I didn’t realise how few treats he had or how much he appreciated the things I take for granted until the day my husband and I took him to the mobility shop. His nonagenarian mother had given him the money for a super-lightweight walking aid, which he chose immediately with extreme gratitude to the shop assistant, which he then extended to his mother, us, and everyone in the church he had only recently begun to attend.

There are many different reasons to be hot, not just the sort I am experiencing today with a temperature of 33 degrees centigrade. Tossing around in bed last night and wondering if I should be kept awake by the traffic noise instead, I had the germ of an idea for a poem on this very subject. Hope you enjoy it!

I’d finished the fifth draft of “Scattered Lives” and I wanted to leave some space before reading through it all, limiting my corrections to obvious inconsistencies and typos and sending it off to my lovely mentor as promised.

It was so sunny yesterday, and too hot to do anything else, I decided to take my laptop into the garden to work on a rewrite of an emotive chapter in “Scattered Lives” where the decision of the main character changes the plot for everyone else.

Having sold a copy of “Ill Conceived” to all the people who know me personally that were interested enough to buy it, I am now wondering how to publicise it more widely. Despite the advice and support of other indie authors (who I am now getting to know quite well) this is a daunting prospect which doesn’t come naturally to me.

It’s almost ten years since I last used Stansted airport, and I couldn’t help noticing  the increase in the number of flights considering it was a weekday in term-time, and how many people were in the central area lounge area, resigned for a long wait. I arrived at the airport three and a half hours before my flight, as the next coach would have been cutting things too fine. I shall know not to do that next time.

“But I don’t feel it” was my mother’s standard response when anyone dared to remind her of her biological age, but at one minute past midnight two days ago, I knew I could no longer pretend to be young.

With what I now realise was an unrealistic ambition to design my own cover for “SCATTERED LIVES”, I enrolled for an art class at the beginning of term.

In my previous blog, I shared two of my New Year’s Resolutions. These were to set aside at least two hours writing time a day, and to learn from the feedback rather than take offence.

The twelve days of the Christmas season are over, and the story has changed. The joyful welcome to the arrival of Jesus from heavenly beings, ordinary farm workers and “magi” from other countries, has been replaced by the story of an insecure tyrant, the murder of babies and the forced displacement of Jesus and his family to another country.

Welcome! I’m delighted you’re here to explore my debut novel Ill Conceived. Writing began as a retirement pastime and has grown into a passion that shapes my daily life. I blog monthly about my writing journey, inspirations from everyday encounters, and the fascinating people I meet through volunteering and community life.