A Lovely Month

I skipped last week’s blog but hope I’ll be forgiven as I was away for a break in Pembrokeshire in Wales enjoying what has surprised us all: a gorgeous autumn. There are warnings that with the roses still in bloom and some days feeling like summer, we’ll pay for it with a harsh winter. As there’s nothing we can do to alter whatever is in store, I’ve been enjoying every moment with long walks in forests and on beaches, with some clambering about the occasional castle thrown in.

Continuing my autumn celebration, here’s another little poem, this time a Haiku entitled Rust. Although the word is most associated with a type of decay, it’s the perfect description of the colour of leaves on the tree and notes a decomposition that creates one of our most lovely seasons.

September 2018 update

A breeze through September…

OUT AND ABOUT:
The weather forecasters got it wrong one weekend, meaning we went out on the worst day where we would have felt more at home in an ark than a car. That was one Saturday. The Sunday was supposed to be worse, so we were wondering how much worse it could be so, naturally, the sun came out. This meant we at least got work done in the garden clearing out the Strawberry bed, which had seemed like a good idea but turned out not so much. They spread far too easily. There’s more work to do in that area, but at least we made a good start. Gardens are organic in more ways than one. We planted some plants in error.

We also visited our now nearest IKEA, which proved simple to get to, but my advice: if you intend to have a meal there if asked, “Do you want peas?” it’s a definite no. Not until we got to the till did we realise they did not include them in the meal and at 50p a scoop I can do without. The meatballs… everyone said, “You’ve got to try the meatballs at IKEA.” We’ve heard this recommendation so often we thought, fine, we’ll try the meatballs (I believe you can also buy these in bags to take home). Well, they taste exactly the same as the ready-cooked meatballs you can buy in Lidl or Aldi, only theirs are better. Just be warned. And if you have an IKEA family card, you’re no longer considered ‘family’ on the weekend, so no free drink. That’s changed, too, though some drinks come with free refills for everyone. I might stop for a drink if shopping and desperate, but I won’t eat there again.

TELEVISION:
Nothing much to report film wise this month. We’re watching the Marvel films in order. Seen them all more than once, but never in the order intended. We watched the last few episodes of Jonathan Creek and began Touch starring Kiefer Sutherland. Had a well-conceived pilot, though the format seems a little compressed in the second episode. An interesting idea where a widower learns his son’s autism is a rare ability where numbers connect patterns of seemingly unrelated people. There were only two seasons and I hope we stick with this, but I can understand why they cancelled the show — an amazing idea that may be difficult to maintain to a high standard and enduring interest.

READING:
Between, Clarissa Johal
I love this writer’s work. I feel her stories deserve a place in a far larger market. Her imagination cannot be faulted, though I’m sometimes left feeling her books are one edit or two away from being perfect. I found Between to be a little disjointed and the ending felt a little rushed compared to the rest of the pacing, but as always, a bright spark of an idea and powerful imagination is at the heart of the story.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Truman Capote
A perfect example of how different a film can feel from the book it’s based on. Hepburn’s performance and the alterations made for the screen gave Holly Golightly a pained aspect to her existence that doesn’t seem to so readily come across in the book. While I can admire it as a classic work and well-written, I found none of the characters likeable, not that I found them much better in the film, but they showed a few saving graces that seem lacking in the narrative.

Toast, Nigel Slater
Nigel Slater’s memoir told around the meals he shared with his family may be unique in its style and the childhood’s remembrances of joy at the simple pleasures instilled by food. For anyone of a certain age it will spike the memory, and for those too young to know what people used to eat, it will be a history lesson told with genuine humour. His recollection of the dreaded crates of (often warm) yucky milk that would arrive at school is one I share, only had it been me made to stand at the front of the class until I drank it all, I would have happily stood there all day rather than even make the attempt. It’s hard to believe we used to consume even half these things, even more difficult to believe some still exist. Along with stories of how children caught diseases such as measles and mumps (not in the book but when one child caught something, the others were sent round to make sure they caught it too so they all got it over and done with) with no talk of vaccinations may sound shocking now, but was a commonplace occurrence then. Some memories are told with the innocent callousness only a child can muster; as an adult Slater has said he regretted being so harsh, but I think it’s forgivable as these are childhood recollections not tempered with time and understanding, more real for all that.

Monsters, Emerald Fennell
A book I picked up in a charity bin with a few others. I think this one caught my eye because it’s set in Fowey. I believed it to be a children’s book because of the ‘golden rule’ in publishing that if a book’s main protagonist is a child, the book is for children. With that in mind, this black comedy first struck me as surprising. I thought this would be a story about two children who commit murder, not murders that captured their interest leading them on a downward spiral that seems to more often delight them than scare them or bring about the ‘change’ most plots put in place for their protagonists. It’s funny in places, well-plotted and worked out. I’m uncertain the tone quite sat well with me for 13-year-olds. Some of their vocabulary seemed too sophisticated, at other times their behaviour too immature, but I’ve only personal experience on which to base my assessment and others may feel differently. This is an entertaining quick read, sort of like a child’s book for adults. As for two children you wouldn’t want to meet (the tagline), I couldn’t help thinking I wouldn’t want to meet any of the adults either. I’m happy to say I’ve come across none of these characters in Fowey.

