Look and Learn

When I was a child there was a very well known educational magazine published weekly called Look and Learn (a quick google of it tells me that it ran for twenty years from 1962-82). My older brother who is terribly clever used to subscribe to it and another great sixties classic, Knowledge. Of the two L&L was my favourite, as there was rather less emphasis on Difficult Scientific Topics (though I did love the stuff on astronomy) and more on my favourite subjects of literature and history. It also came with a weekly cartoon strip called the Trigan Empire, which featured the eponymous hero, the Emperor Trigo, who weekly staved off evil to defend his empire and its people from threat. Bizarrely though ostensibly an SF story, all the characters dressed and acted as if they were living in Roman times, so the result was a weird meld between ancient history and sixties high tech futuristic musings. But for all that oddity, somehow it worked...

I think that L&L was probably quite pricey because we didn't always get it, but at some point during the seventies some incredibly generous person offloaded about ten yearsworth of L&Ls on my parents so we had a veritable store to choose from. I can remember the pleasure of going into our ancient toy cupboard, and grabbing a magazine from the shelf where they were crammed while simultaneously trying to ensure the whole lot didn't come tumbling down on your shoulders, before settling down for a reading experience, the like of which I haven't had replicated in my adult life. Ever.

Until this week that is. It was Spouse's birthday on Monday, and in a total nostalgia fest kind of way, one of the presents I bought him was The Big Bumper Book of Look and Learn , compiled from the best bits. (OK, OK, I did buy it for me, as he didn't read it as much as I did, but what's the point of other people's birthdays if you don't buy yourself the occasional treat, hm?)

As we settled down to watch the other nostalgia present (Control about the tragic life of Ian Curtis, lead singer of Joy Division, if you're interested), I flicked through the pages of the annual recapturing that flickering of enthusiastic interest that the original mags inspired in me. There were a lot of historical tales in there - including that of William Wallace, Elizabeth I, The Great Fire of London - as well as literature, L&L evidently had lots to say about Shakespeare, for example, Ancient History, Geography, and of course, the Trigan Empire. I was really disappointed when I got to the end of the first strip because I feared that the compiler of TBBoLaL might have given me just one episode, but I needn't have worried. Embedded in between the stories about Shakespeare and Pepys, a complete story emerged. A totally ludicrous preposterous story it's true, but compelling none the less. Aiens in the forms of floating orbs land on Elekton, the planet where the stories are set, infiltrate first some Trigan animals called gelfs - which look more like yaks to me - before taking over the old man who herds the gelfs and then a succession of people, until they reach shock, horror! the Emperor Trigo himself. Once they've got him onside they aim to take over the world, destroying all in their path etc etc (it must get boring being an alien invader, you only ever get to do one thing. I expect sometimes they probably just want to sit down and have a nice cup of tea. ) Anyway. All would have gone very ill for Trigo et al, except that inconveniently for the aliens, there were only three of them and one had to leave a host to take over Trigo, leaving the ex host - one of Trigo's pals - the chance to raise the alarm and sort the whole shebang out.

The sheer brilliance of the Trigan Empire, I decided on this thoroughly enjoyable rediscovery is that despite the preposterous plot, the writing was so gripping you just had to read on. The guys that wrote clearly knew how to spin a yarn. (And if you don't believe me go to: http://www.lookandlearn.com/ and find out for yourselves).

The main thing apart from the joy of The TE of course, that struck me about L&L, was the self confidence of the writing. There was no sense here of craven apologies for evil empire building, for the English to be portrayed generally as being responsible for the ills of the world, but rather a general belief (not a crowing or arrogant one either) that actually there is rather a lot to celebrate in our nation's history, which I did find very refreshing.

As readers of this blog are probably aware, history is a bit of a passion of mine, and what struck me most about L&L was the dispassionate, fair and factual way history was presented. The Wallace piece for example, rather then branding him as a cheating rebel against the English (as one might expect from Mel Gibson's Braveheart approach of all the English were bastards type approach to history), extolled him as hero, while pointing out that the English would have thought him a cheating rebel etc. Most interestingly I think from our oh so superior Political Correctness standpoint was that L&L didn't just stick to English, or even European History. There was evidently one series devoted to African history, in the piece chosenyou can learn all about the great kingdom of Kush (I did, and it was fascinating), and one wincingly called When the Redman Rode (ok, that title doesn't stand up well), about the Cheyenne warriors. Granted there is a little of the Noble Savage take on their story but it is written with a great deal of sympathy for their plight and the actions of the white man in conquering America don't always hold up to scrutiny.

I mention all this because it struck me that we could perhaps learn a lot from going back to a more Look and Learn approach to the world, particularly in history.

As well as indulging in a nostalgia fest, Spouse (who'd taken a couple of days off work)and I also spent yesterday afternoon watching Elizabeth the Golden Reign. We'd been looking forward to this as we both enjoyed the first Cate Blanchett film. But oh deary me, were we disappointed. About half my lifetime ago I studied Elizabeth Tudor for A Level history. At the time I found it frustrating because all the historians I was studying had made the classic mistake of falling in love with her, and being bedazzled by her achievements, her beauty, her status in our history as Gloriana, the Virgin Queen (I blame that Sir Philip Sidney myself, who laughingly didn't even make it into Elizabeth, but then again there was no sign of Robert Dudley either.)

My very wise and brilliant history teacher encouraged me to look at Elizabeth from the opposite perspective - not as someone who alway succeeded, but someone who frequently failed, particularly when pitted against her chief rivals Catherine de Medici and Philip II of Spain. What she had, which they both lacked though, was considerable political acumen, and she was invariably able to make disaster seem like triumph, and wrongfooted them consistently - a Teflon Tone of her day perhaps (I was always amused when TB used to talk about a middle way - Elizabeth I's own strategy for dealing with the thorny religious problems of her day).

I fear that Shekhar Kapur, director of Elizabeth falls into the same trap, he clearly adores the character of Elizabeth and her rivals are totally belittled in this film. Cate Blanchett is brilliant in the role as she was in the first film, and visually it's stunning, but the rest of it. Well it just doesn't stand up at all. Clive Owen (who I do like, but is poorly served here) is brought in as a love interest in the shape of Sir Walter Raleigh, who later married Elizabeth's lady in waiting, Bess Throckmorton. Right so far, but oh so wrong about everything else. For starters, they got married in 1591, three years after the events of the film took place. Plus as far as I can remember it was Drake who sent in the fire ships to destroy the Armada - Raleigh was doing his duty defending the coast of Plymouth.

Mary Queen of Scots in the meantime is reduced to a viperish rival (who I rather think would have spoken with a French, not Scottis accent) and the Babington Plot, which sealed her fate but may very well have been trumped up by Walsingham, the original Spymaster was portrayed as being conceived by Philip II to force Elizabeth to commit regicide, thereby giving him reason to launch the Armada. I don't think somehow he needed much reason...

Philip II of Spain, himself was shown as a raving bigoted religous zealot which I felt was unfair. As much as anything else he was desperately trying to save the kingdom his father Charles V had left him from the same fate as that which befell the Holy Roman Empire. Charles V lost his northern German principalities to Protestant princes, and Philip was busy losing his Dutch lands to Calvinist rebels. Yes, yes, I do know that the Spanish invented the Inquisition and all that, but they weren't alone in their barbarity - the aforementioned Calvinists did a fine line in taking over city states from within and slaughtering everyone unprepared to convert - it strikes me this film set out to be a grand epic of warring religious ideologies and descended into rather crude caracaturing.

Maybe this doesn't matter, this is after all only a film. But I think it does actually. Because this is a film which purports to portray the truth about actual historical events, and as such it should at least get the basic facts right (in that I think it somewhat different from the forthcoming film of The Other Boleyn Girl or the books my writing friend Elizabeth Chadwick writes about mediaeval times, because it is made clear that fact and fiction are being blended together) - and also I think it is the job of anyone portraying historical events to show them without prejudice and favour - give us all the facts and both sides of the story, then we can make up our own minds.

Which is why I suggest that Look and Learn become compulsory reading for all school children aged eight years and above. They will learn much about their own history and that of others, and with any luck, they might actually learn to think for themselves.

Watching Elizabeth: The Golden Reign on the other hand, will ensure they won't...

