Friday, 4 January 2019

Ferret Love

For over 40 years I cooked Christmas dinner for the family. Now it's someone else's turn. 

This is the second year that we spent Christmas with Daughter. It has become our new tradition. Daughter found a lovely pub-cum-restaurant where we lounged near a huge log fire and unashamedly allowed others to wait upon us.

Since I last mentioned Daughter on this blog, she has fallen in love with ferrets. She is a weekend volunteer at her local RSPCA and this was how she first met - and lost her heart to - these long furry animals. I didn't realise how tame and loving ferrets could be. It would seem that I am now their grandma and so, as is the way with all good grandmas, I am in love with them... almost.

Between you, me and the blog post, I have to admit that I do prefer cats. My two girls, Mabel and Charlie, are getting on in years now and are both on different doses of medication. This would make going away impossible if it wasn't for my amazing friend/neighbour who even crept round early on Christmas morning to give them food, meds and love before her family woke up.

Of course, there were other holiday events; trips to visit family, family staying over on New Years Eve, a visit with the grandkids to the local pantomime, Peter Pan - oh yes we did - but somehow I keep thinking of those ferrets, of their hammocks to sleep in, their toys to play with and tubes to run through. They've certainly landed on their paws at my Daughter's place and they're not cheap to run. They eat fresh meat every day, need constant care and attention and I'm guessing that all those ferret toys cost a pretty penny and some, but then I think about the amount of love that they have to offer - and that is priceless.

Thursday, 8 November 2018

A Tough Cookie of a Rose

I have a lovely rose bush that my lovely sister gave me several years ago but the bush, like so many of us, has had a tough year:

February - I was laid low with the dreaded flu while the Beast from the East raged outside. My rose bush was blackened by frost.

March - The snow thawed. My MA work became more intense while my rose bush fought a different battle. An aggressive neighbour, a Virburnum Davidii with no respect for the space of others, was overwhelming her. The shrub had to go.

April - Secateurs were employed along with spades, forks, some digging, some pulling and several unladylike words (Ok, so Mr A did most of the heavy work... ok, ok, he did all of the heavy work!). The bully shrub was gone leaving my rose bush hanging pale and emaciated. (I didn't tell Sister about this so, 'Sorry, Sis x'.) 

Steaming summer - My rose was charred by the relentless sun. She longed for a good downpour of rain, as did we all.

Autumn - The garden is turning to shades of gold and brown while my rose has finally produced her 2018 blooms. Here she is early this morning after a cold, wet and windy night... and you can still see the gap where the offending shrub once stood.

My rose bush is truly a tough cookie, but then I guess we all have to be these days to survive.

Thursday, 25 October 2018

Brain Mush...

...and how my mind reconstructed false news into a reality

Life after Masters has an unpleasant echo to it. Every morning, when I wake up, the realisation seeps into my consciousness that, although there are things to be done, it doesn't really matter if I do them or not. If I'm not careful my brain will start turning to mush.

I have had a taster of brain mush this week and I don't like it. My Facebook friends will know that I'm recovering from a nasty attack of vertigo. The GP gave me pills which are actually very good at alleviating the symptoms but have had a drastic affect on my brain. For a start, my words won't come out of my mouth correctly. Yesterday I called an accountant an academy and went to feed the kettles instead of the cats. The day before I said 'hello' twice to an old neighbour who was sitting at the next table to me in the local cafe. That lunchtime, I burnt the toast and couldn't work out what that awful screeching noise was. It was, of course, the smoke detector - yes, I know, at least I've tested that it's still working. Today I convinced myself that we had already turned back the clocks for the end of British Summer Time.

I need to talk about this most recent error because there was a double whammy to this mistake. I tried googling the date on my phone but the phone said the clocks had already gone back in September. I must have mistyped something but from that moment on I started to reconstruct reality. I talked myself into remembering the event, convincing myself that I had not made such a fuss about it this time and so that was why I had forgotten. I was on the verge of believing myself when I re-googled and sure enough, the clocks have not gone back yet, but they will do this Saturday night/Sunday morning. I was stunned at how quickly my mind had adopted false information and created a reality around it.

So this weekend I will try not to make my usual fuss about gaining an hour or losing an hour or whichever it might be. Meanwhile, I'm off to busy myself once more, to make sure I keep my brain well exercised and keep the mush at bay.

Friday, 31 August 2018

My MA Experience

I have just had a most amazing two years. My only regret is that it's over.

It was 2016. I needed my mum's advice. For the millionth time, I wished she was still with me. I went to see Sonia, one of her old friends. I told her,
'I need advice from my mum.' (She understood.) 'I'm thinking of enrolling for an MA in Creative Writing at Leicester University. Is it the right thing to do? It's such a lot of money. I'll be the oldest in the group. What if the work piles up? What if it's too much for me? I've left it too late to go back to studying, haven't I?'
Sonia's response was swift, 'Do it', she said, 'And enjoy it.' And so I did it and I enjoyed it. I kept her updated on each assignment and I thanked her time and again for her advice. Sadly, she recently died, but I'll always be grateful for her encouragement.

