A March Miscellany

March begins with our wedding anniversary - St David’s Day - we take ourselves off for an overnight stay in a very comfortable hotel at Deganwy. Our room has magnificent views across the estuary to snow-capped mountains beyond, the sun shines, the food is glorious and the spa and swimming pool’s free to guests so we make the most of every second of our visit. After starting the year with so much illness, it’s wonderful to feel well at last!

Coming home, I find the latest (April) edition of The English Home waiting for me, with my words to Nick Carter’s gorgeous photographs of a sweet, nostalgic seaside cottage. Each commission presents a different challenge, but it’s always very satisfying to see the finished article in print. I’m currently working on two commissions for the magazine which are due to appear later in the year. Fiction-wise, of the novella I submitted in January, there’s no word. Perhaps with the current appetite for ‘grip-lit’, stories about two people overcoming misunderstandings to find their ‘happy ever after’ are out of favour? Whatever the reason, I’m more philosophical about the vagaries of publishing these days; I’m not going to give myself a headache trying to second-guess what ‘the market’ wants, but will continue to write what’s important to me.

March brings a new Llanelli Half Marathon, my tenth half marathon. It’s raining - of course it is - but not too windy. I finish in 2:06:37, sixth in my class, a result I’m happy with.

It’s also time to scrub the boat and anti-foul in preparation for the new sailing season - where did that year go?

Yesterday, we enjoyed our fabulous Christmas present from Lily and Russ and Rose and Si; tickets to see Matthew Bourne’s stunning ballet ‘The Red Shoes’. We rounded off our day spending a couple of hours with Bee before her bath and bed-time. Never has one small person wrapped four adults so tightly round her little finger… but little does she know that competiton's on the way - the first of her new cousins (all being well) is due to arrive soon!

Apropos nothing, other than a reminder to make the most of what we have, I really enjoyed reading Rebecca Rideal’s ‘1666: Plague, War and Hellfire’, a wonderfully vivid account of an extraordinary year. I still love the comfort of reading a few pages of nature writing before turning out the light, currently Robert Macfarlane’s ‘The Wild Places’, because I drift off to sleep feeling cosy. However, it’s Kate Gross’s words I keep hearing. Her ‘Late Fragments: Everything I Want to Tell You (About this Magnificent Life)’ is an oddly uplifting account of facing a terminal illness at far too young an age. She writes, ‘I shall end this by reminding you to put your superhero glasses on, to pay attention to the wonder all around you. To get your dodgy bottoms checked out. To always, always eat from your very best crockery, because where can we live but days?’

My First Book Signing!

It’s a fine, dry day and there’s an Italian market in the square outside Waterstone’s. Good for a book signing? ‘Bad,’ says Tim. The stalls are blocking the view of the shop and the fine weather’s keeping everyone outdoors. Hmm, that must be why they’ve only put one small poster up for my event, I mean why waste the Blu Tack? Tim demonstrates handing off the marauding hordes After much refolding of a black tablecloth and a rummage around for some books, I’m invited to take up my position at the author table somewhere between ‘fantasy and horror’, children’s books and a poster of the next author, Bobby ‘Iron Duke’ Windsor who’s signing on Monday. Once Tom, Lily, my lovely daughter, and her partner, Russ, are all sure I’m not going to run away, they leave me to it, taking it in turns to make sure I’m all right and bring me tea. Very soon, I notice a small boy watching me. When he returns with his family I learn that he would like to be a writer. His method, he tells me, is to rewr...

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...

Forever Young

Looking at the blurb for my new Lacura WrinkleStop from Aldi, I see that its active ingredient has been ‘proven to help • Reduce forehead wrinkles by 52% • Reduce crow’s feet by 24% • Restrict 82% of wrinkle muscle activity’ That’s quite a claim, isn’t it? Frankly, after years when my face looked like a lunar landscape thanks to the joys of acne, these days I’m just grateful to see a fairly blemish-free skin. Part of me wants to believe that the wonder cream’s making everything looking a bit smoother and tidier, but, hey, there’s also a lot of ‘aqua’ and ‘glycerin’ in the stuff, too. Besides, I could tamper with my skin as much as I like (and I don’t), but I’ve only got to stand next to my beautiful daughters to see the difference. Ma has wonderful skin, so the chances are there are some helpful genes in the mix, but my dad died far too young of cancer, so it’s not all good news. My dad was a carpenter. ‘You can’t get age from a tin, Miss Chris,’ he’d say when rubbing his hands o...

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