Worried About Ray

This isn't really supposed to be here, but for some reason I can't post it on the other blog...

This is my childrens' favourite song at the moment. And when you watch this utterly barking video and understand it really appeals to me, it may go someway to explaining my obsession with Primeval, monsters and new tv pilots about werewolves, vampires and ghosts...

I really must stop this...

... but strolling through the airwaves last night I found ANOTHER hero. A new one. Oh dear. I think I am turning into a mad premenopausal witch.

However, he also pitched up in a fabulous new programme on BBC3 called Being Human. It won't be to everyone's taste, seeing as it features flatmates who are a vampire, a werewolf and an agoraphobic ghost, but it certainly was to mine (and Spouse's).

I believe when Torchwood was first mooted, there was a suggestion that it was going to be a UK Buffytype venture. It isn't. This, however is.

Guy Flanagan as the vampire with a conscience was just fabulously sexy and enigmatic, Russell Tovey's lonesome werewolf was cute, moving and funny by turns, and Andrea Riseborough's ghost who can't leave the house was frankly inspired. I loved the bit where they'd managed to persuade her to go to the pub, and she requested to sit by the wall nearest the house as it made her feel better(and stopped her from fading).

Adrian Lester as the head of the vampires intent of renewing a reign of glory and blood last seen since the days of Vlad the Impaler (presumably) was wonderfully menacing, and the whole thing had a slick and sexy feel that Torchwood lacks (though I will admit series 2 has been much more fun then series 1).

I think this is a new series, I hope it is anyway, because it was sooooo much fun, and methinks there is much rich material to reap here.

Plus I have a new hero to ogle at, which can't be bad.

Although for all those readers (PU I am thinking of you) who are desperately hoping that I will return at some point to more serious matters. I promise, I promise. I will try to make this blog slightly less frippery based shortly.

But in the meantime ladies, I'm leaving you Guy Flanagan to ogle at...

Ashes to Ashes again...

No spoilers particularly.

But I just wanted to say.

Imaginary constructs.

I love it.

Next time someone really annoys me I shall call them an imaginary construct.

I was also pleased to see there was a big emphasis on New Romantics this week. Which was the only thing missing from last week.

And we got Rupert Graves...

And to be quite honest. I just wanted another excuse to put a picture of Philip Glenister on my blog....

As this is such fun...

And it IS Valentine's Day,I thought I'd post my top ten heroes.

I think I may have to give up on the order though because I really really can't decide. I'm also making it a rule that it's the actor as character that I really like. And because I'm being very kind and loving and attentive to you, you can have pictures too.

I'm very very sorry guys... I hope I haven't put you off this blog permanently, but you know, it is only one day of the year, and we girls do like to feel swoony on it, so I'm afraid you have to lump it.

My own hero is taking me out for dinner tonight. I am hoping that he is not going to repeat his offfence of the first Valentine's we were together, way back in the mists of time. I had left a bunch of orchids (=forever) on his car. He gave me a heart made out of dental alginate. It was so squidgy it had to remain in the plastic bag he thoughtfully provided. My fingers had that horrible dental smell, for days afterwards....

So here are my heroes then....


Johnny Depp (of course) as the Earl of Rochester




Viggo Mortenson (before he lost the beard, and IT) as Aragorn

Richard Armitage (what was Marian thinking of shacking up with Robin?) as Guy of Gisborne

Lovely Lovely David Tennant (without whom this list would not be complete) as Dr Who

Daniel Craig (the man who made all the romantic novelists of my acquaintance come over all funny after THAT shower scene) as James Bond

Russell Crowe (yes I know he's an uncouth foulmouthed bore in real life, but he was fab in this) as Maximus Decimus Meridius

Clive Owen (who isn't everyone's cup of tea I know, but he is mine in this) as Arthur

Philip Glenister (for making it possible to be outrageously non PC) as Gene Hunt

Alan Rickman (he can come and haunt me any time) as Jamie

And last, but definitely not least.

Daniel Day Lewis (run that Stay Alive bit by me one more time why don't you) as Hawkeye

Enjoy!

Johnny Depp and Pierce Brosnan make Romantic Novelists' hearts throb

As it's Valentine's day tomorrow, I had to post this. Particularly as my all time romantic hero tops the list. Ah me. Johnny Depp. I am particularly keen on his depiction of John Wilmot Earl of Rochester in the little known but brilliant film Rochester. The Earl of Rochester notorious rake and libertine, who wrote such wonderfully cynical lines as If I by Miracle can be,/This live-long Minute true to thee,/'Tis all that Heaven allows is one of my favourite literary heroes, so seeing Johnny portraying him was like having all my christmases at once.

Am glad to see most of my heroes made it into the top ten, though am deeply puzzled by David Tennant at no 10, he'd have been in my top three. In fact I was having huge trouble about who came after Johnny, but decided in the end that Daniel, David and Richard would have had to share the honour. I didn't get round to the older men, but Clint and Sean would have been slugging it out if I had, with Harrison a close third....

Apart from anything else this gives me another excuse to put a picture of Johnny on my blog. Down girl, Down...

Members of the Romantic Novelists’ Association have voted Johnny Depp as the Number One Perfect Romantic Hero in a poll to mark Valentine’s Day. According to these authors, a romantic hero should be gorgeous, deliciously sexy, intensely masculine and have a commanding presence.

‘We should be qualified to judge,’ one writer commented. ‘After all, we create these heroes on paper every day.’

The top ten male celebrities voted the Perfect Romantic Hero were:

1. Johnny Depp
2. Daniel Craig
3. Sean Bean
4. Richard Armitage
5. Hugh Jackman
6. Colin Firth
7. Alan Rickman
8. Pierce Brosnan
9. George Clooney
10. David Tennant

A second poll, taken by members of the RNA bravely admitting to being ‘over a certain age’, voted for male celebrities over fifty who’ve ‘still got it’. Remarkable for his appearance on both polls, Pierce Brosnan took the crown for the over fifties by a huge margin.

The top ten Over-Fifty Perfect Romantic Heroes were:

1. Pierce Brosnan
2. Harrison Ford
3. Ranulph Fiennes
4. Bill Nighy
5. Liam Neeson
6. Sam Neill
7. Sean Connery
8. Peter O’Toole
9. Clint Eastwood
10. Omar Sharif

For further information about the Romantic Novelists’ Association’s poll results
please contact Katrina Power at Midas Public Relations
on 020 7590 0802 or http://uk.f860.mail.yahoo.com/ym/Compose?To=katrina.power@midaspr.co.uk

New venture

Well, sort of.



You may have noticed (if you notice that kind of thing) that I have just updated my profile. This is because I am starting a new blog.



I am in the middle of revising book no 2, which among other things is about four people who are learning to dance and their entangled love lives.



I got the idea after attending salsa classes a few years ago, and noticing that there were rather a lot of single men there. More women of course, and most of the women were in pairs, there for a laugh, or because their partners wouldn't get on the dance floor even if you paid them. The men on the other hand, the men struck me as in the main being out on the pull, but also often rather nervous. There was one poor chap who used to hold my hands so tightly I thought they'd break.

So it struck me that if you were a divorce and wanted to meet women a really good place to go would be a salsa class. My story had started with Mark, a dentist who gets sued by a patient, and I got his best friend Rob to drag him along to salsa lessons where they meet Emily and Katie.
Of course the minute my editor saw it she said, why don't they attend ballroom dancing lessons, and with the popularity of Strictly Come Dancing at the moment as usual she was right.

My slight problem is that I know not the slightest thing about ballroom dancing (apart from watching the ease with which my parents used to do it), though thanks to the latest series of SCD, Marie Phillips' hilarious blogging about it, and some dance steps I downloaded from the internet (I was at one point trying to rumba on my own, reading the steps of the screen of my laptop when my main computer was playing up), I cobbled enough together to set the dancing scenes at least while I was writing the book. (Current title Strictly Love. Nothing like cashing in or anything).

However I was all too painfully aware that my lack of expertise in the area of dancing would be quickly found out, and so it has proved. I am hoping to change that as I tackle the rewrites, so have got some dance dvds (hilariously trying them out with the sprogs the other week) two dancing books kindly supplied by my publishers and I have just booked a dancing lesson with a teacher who - get this - was ACTUALLY ON SCD!!! Woohoo...

