Cut Short by Leigh Russell & My Letter

My copy of Leigh Russell's novel, Cut Short arrived in today's post. I've had a sneaky peak (as you do) and it promises to be a fab read, so I can't wait to get going.

If you go to Leigh's site here you can read more about it and also her virtual book launch, where when you've bought your copy of Cut Short, you can email her and if you include the name you'd like her to sign the book for, she'll send you a signed message that you can print out and stick in the book. How clever is that?

I've just noticed that I've had a letter published in this months Writers' Forum mag, and should now be getting a free moleskin notebook. I love notebooks. So happy.

Right, I'd better dash. Just returned from an hour in the car, thanks to daughter's sports day and the nightmare that is countless overheated, irate parents, sitting in cars waiting for their daughters to finally get to the car park so they can sit for an age whilst they queue to get out.

Have a great weekend.

Happy 18th Birthday, James

It's my gorgeous son's 18th birthday on 25th June, and I'd like to wish him a truly fabulous future.

Thinking back to when this angelic looking child was small, I never imagined that he could ever turn out so wonderful. He's fun, funny, a talented drummer, and waiting for his A2 results to see if he can go to university in September. He is practically horizontal and nothing much fazes him.

We all love him to bits, except maybe for his sister, who is nearly driven mad by him. Even they manage to get along well together (on the odd occasion).

So, Happy Birthday James. Make the most of every opportunity. X

A Clever Idea

Apparently there is a chap in South Africa who was so fed up of people breaking into his yard that he had his dog clipped to look like a lion. Since then he hasn't had a problem at all.

What a clever idea.












Do you think it would work if I did the same with him?

Thought not!

Happy Fathers' Day & New Beginnings

Happy Fathers' Day to all the dads out there. My own is a truly wonderful chap and I'm very lucky to have him as a father. I probably appreciate this all the more because I remember the night of his plane crash (so many years ago) so clearly. R is a fab dad with four great sons and has a mantlepiece filled with amusing and thoughtful cards.

On Friday evening I went to J's Leavers' Mass, and for some reason expected it to be the usual school event (sort of like a Parents' Evening). Obviously I hadn't grasped the true meaning behind it, and it was whilst we were in the church and the service began that I realized (call me slow) that this was it. J was no longer at school. He has been at the same school for the past fourteen years, and I can clearly remember the initial interview - where he knocked off various bits and pieces from the headmaster's desk and I was mortified - through the years where despite his parents divorcing, moving home a couple of times and various other trials of life, the school, it's teachers and his friends have been a constant area of support both to him as a pupil, and to me, knowing that he had these people around him.

I had to concentrate on not getting too emotional during the service, and managed it for the most part (the vanity of not wanting to have red eyes, and knowing I'd have to speak to people after the service helped). Then it was up to the school gym for a buffet, speeches (so funny), photos of the boys on a large screen and their comments (again, hilarious), and then presentations where each pupil received a silver plaque commemorating being in the Class of 2009. I ended up having a wonderful evening, filled with laughter and catching up with other parents I've known for years. I then returned home to S and the television, and J went off with his friends to have fun.

Sigh. My boy has grown up. I can't help getting choked by the thought that the past fourteen years has gone by so fast, too fast. When did that happen? In September he's off to Uni (assuming his grades are what he hopes they will be) and I'll have to get used to not seeing him for weeks at a time.

Right, that's enough feeling sorry for myself. I'm off to make a cup of tea and carry on reading Molly's Millions. It's wonderful.

Wishing it was the weekend...

R took grumps for his daily trot along the beach today, where they both had a quick paddle in the sea before returning home again. J has taking his final exam - such a relief.

I've been researching my next book. Loving it, and can't wait to get started, but am not exactly sure where to begin the story. I shall faff about a bit more, making notes, etc and it will no doubt click at some point. To be honest, I'm just thrilled to be back home and not at work right now. Too busy, and so stressful. Note to self: Learn to switch off more.

Right. The sun is out, S has kindly plonked the cushion down on my sunchair (desperate to keep me away from the remote control), and I'm off to chill with a good book (Molly's Millions) whilst the jacket potatoes do their thing in the oven. Bliss.

