at Folly Mill" by Justin Brooke (who may or may not be my grandfather, but how weird if it is) - nice pace of story, but very much "of its time", though with an interesting focus on the psychology of the characters rather than the action. Hmm ...
2. "Gravedigger" by Joseph Hansen. A gripping gay PI story, but the man simply can't write starts or endings from this sample of work. But I loved the characters (and the plot), which were very exciting and I shall definitely read more.
Tonight, I’m really hoping to do some writing as I desperately need to get back into it in a structured way rather than scribbling a few sentences round the edges of my life, as is happening at the moment. I miss it. Big time!!
Today’s nice things:
1. The hope that Adam at QUN might like Michael
2. Happy students
3. Writing – I hope!
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com/
http://www.goldenford.co.uk/
And the office is glad I’ve got my case, as it means I can finally donate the Madeiran honey cake to the National Office Cake Shortage Society. Hmm. It’s lovely too – even Ruth liked it, and she’s not usually a sweet-toothed gal. Carol too was glad of the extra snack input as she spent most of Monday and Tuesday not being able to get into her chocolate biscuit drawer which had jammed. Horror indeed. Luckily, Estates & Facilities treated it as an emergency and it was opened yesterday afternoon. Phew! We in Student Care Services are unable to care for our students without the proper culinary support, you know …
Oh, and I forgot to say that yesterday was especially nice as one of our students came in to thank the Dean for helping her through a bad year and therefore enabling her to get her degree and with two interviews lined up too. Fantastic! We so rarely get to hear the good news stories here – normally people only come in to complain. We were all quite choked up with the surprise of it all.
Meanwhile, back to today, I spent quite a while chatting (oh, sorry, networking) with the gals in the Student Advice Office, which made a nice change. We mainly chatted about holidays and religion & health. As you do. And what with term being over for now, we’re not too busy. Back at my desk we had a visitation from the delightful Melanie from Central HR, who’s apparently lined up to take over the care of Student Care Services once the HR restructuring is completed. Hey, we have an owner at last – hurrah! Mind you, now she’s met us, perhaps she’ll beg for a different job (please God, not Student Care Services - anybody but them!) …
On the novel front, Adam Pushkin of Queer Up North (http://www.queerupnorth.com/) seems interested in having a review copy of “A Dangerous Man”, so I’m hoping he might like it. Thanks hugely to gay author Jay Mandal (whose books are great fun and can be found on Amazon) for the tip-off!
Went for a much-needed walk (note to self: must get back into my exercise regime if only for the sake of my blood pressure!) round the campus at lunchtime. This afternoon, I have caught up with the AUA (Association of University Administrators - http://www.aua.ac.uk/) newsletters in all their various formats, so I am primed for their conference that I’m attending from Monday to Wednesday next week in Nottingham. Thank goodness I’ve got my case back, eh. Another couple of days and there would have been no real need to unpack the darn thing. It did amuse me that one of the AUA newsletters mentioned a recent study that’s been done on how many people have affairs during conferences (oh Lord, how clichéd can you be – really, people!!) but the editor put a little aside (as it were) at the end reassuring us all that such things would never happen at the AUA, of course! Phew, that’s a relief then. I need my beauty sleep, you know.
And a former colleague from my last job, Ronnie, rang up to catch up on the news, which was unexpected, and fun. He's a part-time consultant now as he's been retired for years, but his son, Alex Yearsley, is very knowledgeable in the diamond smuggling trade (in terms of being on the side of the law!) and was apparently involved in drafting some of the script for a new film, "Blood Diamond", which opened recently. As part of the perks, he was invited to the first night, took Ronnie as a surprise, and both of them got the Red Carpet Treatment, and ended up shaking Leonardo di Caprio's hand. Bloody hell, eh! I'm obviously not quite in the inner circle of fame and will have to try harder next time. Though I have to admit to not being able to stand L di C. Didn't tell Ronnie that though ...
Catching up on books I read whilst in Madeira:
1. "The Mystery at Folly Mill" by Justin Brooke (who may or may not be my grandfather, but how weird if it is) - nice pace of story, but very much "of its time", though with an interesting focus on the psychology of the characters rather than the action. Hmm ...
2. "Gravedigger" by Joseph Hansen. A gripping gay PI story, but the man simply can't write starts or endings from this sample of work. But I loved the characters (and the plot), which were very exciting and I shall definitely read more.
Tonight, I’m really hoping to do some writing as I desperately need to get back into it in a structured way rather than scribbling a few sentences round the edges of my life, as is happening at the moment. I miss it. Big time!!
Today’s nice things:
1. The hope that Adam at QUN might like Michael
2. Happy students
3. Writing – I hope!
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com/
http://www.goldenford.co.uk/
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Luggage? You must be joking …
Bloody BA. Bloody BA courier. What the bloody hell do they think they’re doing?? Honestly, they’re so thick they couldn’t stuff a bloody luggage trolley up their own arses and turn it. And how I wish I could do the deed for them – that would be sooooo satisfying. We waited up till nearly 11.30pm last night for the non-existent ruddy delivery, and I am shattered today as I then lay awake worrying about it. Their bag-tracking system & website information is bloody hopeless. It told me my case had landed in Gatwick and had been picked up by the courier between 6pm & 7pm. We waited for the promised phone call, but none materialised. Bloody hopeless bearing in mind they’d said we’d get the case yesterday.