I was also supposed to be going to a proper class with her last night, but as usual I got a bit domestically sidetracked and I didn't make it.

Anyway the point of all this is, that yesterday I met up with my agent and editor (and yes I am well aware how poncey that sounds), to discuss new ideas (of which more later), and my editor asked me to start a blog about learning to dance. This is purely a pr exercise, but I hope a fun one, so those of you who are interested you are welcome to join me on my new blog, http://Strictlycomedancingnot.blogspot.com which you can see on my profile. Those of you who don't, that's perfectly all right too. I won't hold it against you, and I will carry on blogging here.

I'm going to be me properly on the other blog, but I rather like the cosy comfort of being Jane here, so I shall keep it like that.

In the meantime if you haven't seen this and care about authors pay most of which is laughably low, please take time out to visit the Downing Street website to sign the petition against reducing PLR which we get every time someone borrows a book and for many of us is an important source of income.

Following the announcement that the Department for Culture, Media and Sport plans to reduce Public Lending Right (PLR) funding, I have initiated a 10 Downing Street e-petition to protest at the cuts. Public Lending Right is the right for authors, illustrators, photographers, translators and editors to receive payment under PLR legislation for the loans of their books by public libraries. More than 23,000 people are entitled to receive payment under this scheme, and for many the annual PLR payment is an important part of their income. PLR is particularly valuable to those people who receive little or no royalty on book sales — their books are more often borrowed from libraries than bought in shops. Please spare a minute to sign the petition. Click the following link (or paste it into your browser window) and add your name. http://petitions.pm.gov.uk/plr-funding/ Please do not delete this email. Instead, forward it to as wide a group of people as you can. It is in everyone’s best interests to support the work of Britain’s creative talent.

The A Team

And now for some grown up telly....


(With spoilers so if you didn't see Ashes to Ashes last night, look away!


I was a bit late coming into Life on Mars, but thanks to Mad Twin, Spouse and I were completely hooked by series 2. And devastated when it was over. How could it be over? NOOOO!!! I wanted to see Sam Tyler stuck in Gene Hunt's world for ever, difficulties in keeping that storyline going aside...

When they announced that LoM was going to be followed up by Ashes to Ashes, I immediately thought how clever was that? Take the same formula and reinvent it, by changing the time, the location and the sex of the protagonist. When you think about it, they could keep this going forever.

So I have been looking forward to the new series, particularly because it's set in the 80s, the decade I think of as my own - yeah, yeah, yeah, I know the big hair and power shoulders get laughed at now, but for me it was the decade I grew up in, and I love the music.

It's always a bit of a worry when you look forward to something that much. But luckily, the first episode didn't disappoint.

It was fab.

From the moment that poor old Keeley Hawes (aka Alex Drake) took a shot in the face and woke up on a riverboat full of Hooray Henrys dressed as a prostitute (or as Gene Hunt would say, tom), with Vienna playing, I thought woohoo!! I'm going to love this.

The cleverest thing about LoM (and they seem to have done it here as well to great effect) is the period detail. In LoM it was the browns and the flock wallpaper and space hoppers. And here it was the cavern type Italian bar they were drinking in, the clothes -oh my god the clothes were dead on the money - and my favourite the striped duvet covers and sofas, which seemed so modern in 1981.

I like all those touches.

I also like the colours they seem to shoot it in - LoM was very brown and dark and depressing, which did conjure up childhood memories of powercuts and binmen going on strike, while in AtoA the colours seemed lighter and brasher, and very cleverly fit my memory of the period. I don't know how they did that, but it certainly worked for me.

I also LOVED the way they used music - Vienna was no 1 for weeks in 1981, and the minute I heard it playing, I was transported back in time.

But the best use of music was when Alex was confronting the baddy - who in 2008 had shot her and sent her back in time, so she felt sure that facing up to him was her way back (she has an advantage over Sam Tyler in that she's read his file, so she thinks her mind is tricking her and she is fantasing about the whole thing) - and up popped Gene and his two henchmen on a boat, to the tune of No More Heroes. The A Team were back, and with what panache. Fan - bloody - tastic.

Period detail aside, I think they have also pulled off the trick of making the person in a coma who wakes up in a different time zone thing work by giving Keeley a whole set of different dilemmas to Sam.

For a start she is a police psychologist, who has been studying Sam's case, so can work out what has happened to her. But she thinks she is imagining the whole thing which leads her into some great confrontations with Gene Hunt, who kept getting cross that she was using her fingers as quote marks every time she said the name "Gene", and clearly fancies the pants of her. There were many brilliant lines last night, but the one about her giving him the horn made me choke on my wine.

I also loved her slightly insane shouting and the lists she was drawing up to work out what had happened to the evident bemusement of those around her. In fact one of the priceless aspects of it was that no one said to the strange new DI who turned up dressed as a tom, fainted when she hears the name Gene Hunt, kept ranting on about weird psychological stuff, was gloriously rude to Gene thinking he was in her imagination etc etc, excuse me a minute, but you are utterly barking. In real life she'd be committed. In Gene Hunt's world, he decides that despite her being a woman, and wrong about some things, she seemed to understand all that psychology stuff so she was here to stay.

On top of ALL of that, as if there wasn't enough going in, we also have Alex's desperate need to get back to the present for her daughter's birthday, and Gene Hunt's evident grief for Sam Tyler, who didn't do as he was told and drove his car into a river a year previously(fans will know of course, that he got back to the real world and jumped off a building). The message Alex is getting loud and clear, is stay safe and you stick with the boss. Knowing the way LoM worked, this may or may not be the right thing to do.

And of course I haven't even mentioned the gloriously spooky incarnations of the characters from Rainbow, and THAT clown from the David Bowie video. Thanks to my big sister I developed a Bowie crush in the early 80s, and I always hated that clown...

So...

As far as I'm concerned, Ashes to Ashes was a riproaring success. And now I've got another series that I can look forward to next week.

But without the monsters....

Saturday TV - it's a family thing....

Thanks to Dr Who, Saturday evenings in our house have become a family watching tv time. Which is of course a bit of a problem when the series ends.

However in the absence of the good doctor, we had Robin Hood in the autumn, which the children (who let's face it lack discernment) love. Although the last series got so silly I have to fess up I left the bosom of the family a fair few times as I couldn't cope with the stupidity of Marian not shagging Guy, the really crap way they depicted Elinor of Aquitaine as some lecherous old bint, and the nonsense of all of them ending up in the Holy Land in the last couple of episodes. Still they did have the sense to finish Marian off for good this time, and I can't imagine that even Jack can a) bring her back from the dead again and b) resurrect her from the tomb she's incarcerated in in the desert. But you never know I suppose....

With Robin Hood over we were facing a bit of a vacuum, and were all wondering what had happened to Primeval, which comfortably filled the Family Viewing slot till Dr Who was back, last year. To our delight it returned to our screens few weeks ago, complete with weird anomalies, strange creatures, and Dougie Henshall's evil missis. Hurrah, hurrah. Saturday evenings are fun again.

Primeval is of course a load of old tosh. But such enjoyable old tosh that it doesn't really matter. The kids get a bit fed up with us saying but what about X? and look behind you you idiot! when the characters are particularly dumb. And there always seems to be some confusion about whether to kill the creatures that come through the anomaly - at the beginning of the series it was a no no, because you might change time (fans of Primeval will know that poor old Nick Cutter, the hero, came back from an anomaly to discover that things had altered so much his putative girlfriend had disappeared, only for her to reappear as someone completely different) - but now they seem to be killing prehistoric animals with gusto, and zipping in and out of anomalies with not so much as a by your leave, and NOTHING much happens....

That carping aside though, last night's episode was a real roller coaster, and I had two sprogs on my lap for most of it as we wondered whether Abby was going to get eaten by a predecessor of the shark (who looked more walrus like then anything, but never mind), and whether Conor was going to stop being so wet and useless for once and actually save her (which he did of course).

We also had the fun of wondering which hero Spouse resembles. In one scene Stephen (the metrosexual foil to Cutter's maverick lead) stood facing Cutter in a bit of a stand off (there is TENSION between them you see on account of Stephen having shagged Mrs Evil ) . Which one am I most like? Asked Spouse. Given that Stephen sports as much hair on his chest as my husband does, but Cutter was wearing the exact same jacket he possesses. The children pondered this dilemma before Spouse asked which of them had his tummy - er neither I think is the answer to that. I rather suspect he resembles the walrus most....

