Wednesday, October 03, 2007

The Journey

Regular visitors here will know that the global sex trade is the subject of my second book, Trading Tatiana.

I've blogged several times about the ongoing situation, unchanged since I wrote that book in the fervent hope that the horrors it depicted would soon be consigned to the dustbin of history.

If you happen to have visited Trafalgar Square recently, you'll have seen graphic evidence that the traffic in women is still thriving.

This is an extract from the website set up to publicise the journey of these women.

The UK has become the prime destination for trafficked women and girls. The growing sex industry supplies a huge demand resulting in enforced slavery and gross exploitation of thousands of women.
Victims come from countries burdened with poverty, poor education and high unemployment, countries such as Lithuania, Albania, Nigeria and Thailand. Over 210,000 people have been trafficked from Balkan States and 260,000 from North Africa. Girls of 16 or 17 or even younger are tricked into accepting bogus jobs abroad.

Sex trafficking is big business that makes money from terror. A girl can cost as little as £1000 and be sold in the UK for £3,000 to £5,000. Once broken and set to work that girl will service up to 30 men a day earning their captor up to £250,000 a year. These girls are made to pay for every aspect of their keep, accommodation, clothes, food, tissues and condoms, but at an inflated rate that means they will always be in ‘debt’. This is going on all over London right now and is a rapidly growing industry.


This is from the Council of Europe Convention on Trafficking site:

This new Convention, the first European treaty in this field, is a comprehensive treaty focusing mainly on the protection of victims of trafficking and the safeguard of their rights. It also aims to prevent trafficking and to prosecute traffickers. In addition, the Convention provides for the setting up of an effective and independent monitoring mechanism capable of controlling the implementation of the obligations contained in the Convention.

The UK finally signed up to the Convention earlier this year.
(See here for my post when they signed and here for my reservations as to how meaningful this would be in real terms.)
Because the Convention can only come into force if it has at least 10 ratifications.
So far there have been 9.
The UK is not one of them.

But our government does have an Action Plan.
And this is what it says about ratification:
It will inevitably take some time to move from signature to ratification. We are not able to give a date for ratification because much will depend on the extent to which we will require legislative amendments and new processes and guidance. We will not ratify the Convention until we are satisfied that all the required legislative and process changes are in place.

Meanwhile read these case studies and see if you feel OK about the length of time it takes for the bureaucratic wheels to turn.
Then scroll through to read the struggles these women continue to have with the Home Office.

Then support the work of organisations like the Helen Bamber Foundation.
And harass your MP ...

Debi and her Dad. Part 2

I'm not so stupid.
This time I checked the library before going to dad's flat.
Good move as it turned out cos there he was. Same light summer jacket but at least it's warm and dry today.

He had a new dressing on his head and I found some notes at his flat from the district nurse.
Result? Not quite as it turns out. The dressing on his elbow hadn't been touched. I tried to take it off but bottled out again as it was sticking to the wound.

Bah! Will have to phone them yet again. Knowing how these things go, what's the likelihood of them coming while he's in the library?

There was a letter there saying he has an appointment at a Falls Clinic for an assessment.
Where did that come from?
On the plus side, it said he'd be there for a full day but they'd arranged transport.
On the minus side, there were various aspects that were unclear to me, let alone him.
Will phone them and find out so I can explain it to him and leave an appropriate daft-old-bugger note.
Thing is, my number's on just about everything connected to him, so why didn't anyone phone me to let me know this was being arranged?

On Monday I'd switched his heating on and left a note on the switch.
'It's getting cold. Keep heating on or face the wrath of the daughter.'
It was off today, of course.

A conversation about people going on holiday without insurance:
Dad: Well of course that's really foolish ...
Me: You can bloody talk. Look what happened last time you went away.
Dad: Where?
Me: Portugal.
Dad: Ah yes, I remember. I came home early.
Me: No you didn't. You came home late! Alan (my brother) went to bring you back.
Dad: Really? Why? What was wrong with me?
Me: (Taps chest. Don't want to remind him of that terrible time last year when he was rushed to hospital and had 2 emergency stent operations before anyone so much as got round to contacting me to tell me.)
Dad: What, heart? Nonsense. I've never ever had any problems with my heart.

I got back in time to pick up LG and had a conversation with a woman in a similar position, except her father's in a residential home just up the road.
It seems she and I are a recognised phenomenon.
We even have a name: 'sandwich carers'. Not because we make lunches (though we do) but because we're sandwiched between the needs of children and parents.

In the news this week: people in the 100+ bracket are in the largest growing age category.
Hope society gets its act together to take proper care of our elders before we ourselves become the bread instead of the filling.

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Burma update

Just rec'd another email from Avaaz.

Our emergency petition to stop the crackdown on peaceful protesters in Burma is exploding, with nearly 500,000 signers from every nation of the world. But the situation in Burma remains desperate, with reports of hundreds of monks being massacred and tortured. Burma's rulers have also killed and expelled international journalists, cutting off global media coverage of their cruelty.

China is still the key - the country with the most power to halt the Burmese generals' reign of terror. We're delivering our message this week with a massive ad campaign in major newspapers, beginning Thursday with a full page ad in the Financial Times worldwide, and in the South China Morning Post. The strength of the ad comes from the number of petition signers listed – can we reach our goal of 1 million signatures this week? The link to sign the petition and view the ad is below, forward this email to all your friends and family!

http://www.avaaz.org/en/stand_with_burma/u.php

China continues to provide key economic and military support to Burma's dictatorship, but it has been openly critical of the crackdown. Now we need the government to match words with actions. Our ad paints a powerful moment of choice for China in its relationship with the world – will it be a responsible and respected member of the global community, or will it be associated with tyranny and oppression?

People power, on the streets of Burma, and around the world, can triumph over tyranny. Our strength is in our numbers, spread the word!