Anyway, this morning, Lord H rang the BA baggage people who couldn’t understand why the case hadn’t been delivered. They then ran around like the proverbial and rang us back to tell us (a) they couldn’t get in touch with the courier as they wouldn’t answer the phone; (b) the case may have landed in Gatwick but it has to first be transported to Heathrow as the courier only works from Heathrow. (Ye gods – aren’t courier services supposed to travel??? Isn’t that what they’re for???); (c) The courier promises a six hour delivery turnround but only delivers up till midnight, so as the case arrived at Heathrow at 7pm, they didn’t action delivery as they couldn’t guarantee the six hour turnround as it was then only 5 hours to midnight. Ye gods!!!! Shouldn’t we have been told this information when we filled in our form at Gatwick on Saturday? Shouldn’t some so-called customer service representative at least have (a) updated the website with the correct information or (b) even had the courtesy to ring us to say they couldn’t deliver, and then name a date when they could?? It doesn’t take much to pick up a phone and give us those details. They’ve had our ruddy number after all!! I am sooooo pissedd off it’s almost untrue. After all, they could even have dropped the ruddy thing in on the drive between Gatwick and Heathrow – we’re only a few miles off the bloody M25 route between the airports after all!!
Anyway, Lord H asked them to deliver the case to his work address, but I’ve left notes with the neighbours just in case. I simply don’t trust BA or their bloody courier any more. They’re all bloody liars. Give me back my effing case!!!!!! It shouldn’t be this hard!!!! There’s definitely a big complaint letter and a demand for compensation coming on. Angry of Godalming? Just clear the ruddy route for me …
Rant over. For now ... Meanwhile, at work, I finished the first draft of yesterday’s minutes and by lunchtime was very much in need of my soothing Reflexology session. Somebody give me a chill pill … However I think the Reflexology worked as I felt much more grounded this afternoon – Emily is a miracle-worker indeed. Have spent most of the rest of the working day wondering where my luggage is – answer: we don’t know. Still. It was supposed to be delivered by 3pm to Lord H, but its absence continued apace. My working theory is that it’s doing a tour of UK airports and, having been to Gatwick and Heathrow, is now on its way to Luton. I have yet to have this theory confirmed however. Anyway, I cracked and I went shopping tonight to stock up on all the items I’ve been missing. At the very least, I shall buy a comb and stop looking like the Wild Woman of Borneo. Some hope there then.
On other fronts, Jo at the University Arts Office has confirmed my date with “A Dangerous Man” (http://www.flamebooks.com) at the University Book Circle on 30 April. Gulp. Heck, Michael and I will enjoy it, I’m sure. If he’s stuck, he can always scowl at people and draw something. So, I’ve done some marketing for that and hope that people will come along and talk. And the University bookshop is going to stock him too, so we’re both pleased about that. It's the first time in my whole writing life that any bookshop has actually rung me up and asked to stock something I've written!! Normally, I'm banging on their door, weeping and begging, while they hold it shut against me. So a Red Letter Day today then, and almost like being a real writer then...
Oh, and the lovely Lady Sister-in-Law-to-be (Lady S-I-L-t-b) (http://www.peterandsusan.co.uk/blogs/susansblog.asp) has just finished “A Dangerous Man” and has blogged a very generous review under 26 March, the second entry down. Which I have copied below also:
"I finished Anne’s book yesterday, ‘A Dangerous Man’. For the first few chapters of the novel it was constantly in the back of my mind that I knew the person who had written it and therefore I was thinking things like ‘I wonder how Anne came up with this idea’, ‘I wonder how she researched this bit’, etc etc.
However, as I progressed through the book these thoughts slipped away as the characters became real for me and took hold. I thought the novel was suspenseful, unsettling and well paced and took me into a world that is totally alien to me. Although the main character, Michael, is not your normal type of hero - in fact he is a very dark personality indeed - I felt a real empathy for him and I found myself rooting for him until the end (even when he had stepped over the boundary into criminality).
The final chapters of the book are gripping as the shadows that have been stalking Michael come to the surface and threaten to ruin his all too brief taste of success. As things head towards a climax there is a sense of foreboding and you become aware that the unattractive character, that is Jack’s mother, is feeling the same as you, the reader, that there is surely tragedy ahead for her son, Jack, and Michael. I thought the writing throughout was excellent, paticularly in the final more violent scenes, and I found it easy to visualise what was being played out in front of me. I was sorry to be coming to the end of the novel so I left the final few chapters until later in the day to savour reading them – what a sign of a good book that is!
Anne, if you are reading this, I thoroughly enjoyed the novel and think that you have definitely found your genre! I look forward to reading The Gifting!"
Gosh. Thanks, Lady S-I-L-t-b – knowing how much you love dark books and your high standards, that means a huge amount. Thank you! And I think I’ve just outed your and Lord B-I-L’s real names. Sorry … And thank you again.
Tonight, I’m planning to watch “Life on Mars” and wonder where my luggage has got to. What an exciting life I lead for sure.
Stop Press! Update on the Godalming Luggage Crisis! When Lord H got home, he discovered a note through the door saying the courier couldn't raise anyone (have the downstairs neighbours all died? Oh no, I just saw one in the garden ...) and delivered my case to the house next door instead. Lord H retrieved this from the lovely lady there, but by the time I'd spoken to him I was already in the process of buying all my restocked items in the shop. I shall probably now not run out of anything till the next Millennium. At home, everything in the case looks intact, phew - even my triangular Madeiran house in a snowstorm. I am indeed an Arbiter of Taste ... But in the meantime, the BA Baggage Handlers have left three messages on our phone this evening saying they've asked the courier to take the luggage back to the depot and deliver it to our home address tonight. Frankly, m'dear, we here in the home counties don't give a fuck. And we're certainly not ringing up the bastards to say we've already got the delivery. So we wait with interest to see if any case will be delivered here tonight and, if so, whose it might be.
Ye gods, no wonder we lost the Empire, eh ...