WRITING:

My longing-to-work-on Dark Fiction novel has taken yet another back seat. This seems to be the year of getting side-tracked. When asked to take part in a series of any kind, the writer faces dreaded deadlines. There are other times in publishing, but when commissioned, I’m feeling those are the worse deadlines of all. I had to stop what I was doing to write a book proposal and, as I’m mostly a pantser (stories come often as if I’m reading a book), I had to do a little writing to get going. This is opposite to most fiction publications, where the writer must finish the book before submission (factual books work a different way). With the big six publishers, someone may then commission a writer to write another two books, so it’s a three book contract, but often it’s a one book at a time deal — the finished article put forward for consideration. This time I had to work out a story beforehand — a job more suited to writers who prefer to pre-plot.

I also ended up editing an older work for re-release, to which I’m adding a third title and turning three novellas into one full-length work. And there was all the paperwork that goes with the submission: the blurb, the cover art request form etc. I also polished off a longer short story I hoped a publisher could make use of. More on all this as and when. And there‘s another short story I’m still not in a position to discuss. For now, this month, the re-release of my LGBT romance A Not So Hollow Heart happened, re-edited and with about 3000 words added.

Roses, roses, everywhere

Once a year for several years, we’ve visited RHS Rosemoor in June when the roses are in bloom. Technically, the season lasts until the end of July, but we’ve always found June a good time. We’re a bit later than usual this year, but there was still much to see. The question was one of which photos to share:

Though we’ve few and nothing like these fabulous flowers, I wish there was such a thing as sharing fragrance online, as I would love to share one of our latest roses with you. Roses can smell like ‘true’ rose, or they can have hints of coconut, melon, even tobacco. This climber is in its first year. Will love to see it when more established.

Velkommen til Norge!

I’ve been missing in action, mostly because I’ve been out of the country, and then, when I returned, I spent several days running to catch up. I have… almost. Definitely by next week, if not before the end of this, I’ll return to my WIP. For now, I’m editing a story for a re-release end of this year.

But let’s get back to why I neglected to blog the last three weeks. Blame these little beings:

That’s a Norwegian Troll, this one flying the flag outside of a souvenir shop in Hellesylt. It’s difficult to move more than a few streets without spotting one of these beasties in their various forms. If you’re looking for something to bring home, these pop up everywhere. Most people seem to love them or loathe them (I heard one woman say on this trip, “Such big noses; I just don’t get it.”) Maybe to ‘get it’ you need to look back into Norse Mythology but there’s no question the Norwegian people have taken Trolls to their hearts. We’re told daylight turns them to stone, so all those mountains in Norway are Trolls taken unaware by the sun.

Trolls or not, there’s nothing so breathtaking as the scenery. It’s a place I’ve visited more than once and hope to do so again. Here’s a lovely photo of the mirror-image type which is possible to take on the lakes in the beautiful area of Stryn. The mountains may or may not be trolls, but this kind of landscape makes me want to believe in all possibilities.

Velkommen til Norge! Welcome to Norway.

Images: (c) Sharon Bidwell

To the Moon and Back

I’d like to introduce you to an artist.

Last summer friends took us on a long drive out for the day along the top of the North Devon coast. Our main destination was Dunster Castle, but we wandered and meandered for a long stretch of the coastal highway. One of our stop off points was Lynmouth, a place I hadn’t visited for more years than I can remember. There I discovered Maurice Bishop and wanted one of his paintings at first glance. Not until several weeks later did I return to buy one, my most difficult decision, which one to choose.

Maurice speaks of being in a perfect location for a creative environment and he’s not wrong. The wild and rugged terrain of Exmoor with deep valleys of wood and moorland skirted by the sea is a walker’s paradise.

There’s no need to travel to enjoy Maurice’s work as he has an online gallery, though it’s not a delightful as wandering around his labyrinth of a shop with new delights at every turn. With our grey/blue themed living room and my favourite colour being red I had to choose one from his Red Trees in the Moonlight Collection. After a long deliberation we chose To the Moon and Back and it is now looking fine on our wall.

I’d like to introduce you to an artist.

Last summer, friends took us on a long drive out for the day along the top of the North Devon coast. Our primary destination was Dunster Castle, but we wandered and meandered for a long stretch of the coastal highway. One of our stop off points was Lynmouth, a place I hadn’t visited for more years than I can remember. There I discovered Maurice Bishop and wanted one of his paintings at first glance. Not until several weeks later did I return to buy one, my most tough decision, which one to choose.

Maurice speaks of being in a perfect location for a creative environment and he’s not wrong. The wild and rugged terrain of Exmoor, with deep valleys of wood and moorland skirted by the sea, is a walker’s paradise.

