I woke up sneezing this morning and wondered if the bastard-bug had got to me. However, after two cups of coffee and two pieces of toast later, I am glad to report that the sneezing fit was probably something to do with a stray speck of dust. Being vigilant is a good thing, but I need to get a grip on automatically assuming that one sneeze means I need to self-isolate.
Looking at life from the funny side has never been more difficult, as my compromised immune system and I prepare to stand shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the world to face the biggest battle of our lives, Covid-19.
I’m confused. We are caught up in the worst public health crisis for a generation. Yet, we are expected to carry on regardless with a big, black Covid-19 cloud hanging over our heads.
Sometimes during a rare night of deep sleep, I dream about some cracking plotlines and try to wake myself up to write them down. More often than not, when I do manage to wake myself up, I can’t remember them.
Over the last week, this site has had many, many visitors from Lithuania. I am ashamed to say I had to look at the map to see where Lithuania was – I think I must have failed Geography O Level. I’m not sure 🤔 I’ve ever had a […]
As the others took in Body Worlds and the Van Gough Museum, I sauntered through the streets of Amsterdam at my own pace, taking in its sights and sounds. Dam Square, home to the Royal Palace, where I fell in love with Ted. We both have the same hair, which I think is rather sweet, but I am philosophical. Holiday romances never last.
As Katie Melua told us, there are 9 million bicycles in Beijing, so I’m surprised to learn there are only 881,000 in Amsterdam. They are everywhere. 58% of the population cycle to work on upright bikes, and there’s not a scrap of lycra to be seen. The Dutch have mastered the art of sedate cycling while holding an umbrella above their heads, a necessity during the monsoon-like rainstorms the city often gets.
Once you’ve been bitten by the travel bug, there is no antidote. Wanderlust will course through your veins for the rest of your life. Travel, for me, has always been an addiction. I can never get enough of it, despite having been forced to slow down a bit […]
I could log these brain farts I’ve been having as senior moments, but my oldest friends will tell you I’ve always been away with the fairies. So there is little hope for me now.
Perhaps, constantly sweating over creating new plotlines, means I am beginning to lose my own?
I think a break will do me good.
Jack put Lisa down gently on the spare bed in his sister’s room that she had used since she was a child, before kneeling down to study her face. She looked so vulnerable. Hypnotised by the rise and fall of her chest, the beat of his heart accelerated, taking him by surprise. The urge to lie down next to her and hold her in his arms was overwhelming. Why hadn’t he realised before that she was so beautiful?
‘How would I know Mother? I haven’t seen him for eleven years. But you can’t be serious? Why on earth would you want to look good for anybody interested in me? Is it some sort of sexual fantasy you have? I don’t have to dress up like a bloody tart to attract a man. I want somebody to love me for who I am and not what you look like! I’ve read The Female Eunuch, and I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. I also know what I want to do with my life, and I don’t have to dress up like a bloody Barbie doll to achieve it. For God’s sake, Mother, why do you always have to talk such bloody rubbish? I don’t have time to go clothes shopping and please, close the door on your way out.’
It’s just dawned on me that cows feature in both Just Say It and The Secret Lives of the Doyenne of Didsbrook. I grew up on a dairy farm, so maybe that’s the reason? My main character in Just Say It grows up on a farm with a herd […]
It’s hard to keep the comedic banter going, now that the Coronavirus has been declared a World Health Emergency. The enormity of its threat to our very existence has rather paled Brexit Day into submission. Not that this day is anything to celebrate, its more like a wake. It’s a day I hoped would never come, along with half the British population.
During my supine week, the fug in my head made it difficult to process most things, let alone finish the edit. I did still retain the brainpower to operate the TV remote, but everything I watched made me cry.
For the first Author Interview of 2020, it gives me great pleasure to introduce you to one of my fellow Jersey Writers Social Group members, Dreena Collins. In September last year, Dreena entertained a packed Maria Richie Room at the Jersey Arts Centre, during the 2019 Jersey Festival of Words captivating us all with her engaging wit, and her passion for creative writing.
During 2019, Dreena self-published three volumes of her excellent short stories and flash fiction, The Blue Hour, The Day I Nearly Drowned and, most recently Bird Wing. The Amazon reviews alone are glowing.
I am just about to come to the end of what will be the final edit of… Draft number 12 of my first novel… I think it’s number 12, but I’ve lost count. So I’m a long way off seeing my book in print, let alone watching Renée Zellweger win another gong for playing the part of my MC and thanking me in her acceptance speech.
PLEASE HELP AUSTRALIA! An estimated 1 billion animals have been lost in the fires as scientists warn that species of mammals, birds, insects, fungi and plants may have been wiped out before they were even discovered. Even animals that survive the fires are still at risk.
I started off 2020 with targets, and have been thrown off course already.
I’ve been knocked for six by some microscopic little bastard that has invaded my body and seems reluctant to leave.
I am half-way through yet another Just Say It edit. I should be finished by the end of the week and wondered if there are any Beta Readers out there who might have the time to read through it for me. Its currently 90,540 words. Just Say It is about […]
NYE’s never fails to evoke a degree of emotion, even more so when it’s the end of a decade. As a subconscious switch was about to turn on the emotional NYE waterworks, one of the five framed pictures of flowers above my bedhead, all embroidered by my late mother, just happened to fall on my head.
I had to laugh. Was it my mother’s way of wishing me a happy new year from some parallel universe? Or was the Universe itself sending me a positive sign that, if I keep a clear head, 2020 just might be my year?
Bring it on!