A Spell of Swallows

I recently bought this book by Sarah Harrison having seen a few excellent reviews about it and wasn't disappointed. I thought I'd take a few moments after work yesterday to sit quietly and read. I couldn't put it down, and although I'm now nearly blind, I've just finished it. Damn good it was too.

The only problem was that I reached page 26, and instead of a page 27, the book started again from the beginning up to page 26 again, then straight on to page 59. Now, the sensible part of me thought I should send it back and ask for a replacement, however, the impatient part of me won, and I just read on, hoping that I didn't miss too much.

I've just gone upstairs passed one of my bookcases and noticed this book, The Nightingale's Nest. I read the back, and it appears that one of the main characters in A Spell of Swallows, is also in this book too. So, I'm about to start that now.

Grumpy had his short back and sides today, and is presently sulking in his bed. I'm sure he'll cheer up once he's got over his traumatic experience of being clipped.

Sun? What Sun?

Where did it go? Don't tell me that was it? Those few balmy days with that bright yellow ball thing in the sky?

I was raring to go, feeling jolly, in the mood to take summer by the ??? hand? and make the most of it, only I didn't realize it would be so damn short. Can you tell I'm not a little ray of sunshine today? Nevermind, it's mid-week, and soon the weekend will be upon us. I can't wait.

Grumps can. He's being clipped, again.

Molly's Millions & the Drowned Rat

I received yet another book in the post yesterday (I know, I know, I have a serious book addiction). It was Molly's Millions, by the very lovely, Victoria Connelly and is her first book published in the UK, although she has had several already published in Germany, one of which was made into a film. Don't you love the cover?

I can't wait to start reading it, although I have to finish Jojo Moyes, The Peacock Emporium (very good) and Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks (fantastic), both of which I'm half way through at the moment, before allowing myself to start anything else. Too many books, far too little free time to get through them all.

This morning, as I dressed for Race for Life, we had a horrendous downpour, but thankfully it soon passed and the sun came out. I joined the 'walkers', as opposed to the fit 'runners' and began my walk. I had just passed the 1km mark, when the first runner ran past me going the other way! It was a beautiful morning, and as I gazed across St Aubin's bay, I noticed a dark, grey cloud slowly floating towards us. I had just reached about two thirds of the way when the heavens opened, the slight breeze turned into a gale (exaggeration there) and I got well and truly soaked (no exaggeration at all).

R phoned me to see how far along I was, and offered to collect me, which I thought was very kind. Mind you, I don't think he needed to laugh quite so hard when he saw me, sporting the drowned rat look, as he pulled over to let me in.

Race For Life 2009

Guess what I'm doing on Sunday? And have I been training, or even broken into one teeny tiny jog? Nope. Nothing changes there then.

Most of the girls I work with have been going to Boot Camp on the Esplanade (it runs along St Aubins beach). Apparently people can pay to go up to 4 evenings a week for the next ten weeks. I have a sneaking suspicion that the turnout could be so high because apparently the guys who are running it are Army & Navy blokes, and 'really fit'. That said, it still hasn't given me the impetus to get my trainers on and join in. Now, maybe if they offered chocolate to everyone, I could possibly be enticed to go, then again, that would defeat the object.

My book package arrived at 6.25pm on Tuesday! I was dozing off in the sun, in a bikini (poor deliver man) when I heard a van approaching, and it was my books. Mind you, he did call me 'young lady', but by then I'd tied a sarong around me so I probably looked like I was wearing one of my granny's curtains, so he could have been trying to be kind.

Only Tuesday?

I can't believe it's still only Tuesday. I think the week is dragging because I can see the sun outside and think I'm missing out on all that weather. Actually, I shouldn't moan (but of course I do) the view from my 4th floor office stretches out across the sea, the entire width of St Aubin's bay to the green hills beyond. Come to think of it, that probably makes it worse.

Anyway, R phoned today (as he does) to tell me that the poor postman has delivered yet another parcel. In fact I haven't had anything (apart from bills) delivered for ages, so this was expecially welcome. I'd found the site dotcomgiftshop and ended up ordering various bits and pieces, mainly for the shed. What I didn't tell R is that I'm also waiting for a box of books to arrive.