Showing posts from January, 2012

Aggie Endersleigh

Today, I have something for you to read. It's a passage that I've decided to remove from my work-in-progress but I will use it in a future novel. This is still in first draft condition but I'd love to hear what you think and whether it creates the same emotions in the reader as it does in the writer (me).


Aggie Endersleigh was dying. She wasn’t quite sure how old she was. She knew that the terrible magical explosion had taken place two days after her seventy fifth birthday but nobody would tell her how long ago that was. Some days it seemed that only a week or so had passed since then and on other days, when she caught sight of herself in a puddle or a window, she thought that decades must have gone by. Her grand-daughter had braided Aggie’s hair, finishing it with a tartan ribbon, and fastened her shoes for her. Such a good girl. There’d been cake and presents and lots of people laughing. Sometimes in her dreams she saw their faces but when she woke she could never re…

January Photo Inspiration

Nature is waking up and we're starting our new life in a new home so I thought I'd make this post about beginnings.

Burns Night

It's here again, the night when Scots (and many more people) celebrate the birthday of the great Scottish poet Robert Burns. When non Scots think of Scotland, Burns is someone that easily comes to mind. He's certainly earned his place as a personification of his country. My father, a Scot himself, always thought so. To me, Burns is only one face of Scotland though. Here's my list of other, great Scots.

Deborah Kerr (1921 - 2007), Glasgow born actress who starred in The King and I, Casino Royale and From Here to Eternity, to name but a few.

The epitome of grace, sophistication and intelligent wit.

Billy Connolly (born 1942 in Glasgow), another great wit. One of the few comedians who could reduce both my mother and father to tears of laughter.

J M Barrie (1860 - 1937), author and dramatist, the man who brought us the well-loved, eternal child, Peter Pan.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859 - 1930), physician and writer. A prolific creator who brought us Sherlock Holmes and The Lost…

Hoppity hop hop

It's a while since I've done a blog hop but as it's always good to meet new fellow bloggers, I thought I'd jump into the Blog Entourage Crazed Fan and Weekend Warrior Blog Hop (phew, that's quite a mouthful).

Even if you don't fancy joining in with the blog hop, the Blog Entourage is a great site to visit to not only list your own blog but also to meet some fellow bloggers in your own industry or area of interest.

Hello and welcome to any fellow blog hoppers who drop in. Please feel free to have a look at my past posts. Happy hopping.

Tumbling small stones

I told you about the River of Stones writing challenge on the first day of 2012 and you'll have noticed that I've included a handful of them on this blog. Aside from one weekend, I've been writing a small stone each day and you can find all of them on my Tumblr blog, What I see, what I hear, what I am.

Have you been writing small stones this month?

A trip to imagination

In today's I newspaper, I found an article listing the results of a poll of British children aged between 3 and 8 years old, that asked them what their ideal holiday location was. Here's what they said:

The MoonDisney WorldNarniaHogsmeadeLaplandHundred Acre WoodHogwartsPride RockAustraliaBikini Bottom The results made me smile. An adult mind would have picked completely real-life destinations (mine would have included San Francisco, Venice and Hong Kong). Our children are more comfortable with crossing the divide between reality and fantasy. Maybe there's a lesson for us grown-up's here.
Fi's Ideal Holiday Locations AtlantisAnkh MorporkCamelotThe Weasley's houseThe Magic Cottage in James Herbert's novel of the same nameA flying holiday with Richard BachAvalonThe forest in Midsummer Night's DreamCentre EarthDiagon Alley Tell me about yours.

I love...


Keeping Christmas all year round

Last night, we took down our Christmas tree and packed all the festive decorations away. It's a task that always makes me sad because it marks the end of the holiday. The child in me loves the glitter and pretty lights but my adult self realises that we need the space and normality. My husband has returned to work, the children are back at school and the Christmas tree is in the attic.

This time of year, when the decorations are down, the weather is grey and our purses are empty, life can appear drab and a chore. Many of us will have put on a few pounds over the festive break. Without the decorations, our homes may seem rather plain. It can all feel as if there's nothing within reach to look forward to, which is exactly the time when a bit of imagination can work wonders.