Another enjoyable thing about it though is the intrigue - so far we know that the guy who played Martin Dear in Green Wing isn't all he seems, and is in cahoots with the woman who is trying to worm her way into Conor's affections for what nefarious purpose remains to be seen. But judging from the end of last night's episode, it's going to involve Mrs Evil.

The best thing about Saturday Family TV is that it allows you to be a kid again. So like a five year old, I really really can't wait for next week.....

Tax Exile is put on hold

... till next year anyway. Which is a shame really as I thought we could have all had a really nice time for at least six months in the Seychelles.

However, after discovering I am not seen as a persona grata vis a vis Spouse's tax, I did discover that if I was prepared to drive to our nearest tax office in Sutton, I could pay the cheque in there.

So straight after school, I took off with nos 2&4 (no 1 has dancing and no 3 has gone to a friend's)only for no 4 to flake out on me as she is coming down with a nasty cold and eye infection. Why nothing in my life is ever straightforward I don't know...

Anyway I managed to cajole her into the car, though I did have to carry her at the other end.
We made it to the tax office, which despite my having to be let in by a security guard, seemed very lax when I got up there. No one was at reception and the person who accepted my cheque wasn't going to give me a receipt. In fact, she only gave me an acknowledgement, when requested, not a receipt, so fuck knows what happens if very large cheque goes missing now...

Is it any wonder those disks went missing? And I wonder how many tax returns our safe as well (not many I suspect).

But apparently my grilling at the hands of the Obergruppefuhrer this afternoon is part of a tightening up of procedures.

Why oh why, don't I feel reassured by that?

I feel the Seychelles calling....

Only now I don't have any money to get there...

How to be a Tax Exile without leaving the country

Anyone who has to fill in a tax return will know that yesterday was the closing date for doing so, without risking a fine from HM Inland Revenue.

In our house, we both have to fill in tax returns.

Mine is simple. I earn bugger all money so for the last couple of years I have filled in the short tax return and sent it off by 30 September, thereby ensuring my friendly tax inspector works out how little tax I owe him (I earn far too little to bother employing an accountant).

Spouse on the other hand is another matter. He earns considerably more then I do and his affairs are more complex. Therefore he needs an accountant.

This year, I missed the 30 September deadline due to other pressures, but as I discovered you can now file online, I managed to get mine in a few weeks ago. (Pause for smug moment).

Spouse, who takes a seat of your pants approach to all things tax related (when he was first working he couldn't work out how to pay tax and at one time we had enough money to abscond had we so wished. Mind you, we'd never been able to come back to the country again, so it was just as well that the tax man finally caught up with him...) kept promising me he was going to sort everything his accountant needed and then forgetting about it.

It is difficult in this situation not to turn into a nagging wife, as last year on account of this laidback attitude it was muggins who had to drive to the accountants at the last minute with all the necessary info, only for some of it to be wrong which necessitated a return journey. However, as any slight mention of the TAX problem was met with gnashing of teeth on my beloved's part, I very valiantly tried to keep my gob firmly shut on the subject.

Eventually he did sit down and get it sorted, and then drove to the accountants himself (hmmm, so he was listening occasionally then), boasting that he was a week ahead of where he'd been last year. Yes, but why do we have to leave it till January in the first place????

Anyway. Nerves duly settled, I have spent the last couple of weeks trying not to mention the fact that he hasn't yet heard from his accountants. This week though, of course, it all got a bit hairy. Spouse and accountant have spoken on phone, but as per usual there are some bits of info missing, so we had a phone call early Tuesday to enquire about them. Spouse sorted that out and eventually was rewarded with tax return to check yesterday morning. Spouse being rather luddite with regards to computers, it was me downloading and printing everything off, in between sorting out the sandwiches yesterday morning. (And he wonders why I get irritated...)

Everything was tickety boo. I email accountant back to say so, he luckily has done accounts so we know how much to pay, and off I pop to pay bill before school pick up.

Only of course I forget to take my passport as security for the cheque (which is rather large) and have to go back in between school pick up and tennis lessons.

As a result of late filing online (luckily Spouse saved this year by fact of system crashing yesterday so he got an extra day's grace) we didn't have a pay slip. I found a form I thought might work from the Inland Revenue website, but wasn't quite sure. Before I withdrew obscene sum of money to pay HMG, I asked girl in Nationwide if this would be ok to use. Oh yes, she said gaily - what did it matter to her, Nationwide won't accept payments of cheques unless they're from a bank account? I duly trotted next door with obscene cheque burning huge hole in my pocket, to discover, that no, the form I had printed from the internet didn't count. I was now ten minutes late for tennis and there was a huge queue in the Nationwide, so I decided to risk taking huge cheque home with me.

Today I have tried to ring the IR to get them to send Spouse a payslip (bearing in mind that as he has his hands shoved down someone's gob for 99% of the day wasting half his life on the end of a phone waiting for some bod from the tax office to answer it isn't desperately practical), and GET THIS.... When after three attempts and half an hour of waiting I finally got through to a real live person, it transpires that I am not security cleared to get my husband a payslip. Well I never. And there was me imagining that given the cock up with the child benefit info going missing which means any tom dick and harry probably now has access to my bank accounts, and following the revelation this week that if you are rich, famous or an MP you can't file your return online because it's not secure enough, that security wasn't a really high priority at the IR.

Apparently it is. But only if you want to know something pertaining to your partner. I imagine if I hacked into their mainframe and got an automated payslip sent out, they'd probably be patting me on the back.

I think a life as a tax exile might actually be in order...

Following on from my last post...

The RNA has also announced it's shortlist for the romance prize which goes to the best category romance (books published monthly). It is fitting that in Mills and Boon's centenary year, they've swept the board on the shortlist.

I'm also really pleased to see fellow RNAers on the list - particularly Kate Hardy, who was one of the first friends I made at the RNA and who gave the most brilliantly funny talk about writing medical romances at the first conference I attended. And for those who still think M&B is about heaving bosoms and chaste kisses, go and read Julie Cohen and discover just how modern and up to date they are.

I know that M&B isn't too everyone's taste - but boy do they know how to entertain and have been doing it successfully for a hundred years, which is very neat.

And to those who would disparage the genre, I always say read Lady Oracle by Margaret Atwood. The heroine writes Gothic Romances in her spare time, and describes her work as being like building castles in the air for the girls she went to school with whose dreams of riding off into the sunset with a handsome prince ended up with them having their arms in the kitchen sink. Mills and Boon give a lot of pleasure to millions of women around the world. And I for one am never going to argue with that.

PS. And to anyone who thinks a) it's easy and b)it's formulaic. a) No. It's not easy (I've tried) and b) there is no formula - the only rule I was given when I was trying to write for them was to keep the hero and heroine on the page for 90% of the time, which is fantastically difficult. I'm not a natural M&B writer, but I know lots of brilliant writers who are, and six of them are on this list, so all power to their elbow. And may the best woman win...


MILLS & BOON SCOOPS SHORTLIST
FOR ROMANCE PRIZE 2008

Thursday 17th January 2008

In their centenary year, publishers Harlequin, Mills & Boon have a full showing in the shortlist for the only prize for category romance awarded in the UK. The Romantic Novelists’ Association awards the Romance Prize each year alongside the award for Romantic Novel of the Year.

Category romance is defined as books published in a monthly cycle, which concentrate on the romantic relationship. Mills & Boon novels are read all over the world by millions of women. This year their authors stormed the shortlist, beating several other publishers into the top six.

The shortlisted titles are:
The Secret Life of Lady Gabriella - Liz Fielding
Driving him Wild - Julie Cohen
Her Parenthood Assignment - Fiona Harper
English Lord, Ordinary Lady - Fiona Harper
The Mediterranean Rebel’s Bride - Lucy Gordon
Breakfast at Giovanni’s - Kate Hardy

Fiona Harper, whose double listing is a coup for the RNA’s New Writer’s Scheme, said: ‘I'm so excited. One book on the shortlist was a long shot. Two was something I didn't imagine in my wildest daydreams.’

