Every now and again, the gods are smiling. That’s how I felt today when I strayed across an almost mint 1984 edition of Michael Moorcock’s Dancers at the End of Time volume (see ‘currently reading’). I’m a huge Moorcock fan, partly because there is so much still to read but mostly because of the stories themselves.


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I'm playing the Old Red Lion Theatre near Angel tube next tuesday 18th and wed 19th dec.at 9.30 me, my piano and a lot of fun .... then with my brother on 27th and 28th ... then on 5th of January we launch the two man musical "Not the life I ordered" at the same venue. Any singer/actors interested in performing a two man musical comedy next year can see it here and learn details of our extensive plans.
Dezy..

Funny dreams last night – I dreamt I was walking down our road, but it was in the Jurassic period, so there were huge numbers of strange leaves and trees instead of houses, and dinosaurs playing in a field. With other people. Odd indeed. I must remember not to work till 11pm too often. Mind you, it wasn’t frightening – just rather unusual. But what does it all mean?? I dread to think.

The first frost on the car today, groan. However, noble Lord H had already scraped it off by the time I came out of the flat, so he gains huge numbers of Husband Points, which I’m sure will last right till next year. Still ruddy cold though – but I accept he can’t do much about that. In fact, it’s so cold that I’m sitting in the office wearing my scarf and fingerless gloves. Amongst other items of clothing of course. If I want to go to the loo, I have to add my coat and hat, and run like crazy before I freeze. Hey ho. The exercise must be doing me good ...

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We went last night to watch The Golden Compass, the big screen adaptation of Phillip Pullman’s superb His Dark Materials sequence. I thought it was watchable enough but I did feel a little disappointed. It all moved a little too quickly, and the characters weren’t built up nearly enough. Something gets lost along the way...

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I'm still beavering away here - writing, writing, writing. And listening often to an incredible Biber solo piece (THANK YOU KATE for sending it me!).

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I was out with two thirds of Rambo and Leroy last week and was able to hear a couple of their new tracks. They sounded great. (Actually this was from their Special Project and as I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to say about it I'll have to say nothing for the time being...)


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I knew that when I gave up journalism, I'd not be doing any interviewing. But now I have been interviewed! Kay Sexton is the author of the wonderful writing blog Writing Neuroses ... mine are rare, yours may be legion, and she interviewed me about The Short Review and how it started, and about my own writing. Thank you, Kay! Pop by and leave a comment.

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Many writers keep diaries, but I'm not one of them: who else reading this was given one of those 'Five Year Diaries' as a girl, complete with dinky lock and key? Only I never got further than January the 10th, and I suspect the entries were very like the ones that Katy reads aloud from younger brother Dorrie's diary in What Katy Did. "Tuesday: Forget what did. Wednesday: Pudding for dinner. Forget what did." On the other hand I suspect too that if I went back to old novels of mine, I'd find them remarkably like the diaries I didn't keep.

I do like stationery, though, and used to lust after lovely paper for letters I don't write, and card and glue for grand projects I never finished. Nor did I have any use for gorgeous notebooks, because I didn't have the chronic urge of many proto-writers to set down thoughts and observations in something portable and always to hand.


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Lots of fun with meetings today – cancelled some, added in extra meetings just in case there aren’t enough in the New Year, chased up my Chair for others and hustled for decent amounts of food in the rest. Well, I don’t want my people gnawing at the furniture. Estates & Buildings will not be pleased if they do.

Talking of E&B though, they’ve done an excellent job of tracking down the parcel that the rather unhelpful and badly named Home Delivery Services have been trying to deliver to me for nearly a week. Now all I have to do is collect it and work out what it is. Christmas – it’s a wonderful thing, you know …

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I thought I had Christmas under control (and by that I mean that I've strung up the fairy lights and put the wondrously tacky Singing Christmas Mice on the mantelpiece). But a jolt this morning has sent my mind a-festive-boggle.



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Had a lovely day out today at the London Wetland Centre with the brother-in-law and his fiancee - hello, Peter and Sue! Great to catch up with you both, and I'm only sorry that the weather wasn't that good. Mind you, it could have rained a lot more, so we should be thankful for small mercies!

We managed to see about six zillion shovellers, three zillion herons (I accept some of this sentence might be exaggeration for effect) and a decent amount of teal. Not to mention magpies, smews, some goldeneye and one or two of those glorious green ring-necked parakeets. But Bird of the Day definitely goes to me (hurrah! I can have a Smug Birder Wife look for a month now) for spotting a Water Rail while everyone else was looking the other way ...

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