Anyway, today’s nice things:
1. Lady S-I-L-t-b’s review of “A Dangerous Man” - thank you!
2. Reflexology
3. The University bookshop planning to stock Michael – hurrah!
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Anyway, this morning, Lord H rang the BA baggage people who couldn’t understand why the case hadn’t been delivered. They then ran around like the proverbial and rang us back to tell us (a) they couldn’t get in touch with the courier as they wouldn’t answer the phone; (b) the case may have landed in Gatwick but it has to first be transported to Heathrow as the courier only works from Heathrow. (Ye gods – aren’t courier services supposed to travel??? Isn’t that what they’re for???); (c) The courier promises a six hour delivery turnround but only delivers up till midnight, so as the case arrived at Heathrow at 7pm, they didn’t action delivery as they couldn’t guarantee the six hour turnround as it was then only 5 hours to midnight. Ye gods!!!! Shouldn’t we have been told this information when we filled in our form at Gatwick on Saturday? Shouldn’t some so-called customer service representative at least have (a) updated the website with the correct information or (b) even had the courtesy to ring us to say they couldn’t deliver, and then name a date when they could?? It doesn’t take much to pick up a phone and give us those details. They’ve had our ruddy number after all!! I am sooooo pissedd off it’s almost untrue. After all, they could even have dropped the ruddy thing in on the drive between Gatwick and Heathrow – we’re only a few miles off the bloody M25 route between the airports after all!!
Anyway, Lord H asked them to deliver the case to his work address, but I’ve left notes with the neighbours just in case. I simply don’t trust BA or their bloody courier any more. They’re all bloody liars. Give me back my effing case!!!!!! It shouldn’t be this hard!!!! There’s definitely a big complaint letter and a demand for compensation coming on. Angry of Godalming? Just clear the ruddy route for me …
Rant over. For now ... Meanwhile, at work, I finished the first draft of yesterday’s minutes and by lunchtime was very much in need of my soothing Reflexology session. Somebody give me a chill pill … However I think the Reflexology worked as I felt much more grounded this afternoon – Emily is a miracle-worker indeed. Have spent most of the rest of the working day wondering where my luggage is – answer: we don’t know. Still. It was supposed to be delivered by 3pm to Lord H, but its absence continued apace. My working theory is that it’s doing a tour of UK airports and, having been to Gatwick and Heathrow, is now on its way to Luton. I have yet to have this theory confirmed however. Anyway, I cracked and I went shopping tonight to stock up on all the items I’ve been missing. At the very least, I shall buy a comb and stop looking like the Wild Woman of Borneo. Some hope there then.
On other fronts, Jo at the University Arts Office has confirmed my date with “A Dangerous Man” (http://www.flamebooks.com) at the University Book Circle on 30 April. Gulp. Heck, Michael and I will enjoy it, I’m sure. If he’s stuck, he can always scowl at people and draw something. So, I’ve done some marketing for that and hope that people will come along and talk. And the University bookshop is going to stock him too, so we’re both pleased about that. It's the first time in my whole writing life that any bookshop has actually rung me up and asked to stock something I've written!! Normally, I'm banging on their door, weeping and begging, while they hold it shut against me. So a Red Letter Day today then, and almost like being a real writer then...
Oh, and the lovely Lady Sister-in-Law-to-be (Lady S-I-L-t-b) (http://www.peterandsusan.co.uk/blogs/susansblog.asp) has just finished “A Dangerous Man” and has blogged a very generous review under 26 March, the second entry down. Which I have copied below also:
"I finished Anne’s book yesterday, ‘A Dangerous Man’. For the first few chapters of the novel it was constantly in the back of my mind that I knew the person who had written it and therefore I was thinking things like ‘I wonder how Anne came up with this idea’, ‘I wonder how she researched this bit’, etc etc.
However, as I progressed through the book these thoughts slipped away as the characters became real for me and took hold. I thought the novel was suspenseful, unsettling and well paced and took me into a world that is totally alien to me. Although the main character, Michael, is not your normal type of hero - in fact he is a very dark personality indeed - I felt a real empathy for him and I found myself rooting for him until the end (even when he had stepped over the boundary into criminality).
The final chapters of the book are gripping as the shadows that have been stalking Michael come to the surface and threaten to ruin his all too brief taste of success. As things head towards a climax there is a sense of foreboding and you become aware that the unattractive character, that is Jack’s mother, is feeling the same as you, the reader, that there is surely tragedy ahead for her son, Jack, and Michael. I thought the writing throughout was excellent, paticularly in the final more violent scenes, and I found it easy to visualise what was being played out in front of me. I was sorry to be coming to the end of the novel so I left the final few chapters until later in the day to savour reading them – what a sign of a good book that is!
Anne, if you are reading this, I thoroughly enjoyed the novel and think that you have definitely found your genre! I look forward to reading The Gifting!"
Gosh. Thanks, Lady S-I-L-t-b – knowing how much you love dark books and your high standards, that means a huge amount. Thank you! And I think I’ve just outed your and Lord B-I-L’s real names. Sorry … And thank you again.
Tonight, I’m planning to watch “Life on Mars” and wonder where my luggage has got to. What an exciting life I lead for sure.
Stop Press! Update on the Godalming Luggage Crisis! When Lord H got home, he discovered a note through the door saying the courier couldn't raise anyone (have the downstairs neighbours all died? Oh no, I just saw one in the garden ...) and delivered my case to the house next door instead. Lord H retrieved this from the lovely lady there, but by the time I'd spoken to him I was already in the process of buying all my restocked items in the shop. I shall probably now not run out of anything till the next Millennium. At home, everything in the case looks intact, phew - even my triangular Madeiran house in a snowstorm. I am indeed an Arbiter of Taste ... But in the meantime, the BA Baggage Handlers have left three messages on our phone this evening saying they've asked the courier to take the luggage back to the depot and deliver it to our home address tonight. Frankly, m'dear, we here in the home counties don't give a fuck. And we're certainly not ringing up the bastards to say we've already got the delivery. So we wait with interest to see if any case will be delivered here tonight and, if so, whose it might be.
Ye gods, no wonder we lost the Empire, eh ...