Unique to the RNA, the New Writer’s Scheme provides a critiquing service by published members to help writers new to the genre. Work considered good enough receives a second read and may be passed on to publishers. Fiona came through the scheme to win the annual prize in 2006 with Blind-Date Marriage.

Kate Hardy, who was shortlisted for the Romance Prize in 2006 is ‘absolutely thrilled. I've had a rough year, so this was a real bright spot. And to be shortlisted with my 25th title for M&B in M&B's centenary year is just fantastic.’

Julie Cohen, another New Writer’s Scheme graduate, is equally thrilled, as her book is just coming out in the US. Of Driving Him Wild the judging panel said: 'An unusual beginning leads into a passionately sexy story.’ Julie commented, ‘Pass the Champagne!’

Previous Romance Prize winner Liz Fielding was also nominated for an American RITA last year. The panel thought the characters in The Secret Life of Lady Gabriella were 'realistic, flawed and human.'

Lucy Gordon, who was also shortlisted for the Prize in 2006 and has won two RITAs, is now on her 42nd book for Mills & Boon. The panel felt there was ‘something special’ about The Mediterranean Rebel’s Bride.

The winner of the Romance Prize 2008 will be decided by the judging panel, this year comprising authors Zoë Barnes, Trisha Ashley and bestseller Katie Fforde. The prize will be presented at the RNA Awards Lunch on 4th February at the Royal Garden Hotel in Kensington.

For further information about the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize 2008, contact Katrina Power at Midas Public Relations on 020 7590 0802
or katrina.power@midaspr.co.uk

Romantic Novelist's Association shortlist

I'm a bit later posting this then I meant to be.

As you've probably gathered by now I am a fully paid up enthusiastic member of the Romantic Novelist's Association, though you would be lucky to catch me in a boa and rattling twinset and pearls. (Actually I don't know a single member of the RNA to whom such a description would apply. And we don't all wear pink either - got that?).

Anyway. This week they posted the shortlist for their annual award, and a very wonderful list it is too. I promised I'd help promote it, so here it is. I hope there's something here that will appeal to some (if not all - ok I'm a zealot but you won't be thrown off this blog for not being a fan of romantic fiction, I am nothing if not eclectic in my tastes!) of you. I myself am just about to dive into the JoJo Moyes - I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to write the reader's notes for The Ship of Brides which was shortlisted in 2005 and which I loved, so am looking forward to this one.

Enjoy!

PS The winner is going to be announced on February 4 at the RNA Award Lunch, to which this year I am rather excitingly going to go for the first time...


Shortlist announced for the
Romantic Novel of the Year 2008


The Romantic Novelists’ Association today announced the shortlist for the Romantic Novel of the Year 2008. The shortlist was selected by a panel of RNA members, who scored the books on such criteria as romantic content, readability, dialogue, characters, plot, style and setting.

The shortlist includes:

One Last Summer – Catrin Collier (Orion)
Silk and Steel – Catherine King (Sphere/Little, Brown)
The Leaving of Liverpool – Maureen Lee (Orion)
Silver Bay – Jojo Moyes (Hodder & Stoughton)
Pillow Talk – Freya North (Harper Collins)
Young Wives’ Tales – Adele Parks (Michael Joseph/Penguin)

The winner of the 2008 award will be decided by the judging panel, which this year includes comedienne Helen Lederer, Good Housekeeping Books Editor Kerry Fowler, and Chris Rushby, Buying Director of Bertram Books, Britain’s leading book wholesaler.

The 2008 winner will be announced at the Awards Lunch on February 4th at the Royal Garden Hotel, London.

The panel of RNA members said of the shortlisted titles:

One Last Summer – Catrin Collier (Orion)
“It is very moving and the complexities of love and war are explored in depth. A memorable read.”

Silk and Steel – Catherine King (Sphere/Little, Brown)
“I enjoyed this book very much. It had drama, conflict, intrigue as well as love and romance. The main character, despite all the desperate situations in her life, came through it to win in the end and she was likeable and admirable.”

The Leaving of Liverpool – Maureen Lee (Orion)
“This is one of the best books I have read in a long time. I loved the characters, the story, the way it was written. I love books from this era. Outstanding.”

Silver Bay – Jojo Moyes (Hodder & Stoughton)
“I was drawn into this story. I wanted to be a guest at the Silver Bay Hotel and savour the experiences and kinship of the characters. I thoroughly enjoyed this moving tale, with its sentiment and humour.”



Pillow Talk – Freya North (Harper Collins)
“Petra is the girl we all dreamt of being and Arlo the man we all wanted to meet. Who doesn’t wonder ‘what if…’ to the long lost first love?”

Young Wives’ Tales – Adele Parks (Michael Joseph/Penguin)
“An excellent modern romance, sharp and witty. The characters were well defined and the dialogue flowed along nicely. For me, a perfect read.”

For further information about the Romantic Novel of the Year 2008,
photographs and bios of the shortlisted authors, please contact Katrina Power at Midas Public Relations on 020 7590 0802 or katrina.power@midaspr.co.uk



Notes to Editors

Romantic Novel of the Year Award: The Award was inaugurated in 1960 to recognise excellence in romantic novels and thereby enhance the standing of the genre. Any novel which is published in the UK (or simultaneously with other countries) in 2007 is eligible for the Award.

2007 Winner: The 2007 winner was Rosie Thomas for Iris & Ruby. Recent winners include Erica James, Katharine Davies, Jojo Moyes, Sarah Mason, Cathy Kelly, Philippa Gregory, Maureen Lee and Clare Chambers. To download past winners: log onto www.rna-uk.org

Organisers: The Romantic Novelists’ Association (RNA) was set up in 1960 to promote respect for the genre and to encourage excellence. Full membership is open to authors who have published a romantic novel or a romantic serial. Aspiring writers are admitted as probationary members. In 2005, an RNA team beat teams from Wisden and The Economist in University Challenge - The Professionals, only going down to the Privy Council in the final. The Chairman is Catherine Jones. For more information log onto www.rna-uk.org.

Submissions: 189 submissions were received this year from 22 large and small publishers. 5 publishers submitted for the first time, and there were several first-time authors.

Judging: 90 keen members of the reading public, drawn from all over the country, with an even distribution in age groups, selected the long list of 21 titles. Each book was scored three times to achieve the long list, the criteria covering romantic content, readability, characters, plot, dialogue, style and ending. A panel of RNA members then whittled this down to the shortlist, which is then assessed by the judging panel.

Judging Panel: the panel for 2008 is chaired by comedienne, actress and author Helen Lederer, who is joined by Kerry Fowler, Books Editor for Good Housekeeping, and Chris Rushby, Buying Director for Bertram Books.

Winner Announcement: on 4th February 2008 at the Award lunch at the Royal Garden Hotel, Kensington.

For further information about the Romantic Novel of the Year 2008,
photographs and bios of the shortlisted authors, please contact Katrina Power
at Midas Public Relations on 020 7590 0802 or katrina.power@midaspr.co.uk

A New Year's Fairytale (not)

It actually occurred to me after I'd mentioned it yesterday that actually the story of New Year's Eve 1983 is so funny, that perhaps I should retell it. (Mind you I am hoping here that no one who was actually at that party, barring Mad Twin, will pop out of the woodwork and remember it too...)

It was one of those funny evenings that happens when you're young free and single. I was eighteen, on what would now be called a gap year, just about to leave home for the first time to do voluntary work. Most of my close friends had spent their first term at college and we had spent Christmas catching up.

As usual at this period in my life, I fancied a bloke who didn't fancy me. I was a past master at that. Most of the time the object of my affection was in love with a very good friend of ours. Everyone was in love with her. It was most annoying. For her and us. And had it not been that she was (and is) exceptionally lovely she might not have survived her teens.

This particular object of my affection, though didn't fancy my friend, but was in an on/off relationship with another girl also annoyingly nice. That Christmas the relationship appeared to be off, and I had entertained ridiculously high hopes that he might look my way. So it was with some disappointment that I witnessed his arrival with said girl at the start of the party.

There was only one thing to do after that, and it was to enlarge my acquaintance with vodka and orange, which that night tasted like nectar. It also didn't taste of alcohol, so I didn't quite realise how much I'd had.

Oops.