There’s no need to travel to enjoy Maurice’s work as he has an online gallery, though it’s not as delightful as wandering around his labyrinth of a shop with new delights at every turn. With our grey/blue themed living room and my favourite colour being red, I had to choose one from his Red Trees in the Moonlight Collection. After a long deliberation, we chose To the Moon and Back and it is now looking fine on our wall.

As much as I love his more contemporary paintings, the traditional works were hard to pass by and I have my eye on at least one. I wouldn’t refuse this one of Clovelly but I’m undecided. I’ll happily pop into his shop when that way again to buy some of his wonderful scenes on cards to send to friends, if nothing else. It’s a good thing I have only so much wall space.

Want to play Chicken?

Living in the countryside is not all joy. One thing I’ve had to come to terms with is the amount of roadkill, most of which are pheasants. Trust me, they are not the brightest of creatures. A friend once hit one and rang to tell me the accident had killed the car’s radiator and decapitated the bird. Said friend stressed his unhappiness. My reply was, “I’m sure the bird wasn’t too happy either.”

At the time, I didn’t understand how they ‘pop out’ onto the road. It’s amazing and heart-stopping. Blink and you’d miss it, might not even know you’d hit something or what. If you make eye contact, the bird blinks back and ignores the tonnage of metal bearing down on it as if it’s never startled and has the assurance of immortality the like of which humans only dream.

Yes, I’ve visited the countryside many times, but when it’s a holiday, we choose the best of weathers; maybe we never came when there were many pheasants about, or maybe we never stayed where they were so prevalent. In one small stretch of road a few weeks ago, we counted at least 10 dead pheasants, all recently killed. While I believe many drivers need to slow down and stop over-taking (particularly on blind spots — I never realised how dangerous driving in the countryside can be, road-wise, until living here), there are moments when killing an innocent animal going about its business cannot be avoided, of course. This happens in towns, but it’s the sheer number of dead things we’ve seen that’s eye-opening. We slowed for a pheasant the other week and had drivers staring at us as if to ask why. My question is, why not? Accidents happen, but if we can avoid an animal without danger to ourselves or anyone else, we will. It’s called compassion and respect, a thing lacking in all society. Quite a few pheasants owe their continued existence to my husband’s keen driving. The closest we’ve come was to push one along as it tried at the last second to fly away. We stopped; it continued across the road… though I’d be surprised if it didn’t have a bruise or two.

As for the tradition of the Boxing Day hunt, we’re told by laughing locals that’s an excuse for those who take part to have an annual ‘p***-up’. Before anyone objects and contacts me to dispute this or in anger, these are not my words, but the words of those whom I don’t know but have lived here far longer than I have and were likely even born here. That doesn’t throw a better light on the hunt even if it alters perspective. I’m also informed by these same folks that the ‘rule’ with pheasants is if you run one over, you can’t stop and go back to pick it up, but the person behind can have it. I’m guessing this is to stop people from running them down on purpose.

And as for altering viewpoints, let’s link back to the friend and the radiator. To those who are in so much of a hurry that the risk of hitting a wild animal doesn’t make the driver take it a little slower… the damage and expense to the car proved extensive; all because of a pheasant. Imagine what the damage could be if it were a deer. Might be an accident from which nothing walks away. Now, does anyone want to play chicken?

Beautiful Brugge

Hi Everyone. I was absent from blogging last week because we were in the beautiful city of Brugge (you may have seen it more commonly spelled as Bruges). We sailed over on a two-night cruise to spend the day for two reasons. One of which was curiosity. We had heard both good and bad reviews of the flagship Britannia and wanted the experience and to make up our own mind.

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The Atrium

Our view is short is that while well conceived overall the ship is seriously let down by a few design flaws, most importantly the lack of a central staircase, which would ease congestion on the lift (even if unable to walk up, many would have used them going down). There were stairs mid-ship, but only for the crew or to be used in an emergency. At least we found points we did like, including a good bottle of wine in the wine bar.

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Wine Bar, Coffee shop, and shops surround the Atrium
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Decided if this were a long cruise this would be my spot in the library.

It shocked me to hear a few less than complimentary remarks when we said we were going. We’ve been three times. On this occasion, we went to do some shopping.

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The famous Belfry (I’ve climbed twice), over 36o steps.

What is Brugge famous for? Most chocolate, beer, and lace. My tip for chocolate is don’t opt for the cheapest as you’ll be eating butter, not cocoa. Of course, there are also cakes.

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Just one of the bright ‘eat me’ displays.

Beer… it’s an acquired taste for some, so it’s one of those flavours that needs experiencing rather than recommendation. Belgium beer is very different from other parts of the world, though can be more refreshing. Lace… I bought my first pieces, both with Halloween/Autumnal themes. I also bought an Autumn Mix bag of chocolates that is too cute to eat… but I’m sure I will manage, though I may save them until the end of the month. But for the writer in me, I love the architecture, which screams story setting and fairy tales.

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Looks like something magical should happen.

For now, life returns to normal with a shiver or two not created by anything I’ve written. There’s a definite nip in the air.