The stunning Jurassic coast Credit: William Lam |
Monday 31 July 2017
Five fab things to do in Dorset
About 10 years ago, when the kids were small, we stayed in Croyde, Devon, and it rained for the entire holiday. In fact, it bucketed down, all day every day until the morning we left, when the sun came out in force. After that, I told my husband in no uncertain terms that summer holidays in England were off the agenda. For the decade that followed, we only ventured down to Cornwall or Devon in the Easter hols with reasonably low expectations about the weather.
Last summer, however, I was persuaded to stay with friends in South Devon. For seven days, the temperature soared and we nearly collapsed in the heat. Croyde became a distant memory and the English south coast shimmered in the sunshine, a breathtaking palette of blues and greens. There was no better place to be.
Wednesday 14 June 2017
The grey-haired muse
A much-loved grandmother leaves behind a precious legacy. My own one passed away a few years ago, but every so often I honour her memory by rehearsing stories in my head. I run through some of her own anecdotes as well as odd recollections from when I was growing up, like her sitting on the terrace in her Ibiza home, chatting to my uni friends about Brad Pitt, with her legs hanging over the arm of a chair. Such rituals keep her close.
"We sense the dead have a vital force still," said novelist Hilary Mantel yesterday, as she delivered a Reith Lecture on Radio 4. "They have something we need to understand. Using fiction and drama, we try to gain that understanding."
Me and Joy Rhoades at her book launch in London |
Tuesday 13 June 2017
Chemo stories
Three years ago writer Ali S was due a mammogram. "I almost didn't go," she says. "At the time, I thought I really haven't got time for this."
Fortunately a friend talked her into going. It turned out she had a tumour in her breast and a potentially aggressive form of cancer. Six treatments of chemotherapy followed, three weeks apart, in the autumn of 2014.
"I was unlucky to be diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 46 and unlucky that I had to go through the gruelling process of chemotherapy," she says. "I was lucky that my cancer was discovered very early, I had access to the medical treatment I needed, and I had love and support coming at me from all corners of my world."
Ali: 'Talking and sharing makes people feel better' |
"I was unlucky to be diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 46 and unlucky that I had to go through the gruelling process of chemotherapy," she says. "I was lucky that my cancer was discovered very early, I had access to the medical treatment I needed, and I had love and support coming at me from all corners of my world."
Tuesday 30 May 2017
School reunion
Nothing quite prepares you for a journey into your own past. Last weekend I caught the 08:42 train to Cheltenham and travelled back in time to an all-girls boarding school that was my home from the age of 11 to 18. It was my first visit back in 25 years - a great deal had changed and yet so much remained the same.
After leaving school in 1992, I spent most of my early twenties feeling a vague sense of emancipation, having escaped the rules and regulations of institutional life. Ever since, I have cast my school days in a slightly negative light, partly to entertain new friends but also because boarding took its emotional toll. So when a school reunion was mooted earlier this year, my eagerness to go back took me by surprise.
Shauna and I outside our old boarding house in 2017... |
Friday 7 April 2017
Writing in bloom
Life has overtaken the blog recently. Which is a good thing, I suppose! Anyway, lots has happened over the last month or so. My main piece of news is that I have signed up to do a creative writing course with the literary agent, Curtis Brown.
I a hit a blip with my novel-in-progress back in January and decided that I needed help (or possibly a new job). Assistance came in the form of an email advertising a six-month online course. I decided this was make-or-break for my writing career (like to raise the stakes for myself) and applied for a place.
Flowers and books: two of my favourite things! |
Tuesday 21 February 2017
Becoming Jane-ites in Bath
As a family, we have hit that magical sweet spot where the kids are becoming interested in the same kind of stuff as the grown-ups. In other words, we have managed to successfully mould them in our own image, which makes holiday excursions a tad more scintillating. No more soft-play areas for us!
Over half term, we booked a few days in the elegant city of Bath, staying in Jane Austen's former home at 4 Sydney Place. The author lived there with her parents from 1801-1805, before the death of her father forced them into cheaper accommodation.
I should explain that the house has since been turned into holiday flats by Bath Boutique Stays and that we occupied 'Mr Darcy's Apartment' on the second floor. The prospect of treading the same flagstones as one of my literary heroines proved oddly thrilling! Each morning, I enjoyed imagining her journeying forth with her parasol and her bonnet, and a little Austen sass.
The original Roman Baths |
I should explain that the house has since been turned into holiday flats by Bath Boutique Stays and that we occupied 'Mr Darcy's Apartment' on the second floor. The prospect of treading the same flagstones as one of my literary heroines proved oddly thrilling! Each morning, I enjoyed imagining her journeying forth with her parasol and her bonnet, and a little Austen sass.
Tuesday 17 January 2017
Scared? Moi?
Something about the dreary weather at this time of year makes me feel more anxious than usual about life. When it rains for days on end, I want to batten down the hatches and stay safely at home. Despite this seasonal bout of cowardice, however, I have managed to conquer a few fears lately. It took a bit of effort, but I feel better for being on the other side of the tunnel.