With hope and determination,

Ricken, Paul, Ben, Graziela, Pascal, Galit and the whole Avaaz team.

For the best local reporting on the situation in Burma, try these links:

http://www.irrawaddy.org

http://www.mizzima.com

Please please sign the petition if you haven't already done so.
And pass the message on.

It will cost you nothing.

And it won't result in you being beaten ... or arrested ... or shot ... or tortured ...

Debi and her Dad. Part 1

I've decided to use my blog to document the ups and downs of caring for my much-loved 92 year old father who lives alone on the other side of London.

I know our experiences are far from unique, so I'm hoping these posts will resonate with other people in a similar position.

This 1st post in the series was written on the tube on the way back from seeing him yesterday.

On my way up to dad's 2nd floor flat, I drop in to wish DZ's daughter a Long Life. DZ died yesterday and her funeral's today, leaving dad the only nonagenarian left in the block.

Let myself into dad's flat. He's not there! I do the usual holding-breath-while-opening-doors routine, but, no, he really isn't there. Further investigation reveals he's gone out wearing a light summer jacket (it's cold and pissing down outside), no hat or brolly and without any of his selection of walking sticks or zimmer frames.

Phone his GP. They haven't seen him either. Grab an umbrella and prepare to search the streets for him, hoping against hope that he hasn't fallen again.

As I pass the library, I peep in and think I see him in the window. But it's not him after all. Decide I might as well check properly inside. Bingo! He's there, reading a newspaper. Huddled under the brolly, we head home for lunch.
'I'm a bit doddery,' he says in wonder.
'That's why you should take your stick when you go out,' I say. 'I've left one of my 'daft-old-bugger' notes next to your keys to remind you ...'

These daft-old-bugger notes generally work well. They remind him of crucial things (eg 'Don't wear these shoes, they hurt your feet, you daft old bugger') and make him laugh.

After lunch, I fill his pill box. He's forgotten to take his morning meds as usual (in spite of the 'Don't forget to take your pills, you daft old bugger' note stuck on his cereal bowl). Decide to call every morning to remind him if I'm not going to see him that day.

His medication has been changed following a discussion I had last week with his consultant. I've questioned the meds before with his crap GP to no avail but the consultant thinks I might have hit the nail on the head with my suggestion that dad's dizzy spells might be caused by one of the items.

The dressings G & I put on his head and elbow following his last fall haven't been changed. I tried to do it myself last week but bottled out and organised a visit from a district nurse. They confirmed they would come but clearly the visit never materialised. Will have to phone them later and find out what's happening.

Also see from notes that V, his lovely carer who pops in every evening to prepare a meal and ensure he's taken his next batch of pills, has been replaced by someone I don't know. Dad's acute short term memory loss means he didn't know about the change and no one's contacted me to let me know. I'm concerned as V and I have a really good relationship and she knows exactly what dad needs. Will have to phone agency later and find out what's happening.

Leave later than intended which means I'll now be late for picking up LG from school as it takes over 1.5 hours to get home.

I am continuously enraged by dad's GP's practice. They do the absolute minimum, have been known to lie to me, are outrageously inefficient and - more importantly - treat dad in a way that is at best uncaring and at worst downright negligent. I would complain except I'm really scared that they'd take it out on dad when I'm not there. I have a strong suspicion that there have been times they've sent him away without seeing him but I can't prove anything and of course he doesn't remember.

He's so vulnerable. It appalls me when I think about people who don't have family and friends looking out for them. This is no way to treat the elders of our community.

Luckily there are also some wonderful and caring people out there, working at the sharp end of the NHS and sharing these frustrations from the other end of the stethoscope.

This is an extract from, a new book, In Stitches, by Nick Edwards, who is a doctor in an A&E dept:

A sign the world has gone mad?

What has had happened to my patients today? They seemed to be getting lost when I sent them for X-ray. I'd given the same directions as normal, there had been no secret muggers hiding in the hospital corridors and as far as I know, no problems with space - time dimensions in our particular corner of the universe.

I went to X-ray to investigate. I found it quickly because I knew the way. However, I looked for the signs for X-ray and they were gone. The nice, old-fashioned and slightly worn signs had gone; they had been replaced by a sign saying 'Department of Diagnostic Imaging'. What the hell? I know what it means but only just and only because I have been inundated by politically correct 'shit-speak' for a number of years. What a pointless waste of money; to satisfy some manager, they replaced a perfectly good sign with one that means bugger all to 90% of people. Why don't they change the toilet sign to 'Department of Faecal and Urinary Excrement' or the cafe to 'Calorific Enhancement Area'. Who makes these decisions? Who is employed to do such pointless stuff? Why? Why?? Why???

I needed a caffeinated beverage in a disposable single-use container - management-speak for shit NHS/Happy Shopper instant coffee. I went to sit in the 'Relaxation, Rest and Reflection Room', previously known as staff room. There, the nurses were moaning that tonight one of their colleagues had called in sick and to save money their shift would not be covered by a bank nurse. In A&E, staff shortages can seriously undermine the safety of patient care.

I am sure this genius plan was decided by some personnel manager who I doubt has ever seen a patient, cannula or trolley, and therefore is obviously an expert at making nursing planning decisions. We have a hospital that can fund unnecessary new signs, but not replace nurses when they off sick. So, tonight who is going to go looking for the patients when they got lost on route to the Department of Diagnostic Imaging?

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Read and weep

Check out these figures in the news this week:

Total sales of the 6 books on the Booker shortlist 120,770
Sales of Ian McEwan's On Chesil Beach 110,615
Leaving total sales for the other 5 books on the shortlist 10,155

I know. I found it hard to believe too.

But it gets a whole lot more depressing when you add in this figure:

Sales of Crystal by Katie Price aka Jordan 159,407

How many times do I have to say it?