Anyway, today’s nice things:
1. Lady S-I-L-t-b’s review of “A Dangerous Man” - thank you!
2. Reflexology
3. The University bookshop planning to stock Michael – hurrah!
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Monday, March 26, 2007
The red-lipped phone
Lord H’s alarm failed to go off this morning, but I was only ten minutes late from my planned getting up time, so it could have been far worse. Heck, we probably needed the extra time anyway. Oh, and I must say that last night’s TV production of “Northanger Abbey” was marvellous – a perfect lead and a great interpretation. It really cheered me up. Naturally, that hasn’t stopped the Monday morning post-holiday blues though, but hey there you go.
However, Ruth has cheered me up by swopping my standard work phone for one made up of an enormous pair of red lips – I absolutely loved it and wish it could be mine for ever, but apparently it (the phone, not the pair of lips …) belongs to Ruth’s mother and has to go home. Shame … it’s just the sort of thing to ring Lord H on!
I spent the rest of the morning catching up on emails and actually getting level with myself on the work front. Hurrah! And the usual bliss when 12noon came and went appeared too – it’s like a weight lifting off my shoulders when Monday afternoon arrives. I minuted the Student Care Services Steering Group at lunchtime – the boss had half a ton of tabled papers, which is always a bit of a pain as it means I actually have to scrabble round for internal envelopes and post them to non-attenders, rather than rely on the simplicity of an email. Almost like being a real secretary then …
And this feeling was compounded by spending the afternoon typing up the minutes. With the bliss of a 5pm finish today, as it’s outside term-time for the students. How we love our vacation hours indeed. It’s that extra half-hour between 5 and 5.30pm that’s always so killing to the soul.
Ooh, and the lovely Caroline on Myspace (http://www.myspace.com/caroline_biesse) loves "A Dangerous Man" (http://www.flamebooks.com) so much that she's advertising it on the book section of her profile. Thanks, Caroline! Michael and I both appreciate it very much. And he loves your new photo by the way (as do I!), though we do miss the hat ...
Tonight, Lord H is finishing off his divorce essay, which he’s much happier with now. He’s apparently learnt that the Bible tells him that husbands need to provide wives with food and clothing – don’t ask me for the reference though! Aha, I have a lot to catch up on then (pause for evil wife laughter …). Luckily, the same reference doesn’t give any particular duties for wives. Sound of more evil wife laughter then. And while he’s doing that, I’m planning to watch my video of last week’s “Life on Mars” and wait for my luggage to turn up. Ho ho. I live in hope, don’t I? …
Today’s nice things:
1. The red-lipped phone
2. Passing the noontide hour relatively unscathed
3. Caroline's profile page!
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com/
http://www.goldenford.co.uk/
However, Ruth has cheered me up by swopping my standard work phone for one made up of an enormous pair of red lips – I absolutely loved it and wish it could be mine for ever, but apparently it (the phone, not the pair of lips …) belongs to Ruth’s mother and has to go home. Shame … it’s just the sort of thing to ring Lord H on!
I spent the rest of the morning catching up on emails and actually getting level with myself on the work front. Hurrah! And the usual bliss when 12noon came and went appeared too – it’s like a weight lifting off my shoulders when Monday afternoon arrives. I minuted the Student Care Services Steering Group at lunchtime – the boss had half a ton of tabled papers, which is always a bit of a pain as it means I actually have to scrabble round for internal envelopes and post them to non-attenders, rather than rely on the simplicity of an email. Almost like being a real secretary then …
And this feeling was compounded by spending the afternoon typing up the minutes. With the bliss of a 5pm finish today, as it’s outside term-time for the students. How we love our vacation hours indeed. It’s that extra half-hour between 5 and 5.30pm that’s always so killing to the soul.
Ooh, and the lovely Caroline on Myspace (http://www.myspace.com/caroline_biesse) loves "A Dangerous Man" (http://www.flamebooks.com) so much that she's advertising it on the book section of her profile. Thanks, Caroline! Michael and I both appreciate it very much. And he loves your new photo by the way (as do I!), though we do miss the hat ...
Tonight, Lord H is finishing off his divorce essay, which he’s much happier with now. He’s apparently learnt that the Bible tells him that husbands need to provide wives with food and clothing – don’t ask me for the reference though! Aha, I have a lot to catch up on then (pause for evil wife laughter …). Luckily, the same reference doesn’t give any particular duties for wives. Sound of more evil wife laughter then. And while he’s doing that, I’m planning to watch my video of last week’s “Life on Mars” and wait for my luggage to turn up. Ho ho. I live in hope, don’t I? …
Today’s nice things:
1. The red-lipped phone
2. Passing the noontide hour relatively unscathed
3. Caroline's profile page!
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com/
http://www.goldenford.co.uk/
Sunday, March 25, 2007
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
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
Saturday, March 24, 2007
I'm back from hols! But where's ...
... my luggage?? Having an extended break in Madeira, that's where ... Bugger. Hope to God it makes it back to the mother country on Monday, when BA promise it will. Harrumph indeed.
That said, Madeira was great! Highlights (without the aid of my journal, still in Funchal ...) were:
That said, Madeira was great! Highlights (without the aid of my journal, still in Funchal ...) were:
- the mountains
- the trees on the mountains
- the hotel
- the sea view - fantastic!
- seeing a grapefruit tree
- relaxing
- boogying on down at the Madeiran Folklore Evening (I'm such an Essex Girl ...)
- getting on a cable car ...
- ... and enjoying the thrill of it.
- smelling jasmine ...
- ... and seeing a bird of paradise flower. No, several, in fact!
Hope your weeks have been good. Back with a fuller blog tomorrow!
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Monday, March 19, 2007
I spoke too soon! Another review of "A Dangerous Man"!
Sorry but I just have to blog this before I go - I've had a lovely review from crime writer, Lesley Horton (http://www.lesleyhorton.co.uk) about ADM (http://www.flamebooks.com), as below:
“To say A Dangerous Man is different is an understatement. Anne Brooke has delved into the minds, lives and loves of gay men with considerable style. The plot is dark and unsettling and leads inevitably to murder. I was hooked from the first page and I wasn’t allowed off that hook until the end. Well done Anne."