So it was that I found myself pouring my woes out to a friend of Mad Twin's. Now the problem (sometimes) with having a twin is that people muddle us up, and forget which one they're talking to. Or in the case of this particular friend, he'd fallen head over heels for MT, but not for me. But I was talking to him, MT wasn't (I can't honestly remember what MT was up to, but I'm sure she'll tell me), and he sort of thought I might be a good replacement. The problem with this approach to dealing with twins, is that we are very different. And I was the wrong twin. But he kissed me anyway. In the garden where I had retreated after midnight in a moment of post countdown misery.

At the very point that he kissed me, the kitchen door opened and the poor bloke who at the time fancied me (and I didn't fancy in the slightest) saw me snog someone else I didn't fancy in the slightest. He was a bit of a depressed kind of chap, so then I went into a flat spin thinking I'd made him even more miserable. Then I looked at the lad I was kissing and thought, why???? Oh god, too much vodka that's why.

Next thing I remember I am sitting in the bathroom balling my eyes out (as you do when you're eighteen and have overdone the booze), surrounded by my best girlfriends who were doing everything they could to cheer me up.

It was at this point another friend came in the room, presumably also to do his best to help with the cheering up process.

By now I'd gone through the misery stage and was in a boiling hot rage as to why the guys I fancied NEVER EVER fancied me, and what did SHE have that I didn't?

My friend's polite question as to whether or not I was allright led to me clouting him on the nose and sending his glasses spinning across the floor. I still have no idea why (but if you do perchance happen to be reading this, I am really really sorry.), but New Year's Eve's a funny old time, and anything can happen I generally find...

After that, thankfully it is all a bit of a blur.

Till the moment that I remember best, and still makes me laugh after all these years.

As my longsuffering friends tried to get me into a car and take me home before I did anymore damage, I spotted a lamppost, which suddenly called to me. Dance round me, it said. So I did. I span round and round and suddenly I was laughing out loud, and all the misery and stupidity of the evening fell away, and I felt free and flirty and young and it didn't matter anymore that I was in love with the wrong guy, had kissed the wrong guy and the wrong guy was in love with me.

I was eighteen, it was a New Year, and anything was possible.

And it was then that it came upon me in a moment of utter clarity that I'd been setting my sights at completely the wrong target. The person I truly loved was -

Well that didn't work out either.

But hey ho, by the following New Year I was coping with the embarrasment of having snogged another wrong guy at the end of term, fancying someone else who didn't fancy me, wishing this year would be the year where I met the man of my dreams.

And funnily enough it was...

Staying In. It's the New Going Out....

I'm not a big fan of New Year's Eve. It rates far too highly as the night of the year when one has to have fun with a capital F. I have like most people I guess, far too many dodgy memories of New Year's Eve parties that have ended in tears (though I have certain fondness for New Year's Eve 1983 - which was the first time I properly got drunk and had an evening where all sorts of mayhem ensued. It ended with me dancing round a lamppost and declaring undying love for someone who had better remain nameless, though I've no doubt if he remembers the events of the rest of that evening he probably knows who he is). So now I am settling down well into middle age, the allure of a night on the tiles is long gone. And actually I quite like the fact that the two big ones have joined us at midnight for the last couple of years. Who better to celebrate a new year with then your offspring?

So last night we decided to stay in. But then Spouse in totally mindblowingly out of character style romantic hero type behaviour decided to cook me a candlelit dinner. He insisted we dress up, so I donned a slinky black number and he donned a tux. Are we having a party? asked no 4. You're not, we are, was Spouse's response. What you're having a party without US??? she said. Too right we are...

As a mother of four I frequently feel like Mrs Large in Jill Murphy's hilarious books about the Large Family, and never more so then last night. One of her books is entitled A Quiet Night In - and Mrs Large cooks Mr Large a special birthday meal only for them both to be so exhausted they both fall asleep and the children eat their dinner.

That didn't quite happen, but it was a hoot chasing unwanted offspring to bed. We let the big ones stay up watching Life of Brian - I think their education in subversion should begin young - and drank champagne and ate steak together with the kitchen door firmly shut. It was great. All the advantages of going out, staying in.

At midnight we joined the children in the lounge, let off party poppers, drank more champagne, and watched the outrageously brilliant fireworks on tv, while the sprogs jumped into the New Year by leaping off the sofa (a German tradition they got off their granny).

It was absolutely brilliant. And reminded me yet again, why after so many years together (we celebrate a quarter of a century next year... gulp. How did that happen?) Spouse remains All That.

I think I shall be going out by staying in a lot more in 2008....

Happy Christmas One and All

Here's wishing y'all a very Happy Christmas, and hoping it's free of disasters, family quarrels and Marley's Ghost.

I will be disappearing from the internet for a bit to spend time in the bosom of my family as it were, but mainly to ogle at David Tennant tomorrow night.

Thanks to all who've come by this blog this year - those who comment and those who don't - and especial thanks to all you lovely people who've come and bought copies of my book.

The good news from my editor pre Christmas was a) very good sales b) she liked book 2 (phew!) c) she liked the idea I've had for book 3. (double phew!).

I think after nine years of trying I can finally call myself an author....

Romantic Novelist's Association Prize

I am hugely proud to be a member of the Romantic Novelist's Association, so it is with great pleasure that I direct readers of this blog to the fact that the longlist for the Romantic Novel of the Year has just been announced on the RNA website at:

http://www.rna-uk.org/index.php?page=rnoty_award

I'm pleased to see a few of my writing chums on there, including Kate Lace who also doubles as the RNA's very fine and dynamic Chairperson.

If you like romantic fiction, go and take a look. You'll be in for a treat or two...

Pastures New Online Launch Party

Finally, finally. I have this sorted.


I have now got my online launch party up and running at :

http://PasturesNewLaunchParty.blogspot.com

All readers of this blog and their friends are very very welcome to attend.

Thanks to Political Umpire's very clever suggestion I am investigating the possibility of linking my radio interviews on the blog, but not sure if I can.

You can listen again on Radio Cambridge to Friday's edition of Cambridge Calling. I was on just after 9.30am.

Today I did Radio Cumbria and Radio Suffolk prerecorded. The Radio Suffolk one went out this afternoon, but not sure about the other. Will track down details and post here later.

Stop press!

For anyone remotely interested, I am going to be interviewed on BBC Radio Cambridgeshire on Cambridge Calling, 95.7 FM and 96FM, tomorrow morning around 9.30am. They originally asked me to be on at 9am. but I figured they wouldn't want to interview me on my mobile in the school playground...

I am also doing Radio Cumbria on Monday morning, around 11 I think.

An Embuggeration.

As most people will have read by now, Terry Pratchett has just revealed that he is suffering form early onset Alzheimer's.

I am a huge fan of TP who along with Margaret Atwood (for different reasons) is my favourite living author, so I was really dismayed to hear this. He seems tragically young to be afflicted by this vile disease, but in true TP style points out he isn't dead yet, and is planning several more books while he still can. I wish him the opportunity to write many more as Chrimbo in my household won't be the same without a Pratchett Tome being passed round the family. In fact on Spouse's side we're all such fans that more then one usually gets bought.

I haven't got much time to do a lengthy discourse, but I fell in love with Terry Pratchett one holiday years ago. A friend was reading Reaper Man and sat giggling by the poolside. When he'd finished, he passed it onto Spouse who was also soon roaring with laughter. So I grabbed it after him, and was completely hooked. Reaper Man remains one of my favourite Pratchetts. It tells the story of how Death, who always speaks in capital letters and though affected by humans never quite understands them, gets bored of collecting souls, and decides to take a holiday. He goes off to work on a farm, where no one can cope with the fact that they are looking at a skeleton, so they just think he is a skinny farm hand (except of course for children who aren't so daft). In the meantime all the undead, the zombies, the vampires etc come back to life, and as Death is also responsible for animals, each animal gets its own Death, in his absence. After much mayhem and hilarity, Death realises he's needed and goes to put everything right. He takes on all the animals again, apart from rats, who get to keep their death, complete with his little black cloak and scythe. The Death of Rats squeaks at his victims in capital letters.

From there I went back and read Pratchett's earlier books like The Colour of Magic, where Rincewind the cowardly wizard pursued round the Discworld (Pratchett's insane world - which is a flat disc balanced on four elephants who stand on top of a giant turtle swimming through space. Believe me, it makes perfect sense when you read it), and Witches Abroad (another favourite) where I encountered the wonderful creations that are Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg for the first time. One glorious brilliant thing about Terry Pratchett is that he gets women in a way I have never seen another male novelist do. There's a line in Monstrous Regiment about ironing which is so true I really couldn't believe it had been written by a man.