Don't write because you believe you'll achieve fame and fortune from your books.
Not unless you already have said f&f for some other achievement -
- like having surgically enhanced breasts and being married to an Australian one hit wonder.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Cheeky blagger

Derec Jones aka Skint Writer aka publisher, author, artist, cook, poet etc aka Wales's very own Hovis boy has come up with yet another new initiative -
the Opening Chapter blag.
(blog + mag = blag. Geddit?)

You'll find articles by many familiar names and faces including one by yours truly about Bookarazzi.

So why are you still here?
Go on! Check it out ...



Me … me … on me strengths

Canterbury Soul mugged – I mean tagged – me for this meme.

So without further ado, this is how I see my top five strengths as a writer.

  • Voice

I’ve said before that my blog voice, fiction voice and Real Life voice are all pretty much the same.

My 1st 2 books were written in the 1st person …
The following 3 in the 3rd person …
(Are you following the numerology here?)

But in all cases the style is a direct and conversational flow from me to you.

  • I’m a keen observer (aka nosey cow)
I said here that I’d like to be a fly on the wall.
Wherever I am – in the supermarket, on public transport, at the school gates –
I’m watching you ...
I check your mannerisms …
I eavesdrop on your conversations …
I imagine your story.

I’m fascinated by you.
(Not scaring you, am I?)

  • I’m also pathologically empathetic
In Real Life this can be a hindrance.
I see where you’re coming from even when you’re being vile to me.
This means I’ll often end up putting your needs before my own.

But as a writer I reckon it enables me to think myself inside someone else’s skin and create believable characters.
(Though if you don’t agree, I’ll understand of course …)

  • I’m a natural story teller

My life is strung together like a series of anecdotes.
I can go on for hours (and frequently do) conjuring up tales from my past or from family history.
It’s part of the oral tradition and I have endless fascination for hearing other people’s stories too.

  • And I’m an avid reader
I know some people say they can’t read other people’s books while writing their own but that’s not the case for me.
Since I first toddled my way round the shelves of the children’s library, I’ve always had a book on the go.
I read in all styles and genres and though these days I read more critically, seeing what works and what doesn’t has become an additional part of the pleasure.

I feel sorry for people who are unwilling or unable to access the infinite worlds contained between the covers of a book.
(Are you listening, sons of mine?)

Right – over to you now.
I’m not going to do the tagging thing –
- just do it if it chimes with you.

Techy trauma

So today was my first day since July (yes, really) when I have been home and didn't have to either go to see my dad or edit an MS.

I was planning on a protracted surfing session ...

So what happens?
No broadband connection ...

40 mins on phone to Mumbai - no result.

Cleared desk and wrote a little.
(My current book wanted to know who I was since it's been so long since I'd paid her any attention.)

Then I had a brainwave.
I'd organised changing my ISP (gasp) but hadn't rec'd any written confirmation so hadn't informed my current provider yet.

Wasn't worried - was told it wouldn't happen 'til end Oct anyway.

Just in case there was a connection with the non-connection (oo-er) I tried ringing the new posse.

Cue yet another 40 min phone call to another number in Mumbai.

Because yes - they'd swapped me without letting me know.

So now I've just finally arrived online -
- 10 mins before I have to leave to pick up Little Guy from school.

Them's the breaks ...

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

A chance to make a difference

I wanted to share the following email from Avaaz with you:

After decades of brutal dictatorship, the people of Burma are rising--and they need our help.

Clicking below will add your name to this petition to Chinese Premier Hu Jintao and the UN Security Council:
"We stand alongside the citizens of Burma in their peaceful protests. We urge you to oppose a violent crackdown on the demonstrators, and to support genuine reconciliation and democracy in Burma. We pledge to hold you accountable for any further bloodshed."
Click Here
Click Here to Sign Now
Today over 100,000 people are on the streets of Rangoon, more around the country. When protesters last marched in 1988, the military massacred thousands.

But this time it can be different--if only the world stands with the marchers. The United Nations summit starts today in New York. Let's raise an emergency global campaign, demanding they press the Burmese generals to negotiate rather than crush the demonstrators. We'll deliver it to Security Council members--particularly China's Hu Jintao, until now the military junta's protector--and to media at the UN this week.

Sign our emergency petition supporting the peaceful protests in Burma then spread the word.


For decades the Burmese dictatorship fought off pressure--imprisoning elected leader Aung San Suu Kyi and democracy activists, wiping out thousands of villages in the provinces, bringing miseries from forced labour to refugee camps. One-third of children under 5 now suffer malnutrition; millions are down to one meal a day.

But last Tuesday Buddhist monks and nuns, overwhelmingly respected in Burma, began marching and chanting prayers. The protests spread--now they're growing by tens of thousands every day, as ordinary people join in. They've broken the chains of fear and given hope to 52 million Burmese.

However, this hope is hanging by a thread. While hesitating to attack the respected monks, the regime is reported to be organising violence. Demonstrators have already been beaten, shots have been fired.

This is one of those moments where the world can make the difference: standing shoulder to shoulder with the Burmese people, helping to shine a dissolving light on tyranny. Let's call on powers at the UN--in particular, China (next year's Olympics host)--to warn the generals that violence will have the gravest consequences, and the time has come for change.

People power is rising through the streets of Burma today. Let the demonstrators know the world is with them. Click to sign the petition, then tell everyone you know.

PS: The government has just threatened the monks--here's an Associated Press article:

And we've just heard this from the international Burma Campaign: the military has reportedly ordered a battalion of soldiers to shave their heads, pose as monks and operate as agents provocateurs. This might be the first first step towards a bloody crackdown. See here for more background.

Monday, September 24, 2007

The shining lights of the litblogs

In case you've missed these exciting developments in the litblogosphere:

Cailleach's new poetry book, Kairos, has been published and she's embarking on a promo tour.

Pundy's going it (not so) alone (we're all here) and his book, A Half Life of One, will soon be available.