The first thing you need to do is work out what it is you miss about the Christmas holiday. Is it the colour and sparkle? Is it the chance to dress up? Do you love the opportunity to see absent friends and fa…

An award from a fellow blogger

Today I received an award from the talented writer, Kelly Hashway.

The rules of this award are that I should mention the blogger who gave the award, tell you seven things that you don't know about me and pass on the award to five other bloggers.

What you might not know about me
I took singing lessons from an opera singer. I love singing.For years, I was involved in amateur dramatics but haven't done any acting for about eight years. I miss spending time on stage.The older I get, the more I see my father in me.When I was eight years old, I was knocked down by a car and spent six weeks in hospital - Christmas, New Year and my birthday. Those six weeks changed my outlook on life, opening my eyes to the diversity in people's lives.When I lived in a bedsit in Surrey, many years ago, I once answered the door to an old lady who asked if this house was the keycutter. I said no and unfortunately had no idea if there was a keycutter in the area. As she turned to go, I noticed that her…

Returning to a new normal

Yesterday, my husband went back to work but it wasn't until today, when my children started the new school term, that I began to feel that life had returned to normal. Of course, it's a new normal for us all. We moved home just before Christmas and although we now have a working house, we're still unpacking boxes and bags with the resulting "That's where that went to" or "I'd forgotten about that".

This morning, without husband or children, my home is peaceful. I'm indulging myself with a coffee and my laptop. Soon I'll get on with more unpacking and tidying away but for twenty minutes or so, I'm going to own this moment.

If you're finding it difficult to get back into your creative stride, have a look at my post - 7 ways to get back into your writing routine.


Expectant faces raised to the light of a new term, my children skipped into school with no backward glance or wave. I released the breath that had dragged me from my …

Fitting in (or not)

In December, my nine year old daughter told me that she no longer likes the colour pink. The word 'hate' was even used.

"So what colours do you like then?" I asked, trying to calculate how much money I'd need to spend to replace the majority of her clothes and bedding.

"I don't mind," she said. "Just not pink or purple."

When it came to buying her a new school coat, I was faced with a dilemma. Without spending a fortune on a coat that would be dragged around and probably stood on numerous times each day, I was left with a smaller selection of shops to choose a waterproof, hooded, warm winter coat from. The only stipulation I had from my daughter was "not pink" but that is just what I found in the shops for her age group. Pink coats, pink and black, pink and grey, pink love hearts, pink roses, anything pink you could ever imagine and more. In the last shop I visited, I finally found a plain black coat which she thankfully gave her…


Another year, another birthday. Today I have reached the grand age of forty six years. I am now officially nearer fifty than forty. Do I feel old? Mature? Wise and cultured? Er, no. I feel like, well, like me. That's the one thing that I've always carried with me - me. If I have to put a finger on the age I seem to relate to, then I suppose it's somewhere in my early thirties. Having said that, what exactly does it feel like to be in your early thirties? I didn't know then and I don't know now how I'm supposed to feel or behave at this age.

My mother's generation always seemed to know how to act at different stages in their lives. In her twenties, my mother was a dutiful daughter, the youngest child staying at home to help her parents. In my twenties, I was opinionated to the point of thinking I knew better than my parents and I dressed like Margaret Thatcher (they called it 'power dressing'). My mother's third decade saw her meet my father and…

A River of Stones

Today I'm starting the new year with a writing challenge, well, actually more of a writing treat. I've previously told you about the writing practice of small stones and the Writing Our Way Home website. To quote one of the site's creators, Fiona Robyn,

"A small stone is a very short piece of writing that precisely captures a fully-engaged moment".
The WOWH peeps (Fiona and Kaspa) are holding the River throughout January 2012. In essence, the challenge is to write a small stone each day of the month. You can share your small stones on the WOWH site or on your own blogs.

If you'd like to find out more about the challenge and join in, you can read about it here.


Inside, we wrap our hearts in this warm silence, savouring the time together before the return to normal, outside.