So, what have I been up to over the last two years? With the support and guidance of an excellent group of tutors, I've developed my writing skills, experimented with words, discovered different ways of expressing myself on the page, spent hours in the library, drunk gallons of coffee and I've even had one or two drinks at the local pub. I now have a file full of material including a memoir, a play and an array of poetry - some of it ekphrastic, my words illustrating the paintings of a talented artist from a Polish shtetl, and one poem (as I've already mentioned several times) winner of the Leicester University G. S. Fraser poetry prize. I now have lots of material that I can rework for submission, lots of new ideas that I plan to develop, but I wish I could do it all over again.

If anyone reading this is thinking of enrolling for this type of a course, then my advice to you is the same as Sonia's was to me, 'Do it'. It's not cheap but then you get what you pay for - and now I'd best get back to the dissertation, my final piece of work to be submitted. It's written. I just need to give it a final check through, get it printed and bound and then I shall submit it and I might even have a small alcoholic drink to celebrate - just a small one, mind you!

Wednesday, 27 June 2018

The Winner

I'm taking a break from working on my dissertation because I have received some exciting news from Leicester University. Sorry for sounding like a bit of a show-off but I can't wait to tell everybody.

My poem 'Fresh Canvas' has won 1st prize in the 2018 G. S. Fraser Poetry Competition

Once I'd stopped jumping up and down and checking that I'd read the email correctly, I looked on the Poetry Foundation website to find out a bit more about G. S. Fraser. He was born George Sutherland Fraser in 1914 in Glasgow. He served in the British Army in the Second World War and then went on to teach at Leicester University. He was particularly known for his lyrical poetry. I hope my poem, 'Fresh Canvas', serves his memory well.

During this two-year MA in Creative Writing Course I have become increasingly drawn to poetry writing but, just to make life even harder for myself, I decided not to write poetry for my dissertation but to write a stage play. It's based on events in London in 1935 so - yes - I'm also having to research the history. When I emerge from this mammoth exercise, I will be back here with my regular blogs but for now I'm going to return to my world of actors, lighting and stage directions.

Have a good summer and please don't think about me working away here for one single moment!

Tuesday, 8 May 2018

2,500 Books Have Been Sold

We have now sold 2,500 copies 
of The Children's Book of Richard III. 

Not only that, but we have now gone into paperback. It's all very exciting.

Me giving a school talk
about Richard III
Me being the Witch of Daneshill
from the book
Me handing you a book

The book is selling steadily at the Richard III Visitors' Centre, the Bosworth Battlefield Shop and at the various Leicester Museum Shops. If you don't have access to one of those outlets and you'd like to buy a copy - they make excellent presents - you can email the publisher, Lynn Moore at or you can email me at

I don't usually drink champagne but as this is a special occasion - and as it's a virtual bottle of champagne anyway - I shall raise a glass and drink a toast.

Here's to the next 2,500 copies...

An MA Update: I have just submitted my final assignment and now only have the dissertation to write. The final deadline is September so I'm working hard at it. Did I mention that I'm writing a stage play for my dissertation? I've never written one of those before... why make life easy when it can be this hard?!

Sunday, 1 April 2018

This is Facebook at its VERY best...

A visiting cat has been terrorising not only our two cats, but me as well. I have called it Killer Cat. I've tried shooing it off in the usual way, clapping my hands and barking loudly - maybe a tad unconventional but it normally works. Instead of running off, Killer Cat hissed and went on the attack. I retreated inside.

My next attempt to send Killer Cat running was with a long-handled cobweb brush. It made short shrift of this, viciously ripping the feathery end off it and then going for the handle. I retreated inside.

As a last resort - and this always works with normal cats - I wielded the bowl of cold water. KC shook the water off and came at me with teeth bared. I retreated inside.

I peered through the cat flap window to see if it had gone, only to see its grimacing face peering back at me. As the lock is broken on the cat flap, I pulled the kitchen bin across it. That seemed to deter it for the time being, but the next day it was back again.

This went on for several days. My cats were becoming ever more anxious. I ordered a cat flap with a chip-recognition facility but that didn't solve the problem of what do to with Killer Cat in the garden. Thanks to Daughter a solution, of sorts, was close...

Daughter suggested I take a photograph when it next visits and post it up on Facebook. Yesterday it reappeared, hissing and teeth-baring as usual. I took a photo and posted it on our local Community Facebook page. For a start I just got a few likes. Then this morning someone suggested that it might be Cedric, a cat who lives a few streets away from me. She posted up a Facebook comment from Cedric's owner, posted up last year when the cat had gone 'walk-abouts'. It included a contact phone number.

I have just finished chatting on the phone to Cedric's Mummy. Yes, it is Cedric but she was shocked because at home he's 'as soft as butter'. We talked about strategies and I assured her I would be in touch again if/when Cedric revisits.

I still can't believe that within 24 hours I have found out who the cat is and spoken to its owner. This is Facebook working at its impressive best. Isn't it a shame that something so potentially useful can also cause such harm.

Cedric aka Killer Cat

p.s. Don't want to speak too soon but I think I've just about fought off that evil flu virus. It's been a long winter!