And that Shameless leader of the pride has a new initiative - a collective short story - here.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

(de)sign of the times

I stepped well out of my usual sphere yesterday, socially, geographically and culturally.

Mel and I were invited to the press launch I told you about here.

I tried to do my posh totty impersonation (always doomed to failure) ...
... while Mel donned a Guantanamo orange jacket.

She said she looked like she'd been tango-ed.
I said she looked gorgeous.

I love things like this on one level.
All those people I'd never usually rub shoulders with ...
All those conversations I'd never usually be able to eavesdrop on ...

Although I'd give anything for a cloak of invisibility.
Oh to see without being seen ...

It was all achingly hip.
But there was nowhere to sit that didn't have a hefty price tag, so I could only manage aching hips ...

It's a fascinating juxtaposition:
30 Fuse designers exhibiting the Next Best Thing in lampshades, furniture, flying ducks and much more ...
at Partridge Fine Arts- one of the most venerable antiques dealers out there.
The future meets the past in the present.

Mel and I had a hideous Mr Bean moment.

As we gazed at our reflections in a huge ornate mirror (a snip at £550,000) we tried to work out what it would take to create a new record:
Most damage done by 2 mildly pissed bloggers demonstrating the domino effect at an exclusive antiques gallery -
ie if I tripped over this chair, fell onto this table which upended, sending that massive vase hurtling onto that mirror, which then crashed down onto this sideboard ...

Anyway, the exhibition continues to 25th September and entry is free so go and check it out.
Carefully ...

(PS Thanks to Flying Monkey for the invite.)

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Do your bit for fiction ...

Elizabeth is involved in an interesting project called Manchester Blog Stories.

A fictional blog you can help to shape, set in real time Manchester. Each week readers can vote on future plot direction, choosing between three possible developments in the story's next chapter. The final instalment will be performed live at the Manchester Blog Awards on Wednesday 10th October.

Entertainment for the reader ...

... a challenge for the writer!

Monday, September 17, 2007

TheirTube

I've never restricted our sons' surfing habits.

I didn't think it necessary.

We flatter ourselves that we've done a sufficiently good job as parents to ensure they know where to go and what's ok.

Yesterday I happened to be passing (the laptop is in my bedroom) and saw they were on one of their frequent visits to YouTube.

Their search history of the site was on screen.

Let's see now.
What videos had my little darlings been looking for?

First on the list:
PINGU.
Ahhh - how sweet is that?

Next up:
CHARLIE THE UNICORN.
Bizarre but pretty harmless I think. They don't get it anyway.
(Neither do I.)

Moving on:
PAWN.
(splutters)
Oh right ...
(twitches)
So ...
(clears throat)
It seems that ... er ...
(draws deep breath)
my dear sweet boys ...
(hot flush creeps up torso and over neck like advancing fog)
have been searching for videos of ...
(sweat breaks out on upper lip)
... um ... chess games.

How very ... er ... precocious ...
(lips turn up into rictus smile while eyes dart left and right - a look best described as demonic).

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Despair is not the way forward

Please go here to see Absolute Vanilla's Very Important Post re Darfur.

Check out the comments too.

Then sign the petition.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

New Year ... Old Debi ...

We're off later today to stay with dad for Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year.

It's traditionally a time for contemplation and meditation.
The way things have been going recently, I'll just be glad if it's not constipation and medication.

Not that there's a problem with my bowels, I'm sure you'll be happy to know ...
... but my life does feel a teensy bit stuck at present.

This was the post I wrote this time last year.
Seems I still have a lot of work to do on some of those aims.
(Especially the 'ratbag in the morning' and 'shrieking over the homework' ones.)

But ...

... I'm now earning money from freelance editing ...
... and I give thanks that we'll be spending new year with dad again.

So there has been definite movement after all.

Saturday, September 08, 2007

The Times They Have a-Changed

A quote from Ian Rankin in yesterday's Indie:

'I'm always happy to do interviews; it's certainly better than being ignored. For the first 4 or 5 Rebus novels, hardly anyone took any notice. I would have died for attention.'

I happen to know that Rankin was very nearly dropped by his publisher at that point that he's talking about.

The first Rebus novel was published in 1987.
As is obvious from the above quote, sales were slack and reviews scarce.
This continued to be the case for the next few books in the series.

Fast forward 20 years - those early books are now considered collectors' items, the novels have won 4 Crime Writers' Association awards, Rankin won the Diamond Dagger in 2005 and World Book Crime Thriller of the Year Award this year, several of the books have been televised and he has been made an OBE and Scottish national treasure.

Consider this:
If the first 2 books had been published in 2007 instead of 1987, none of the above would have happened.
Once it was clear sales were not taking off big-time, Rankin would not be offered a subsequent deal by his publishers and would struggle to get anyone else to take him on.

Even though this same fate nearly befell him 20 years ago, fortunately there was still a vestige of feeling at that time that it can take an author several books before their career takes off.

The first flurry

The lovely people at Flying Monkey (some of whom helped to organise the wonderful Wye Fayre) have invited me to the press launch for this:

London Design Festival
15-25 September – free to the public every day (ex.Sunday)

Partridge Fine Art & Fuse UK together present
I Love Design
Partridge Fine Art Ltd, 144-146 New Bond Street, London W1S 2PF
15-25 September – free to the public every day (ex.Sunday)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Possibly the quirkiest coupling of this year’s London Design Festival is Partridge Fine Art’s
hosting of Fuse UK: Partridge is an established dealer in sought-after antiques, Fuse UK a
collective of young and emerging design talent.

Imagine a model wearing a clear acrylic dress
(c.2006) seated on a cardboard chair (c.2002) at a rare mahogany and ebony writing table (c.1820) boasting a Louis XVI ormolu-mounted white and black marble portico mantle clock (c.1780)…

Around 30 Fuse product designers will be exhibiting at Partridge. Their pieces range from very beautiful lampshades made of re-cycled card and a maple and cherry sideboard, to a chair that collects the cash that drops from your pockets and flying ducks.