Thank you so much, Lesley. I'm very grateful indeed! And it's just the sort of comment which will get me (and no doubt Michael) smiling all the way to Madeira tomorrow!
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
“To say A Dangerous Man is different is an understatement. Anne Brooke has delved into the minds, lives and loves of gay men with considerable style. The plot is dark and unsettling and leads inevitably to murder. I was hooked from the first page and I wasn’t allowed off that hook until the end. Well done Anne."
Thank you so much, Lesley. I'm very grateful indeed! And it's just the sort of comment which will get me (and no doubt Michael) smiling all the way to Madeira tomorrow!
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
Packing and heavy TV
The usual twitchy day prior to travel - is everyone like this, or is it really just me? There's something about a journey that makes me very unsettled. Possibly because I hate flying and I do actually hate travel - but it will be nice to be in Madeira tomorrow. At least it won't be ruddy snowing, though showers are forecast. Hell, I don't mind - it will be warmer. So I've made a start on the packing though the fear of forgetting something remains. And the new airport rules are making my head ache. Of course water is no longer allowed so we'll all be at dehydration's door by the time we arrive, no doubt! And my hand-luggage size allowance is not, I'm sure, what they'll be expecting. The trick of travelling light alludes me.
Lord H has spent all day tacking his divorce essay for theology class and also doing his self-assessment for last week's presentation. I have provided wifely proof-reading consultancy, so I have not been entirely unuseful. I've also finished the ironing, so wife points galore are, I'm sure, being showered upon me.
As for me, I've spent the rest of the day catching up with things I've recorded from TV. This means I have now watched all three hours of "The True Voice of Prostitution", "The True Voice of Rape" and "The True Voice of Murder". All true stories (obviously), but voiced & played by actors. Gripping, and really heavy, viewing. The one that had me sobbing like a baby was Lesley Sharp's (great actress, btw) portrayal of a mother whose daughter was murdered. Devastating stuff. And an eye-opener to one such as myself, who has been fortunate enough never to have had direct experience of any of these ordeals, but who writes about them in all my fiction. Sometimes at the same time. It's a weird feeling when real life breaks in to the world in my head.
Tonight, while Lord H is at theology class, I think I'm going to watch the drama, "Recovery", which I also videoed from some time ago, but which I've never got round to watching. And as it's a drama starring David Tennant and Sarah Parrish, it should be hot stuff. I think they're great together. Again, possibly not pre-holiday viewing, but what the hell.
And I've finally got round to writing a poem about the glorious picture that hangs on our living room wall opposite the sofa. I bought it some time ago for Lord H's birthday, and I love it:
L’escalier blanc: Nicholas Verrall
White steps lead upwards
to a greater light,
the shadow fading
on each slow rise.
On the left, pink bougainvillea drift
in an unfelt wind
while the pots on the right
are dappled with sunshine.
I do not see
what is beyond the topmost pillar
but already I can sense
an opening out,
a chance to shake off
the shadows’ grasp
and taste the warmth of the sun
as it sinks into skin.
All journeys lead through shadow
to an unknown light.
Only the choice of timing
remains.
I also feel a little guilty about not doing anything to "The Gifting", but I'm hoping the break will bring me back refreshed so I can at least get Simon across the water into his last scenes. Which I suspect will be long ones.
And I've had some interesting and really helpful comments responding to yesterday's blog - so thank you to those who responded. I also had my first equally interesting experience of making the decision not to accept a comment or two, as they were not helpful to me, but possibly more helpful to the contributor. I do feel a little raw about it, I must admit, but at least it means I am exercising some sort of control over what I do and what I do not accept. A lesson for life indeed ...
As this will be my last blog until after my holiday (which ends next weekend), I hope you all have a great week wherever you are and whatever you're doing. Take care.
Today's nice things:
1. Watching serious, and gripping, TV
2. Writing my poem
3. Looking forward to my holiday.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
Lord H has spent all day tacking his divorce essay for theology class and also doing his self-assessment for last week's presentation. I have provided wifely proof-reading consultancy, so I have not been entirely unuseful. I've also finished the ironing, so wife points galore are, I'm sure, being showered upon me.
As for me, I've spent the rest of the day catching up with things I've recorded from TV. This means I have now watched all three hours of "The True Voice of Prostitution", "The True Voice of Rape" and "The True Voice of Murder". All true stories (obviously), but voiced & played by actors. Gripping, and really heavy, viewing. The one that had me sobbing like a baby was Lesley Sharp's (great actress, btw) portrayal of a mother whose daughter was murdered. Devastating stuff. And an eye-opener to one such as myself, who has been fortunate enough never to have had direct experience of any of these ordeals, but who writes about them in all my fiction. Sometimes at the same time. It's a weird feeling when real life breaks in to the world in my head.
Tonight, while Lord H is at theology class, I think I'm going to watch the drama, "Recovery", which I also videoed from some time ago, but which I've never got round to watching. And as it's a drama starring David Tennant and Sarah Parrish, it should be hot stuff. I think they're great together. Again, possibly not pre-holiday viewing, but what the hell.
And I've finally got round to writing a poem about the glorious picture that hangs on our living room wall opposite the sofa. I bought it some time ago for Lord H's birthday, and I love it:
L’escalier blanc: Nicholas Verrall
White steps lead upwards
to a greater light,
the shadow fading
on each slow rise.
On the left, pink bougainvillea drift
in an unfelt wind
while the pots on the right
are dappled with sunshine.
I do not see
what is beyond the topmost pillar
but already I can sense
an opening out,
a chance to shake off
the shadows’ grasp
and taste the warmth of the sun
as it sinks into skin.
All journeys lead through shadow
to an unknown light.
Only the choice of timing
remains.
I also feel a little guilty about not doing anything to "The Gifting", but I'm hoping the break will bring me back refreshed so I can at least get Simon across the water into his last scenes. Which I suspect will be long ones.
