The thought of writing a memoir had never crossed my mind. I’ve listened intently as members of my writers’ group read from their life writings. One member decided to defy convention and sail around the world with her children. Another lived in India for years to learn the practice of Ayurveda, a form of traditional Indian medicine. Both amazing life experiences. But, consciously thinking about writing about my life experiences might not have occurred to me but, the fact was, I’d been doing it for years.
My printer ink reservoir of patience and calm has run dry. I am exhausted and stressed – not a good place to be. I am in mourning for my late lamented printer.
This is the bittersweet story of the first four decades of Lisa Grant’s life. Growing up with her narcissist mother, Elizabeth, has a knock-on effect in her adult life. When she finds out the truth about her mother’s early life, can she find it in her heart to forgive Elizabeth for her appalling behaviour over the last forty years?
Let’s face it, 2020 has been a shit year, so far, but one good thing that has come out of it for me, is that it has highlighted the things that are really important.
When It’s time for a change, you instinctively know the time is right. Lockdown concentrated our minds, as dedicated health workers around the world became frontline soldiers in the war against COVID-19, while our lives ground to a halt. I’m not sure how we can ever repay them for their sacrifice.
Wear a sodding mask! It’s not all about you! If you don’t want to wear a mask to protect yourself, then do it for others who are less robust than you. There are people out there fighting pre-existing conditions whose lives are already a struggle. The last thing they want is to contract COVID-19. If they do, the probability is that they won’t survive it. Do you really want that on your conscious? Is that really YOUR CHOICE? So, get over it! Wear a sodding mask!
I never thought I would feel the love for lemon sherbet popcorn, but stranger things have happened when you are stranded at an airport.
Right! Cute and beautiful is the last straw. I’m an ageing Baby Boomer for goodness sake, and my social media accounts are my author pages. Read my bio! I’m trying to promote my writing, I don’t want a bloody date, okay?
It’s done. After two weeks, our garden table is de-stressed to perfection. This morning, I kept running the palm of my hand over the table’s silky surface, in admiration of the skill with which it has been stripped. Finally, it is ready to paint! 💃💃
You kind of know from the moment you wake up that you are going to have a bad hair day. After a fitful night. Hot, cold. Cold Hot. I am woken at dawn by the deep-throated moan of a Burmese cat.
Slow but steady is the pace I live my life these days, and I am much happier and less stressed for having opted out of the rat race.
Lockdown has also highlighted the things that are important in life, and they are not material things. I’ve been a hoarding procrastinator for much too long, but hopefully, it’s not too late to make permanent changes. Says who? Little old wine drinking 🍷, overthinking me.
10.00 a.m. breakfast with my agent at Bumpkins Beach Bar, Antigua to discuss the opportunity for a sequel, to novel number 6 and the film rights for my autobiographical romp … My Overactive Imagination.
I am the paradigm of an A&E nurse. I am the one that is chosen but would volunteer to shepherd young nurses through their first few days and weeks in A&E.
I am bombproof; unflappable. Nothing fazes me anymore.
Whilst on safari, I lost weight fairly quickly and it wasn’t just to do with the heat. After enjoying a sundowner watching impala gambol happily in the bush, we would return to camp to find them on the dinner menu, which was just too hard to swallow. The only time I have ever been offered a gin and tonic for breakfast at 5.00a.m. was on safari and it was the only time I have ever refused one, sensibly realising I was getting enough quinine in my anti-malarial tablets.
Being in Lockdown changes you. The way you think and feel as well as making you do strange things. Week 8 got off to an unfortunate start when I accidentally sprayed the sunflower seedlings with an anti-bacterial spray instead of water. It wasn’t the brightest thing to do. […]
As a wannabe novelist, there have been many times over the last five years when I been ready to quit. When I’ve thrown all my manuscripts into a black bag and headed for the dustbin. I’m sure we’ve all been there, but something inside us keeps niggling. Willing […]
I am relieved I have reached the age when I no longer feel I have to make a fashion statement … my wardrobe consists of what I can get into on any given day … but how I look will always be a reflection of who I am. #beyourself 1 minute 1 second read
I was born at my parent’s home in Fulwith Mill Lane, Harrogate. A stone’s throw away from the viaduct on the south side of town. I remember little about the house, as my parents decided to uproot my tender sapling self, aged three and replant me down south.
Despite my roots being pulled out from underneath me at such an early age, the draw of the place of my birth remains strong. It will forever be etched upon my heart.
It’s dawn, and I throw back the curtains, to be greeted by a spectacular sunrise. It takes my breath away. The sun bursts above the horizon. A radiant, luminous glow of deep orange and flame red, spreading an inspirational light on a darkened world and heralding endless possibilities […]