Looks, Books and a Zig-Zag

Since I handed ‘The Next Big Thing’ baton to lovely Choc Lit author Sarah Tranter whose novel, No Such Thing as Immortality, will be available very soon (look out for the Kindle edition at the end of this week!), I suppose it’s only fair that she’s handed one to me!

Thank you, Sara, for the zig-zag challenge which, thank goodness, wasn’t too challenging. I was asked to find the word ‘look’ in my current novel or a work in progress then post the surrounding paragraph.

To ring the changes from my current novel Move Over Darling, I’ve gone to the work in progress. Or rather the work I’m battling with as usual. This is the first ‘look’ I found and it’s in the second chapter. Some of you may recognise the location…

“'My pleasure,' she exhaled, closing her eyes, ‘I look forwards to meeting you at the end of the week then.'

In the two years since Fiona and her husband, Paul, had opened Walton House, Little Spitmarsh had seen its financial tide beginning to turn thanks to the opening of Samphire, an upmarket restaurant which was still managing to attract food gourmets willing to make the long pilgrimage to the bleak east coast. The restaurant and an annual film festival had almost reinvigorated parts of the once seedy town to the point of gentrification, encouraging a smattering of galleries, cool vintage shops and a few of the hardier pilgrims to snap up some of the most attractive old buildings along the seafront as second homes. Foodie, film buff or Up-from-Londoner? She tried to guess which of the new category of visitor the man at the other end of the phone would turn out to be.

He laughed gently. ‘Well, I sincerely hope I don't disappoint you,' he murmured in a voice that hinted at emerald fields shimmering under the kiss of soft Kerry rain.”

Okay, I’m just trying to pass the zig-zag challenge on, but I think my ~~victim~~ fellow writer is just changing into her Lycra shorts so we’ll have to wait until she returns before I name her!

Oh wait, here she comes now! Looking good, Linda Mitchelmore!

Happy Endings, New Beginnings

Blended families come with conflicting loyalties and at Christmas time nearly everyone has somewhere else they feel they ought to be. Throw partners into the equation and it gets even more complicated. Since Tom and I aren’t especially hung up about Christmas we’re happy to let our children go with the strongest flow, but I have to say it was a great delight to have the girls and their partners staying with us this year. When such moments are few and far between they become very precious. My stepsons weren’t far from our thoughts either, not least because we had the very happy news on Christmas Day that my elder stepson and his girlfriend had become engaged. Congratulations Dan and Gill, here’s wishing you every happiness together. Tom and I end a year that has seen the fruition of many years work, both of us crossing important thresholds within weeks of each other. I’m really looking forwards to seeing Turning the Tide published next year and it’s been so satisfying, after al...

Fly Free, Dottie Do

‘How many days to my birthday?’ Ma asks. I do a quick calculation. ‘Eighteen,’ I reply. ‘Eighteen days until your ninetieth birthday.’ Ma pulls a face and shakes her head. Every sentence is hard work for her now, when each breath is a struggle. ‘You’ll have to write a book about this, you know,’ she says, with one of her quick, mischievous smiles. ‘“Carry On Dying”. Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry.’ The smile fades. ‘Who knew,’ she adds wearily, ‘that dying would be such a palaver?’ It’s only eleven days since Ma was diagnosed with a high-grade, aggressive lymphoma, four days since she was overwhelmed with pain and breathing difficulties and was admitted as an emergency to hospital. Until a few weeks ago, she lived completely independently; shopping, cooking, cleaning and tending her much-loved garden. The deterioration in her health is shockingly rapid. The eight days preceding her death are a living hell, a constant battle with the ward staff to get Ma the pain relief she’s been p...

Since You've Been Gone

Well, Ma Mère, There have been so many times when I’ve gathered up all the little shiny moments I’ve collected during the day, ready to present to you in our evening phone call and then I remember all over again that you’re not there. But, Mum, so much has happened since you’ve gone - maybe you know, maybe you don’t - that I’ve decided to write to you instead. A few days after you died, we sold our house! After all those months! We even joked about you rattling cages somewhere. At first, nothing happened and then suddenly everything happened at a breathless pace and the next thing I knew I found myself driving (yes, me, driving!) along the M4 to Bridgend and the Time Capsule House, the one you said you and Dad would have bought. I remarked, when we first viewed it that if it was meant for us, it would come to us. Over a year later, when it had been under offer twice, we moved in. Oh, Mum, you and Dad would have loved this house; it’s peak Seventies and the decor - the pampas ensu...

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