And I've had some interesting and really helpful comments responding to yesterday's blog - so thank you to those who responded. I also had my first equally interesting experience of making the decision not to accept a comment or two, as they were not helpful to me, but possibly more helpful to the contributor. I do feel a little raw about it, I must admit, but at least it means I am exercising some sort of control over what I do and what I do not accept. A lesson for life indeed ...
As this will be my last blog until after my holiday (which ends next weekend), I hope you all have a great week wherever you are and whatever you're doing. Take care.
Today's nice things:
1. Watching serious, and gripping, TV
2. Writing my poem
3. Looking forward to my holiday.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
Sunday, March 18, 2007
An angry day
Woke up this morning feeling blank. A feeling which rapidly disintegrated into anger, with the odd wave of depression. Great start to the day then. Lord H went to church, as he was doing the prayers, but I cried off, as the thought of the Mothers' Day jollity was beyond bearing. I got so frustrated during the morning that I resorted to taking two calming pills. Thank God for Lane's Quiet Life remedies, eh?
There are really two things which have been upping the rollercoaster levels of my blood pressure today but God only knows why they're preying on my mind together. Lucky me, I suppose. Not. The first thing is the church. My specific (ex-) church rather than the generic one, though that's not so hot either. It strikes me that I spent most of 2006 being increasingly depressed and withdrawing from all kinds of church activity. I gave up going once a week to the daily Evening Prayer service held by the Lay Reader, I withdrew from the prayer rota, I gave my notice in as Sacristan and I stopped going to church every week. And when I did go, more often than not I didn't take communion. During that time, I've had a couple of church people tell me that if I wanted to talk I was welcome (a) to phone them, or (b) pop round for a chat. Which might seem nice on the outside, but you try asking someone suffering from depression to take any kind of action whatsoever in relation to the outside world. Believe me, it just wasn't possible. It was more than enough for me to (a) go to a counsellor and (b) talk to the doctor about it. I couldn't have done anything else. So, in all that time, not one person from my ruddy so-called caring bloody church has either popped round, rung me or left me a note. And, yes, I am bloody fucking angry about it. I'm beginning to see I have a right to be. I'm not sure I'd treat my dog (if I had one or even if I liked dogs) like this. Surely if something is sick, it's up to the healthier people to do something about it. Well, hell I've been sick and no-one's done a damn thing. Yes, I feel let down, yes I feel hurt, and yes I feel angry. The last straw today was when Lord H came home bearing a little gift of Mothers' Day flowers for me and conveying the good wishes of the church. I'm afraid my answer was (a) to chuck the flowers in the bin, and (b) say bollocks to their good wishes. I don't believe them and I don't want them. Not Lord H's fault, I know, and we did have a good talk about it today - which is a blessing which has been a long time coming. I've been wary about raising my feelings about church as I know how much a part of his life it is. My cowardice - I should have trusted him more. I think now that if anyone from the church did come round (with the possible exception of Paul, the new and very strange priest, who has been the first person there in a long time to treat me like a real human being with opinions and feelings that might be important ...), I wouldn't let them in. I also think that when I come back from our holidays, I'm going to cancel my monthly direct debit to the church, which I've been running for ages. And I'm not going to bother telling the treasurer either. I mean fuck it, why should I be proactively caring when not one other bugger has been? Bollocks to them, I say.
The other thing is that I'm not, I don't think, actively looking to find another church. I'm not sure I want to. It's way too difficult and too hurtful. If push comes to shove, or if my feelings change, I might think about the Quakers, as they've been good to me in the past when I was "between churches", but for now I think I just want to lick my wounds and be still. Hell, it's a plan. Of sorts.
And the second thing that's been making me wildly angry (and very hurt) today is my so-called old University friends. These are people I don't see very often, but have known for twenty years. Yes, I know I've blogged about them before, but this is the first time I've had this wave of anger about them. It feels as if for a long time I've been doing a lot of the running and since I made the decision last year about not organising so many group social activities, it all seems to be drifting away. It seems as if when I hear about any good or bad things that have happened to them, I'm first to respond with the appropriate celebrations or sympathy, but the same thing does not happen, in any sense, in return. Last year, one of them was in severe crisis and I drove over her way several times to have chats about it, and kept in touch by email/phone. Yet when I'm in trouble (as last year indeed), there's nothing in return - just once again the invitation to ring them if I need to talk. Well, once again, bollocks to that. It doesn't work. What I need is someone on my doorstep/on the phone/email being proactive about it. That has never happened. I've also sent emails telling them the good news about my books and, in one or two cases, how difficult things have been. Response on both counts: zilch. Surely, if someone emails you with good or bad news, it's just a matter of courtesy to respond?? I make sure I always do. It feels very hurtful, and I feel very empty, that this isn't happening from them. And, God, I think: what is it about me that makes people use me when they need a shoulder to cry on, but disappear to the fucking hills when I need the same from them? Do I have the label "Social Pushover" tattoed to my head? Bollocks to my old university gang, I say. I can do without you tossers. Everyone I know is a bloody better friend than you. So go screw yourselves.
So. What a morning that was, eh? The rest of the day I've spent doing the cleaning, stuffing sliced lemons up a chicken's arse (which has been extremely satisfying and I really must do it more often, especially when I can imagine it's the bloody church or my bloody so-called friends - though no doubt some of them would enjoy it ...) for lunch, cleaning the car, chatting to the neighbour and napping. The latter for two glorious hours - bliss! Oh, and I've rung mother to wish her the usual happy returns of today and to sound like a normal daughter with a normal life. God, what a consummate actor I indeed am.
And I've just finished reading Wendy Cope's "Serious Concerns" - poetry that always makes me smile and she's so damn clever. I've also given up on Carol Anne Davis' "Shrouded", as I couldn't bear the characters and I'm deeply uninterested in fish tanks, a subject which seemed to take up most of the first few chapters for reasons known only to her.