Last Friday, I found myself talking about the weather as I lay on a bed, knicker-less, waiting for a complete stranger to torment me with a weird plastic tool and a spatula. Yup, it was time for the dreaded smear test. Even the very words 'smear' and 'test' are enough to make me feel queasy. Better to think of it as a cervical screening test.
© Lineartestpilot | Dreamstime.com |
Last Friday, I found myself talking about the weather as I lay on a bed, knicker-less, waiting for a complete stranger to torment me with a weird plastic tool and a spatula. Yup, it was time for the dreaded smear test. Even the very words 'smear' and 'test' are enough to make me feel queasy. Better to think of it as a cervical screening test.
Tuesday 10 January 2017
Time for pain
Christmas with all its excesses becomes the last stop on the route to self-improvement. This seasonal splurge seems designed to usher in a period of self-disgust, exacerbated by too many puddings / presents / cheese / glasses of Irish cream. As the decorations come down, you long to emerge like a butterfly from the Christmas-chrysalis with a cleaner body and a purer purpose. January inevitably becomes the anointed month to slough off the extra pounds, change your ways and build a brighter, better future.
As human beings, it seems we need structure, if only to keep the messy amorality of life in check. With the start of a new year, resolutions provide a roadmap to a new, improved self. Often such resolutions require discipline and self-denial, but all of us know a little bit of pain is the price you pay for a higher pleasure. Structure equals control over laziness, small addictions (in my case, chocolate) and other character defects.
Emerging from the excesses of Christmas... |
Tuesday 27 December 2016
On reflection...
You know it's Christmas when...
Credit: William Lam |
you lose track of time
your belly feels permanently distended
your belly feels permanently distended
you eat Quality Street instead of supper
you empty the dishwasher twice a day
you run out of underwear
you pick pine needles out of your jumper
there's no more space in the recycling bin
you start talking about a 'dry January'
you play board games with the kids
you find shreds of wrapping paper under the sofa
you have to unpack the fridge every time you want the milk
you tolerate a Lego super-structure in the middle of your kitchen
you tolerate a Lego super-structure in the middle of your kitchen
you eat re-fried sprouts until the end of December
Thursday 22 December 2016
Tidings of goodwill
It has been a bumpy ride, this run-up to Christmas. My children are excited to be on holiday and the house is filled with light and festive paraphernalia, but outside our cosy bubble there are so many tragic events blighting the world. Guilt is my primary emotion. How have I, and everyone I love, been granted such good fortune?
Even as I write, parents of a friend (Sam Jonkers of Henley's Jonkers Rare Books) have been visiting child refugees at a reception centre in Realville, southwest France. Val and Malcolm Johnstone retired to France some years ago and have been hosting older refugees at their home near Toulouse. The kids in the reception centre recently learnt that their asylum applications to join family in the UK had been turned down. It is a case of hopes dashed after months of suffering and hardship.
Val (centre) with asylum seekers and other volunteers |
Friday 9 December 2016
Meditations on a festive theme
Hermaphrodite Mum
Three kids and a single mum
My children still believe in Father Christmas - even the eldest one, aged 12. It amazes me that I have managed to hoodwink them this long, without inadvertently spilling the beans. To be honest, it's killing me. I just want to shout: "HE DOESN'T EXIST!" It's me - my darlings - your dear, old mama, who excels in wish-fulfilment.
But, of course, I can't. There is magic and excitement to be maintained. If I told them it was Mummy filling their stockings each year, their little eyes would roll over with disappointment and ennui.
Instead, I adopt the psychology of a serial adulterer, secretly hoping to be found out one day. I use the same wrapping paper for the stockings fillers as I do for the 'main' presents around the tree, in the hope that they will rumble me. I even leave price labels on sometimes. Last year, Middle Child idly remarked, "Oh look, Father Christmas shops at John Lewis. Isn't that funny?"
Three kids and a single mum
My children still believe in Father Christmas - even the eldest one, aged 12. It amazes me that I have managed to hoodwink them this long, without inadvertently spilling the beans. To be honest, it's killing me. I just want to shout: "HE DOESN'T EXIST!" It's me - my darlings - your dear, old mama, who excels in wish-fulfilment.
When to put up the tree? |
Instead, I adopt the psychology of a serial adulterer, secretly hoping to be found out one day. I use the same wrapping paper for the stockings fillers as I do for the 'main' presents around the tree, in the hope that they will rumble me. I even leave price labels on sometimes. Last year, Middle Child idly remarked, "Oh look, Father Christmas shops at John Lewis. Isn't that funny?"
Monday 28 November 2016
A taste-maker for Xmas
People watching:
Kate Williams, founder of Handpicked by Kate
Some years ago, I was introduced to a young woman at a party. Around her neck, she wore a golden bumblebee, which instantly caught my eye. The necklace I coveted was by Alex Monroe, a brand I hadn't heard of at the time. It was my first (but not last) encounter with this quirky, British jewellery-designer and also with Kate Williams, one of those effortlessly stylish women who was clearly a taste-maker.