Hi, honey. I'm home ...

It may not have escaped your attention that I've been a bit scarce of late.

I have Other Things demanding my attention and to be honest (when have I ever been anything but?) I can't visualise that changing in the foreseeable future.

Expect flurries of activity punctuated by extended fallow periods.

Hope you'll bear with me.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

One of those days ...

Not sure if I feel like this ....
... or like this ....

But I sure as hell don't feel like this ...

It's just a phase I'm going through ...

He's a clever bloke, that John Baker.
Knowing he was going to be away for a large chunk of the summer, he devised a cunning plan to ensure his blog was regularly updated.

He asked a whole legion of authors a single question and their responses have formed the content of John's posts over the last few weeks.

I was flattered to be asked.
But there was a problem -
- I found the question itself really hard.

What phases are involved in the creation of a text?


Oo-er. Do what, squire?

If you're interested, you can see my fumbling attempts to analyse my literary processes here.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Summer of 2007

SCENE 1 Wear Farm, Teign Estuary, South Devon.

CUE:

Watching passage of river twice daily from raging torrent to mud flats.
Cooking on driftwood fires on river bank.
Toasting marshmallows.
Gazing at bloated orange full moon rising from sea behind Shaldon.
G's mercy killing of a shot hare -
- who comes back to haunt us on the full tide.

SCENE 2 Minx, Confy and the Feckers' beautiful home, Cornwall.

CUE:

Best possible company.

Wonderful food.
Hot baths.
Endless guitar riffs.
Brilliant beach (or anywhere else) reading - Lonely Werewolf Girl by Martin Millar.
Beach boys in sea 6 hours a day.
Surfy dudes rule.
SCENE 3 Budleigh Farm, Moretonhamstead, Dartmoor, Devon.

CUE:

Torrential rain.
Table tennis in barn.
Cooking in long barn in field.
Wild moor.
Friendly fox (who helped himself to our food supplies).

SCENE 4 Corner Site, Osmington Mills, Dorset.

CUE:
Freezing temperatures, gale force winds, relentless rain.
Break out aran sweater and parka. (It is August after all.)

Marshmallow Boys/Surfy Dudes/Trekkie Lads now morph into Skateboard Kids.
More endless guitar riffs. (I think I now know how Leonard Cohen's mum might have felt.)
Fossil hunting at Charmouth.
Break camp in pouring rain. (Big time camping no-no.)

So after all that the theme tune for this holiday turned out to be that other Marley classic, Trenchfoot Rock.

NOT-SO-GRAND FINALE Home, South London.

CUE:
Mon pm
First Born said it was a strange feeling seeing what had ostensibly been your home until last night now hanging on a washing line and dripping into a bath.

I can't trace dad!
I've called him daily while we were away but tonight there's no reply.
Call neighbour who lets himself in and confirms dad's not there.
Phone local A&E. They say they haven't seen him.
Spend night having no idea where he is.

Tues am
Try ringing hospital again.
'Morris Alper? Oh yes - he's one of our volunteers isn't he? I was here when he was brought in yesterday. He's been transferred to the Royal Free.'
So there we have it.
Dad fell in the street ...
on his face ...
about 2 hours before we reached home.
Yesterday Dorset -
- today criss-crossing London to his flat, to the hospital, back home again ...

Wed am
Second day home.
I get a phone call to say my Uncle Monty has died.
He was mum's younger brother and the last of his generation on that side of the family.
So last night it was back across London yet again - this time to visit my cousins sitting shiva.

Thurs
Back to see dad again.
They're keeping him until Tues at least as he's so frail and shaken.
The appalling swelling has gone down a bit but new livid bruises seem to have sprouted to add to the missing teeth, black eyes, fat lip, scratched glasses etc.

Finally had a chance to check my emails and blog.
I have over 1500 pieces of sodding spam!

Um ... I hate to say this but ...
... I think I need a holiday.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Sitting on the edge of the world, ma

So there I was, sitting on the edge of the world, surrounded by people I love ...
... and thinking about ...

... blogging.

When I started my blog, back in Jan 2006, I wasn't sure what I expected to come from it or what I hoped for.

I know what I didn't expect though.

I wasn't looking to form new relationships,
to forge new bonds,
to make new friends.

But just look at what's happened!

I posted recently about the wonderful bloggers I've met in the last 18 months or so who have made the transition from Blog Life into my Real Life.

And this here Minx is truly the Cornish cream of the crop.

It's not just Minx and Debi - fellow writers and bloggers - any more.

It's our families,
our trajectories,
our very LIVES which have inextricably entwined to the mutual enrichment of us all.

What a gift.

What an utterly unanticipated blessing!
Thank you, blogosphere.

Monday, July 30, 2007

Outta here

No time for anything except to say goodbye and be good y'all and take lots of care.

Back whenever.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

Brief mysterious post

Want to see an unusual combination of blogging babes and a sphinx?

Click here to see Mel, Eddy and my not-so-good self at Crystal Palace.
(Scroll down.)

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Space - the final frontier

When we go away, our ancient Volvo estate (Helga) is stuffed to the gunwales with camping equipment, so that there's barely enough room for our hair and it takes a masterpiece (actually usually a mistresspiece) of design and organisation to fit everything in.

We've always known our holidaying lives would be transformed by one of those sleek aero-dynamic roof box thingys.

But they're SO expensive.
And neither of us earn money over the summer, so we'd decided - yet a again - that it's out of the question.

I'd emailed the boss man at the consultancy I do freelance critiques for to say I wouldn't be available for further edits until September.
The email must have crossed in the post/ether.
Because a couple of days ago a 400 page MS thudded through the letter box.

