Dear Diary, as 2020 was so goddam bleak, I intend to record only positive thoughts and affirmations this year.
Well, hello, 2021! I took down the tree and the Christmas decorations today because now that you’re here, there no point in hanging around, I want to get on with it. You’ve been a long time coming. It’s been the longest 365 days of my life and, as I’m sure you’ve heard, your predecessor was a nightmare.
I dare to dream about spending time with the people I care about, without being 2 meters apart.
I dare to dream about going out for a meal, or to the theatre – how I’ve missed the smell of the greasepaint – and listening to Little Black Dress cook up a storm in the Blue Note Bar with other live music lovers.
I dare to dream about a change of scene – I used to write poetry, just as well I gave it up.
I dare to dream about soaking up the sunshine somewhere with the gentle lapping of the sea in my ears, free to inhale the exhilarating, briny COVID-19-free air. Joy.
When writing fiction, creating characters has always been the fun part for me. Getting inside each character’s head and shaping them into credible human beings for others to enjoy, love or hate.
Bah humbug! I’m just not feeling it. Does anybody else feel the same? I thought getting our tree and decorating it while drinking a few glasses of Mulled wine and listening to Michael Bublé’s Christmas full deluxe special edition, might do the trick. Well, it did, sort of. SIX REASONS […]
I was delighted to be a contributor for Jersey Life‘s December 2020/January 2021 edition. My brief was to write an article on the benefits of writing for mental health and general well-being, especially in light of COVID-19 and the effects of Lockdown, and I came up with Writing to Heal. […]
I have never been so emotionally involved in an American Presidential Election in my life but, since last Tuesday, I have been glued, as America’s future teetered on a knife-edge, and I’m not even American.
Thousands of miles away from America, the land of the free, we heard the news we were hoping for. We cried, imbibed and danced to Kool & The Gang’s Celebration on our patio in the middle of our night waving sparklers in the air. The feeling of joy, as well as relief for a bunch of Brits thousands of miles away, was very real.
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.