Tonight, I'm going to watch Billie Piper (who I think is a lovely person) in "Mansfield Park". I must admit to being in two minds about it, as I really really don't see her as Fanny - she's too blonde, too bosomy and too uncontained. Fanny is more of the quiet, slow-burn, brunette type, in my opinion. Still, we'll see.
This week's haiku (and probably appropriate for today in some strange fashion ...) is:
I speak of childhood.
Inside me, a door opens
and darkness spills out.
Today's nice things:
1. Being angry about the crap thrown at me (strangely)
2. Having the "church talk" at last with Lord H, and we're still hugging (thankfully)
3. TV.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
There are really two things which have been upping the rollercoaster levels of my blood pressure today but God only knows why they're preying on my mind together. Lucky me, I suppose. Not. The first thing is the church. My specific (ex-) church rather than the generic one, though that's not so hot either. It strikes me that I spent most of 2006 being increasingly depressed and withdrawing from all kinds of church activity. I gave up going once a week to the daily Evening Prayer service held by the Lay Reader, I withdrew from the prayer rota, I gave my notice in as Sacristan and I stopped going to church every week. And when I did go, more often than not I didn't take communion. During that time, I've had a couple of church people tell me that if I wanted to talk I was welcome (a) to phone them, or (b) pop round for a chat. Which might seem nice on the outside, but you try asking someone suffering from depression to take any kind of action whatsoever in relation to the outside world. Believe me, it just wasn't possible. It was more than enough for me to (a) go to a counsellor and (b) talk to the doctor about it. I couldn't have done anything else. So, in all that time, not one person from my ruddy so-called caring bloody church has either popped round, rung me or left me a note. And, yes, I am bloody fucking angry about it. I'm beginning to see I have a right to be. I'm not sure I'd treat my dog (if I had one or even if I liked dogs) like this. Surely if something is sick, it's up to the healthier people to do something about it. Well, hell I've been sick and no-one's done a damn thing. Yes, I feel let down, yes I feel hurt, and yes I feel angry. The last straw today was when Lord H came home bearing a little gift of Mothers' Day flowers for me and conveying the good wishes of the church. I'm afraid my answer was (a) to chuck the flowers in the bin, and (b) say bollocks to their good wishes. I don't believe them and I don't want them. Not Lord H's fault, I know, and we did have a good talk about it today - which is a blessing which has been a long time coming. I've been wary about raising my feelings about church as I know how much a part of his life it is. My cowardice - I should have trusted him more. I think now that if anyone from the church did come round (with the possible exception of Paul, the new and very strange priest, who has been the first person there in a long time to treat me like a real human being with opinions and feelings that might be important ...), I wouldn't let them in. I also think that when I come back from our holidays, I'm going to cancel my monthly direct debit to the church, which I've been running for ages. And I'm not going to bother telling the treasurer either. I mean fuck it, why should I be proactively caring when not one other bugger has been? Bollocks to them, I say.
The other thing is that I'm not, I don't think, actively looking to find another church. I'm not sure I want to. It's way too difficult and too hurtful. If push comes to shove, or if my feelings change, I might think about the Quakers, as they've been good to me in the past when I was "between churches", but for now I think I just want to lick my wounds and be still. Hell, it's a plan. Of sorts.
And the second thing that's been making me wildly angry (and very hurt) today is my so-called old University friends. These are people I don't see very often, but have known for twenty years. Yes, I know I've blogged about them before, but this is the first time I've had this wave of anger about them. It feels as if for a long time I've been doing a lot of the running and since I made the decision last year about not organising so many group social activities, it all seems to be drifting away. It seems as if when I hear about any good or bad things that have happened to them, I'm first to respond with the appropriate celebrations or sympathy, but the same thing does not happen, in any sense, in return. Last year, one of them was in severe crisis and I drove over her way several times to have chats about it, and kept in touch by email/phone. Yet when I'm in trouble (as last year indeed), there's nothing in return - just once again the invitation to ring them if I need to talk. Well, once again, bollocks to that. It doesn't work. What I need is someone on my doorstep/on the phone/email being proactive about it. That has never happened. I've also sent emails telling them the good news about my books and, in one or two cases, how difficult things have been. Response on both counts: zilch. Surely, if someone emails you with good or bad news, it's just a matter of courtesy to respond?? I make sure I always do. It feels very hurtful, and I feel very empty, that this isn't happening from them. And, God, I think: what is it about me that makes people use me when they need a shoulder to cry on, but disappear to the fucking hills when I need the same from them? Do I have the label "Social Pushover" tattoed to my head? Bollocks to my old university gang, I say. I can do without you tossers. Everyone I know is a bloody better friend than you. So go screw yourselves.
So. What a morning that was, eh? The rest of the day I've spent doing the cleaning, stuffing sliced lemons up a chicken's arse (which has been extremely satisfying and I really must do it more often, especially when I can imagine it's the bloody church or my bloody so-called friends - though no doubt some of them would enjoy it ...) for lunch, cleaning the car, chatting to the neighbour and napping. The latter for two glorious hours - bliss! Oh, and I've rung mother to wish her the usual happy returns of today and to sound like a normal daughter with a normal life. God, what a consummate actor I indeed am.
And I've just finished reading Wendy Cope's "Serious Concerns" - poetry that always makes me smile and she's so damn clever. I've also given up on Carol Anne Davis' "Shrouded", as I couldn't bear the characters and I'm deeply uninterested in fish tanks, a subject which seemed to take up most of the first few chapters for reasons known only to her.
Tonight, I'm going to watch Billie Piper (who I think is a lovely person) in "Mansfield Park". I must admit to being in two minds about it, as I really really don't see her as Fanny - she's too blonde, too bosomy and too uncontained. Fanny is more of the quiet, slow-burn, brunette type, in my opinion. Still, we'll see.
This week's haiku (and probably appropriate for today in some strange fashion ...) is:
I speak of childhood.