The Bad News
I have to get this completed before we go away.
I can't/won't take it with me.
And I don't want to go away knowing I'd have to come straight back to it.
And it's b-i-g ...
I foresee some very late nights over the next few days.

The Good News
We bought the roof box with the extra £££!

You know the Bob Marley song that includes the line:
We'll be together with a roof right over our heads?

My dear friend, Ch, once admitted to me she'd always thought the lyric was:
With a roof rack over our heads ...

Guess what the theme tune for this summer's hols is going to be ...

Monday, July 23, 2007

Arrivederci, Roma ...

Rome's finished and we're bereft.

I hardly watch tv these days and rarely get pulled into a series.
But this was such a wonderful spectacle, with mind blowing sets and some of the very best acting, that I was sucked in.

But I did find those names confusing.

First you had:

Lucius Vorenus
Lucius Malfoy
and Lucius Pepperus

Then there was:

Octavia
Octavian
and Octavier is the saddest month

Not to mention:

Titus Pullo
Titus Andronicus
and Titus Arsell.

Oh.
My mistake.
That last one appeared in Nirvana Bites which has yet to be serialised on the Beeb ...

Friday, July 20, 2007

Blogger lite

School's out!

Summer's here.
You can tell by the sheets of raining pouring from the leaden urban sky outside my window ...

Inevitably, blogging will be intermittent for the next few weeks.

Stay safe.
And dry.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Kicking, gnashing, spitting ...

WHAT THEY SAY
Choose a repair appointment to suit you

WHAT THEY MEAN
Go ahead. Choose. Doesn't mean you can get it.

WHAT THEY SAY
Book it with one call

WHAT THEY MEAN
This one call will sap your will to live. And don't think for an instant that at the end of it you will have achieved anything apart from shaving several years off your life

WHAT THEY SAY
Report your problem 24/7

WHAT THEY MEAN
You will be on the phone 24x7

WHAT THEY SAY
Relax, we'll keep in touch with you

WHAT THEY MEAN
Relax? Ha! That's a good one. The tenants'll have a good laugh with this.

OK. I give in. I'll book it online.
Log in to council website.
Navigate menu options.
Get to repairs section several lifetimes later.

Read message:
To report a repair, phone our hotline.

OK - so here's what I have to say (and believe me, I mean it).

Whichever fun-loving bureaucratic slimeball came up with a system that involves punching every button on the phone keypad so many times you get repetitive strain injury and listening to the combined works of every minor composer who ever lived, and STILL not getting to speak to a human being let alone book an appointment, needs to come round like NOW so they can see what it's like to have no lights in a windowless bathroom at the very point in the life cycle of head lice that means it's essential to nit comb and you're going to have to do it by candlelight when you never wanted the sodding fluorescents in the first place.

Medallion man

Want to see a pic of a demented-looking lover showing off his athletic assets?

Sound Bite

Warning!

If you're ever in a position to be interviewed, be aware that the journo may well have a fixed idea about the article before you so much as open your mouth.

And you may even realise what they're up to -
- but it won't help you.

Click here to see Fiction Bitch's experience of the phenomenon.

Monday, July 16, 2007

Loadsamoney

Guess how much Waterstone's are asking publishers to cough up in order to 'maximise the potential' of their books this Xmas.

(BTW - only 6 titles will qualify. Don't ask me what happens to the rest ...)

Go on. Guess.

Did you come anywhere near the real figure?

It's £45,000, according to the Times.

Here's some more figures from the article to make you weep:

£45,000 For one book to appear in window and front-of-store displays, and in Waterstone’s national press and TV advertisement campaign

£25,000 To feature in a bay at front of store as a ‘gift book’ in its genre and be displayed at the till

£17,000 To be one of two titles promoted as the ‘offer of the week’ for one week in the run-up to Christmas

£7,000 To be displayed at front of store as a ‘paperback of the year’ and be mentioned in newspaper adverts.

£500 Price of an entry in Waterstone’s Christmas gift guide, complete with a bookseller review

As for the rest of us ...Gissa quid for a cuppa tea, squire.

Friday, July 13, 2007

We have visuals

By cunningly choosing horizontal images only, I've managed to get some photos onto the Wye post to give you a fuller flavour ...

The best blogging by-product


I met Verilion, fresh from Paris, yesterday on the South Bank.
She was vertical when I met her ...

As you can see, no sooner did I congratulate myself on transferring photos from camera to laptop, than I ran into an ... er ... small technical difficulty ...

Can anyone tell me how I rotate these things?

Anyway - back to the lovely V.
This crossing over from Blogworld to Real Life has been a completely unexpected but wholeheartedly welcomed by-product of blogging.

So now V joins the impressive list of bloggers I've met.

Cast list (in order of appearance)

Maxine, Link Queen
Sharon, Think Queen
Minx, Rinky dink Queen
Skint, Not a Queen
crimeficreader, Crime Queen
Cailleach, Poetry Queen
Natalie, Chats with deities
Elizabeth, Not in the slightest bit bitchy
Clare, Boob Queen
Nikki, Award winning Queen
Granny P, Matriarchal Queen
Rivergirlie, Queen of comedy
Marie Not so struggling Queen

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Number crunching

Over 1,000,000 - the number of books in print in the UK

200,000 - the number of new titles published each year

135,000 - the number of these considered suitable for bookshops

30,000 - stock held by the average branch of Waterstone's

200,000 - stock held by the largest branch of Waterstone's

500 - number of years of existing literature that must also be held in stock

1 in 10 - the chances a new book has of being displayed in a bookshop

(Figures from Danuta Kean's article, 'Chain-reaction', in the latest edition of The Author.)

Lucky 7s

Did you hear about Elizabeth Elie?

She was born in delivery room 7 at Birmingham's Good Hope Hospital ...

... at 7.57

... on 07/07/07.

Oh, and she was her parents' 7th child.

Now there's someone who will grow up needing little convincing there's a pattern to the universe.

