Some excitement on the Goldenford front: we've been asked by Ann Gawthorpe, a Hodder author, to add a section on the Goldenford story to her forthcoming book, Teach Yourself How to Write Your Life Story, so I've done that for her and sent it off. Thanks for thinking of us, Ann - and I look forward to reading the book when it comes out in January 2009. It's nice to see people are beginning to recognise our name too.

Though I'm afraid it's rather a case of from the sublime to the you-know-what today. This morning, the Golden Girls were asked to go in and sign our books at Waterstone's in Guildford. As you know, these days being invited to do something by Waterstone's is much like Goliath inviting David for supper and a "chat". That is, you know he doesn't want you there, he despises you utterly and there ain't no way on earth you're going to get out of there alive. Which proved to be much the case. As we are all optimists at heart, we took extra supplies of books as we know our novels like a trip out now and then, but never get to stay anywhere different, sigh. When we got there, the assistants - even those who knew we were coming - stared at us as if we were recent arrivals from the Planet Zog (now, that would explain a lot ...), and I had to force one of them (as sweetly as possible) to get copies of Pink Champagne and Apple Juice out of the stock room where Waterstone's have decided to keep them (aka the bin) - as otherwise I wouldn't have had anything to sign at all. They weren't even remotely interested in considering either Thorn in the Flesh or Tainted Tree either. They then swept all four of us into the never-visited Local Interest books corner where they'd hidden the rest of our stuff so they wouldn't have the embarrassment of us actually meeting any of their customers. God forbid we should lower the tone ...


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I assumed that my brother’s visit would be a deathly, crushingly tedious affair, full of unreasonable accusations, tantrums and the dredging of past errors. And God knows what he’d be like. But it’s okay because I have a Wii and so we can sit next to each other and play Mario Kart and not have conversation as the main focus of the afternoon.

Brian was sent over to West London for some reason (try as I might I cannot remember who he works for or what he does – just a tedious office job, I assume) and has used the opportunity not to return to the office (wherever that is). For the first time in fourteen years or so we play together and it is an easy way to get along, cheating really, like taking a first date to the cinema. A quick drink afterwards – who can’t make one drink go well? And who can’t sit and play a video game with someone else if that’s what you’re into? And Brian is into it. He never stopped playing them every night. He owns all the consoles and that is how he spends his evenings.

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Have spent a lot of today staring madly at the vast flipchart city resulting from last week’s Awayday. Flipcharts are the work of the devil, you know. I attempted to factor their scattered pearls of wisdom into the notes I’ve already typed up from yesterday, but I think I left the will to live outside the door today. Sigh. We struggle on.

I must say though that I thoroughly enjoyed yesterday’s Tosh TV Offering of “Bonekickers” – pure hokum and a great laugh, but it had a certain style and I rather liked the characters. The end scene of dozens of burning crosses in a cave and people swinging above them from ropes whilst hacking each other with Medieval swords was pure joy, m’dears. Bring it on … How I’d love to have a scene like that in one of my books, but I’m not sure that either Paul or Craig’s skills quite stretch to that. Yet ...


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My story, The Angel in the Car Park, is one of two stories in today's Sharp Things podcast from RethinkDaily. You can listen directly from the site, download the feed as a podcast, or download it from my website's Short Stories page.

It is beautifully read - a very different story from last week's, the only story I have ever written with a Jewish character, a rabbi. The actress, Chloe Gilgallon, who read both stories, did a wonderful job of bringing it to life. Thank you to Chloe and to RethinkDaily, what a great service they are doing for the short story!


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I'm just back from Bantry, still on a total high from the amazing buzz that was the Fish Anthology launch. I had an incredible time, more socialising in two days than I usually do in a year and every minute of it a joy.

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Anyone who's dropped here before will know that I'm always fascinated by analogies and similarities and differences between the practice of different arts, and last Saturday the London Literature Festival obliged with something close to my dream team, for a panel discussion. I'm halfway through social philosopher Richard Sennett's book The Craftsman: how could I resist hearing what he would talk about with tenor and academic Ian Bostridge, novelist and cultural historian Marina Warner and ceramicist Grayson Perry. There was so much said that I longed for it to be three times as long as it was, and even more that I'd taken a tape recorder with me. As it is, I filled seven pages of my moleskin.

Sennett's interest is in why and how people set out to do something - to exercise a skill - really well, beyond the basic practical and economic necessity of doing it adequately enough to earn a living. He's not just talking about medieval goldsmiths or Greek potters, but also about Linux programmers, and parents, and nurses, and anyone else whose chief motivation is to do their job as well as possible for its own sake.

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Have spent most of the day trawling my way slowly, slowly through the vast numbers of notes I took on last week’s Away Day. It’s like wading through treacle. When you have no map. Soon I think I will lose the will to live entirely. Hey ho.

Still, I’m much cheered by the thought of nipping into town at lunchtime to look at eternity rings, hurrah! I’d like one with emeralds, as the engagement ring is an emerald and, dahlings, you know how I do so hate to clash … UPDATE: I found a ring I really, really, really like in Cry For The Moon. Swoon. I’ve asked them to put it aside till Lord H and I can see it together on Saturday. It’s fabulous – I am seriously in love with it. Give me jewellery and give it to me now!... Oh Lordy, but I hope he likes it too. Anyway, while I was there, I also paid in a cheque (for books, double hurrah!), picked up a copy of the Radio Times and tried to see if there was anything about Goldenford or me in this month’s Writers’ Forum magazine – there wasn’t. Lordy, but I have a planet-sized ego for sure – just a shame I don’t have the confidence to go with it. Now there’s a scary thought ...


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Thank goodness the email appears to be back online at work again, after one week of floundering around in the ditches waiting to be rescued. Sigh. Not sure what I might have lost though, but I'm hoping that if it's anything urgent then whoever sent it might contact me again. Or that the situation will have resolved itself without my interference. Much the best way really. Interestingly, the stuff I do have appears to have been sent twice, which means my inbox wasn't as scary as I first thought. Thank the Lord ...

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Well, we are at issue 9 already, almost at our hundredth review.... not quite!
What do we have this month? Four collections that were longlisted for the world's richest short story prize, the Frank O'Connor international short story award, including Writeworder Vanessa Gebbie's Words from a Glass Bubble....

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Well I don't suppose it never will be when it's spent in A & E. Yup I have been a little bit poorly. To sum up without boring you... felt a bit rotten last week and developed a sore foot, which on Friday was so bad I couldn't walk on it. And then it got worse. I can honestly say that I have NEVER EVER, EVER been in so much relentless pain. I mean it PROPER hurt. And then I became nauseous. And got a temperature. And shivery. And that all turned into a bit of a fever. Didn't sleep a wink last night - not a wink. The pain was excruciating (I know what that word feels like now!) and I was dripping with sweat.

So this morning, my beloved took me to the hospital. And I am so glad she did. Things could have got really nasty.


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