Inside me, a door opens
and darkness spills out.
Today's nice things:
1. Being angry about the crap thrown at me (strangely)
2. Having the "church talk" at last with Lord H, and we're still hugging (thankfully)
3. TV.
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Tea, Pinter and my first reading group invite
Oh, the .... Pinter last .... night was so .... full of .... pauses that at times I think I may have lost the will to live. I have no real idea what it might have been trying to say either and I even may have got to the point where I didn't much care. Which is odd as I've seen some quite sharp Pinters. This ("Old Times") is not one. It even managed to make the glorious Neil Pearson appear dull, which is quite a feat. Only an hour and a half (including a 20 minute interval), but I've never been so glad to see the lights come up and the applause begin. Though I think we might have been applauding the return of the lights rather than acknowledging the actors. Mind you, I did get the giggles when Lord H leaned over to me while we were nibbling our ice creams in the interval and said (in classic stage whisper) that, all in all, he thought there was less to it than met the eye. Well said, sir, indeed. In fact if we'd got rid of ... the ... pauses, we could probably have rattled through it in 10 mins and been home in time for "Ugly Betty". Which I'm sorry I missed.
However, fear not, as Lord H has once again come up with the correct dramatic solution. (It never ceases to amaze me how dramatically sensitive my husband actually is - he really should have been a playwright or a drama critic, at the very least, as he does this all the time). Anyway, his solution would be to take the script, add in the old school friend's husband, thus making it a four-hander, rather than a three-hander. Then he'd split the set so we could see the living room and the bedroom at the same time, and watch people go in and out of same - thus adding action and a sense of movement where there was none. He'd then give the whole thing to Alan Ayckbourn who knows a thing or two about drama, and end up with a respectable, and no doubt more popular, comedy of manners. Result! Remember: you heard it here first ...
And there's exciting news! "A Dangerous Man" (http://www.flamebooks.com) will be discussed at the university's reading group at the end of April, and I've been invited to go along and introduce it, etc etc. Hurrah! Michael actually gets to go out. For once. I'd best make sure he nobbles some of Jack's aftershave and buys himself a decent tee-shirt and at least tries to look respectable. Both of us are very excited! - but nervous too, as we're Reading Group Virgins. Much to our shame ... So if anyone out there has any useful tips, please let us know! I did ask Lord H if he could come along and be "Author's Husband", and he suggested that, bearing in mind the psychotic subject matter, perhaps Kunu could also come along, so I could be flanked by "Author's Husband" on one side and "Author's Therapist" on the other. I suspect that may be slightly too weird for the university though ... And he wasn't that keen on the idea of me dressing up as Michael and him dressing up as Jack either - though the idea of having sex in the office did perk him up. As it were. Ho hum.
Oh, and the lovely Devon on MySpace (http://www.myspace.com - sorry, Devon, but I can't find your page URL, darn it!) has very kindly added me to his profile as an author he likes. Hey, thanks, Devon - that's a first for me, I think. Much appreciated.
This afternoon, Lord H and I have been to Kent and back to celebrate a friend's 60th birthday and to eat lots of very naughty food. Bliss. And we were very good, as it was held in a vineyard and we didn't buy any of the local wine. How noble we are indeed. This probably means we can be extra naughty at the next available wine shop. Hurrah. Tonight, I'll be glued to "Primeval" on TV, getting more ironing done and probably not doing the cleaning. Hell, it's a plan.
Today's nice things:
1. Being invited to a reading group
2. Tea in Kent
3. Being a favourite author of Devon's!
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
However, fear not, as Lord H has once again come up with the correct dramatic solution. (It never ceases to amaze me how dramatically sensitive my husband actually is - he really should have been a playwright or a drama critic, at the very least, as he does this all the time). Anyway, his solution would be to take the script, add in the old school friend's husband, thus making it a four-hander, rather than a three-hander. Then he'd split the set so we could see the living room and the bedroom at the same time, and watch people go in and out of same - thus adding action and a sense of movement where there was none. He'd then give the whole thing to Alan Ayckbourn who knows a thing or two about drama, and end up with a respectable, and no doubt more popular, comedy of manners. Result! Remember: you heard it here first ...
And there's exciting news! "A Dangerous Man" (http://www.flamebooks.com) will be discussed at the university's reading group at the end of April, and I've been invited to go along and introduce it, etc etc. Hurrah! Michael actually gets to go out. For once. I'd best make sure he nobbles some of Jack's aftershave and buys himself a decent tee-shirt and at least tries to look respectable. Both of us are very excited! - but nervous too, as we're Reading Group Virgins. Much to our shame ... So if anyone out there has any useful tips, please let us know! I did ask Lord H if he could come along and be "Author's Husband", and he suggested that, bearing in mind the psychotic subject matter, perhaps Kunu could also come along, so I could be flanked by "Author's Husband" on one side and "Author's Therapist" on the other. I suspect that may be slightly too weird for the university though ... And he wasn't that keen on the idea of me dressing up as Michael and him dressing up as Jack either - though the idea of having sex in the office did perk him up. As it were. Ho hum.
Oh, and the lovely Devon on MySpace (http://www.myspace.com - sorry, Devon, but I can't find your page URL, darn it!) has very kindly added me to his profile as an author he likes. Hey, thanks, Devon - that's a first for me, I think. Much appreciated.
This afternoon, Lord H and I have been to Kent and back to celebrate a friend's 60th birthday and to eat lots of very naughty food. Bliss. And we were very good, as it was held in a vineyard and we didn't buy any of the local wine. How noble we are indeed. This probably means we can be extra naughty at the next available wine shop. Hurrah. Tonight, I'll be glued to "Primeval" on TV, getting more ironing done and probably not doing the cleaning. Hell, it's a plan.
Today's nice things:
1. Being invited to a reading group
2. Tea in Kent
3. Being a favourite author of Devon's!
Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk
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