First off - good news! Lord H has mended the toilet (what a super-hero!) so we have a flush. Hurrah! It's amazing what a difference it makes not to have to do stuff with buckets. As it were.

Flushed by success (sorry, couldn't resist it) we've been out this morning to Thursley Common and Wisley Common to look at birds. We managed to spot various tit families with growing young, a jay, a stonechat and (oh joy! New bird alert!) a hobby putting on a grand performance of aerial dynamics in the sky. Fabulous. And we heard a cuckoo too, but sadly never caught sight of it. I do love Thursley Common - in the sunshine there's something so incredibly peaceful and grounding about it - something in the way it stretches for miles and gives you a sense of space and freedom. Plus the dragonflies and damselflies are stunning ...


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Have spent the day attempting to sell Goldenford books at the Pirbright Open Day with the stalwart Jackie and the equally stalwart Irene. The rain held off, thank the Lord, but sadly we only sold three books. Sigh. So that's two Tainted Trees and one Thorn in the Flesh. And that latter was to someone I knew from an old poetry group - thank you, Valerie! How marvellous it must be to sell to strangers though. Ah well. So a bit of a waste of a day, but it was lovely to catch up with two of the Golden Girls, so all was not entirely lost ...


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A brief visitation from the Mac today before it decided to deny all knowledge of ever having an Internet or a mailbox connection. Sigh. So I'm back on the old PC typing this. Ah, it's like I've never been away, you know. However it's another one to add to Lord H's list of mending things. Poor chap ...

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Top writing tip. Blocked re plotting? Unable to connect the dots in your own mind? Take time out and try doing a jigsaw.

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Well, further to Vanessa's comment on yesterday's post (and this isn't some sort of edit-off or competition, promise!) here's another, more intense, editing picture. I think this was in February or March.

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My first blog using the new Mac. I must say I like it and it's a lot quicker with stuff than the old PC. I'm still not sure what to do about printing though, but Lord H assures me that can be sorted. Emails seem to be getting through, though I'm having trouble with sending some replies. I'm hoping that will be solved soon as well! Mind you, the slightly wild whooshing noise the Mac makes when it sends something is utterly terrifying. Still, at least you know it's been sent - somewhere ... I only wish I knew how to make the font larger. But, all in all, I think I'm about to be a Mac convert ...


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Living, as I do, in a non-English speaking country, one which just doesn't have the bookshop culture that is what makes New York or London far more bearable places to spend time in, I had assumed that I wouldn't really be seeing my book on any shelves around here. Then yesterday I was on my way to a new pottery class (is there no end to this woman's talents? I hear you cry. I am pretty crap at it, but love that Zen feeling of sitting at the wheel with my hands on wet clay) and I was early. So I thought I would pop into the little bookshop next door, which had an interesting bargain bin.

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So I'm drinking prosecco and admiring the cover of Karen Macleod's Betty Trask-winning novel In Search of the Missing Eyelash at one of my local independent bookshops, the small but perfectly formed and this evening packed-out Review, and thinking that I'd never been to a book launch until shortly before The Mathematics of Love came out. Karen gives good reading - she's a performance artist in another life, when she's not being long-haul cabin crew for British Airways - and I'm now I'm looking forward to getting into the book. I've even (almost) forgiven her for being young enough to be eligible for the Betty Trask in the first place. (I've never understood age limits on writing competitions. It's not the young who need encouraging with prizes, a bit of starving-in-a-garret never did them any harm. It's the older ones with dependents and commitments who need help to make the brave, frightening jump.)

It's not just book launches, either, that are new to me. I'd never been to a reading till I fell among the poets at the University of Glamorgan, never taken any notice of literary prizes, and I'd never been to a literary festival till Headline sent me as far as possible round the world - to Christchurch, NZ, and then Brisbane - to be an author at one.

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Any celebrity I once possessed at Harper Collins has long since dissipated and the receptionist has fallen back to asking for my name when I approach her desk. It is just an act. Often I only mumble and she still states it clearly over the phone to whoever I am visiting. Perhaps it is a deliberate ploy to maintain the company hierarchy, but if so, how does anyone remember the receptionist’s name?

Pauline and Mavis have broken out their summer dresses and when I see their cotton hems fluttering in the breeze of an electric fan and threatening to billow upwards and reveal their legs I pretend I’m cold and ask for it to be switched off. The PR girls are looking happy today and they comply without comment.

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Much amusement last night when, as usual, I was doing a million other things whilst cooking dinner. Which resulted in my chips being rather on the flambéd side of flambé. Not for the first time, I apologised to Lord H for my appalling catering skills and, again not for the first time, he insisted that everything was wonderful. Just as he was spinning these usual lies, he speared an errant chip with his fork but it was so … um … crispy that it careered off the plate and bounced against his glass with a distinctly loud crack. Ah well. If the Government ever wanted to find Weapons of Mass Destruction, my advice is to look in Godalming first ...

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