October 20, 2011
'Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,' so said Keats in one of the poems I remember from school. Actually I also remember reading it when I was starving and all that talk of fruit and nuts really striking a chord. However, autumn is the 'most boring season', according to most. In spring you have pretty flowers, an earth awakening and warming; summer days are long and hot, summer nights are balmy and light; winter is sparkly and hosts the grandaddy of all celebrations - Christmas. Autumn is merely full of boring brown and things die.
I must confess, I've never been much of an autumn fan. If we had to say...
May 04, 2011
I used to think that cruises were for the very old and rich. Never wanted the slightest inclination to go on one. Then a friend of mine nagged me to death to go with her and her family and I was bullied into putting down a deposit and spending then, until arriving at the docks, thinking I’d made the world’s biggest and stupidest mistake. I had visions of the kids falling overboard and being eaten by sharks. How wrong I was. Diamonds and diamante mixed beautifully, all ages mingled and the biggest relevation of all was that I rested. For the first time in donkey’s years, I switched off my brain for longer than the length of a sleep. I...
September 03, 2010
It’s been the most emotional summer I can remember. My son is going to ‘big school’ in September. Although he’s all grown up now and raises his eyebrows when I call it that. He’ll strut off on his first day with his uniform sparkling and his shoes polished to army standard and I’ll be the nervous wreck worrying that he’ll be okay and wondering where all the years went. One minute I was taking pictures of him on his first day in his tiny Shawlands uniform, the next I’m buying jumpers for him for Kingstone which both the dog and I could fit into.
But I’m not just sad that his days of being a...
May 25, 2010
Apparently ‘A Rose by any other name would smell as sweet’ (excuse the tweak please, Will) well, that is as maybe but my brain kind of interferes with theories like that and adds a bit to the mix – allow me to explain: if a rose were called ‘Snotweed’, my brain would start imagining that it didn’t smell half as nice as a ‘rose’ would. Which is why I spend a long time on names of people and places in my books. Because names, to me, can interfere with things too much if they aren’t right. I don’t want my hero to be called Gaz Pickles. (Apologies to any Gaz Pickles out there, I hasten to add...