Another thing about him, that many people in the literary world at least, seem to miss is that he isn't just writing comic fantasy novels, but he is holding up a mirror to our world in every story he writes. So in Moving Pictures he satirises Hollywood, in The Word, it's the press who come in for a bashing and in Monstrous Regiment it is war and armies (but not, I think solidiers who get a sympathetic hearing). He is always on the side of the common man against overbearing authority, for colour and life and imagination against greyness and dullness, and common sense and decency against wrongheadedness and cruelty.

I haven't read a single book of his that hasn't made me roar with laughter and want to WRITE LIKE THAT. I hope he has the opportunity to write many more. And above all I hope he keeps his sense of humour and courage through the trials that are to come. Somehow, I think he will.

Pasytures New

I have been feeling a bit glum this week despite the excitement of the book launch, as there are a couple of things that are getting under my skin at the moment, neither of which I can do anything about.

Yesterday my good humour was restored by a conversation with the children on the way home. I had just been to the Post Office to pick up a parcel that hadn't been delivered last week. In it was a copy of Closer Magazine, where woohoo! I love my publishers! - Pastures New as featured as one of their books of the month.

Ooh Mummy, does that mean you're famous, said no 2.

Nooo, but it's still nice.

Mummy's famous, Mummy's famous, chorussed no 4 and then demonstrated her new found reading skills by reading the blurb out to me. It was only afterwards I realised the book underneath mine is called Call Girl, about a prostitute...

Can I read it? (PN not CG) demanded no 2.

I don't think it's quite suitable, I said. I don't go for too much sex in my stuff (far too scared of winning the Bad Sex Awards, see http://womanwhotalkedtoomuch.blogspot/2007/11/bad-sex-in-fiction-awards-2007.html for Marie Philip's brilliant take on this year's winner to see why. That and the worry of my mother reading it.) however I'm all in favour as a writing friend of mine puts it of bad sex IN fiction, which is a lot easier to write. So I do have a thread running through the story of Saffron's search for her lost libido, which takes her among other places to a sex shop, an attempt to dress in exciting lingerie without her seven year old noticing (based - ahem - on a similar true life experience) , and eventually to poledancing lessons (not at all based on true life), which probably isn't quite what a nine year old should be reading.

That's not fair, said No 2 crossly. You're my mum. I've GOT to read it.

At this point no 3 piped up with, What's Paystures New about then?

At which I collapsed in a little hysterical heap.

I think Paystures New is an excellent title for a book. Though my blogging friend Rivergirlie has suggested Pastries Nouveaux which might be even better - perhaps for the French edition.

I feel a competition coming on. Watch this space as I am dammit going to organise an online launch party, and I had one idea for a comp, but no 3's given me a better one. I shall also be stealing by lovely bloggy friend BecandCall's Root Shoot and Marry Game again and as this is a launch party for a romantic novel, I think it has to probably be around the subject of heroes. Any excuse to get pictures of Johnny Depp, David Tennant, Richard Armitage, Daniel Craig and Russell Crowe up there. I may have to expand it though as I have far too many heroes. I haven't even got started on the oldies like Sean and Clint and lovely lovely Jimmy Stewart... Sigh. Be still my beating heart.

Anyway. I will keep you posted as to what's happening and readers of this blog and anyone else who cares to join in, you are most cordially welcome.

In the meantime, if it isn't too much of a change of direction, I am working on my Auschwitz blog and will be posting it shortly I hope....

Auschwitz/Auschwitz Birkenau

I have been promising a report back about my trip to Auschwitz for some time now - and though it probably doesn't sit fantastically well with the comparative frivolity of having a book published, I want to write this while it is still fresh in my memory. I appreciate it's not the most cheerful of subjects, so by all means, anyone out there who isn't interested, please look away. (Political Umpire, I know you will be!) It also isn't intended to be an indepth analysis of the history, so maybe a bit short on detail, but rather it is a personal reaction to what I saw there. Part of me feels it is rather arrogant to write it at all - after all what more can I add to the reams of words written about the Holocaust? But another part of me thinks remembrance is important, and so for what it's worth here is my testimony to what I saw.


We travelled to Krakow halfway through October, and arrived to freezing cold weather. It snowed on our first morning, so our trip to Auschwitz (which is an hour and a half by taxi from Krakow) was slightly bizarre, as we passed snowfilled fields juxtaposed with trees dancing in autumnal reds and golds.


Our incredibly helpful taxi driver took us to the entrance, organised our tickets and guide books and said he'd meet us in two hours.


I must confess, I walked through the gates at Auschwitz with some trepidation. As I posted before I went, Spouse and I took a trip to Buchenwald many years ago, and though we only walked around the perimeter fence, it was eerie enough to make the blood run cold. I wondered how I would feel going to the camp which has become synonomous with the Holocaust.


We were struck first by the fact that the original camp at Auschwitz (at first used to round up Polish anti facists and the aristocracy) was made up of red brick buildings, and looked more like an army camp then anything else. This is because it was originally army barracks. One of my friends remarked it wasn't how she'd imagined it from the footage you see, and this is because, the bits you associate with Auschwitz are at the secondary camp, built in the mid 40s when the first one got too small.



The place was packed, full of people on tours, going in and out of the barrack rooms, which were set up as exhibitions. With that many people you'd expect a lot of noise. But visiting Auschwitz is unlike any other tourist attraction (if indeed that's what you can call it) I've ever been to. It is a sombre, sometimes distressing business, and one feels disinclined to chat even with the closest of companions, unless in a whisper. Anything louder feels disrespectful somehow.


In one of the first rooms we came to, I spotted this on the wall, which for me expresses perfectly the reason, anyone with breath in their body and humanity in their soul, should at some point in their life make a pilgrimage, if not to Auschwitz to somewhere similar.







As readers of this blog are probably aware by now, I think history is fantastically important, and I think this quotation sums up why. Stumbling across it gave me the answer to why I was there at all, to why anyone comes to visit a place of such suffering. I am fortunate never to have lived through dangerous and cruel times, but it behoves those of us who are so lucky to bear witness and remember for future generations the cruelty inflicted by man on his fellow man.


The Holocaust is unique in the annals of human evil in that it was done in such a cold blooded calculated, way. We came across rooms where there books open listing in great detail prisoner's names, and addresses, and why they were there, and how they died. I find it incredible that anyone could ever deny the Holocaust took place, because it's all there in black and white. My German wasn't up to deciphering a lot of it but it was easy to get the gist. My good blogging friends Political Umpire and Dave Hill were discussing the David Irving business at Oxford last week, and I am sympathetic to their reasoning no one should give airspace to his obnoxious views. But actually, having been to Auschwitz, I think we should go one better then that and just laugh at them. How he can claim to be a credible historian and deny the numbers is beyond me. Because it happened. There is evidence. And what's more the state recorded what they actually did.

This of course is the most iconic image of Auschwitz. Arbeit Macht Frei - I think translates as Work makes you free, the irony being here of course, that most of the inmates of Auschwitz were literally worked to death. To the left of the entrance is a little wooden hut where a sentry apparently sat.

When people first came here, I wonder what they thought? Did they know that they were going to certain death? To begin with Iget the idea, the deaths were more arbitary then planned, and a result of cruelty and neglect. As I mentioned previously the original inhabitants of the camp were dissident Poles, but already in their treatment you can see the seeds for the order and regulation of the Final Solution.

Every single Polish prisoner was photographed and given a number. Many of those photographs were on the walls in the exhibition rooms. I don't think I have ever seen anything more haunting and terrible. The pictures are in black and white, and whether it is the way they were shot, or simply that the faces were so thin, but the thing that struck me principally were people's eyes. There were pictures of old men looking resigned, younger men looking defiant, children holding back tears. On all their faces there was a look of reproach that I cannot understand how anyone could ignore. Surely whoever took these photos must have had some sense of remorse about what they were doing? Or maybe not. Somehow somewhere in the hell that was Auschwitz, normal humanity seems to have walked away and looked on the other side.