Brrrrr.....

Did I happen to say anything about Bookarazzi yesterday?

I did?

Really?

OK - in that case I'll just mention in passing that the site has had 405 visits and 2,428 page views so far this week.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Positively polar

This is cooler than cool.

No, I'm not talking about the migration of the polar ice cap to the freezer box of my fridge resulting in the fridge door not closing and me having to add defrosting the damn thing to my already unmanageable list of things I have to do today ....

No, no indeed.
I'm talking about this - the newest, bestest, coolest place to hang out in the literary blogosphere.



You may remember me telling you some time ago that I'd joined a Bloggers with Book Deals group, which explained the explosion of fab links (eyes right) since that time.

Well, for the last few weeks, we've been absorbed in creating a new collectively-run website.



(Actually, Lucy Pepper did the clever techy stuff and Clare's done sterling work as ever in pulling it all together.)
There are about 50 of us involved - some of the biggest names in the literary blogosphere, so you can imagine we're really excited about this.

The site is packed with resources, regular articles and features as well as links to all the Bookarazzi members' bios and books.



There's a blog where you can pop in and comment,
a useful FAQ section for writers,
news and events pages,
comprehensive links
and lots more.

The site will be regularly updated and will always be a work in progress.



Pop along now and make sure you bookmark us for future visits.
We look forward to seeing you there.

Oh and don't forget to let us know if you want us to link to you ...

Monday, July 09, 2007

Loved up and knackered at Wye Fayre

You can judge how successful a music festival has been by the vibe the morning after the night before.

Yesterday saw people floating round the campsite, taking down tents, packing, tidying (I didn't see a single abandoned can, bottle or plastic cup in the field) and exchanging beatific smiles:

'We were there. We shared the experience. It was s-o-o very good, wasn't it?'

There were 5 of us.
Me, G, First Born, Little Guy and Surrogate Sister.

Almost as soon as we arrived, I knew having a girl with us would make for a very different experience ...
SS's tent was a pink and lilac confection plastered in Bratz logos.
Before we'd so much as unrolled the sleeping bags, LG's nails had been painted shiny silver.

No worries - the Wye Fayre was always going to be a place where my boys having long hair and painted nails would barely raise an eyebrow.

And howzabout the weather?
After a week of flooding, the sun shone benevolently down on us all.

SS's cheeks turned a brighter shade of pink than her tent almost as soon as we'd unpacked the car.
Another new experience - I don't know if blondes have more fun, but they sure as hell burn faster.The tent field was directly opposite the main Fayre site across a tiny road, so wherever you were, you could always hear music.
I've always thought life would be much improved if it had a soundtrack, and this was as close as you can get.

The venue and the way it was set up meant that it felt totally safe.
We plastered the kids in sunscreen and let them off the leash, bumping into them every couple of hours (usually when they were hungry).

They hit the sack round about midnight on Friday night.
And woke at 4.30am!
After growling, 'Get back in your bags' at regular intervals, I finally gave up and they were off again fueled, I suspect, by copious amounts of Red Bull.

I'm sure the organisers and performers would have preferred the place to be heaving, but from a punter's point of view, not being packed was a huge plus and added to the feeling that we were in a space so laid back and easy going it had none of the negativity you can sometimes encounter at larger events.

I have a suggestion for next year ...
The food consisted of a van selling burgers, chips and tannine stew and another doing healthier options of salads and soups.
If there had been a real coffee and cakes option, I reckon it would have done a roaring trade. (With us anyway ...)

Alcohol drinkers were more than well-catered for;
a gigantic beer tent with stacked barrels offering a bewildering array of choices;
a converted VW van which opened out to reveal a fully-stocked cocktail bar;

and (my personal fave) The Bimble Inn - a massive tipi with a champagne bar down one side and a stage at the far end.
The floor was covered in rush matting, blankets and cushions and the wooden tent poles were festooned with twisted muslin and fairy lights, creating the ultimate chill-out zone (esp after the sun went down and the temperature plummeted).

Younger children were also more than well-catered for with some wonderful imaginative entertainments.
So on to our personal musical highlights - bearing in mind there were 4 stages running concurrently - a veritable smörgåsbord of audio treats:

Middleman (thumping bass)
Alf (gorgeous voice from the lead singer who wrote Ray of Light recorded by Madonna)
The Moon Music Orchestra (see pic)
Ralfe Band (guitar riff reminiscent of a Ry Cooder and Pink Floyd mix)
James Yuill (man with laptop)
and Alberta Cross (kids bought cd)

The undoubted ultimate highlight for the kids was making friends with Seamus from Any Dream Will Do.
There were the inevitable glitches, as with any event this size, the most obvious being the delay in the arrival of diesel for the generator on Saturday morning, with the result that it took some time before any of the acts could perform on the main stage and several had to be bumped sideways onto the smaller stages.

Further evidence of the chilled-out vibe - I saw no aggression, no prima donna tantrums - only laid-back spontaneity and good humour.

The organisers say this about themselves and their aim:

'Wye Fayre is brought to you by people who love music festivals the way they used to be - high standards, non-commercialised, good value for money, family support, great food, great creativity and bulging imagination.'

As far as we're concerned, they fulfilled this on every level.

Want further evidence?
I don't usually post pix of the kids here, but couldn't resist this, taken on the journey home.
UPDATE
Forgot to mention we were delighted to see Dan Maitland perform on one of the stages.
Dan's a member of EDWG - a talented writer as well as accomplished musician.
Clever, eh?

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Women Who Read

A lovely ex-blogger emailed this to me.
I went to her blog to do the link and found - oh joy! - she's back!
And while we're on the subject of virtual comings and goings, look who's popped up here.
And how did I get THERE?

So - back to that email:

One morning the husband returns after several hours of fishing and decides to take a nap.
Although not familiar with the lake, the wife decides to take the boat out.
She motors out a short distance, anchors, and reads her book.


