Ah, now that has grabbed your attention!!

Not that I would wish anyone to be naked under James Joyce, I am not sure how much fun that would be.

If you visit Ireland, chances are that if you go by ferry you will travel to and from the port of Dun Laoghaire. Not far from the port is a small cove overlooked by the James Joyce tower, called the Forty foot.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forty_Foot

here you can observe (or partake) in swimming in the bay

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Was much struck by a discussion on Radio Four yesterday about the use of "praise pods" in schools. Apparently, some schools have started setting aside an area with a comfy chair and a teacher in it, and every time a child does something well or is particularly good, they're sent to the praise pod, made to sit in the chair and told how wonderful they are and what a good job they're doing. No doubt you will all laugh but it sounds like bliss to me! And it's proving so popular and reducing stress in the children so much that other schools are taking up the idea too. Now if only adults could have such a room, I'm sure it would really improve morale in the working day - we're people too, you know! There's only so much of the bad stuff a girl can take!...

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I think I'm getting there regarding finding my way around writewords and afraid of pressing the wrong keys, clicking the wrong icons, I asked for help and got it. Hand wrote instructions from email and hopefully have succeeded. What an idiot but,thankfully, no one can see my blushes. I loved attending writing classes and went to 3 summer schools. Now my time being a carer and tiredness are the enemies. But I'm sure that this venture will make a difference. Just posted a piece of flash fiction and a short story. Admittedly the story is not new but working on it again has done me good.

Ah the pain of returning to work – honestly, it’s like a dark cloud hovering over my head until the strangeness of it all wears off. A little. And it doesn’t matter how nice everyone is – I still feel the same. Pause for existential moaning. Mind you, at least the office liked the Bara Brith Welsh cake I bought back for them – together with butter to ease the solidity of it all. At least I think they did – but as no-one could speak for about half an hour after taking a bite, it was hard to say ...

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I'm getting in a mess. Sent a short story in and a piece of flash fiction but I think they've not gone to the right section. I know I'm doing something wrong and have asked site expert. Even that seems complicated. Should have gone on a course instead of floudering around on the net. Bought a book for 'Idiots' to help but I gave up. I'm scared of the whole aspect of the internet but will carry on.

In a desperate attempt to make the holidays last longer before the existential horror of having to return to work tomorrow (no, no, please!!), Lord H and I have spent the day at Titchfield Haven and stared blankly at enormous number of oystercatchers. Not to mention dealing with a strange person who asked to use my binoculars to look at a very exciting bird and then wouldn't let me have a look to see what the said bird was. However, he did eventually give the binoculars back, by which time the bird had gone and he was stuck into telling me the life-cycle of a dabchick (aka Little Grebe). We backed away smiling politely and nodding. Whilst phoning the police. As you do ...

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I was thrilled to receive an email tonight saying that my short story, Secrets, has been accepted for publication in an anthology inspired by String Theory. String Theory is the branch of physics that is trying to persuade everyone that the basic building blocks of matter aren't particles but instead tiny strings, that become different particles when they vibrate at different frequencies, a bit like the way a violin string can produce different notes depending on how you play it. There are still some outstanding "problems" with string theory, not least that if this theory is to work then instead of our four-dimensional world (three dimensions of space and one of time) we would need at least 10 dimensions, some of them folded up very small. Hmm. No, I don't understand it either. The discussions are ongoing....

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Have spent most of the day at a surprise Graduation Ceremony at the University for my friend, Pauline, who has just been awarded her NPQH (National Professional Qualification for Headship - or Naturally Perfect Quality Heads, as Lord H likes to call it ...) certificate. I wasn't supposed to be attending actually (hence the surprise) though we were putting on a celebration tea for her - but as her husband wasn't well, I went instead. Sad for him (and I hope you feel better soon, Tony ...) but good news for me, as it's probably the last graduation ceremony I'll ever attend ...

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This week, I’ve been discussing a recent post by Jeanette Winterson. On her website, Ms Winterson is talking about the imminent release of her new novel The Stone Gods and seems to be insisting that despite the novel being about ‘the discovery of a new planet’, the novel itself is literary and not science fiction.

That’s all fair enough, I suppose, apart from the fact that people take exception when the fantastical genres are denigrated in such a high handed fashion. And I do mean high handed.

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I'm back and the holiday was fab! I loved North Wales - we avoided the rain and some of the time were even bathed in sunshine, which was great. Not a lot to say tonight ("Ugly Betty" is in 30 mins and I can't miss that!), but things that stood out for me were:

1. Seeing a Green Woodpecker for the first time. Always good to meet another creature with a red head and who favours green.

2. Sitting in a bird hide and having a Great Spotted Woodpecker on a birdfeeder literally two inches from my nose, and being completed gobsmacked by it. It's a constant astonishment that we even have birds of such glorious and unlikely colours in the UK ...

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