When I discovered that Kate recently set up her own website, Handpicked by Kate, selling a range of brands that she has selected herself, it didn't come as a surprise. "I really love design," she tells me. "Friends used to come to me and say, 'Where can I get a good throw?'" The 28-year old had always wanted to set up something on her own and decided to realise her dream by creating an online boutique.
Kate Williams, founder of Handpicked by Kate
Some years ago, I was introduced to a young woman at a party. Around her neck, she wore a golden bumblebee, which instantly caught my eye. The necklace I coveted was by Alex Monroe, a brand I hadn't heard of at the time. It was my first (but not last) encounter with this quirky, British jewellery-designer and also with Kate Williams, one of those effortlessly stylish women who was clearly a taste-maker.
Kate Williams: 'I really love design' |
Tuesday 15 November 2016
Friendship 'trumps' politics
Many of us will remember where we were last Wednesday. The day a borderline racist and a man who thinks nothing of mocking the disabled became the leader of the free world. I actually cried in my kitchen when I heard that Donald J. Trump would become the next president of the United States.
These seismic events were all the more poignant because one of my dearest friends - an American - happened to be staying with us at the time, along with her two children. We all struggled to comprehend that Trump was to succeed President Obama, a man who by contrast exemplifies everything that is great about America.
Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with our American friends |
Thursday 3 November 2016
Hotel living
For 51 weeks of the year, I rule over my children's diet with a rod of iron. Not too much sugar, oily fish twice a week, live yoghurt and five fruit-and-veg-a-day. For one week of the year, we stay in a hotel and eat buffet breakfast.
During our recent stay in Gran Canaria, my son began his day with sausages, bacon, waffles, chocolate sauce and whipped cream (all on the same plate). This was followed by pastries, a churro doughnut, a croissant, more chocolate sauce and a little experimentation with the cereal dispensers. "We have to get our money's worth," he told me as he skipped off for thirds.
At the dinner buffet, he would follow each plate of savouries with a sweet to ensure that he didn't run out of space for his dessert(s). Thanks to such due diligence, he managed four courses on most nights.
During our recent stay in Gran Canaria, my son began his day with sausages, bacon, waffles, chocolate sauce and whipped cream (all on the same plate). This was followed by pastries, a churro doughnut, a croissant, more chocolate sauce and a little experimentation with the cereal dispensers. "We have to get our money's worth," he told me as he skipped off for thirds.
People-watching by the pool |
Wednesday 19 October 2016
Pause for thought
On Sunday evening, as I was quietly reading my book, I experienced a zapping sensation in my head. A bit like when you crick your neck, but it was inside my brain. Shucks, I thought, I've got a brain tumour. Naturally, I consulted Dr. Google and it turned out I was experiencing a symptom of perimenopause. Fab. (Although, marginally better than a brain tumour, I suppose.)
My 43rd birthday is looming, which means ageing is on my mind at the moment. A friend of mine, Channel 4 News presenter Cathy Newman, is a big advocate for breaking the taboo associated with menopause and the various indignities that women face as we grow older and wiser. So in the spirit of sisterhood, I have decided to highlight the challenges of the dreaded 'change'.
In the days before I'd even heard of perimenopause! |
Wednesday 12 October 2016
Between the covers
Some of you will know that my nine-year old son, Tristan, was a finalist in the Henley Literary Festival short-story competition, run by Dragonfly Tea. Just for a bit of fun, I thought I would post his entry here on the blog. Have a read and see what you think!
The 2016 finalists for the children's short-story competition |
Hi! I’m Larry the bookworm and I’m hooked to books! Adventure,
fairytale, scary, funny, anything! If it’s a book, I’ll read it! I’ve probably
read over a thousand, but then I do live in a library where there is always a
book to read. The book I’m reading at the moment is called ‘Evil is Back,’ the
sequel of ‘Evil in Front.’
Wednesday 5 October 2016
Bring them home
This week I have decided to write a letter to my local member of parliament, John Howell, asking him to help hundreds of child refugees who are eligible to come to the UK but are left to languish in Calais.
Dear Mr Howell,
In February this year you kindly wrote to my son and his fellow members of the so-called Secret Society of Nature to congratulate them on raising funds for the World Wildlife Fund. Needless to say, the children were thrilled to receive your letter which recognised their efforts to save endangered animals from extinction.
Today I am writing to you about the child refugees in Calais. While we have a duty to look after our wildlife, we also have a moral obligation to protect vulnerable children and young people, particularly those who have fled war or violence in their own countries.
Dear Mr Howell,
In February this year you kindly wrote to my son and his fellow members of the so-called Secret Society of Nature to congratulate them on raising funds for the World Wildlife Fund. Needless to say, the children were thrilled to receive your letter which recognised their efforts to save endangered animals from extinction.
© Prazis | Dreamstime.com |
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