Along comes a Game Warden in his boat.
He pulls up alongside the woman and says,

"Good morning, Ma'am. What are you doing?"
"Reading a book," she replies (thinking, Isn't that obvious?).
"You're in a Restricted Fishing Area," he informs her.
"I'm sorry, officer, but I'm not fishing. I'm reading."
"Yes, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could
start at any moment. I'll have to take you in and write you up."
"If you do that, I'll have to charge you with sexual assault,"
says the woman.
"But I haven't even touched you," says the game warden.
"That's true, but you have all the equipment. For all I know
you could start at any moment."
"Have a nice day ma'am," and he left.

MORAL: Never argue with a woman who reads. It's likely she can
also think.

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

What to Wear in Wye

Hoping to meet up with lots of you at Wye Fayre this weekend.

Check the website for latest details.

According to the weather forecast it looks set to be fine ...

... And they never get it wrong, do they?

So - suntan lotion and welly boots it is then.



Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Net results good

I've been thinking about this here blogging lark.
Nothing new there then, you might say.

Except that this time I'm thinking about it in conjunction with its potential to be a force for good or evil.

I posted recently about Rachel's hideous experience with a deeply disturbed cyberstalker.
This woman committed true crimes for our times.
She used blogging as a tool for a vicious and sustained campaign of harassment, eventually going on the run and using internet cafes to continue her abuse.

Rachel's experience was clearly extreme and all the more horrific given the other things she was dealing with in her life at the time.

But I doubt if there's anyone who's been hanging round the blogosphere for long who hasn't had negative experiences to some degree or other.

From bullying comments to malicious emails;
from frustrations with the technology to fears re exposure;
from spammers and porno merchants to painful misunderstandings that take on an existence of their own;
all life is here.

BUT ...

Rachel harnessed the power of the blogosphere to eventually catch her stalker.
A button was produced with the stalker's photo and the Crimestoppers number.
A host of blogging good guys published the button on their blogs, with the result that the stalker was eventually caught in an internet cafe in Aldgate.
(I was deeply mired in Hay at the time, so didn't take part in this particular aspect of the campaign.)

Then take the story of Dina's book and its journey through the blogosphere.
As Lee, who initiated the journey, commented:
'It goes to show that not every virus is malignant.'

So next time you're wondering if blogging has a place in your life ...
Or you're feeling intimidated and considering allowing yourself to be bullied out of the playground ...
Remember this:
The potential to do good is here too.

It's up to us.

Monday, July 02, 2007

The next link

I'm delighted to announce that this lovely blogger is the next link in the chain from here.

I will be sending Dina's book to her later today and look forward to the continuation of its journey through the blogosphere.

Meanwhile, Dina's blog continues to provide us with an insight into her life.

In this post, for example, she says:

'I realised that what's really new with cancer is this sense of living longer. So, for example, right now, the other mothers at school - most of whom haven't seen me for several weeks now - have no sense of what kind of illness this is. Is this cancer you die from? Recover from? And the truth is I don't know either, and none of the medical people answer these questions either. This is the unknown of now - so everybody just says, take each day as it comes.'

She follows this up with a discourse on the Guardian crossword.
That's Dina for you.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

Lucky me!

Thanks to everyone who sent me birthday greetings.

I had a great day ...

This friend kindly offered to babysit.

So G and I went here to celebrate their 10th birthday -
- and the launch of (the brilliant and quirky) Martin Millar's new book, Lonely Werewolf Girl.

And I received a wonderful pressy from these people.

Lucky lucky me ...

Ola Tatiana (and thank you, Steve)

Look! Look! Look!
(I'm excited - can you tell?)

Senor Redwood has kindly forwarded this to me - a very positive review of Buscando a Tatiana - the Spanish translation of Trading Tatiana - written by Zeki, editor of Gangsterera.
(Clearly an enlightened and highly intelligent individual with wonderful taste in literature.)

My lovely man in Spain has also been kind enough to provide me with a translation.

Snippets:

'Looking for Tatiana (El Tercer Nombre) by the English writer Debi Alper reminds me of another novel which at the time, despite its undoubted qualities, passed more or less unnoticed through the commercial bookshop sector without attracting much critical interest. I’m referring to The Dwarves of Death by Jonathan Coe, another English writer. Both novels portray English society from the viewpoint of hopeless (’defeated’) young people who expect little from an establishment which has already destined them to the most menial tasks. They move through the underworld of the ghettoes relying on social aid, somewhere between the world of outcasts and libertarian and creative bohemia, resisting the failure looming over them with a mixture of hope, making do with the least possible, and a belief, somewhere between idealist and disillusioned, in the eternal values of solidarity and brotherhood.'

It's interesting that he's picked up on the way the book has passed under the general radar.

But he's also been very astute in sussing out the underlying themes of the book:

'The story combines the flight of the two young women in a kind of interior immigration. Tatiana, an immigrant from an eastern European country, fights to escape the clutches of unscrupulous compatriots intent on keeping her as a sex slave, while Jo, a permanent exile on the edges of the welfare state, strives for a place in this society which is denied her.


We are presented with the radiography of a cosmopolitan and variegated society which hides its social deficiencies under the cosmetic of a savage liberalism. However, the novel delves into the tiny opportunities left by hope, gambling on human relations free of spurious interests, struggling to give birth to an optimism that ends up by proving itself to be almost impossible.


A special sensitivity in the creation of the characters gives us a highly evocative reading experience that allows us to glimpse the challenges confronting the younger generations. Spaces of utopia won’t be created without victims – but they will be created: that is the final message of this text that goes beyond the usual clichés.'

Justice

Rachel's cyberstalker (see here and here) has been jailed for 6 months (see here and here) after she was caught in an internet cafe.

Let's hope she's now given the help she clearly needs and Rachel can breathe easily knowing this hideous harassment is at an end.