The prisoners were housed in the barracks above. They slept in some instances in bunks, and others on straw and matting on the floor. There were roughly 400 to a building, which had poor sanitation and was freezing cold. Even in October it was cold. I dread to think how bad it must have got in the depths of winter. Disease was rife and thousands perished simply from illness and poor malnutrition,and it's easy to see why.

Here's an example of the sort of detail which makes Irving's position so laughable. Here is (I think from memory, I couldn't blow the picture up anymore) a list of the women who came to the camp, when they arrived, when they died. Each of the pictures I mentioned above had the prisoner's date of birth, arrival at the camp and date of death. When Jews were brought here, they weren't photographed, but their details were recorded meticulously. There have been (and sadly will be again) genocides in the world since the Holocaust, but the bureaucratic way it was done does I think make it chillingly unique. How could the people who worked here have squared this laborious detailing of people with the knowledge of the brutal way they were treated? I think that is the thing that shocks you over and over again at Auschwitz. What made ordinary people behave in this way? How was it that Rudolf Hoss, the camp's commander was able to work day after day sending people to their deaths and then go home to his family and drink wine with his wife (as described by Laurence Rees in his excellent TV programme and book about Auschwitz)? It does defy belief.

Here is the entrance to one of the most chilling places in the camp: the so called Death Wall. Prisoners were taken and housed in a barracks to one side, and then stripped naked before being taken out to be executed at the death wall below. Or they were hung on posts as punishment for hours on end. One of the many cruelties was using other prisoners who got better food and conditions as a result to carry out this work. What would any of us do in such a hell hole to survive? I wouldn't like to bet on nobility carrying the day. I doubt I would be that brave.

And here is part of the Death Wall itself. Reconstructed and with touching memorials to the people who died here. Despite the very sombreness and terrible nature of it all, it is possible to take heart from the fact that people haven't forgotten, and do come here to remember and mourn. Thousands died here, but individually, many of them are still remembered by family and friends, which is, I think a testament to the strength of man's spirit.

One particularly unpleasant aspect of camp life was the daily roll call which took place here in all weathers. Often prisoners were made to run round the block without shoes, on cobblestones till the cobbles ran red with blood. There were attempts at escape apparently, and the Polish resistance was active, but what could you do against an enemy which wore you down till you were physically too weak to do anything, or which dealt with insurrection by shooting every tenth prisoner?I think, not a lot is the answer.

And yet there were people who defied the regime. We visited (not pictured) the cells where Zyklon B was first adminstered (again the systematic way it was done is what shocks - you can still see the pipework going into the cells), and I came across the cell of one Maximilian Kolbe. As a catholic his name was familiar as a martyr who gave his life for another prisoner, but I hadn't realised it was here. A shrine is now set up in the cell to his memory - whatever you think of religion, it is another small step in favour of the human spirit rather then against it.

This is the original gas chamber. It didn't seem appropriate to take pictures inside so I didn't. I was quite surprised in a way how small they were. People were stripped and shaved, and told they were going to shower, and taken inside a very small room with tiny windows at the top, and then locked in while the room was pumped with gas. It took them twenty minutes to die. After that their bodies were removed and burnt in ovens next door. This was also done by other inmates. I did find it quite hard to picture that, because it was utterly horrific, but coming out we came pretty much straight to the spot where Rudolf Hoss was hanged at the end of the war, and despite being generally against capital punishment I have never felt more strongly that hanging was actually too good for him. Compared to the suffering people underwent in his camp, his end was relatively swift and painless. I didn't and still don't feel the slightest remorse thinking about that, which I find quite striking, as perhaps it illustrates how easy it is to fall into the notion of revenge. If I could feel so little compassion for the man when I have only seen what he did, how much more must those who suffered at his hands felt?

We came away from the main camp feeling very sombre, and rather sad. There is no other way to experience it I think.

"Very sad place," our taxi driver said, as he drove us the three kilometres to Auschwitz Birkenau - a cliche perhaps, but nonetheless true.

Here is a picture you will no doubt recognize for it's iconic nature. This is the main entrance to Birkenau, and was where we've all seen in war footage and photos, the people were taken off the trains and divided. Those considered weak - the elderly, nursing mothers, children under fourteen, were separated off and made to walk down the train tracks pictured below. They're gone now, but in the distance they would have seen the chimneys of the gas chambers, little realising what they were going to.

There was a steady plod plod plod as we walked around which can only have been a fraction of what it sounded like. And maybe, because I've seen it so often, or maybe because there is nothing left (the Nazis burned the camp as they left), I could picture it all too well. Thousands and thousands of people being stripped naked at the side of the tracks and then forced to walk down the track to their certain deaths. We wondered how they could have been so passive, but I don't know how much people understood what was about to happen to them. Plus they were weakened by days in the cattle trucks, and if you were there with your small children would you risk being shot? Probably not, if you didn't know that you were facing certain death.

One of the saddest things in the exhibitions, is the property that was left behind. There are displays of glasses, wooden legs, bowls, cups, toothbrushes. Most heartrending of all to me though, were the suitcases, still with people's addresses on, and the shoes. The shoes really did for me. Thousands upon thousands of pairs of shoes piled high behind glass, some together, some separated from their partner - a tragic metaphor for the families ripped apart perhaps? - many of them with the heels worn to absolutely nothing, where the owner has walked how many miles to what end? These people were fed the most preposterous lie, that they would be repatriated from the Ghettos and given a new life in the East, so they took with them everything they owned, and instead were sent to their deaths, their belongings stolen. The shoes seemed to symbolise that in a particularly tragic way.

The lucky ones - who were given a second chance - were marched off to the quarantine section of the camp, pictured to the right in the picture. Here they stayed for a year to get fully inured to the camp conditions, unless the cold and disease hadn't killed them first. The huts you see are reconstructions and I counted 25 of them roughly, and about 15 rows. About 200 people were crammed into each hut. The turnover was vast. For Irving to say that the figures of the Holocaust are wrong is arrant nonsense. If anything I wouldn't be at all surprised if the numbers were greater then currently thought. Even with the Nazi's thoroughness, the throughput of prisoners was such that they might have got it wrong

Conditions were impossibly bleak. Prisoners wore thin clothing and ate less then 1000 calories a day.

They slept in bunks in huts like this, which must have been even colder then the ones at the main camp.

Again sanitation was an issue and disease was rife. Quite frankly it was amazing anyone survived it.

Here is the remains of one of the gas chambers. A lot is often made of the obeying orders line the Nazi regime took. Here is evidence, if it were needed that the architects of the Final Solution knew that it was wrong - why else would they try to hide what they'd done?

I was moved to tears here by a plaque simply bearing the message in memory of the people who died. Such a simple phrase. So many many victims. It's shocking and sad and to our fortunate eyes almost incredible to think such evil should ever come to pass.

For ever let this place be a cry of despair and a warning to humanity.

I started with a quote and I end with this one from the memorial at Auschwitz. For despair we should always feel about such evil acts and we should learn the lessons of history, and take heed.

Sadly, I feel the cry of despair resonates across the decades and can now be heard in Darfur, Zimbabwe, the Congo and many others.

I would like to feel that we have learnt our lesson, but as Michael Palin said who visited Auschwitz in his recent tv series (coincidentally shown the weekend I was there), I'm not terribly hopeful.

But so long as places like Auschwitz exist and remain as a memorial to the great evil that was done there, and so long as there are people who come and still remember, maybe we stand a chance of learning from the past.

As we walked alongside the tracks, the only sound we could hear was the tramping of feet. There were several school parties visiting the day we went, and many of them walked back down the track. At first, I was slightly shocked, I don't know why - it didn't seem respectful and Auschwitz is a place that demands respect. But then, I admired them in a way. A bit of me didn't want to walk on the tracks, to cover the ground where so many people suffered, and I think perhaps that is the wrong reaction. Walking in their footsteps is a form of pilgrimage perhaps, and a way to honour and remember the dead.

Visiting Auschwitz wasn't an easy thing to do. And I am not sure what words I can use to describe how I felt when I left. To say I'm glad I went seems not quite right somehow, but I think it was a good thing to do.

As I said at the beginning I think the purpose of visiting is to bear witness and to remember and pass on the knowledge to future generations. The future is the path untravelled, and if the cry of despair has any purpose, it must surely we all have to hope give us the opportunity to change that future before it happens.