This is not a lounging holiday

 

11^th September

More gunshots this morning. A hunter parked at the end of the lane, and I didn’t want to take Perla out while he was firing over the fields. The owners of the mill tell stories of hunters shooting each other more than the game they are chasing, which sounds both reassuring, thinking of the wildlife, and a little worrying when considering our own safety. We know the man who, with the help of his dog, tracks down the animals they do injure but don’t kill. He makes sure they do not suffer.

We’re starting on the roundup of “last tasks” – shaking out beds, cushions, sofas, sweeping floors, dusting, last minute washing of socks and knickers to get us home feeling clean. Dh has trundled the BBQ down to the Earth Room, (which I am told has now been renamed the West Room) and is currently out on the tractor cutting the grass. I am still dead-heading lavender. Tomorrow the Great Packing Adventure begins.

The heat has been so intense these three weeks with all but two days in the high thirties that working after 11.30 was impossible, so there are some things we did not get done that we would have liked to do. Our holidays here are not the lounge around the pool kind. Dh sanded and revarnished or Danish-oiled the fence around the pool and the balcony fence. I pruned the garden that skirts the pool (and got well and truly bitten doing it!) and we both hacked away at the vegetation so there is a wider view of the field from the bolly. The pictures are a Before and After record. We wanted to trim the laurels at the back of the mill, take some of the ivy off the trees and tidy the creeper in the east patio, but it wasn't to be. 

Gardens & the promise of Summer

 Two days of wonderful sunshine and gardening has been done. The hands and knees kind, trowel in hand and weeds ripped out of the damp ground. I spent £38 on plants and have positioned and planted the less tender plants already. Bill thinks I've done it too early. "We aren't out of the woods yet. One sharp frost and they'll die and you'll have to buy more."

This is the first time in ages the garden is getting any real attention. With us spending five or six weeks in France during June and July, the garden usually runs wild very quickly. But last year we didn't get out of the country due to Covid, and this year it looks much the same. If we do go, it will probably be autumn rathe than summer.

 At least we are prepared. I have renewed my passport in the last week, and Tim is up to date with his inoculations. When we do go, he'll need a 9 page document from the vet which will cost me another £120 or thereabouts, all to prove that he is healthy and rabies free. Those mad Brexiteers didn't know what they were doing. 

Of course it isn't only this country's restrictions and lockdowns to consider. France may close her borders and we have no answer to that. Just today I saw a report that claimed one third of the councils in this country recorded a rise in new Covid illnesses this week. That is after they've been going down for two or three weeks. I can see the restrictions going on for ever.
 

A right or a priviledge?

We didn't have a holiday in France last year. In spite of Covid we managed a week in Scotland in October just before Nicola closed everything down. We'd had that booked since March, and it was touch and go all year as to whether we would make it!

That summer of 2020 we spent days in the garden because the weather was generally good. We did jobs that have been hanging around for ages. Yes, we missed the time in France, but I don't think we suffered. Yes, we are lucky we have a garden to lounge around in. I am aware that many don't have that. But on the other hand I can't recall my parents ever having more than one holiday during my lifetime. In the space of one generation, life has changed so much. Now we feel deprived if we don't spend two weeks somewhere other than home.

Dr Scott McCabe of Nottingham University has been exploring the impact of holidays on disadvantaged families and says one of the good things is that holidays strengthened family ties. They also recharged batteries and gave people time to think, relief from routine, work, and stress. The biggest benefit was time for fun and making happy memories for children, perhaps to experience something new and different. (I am sure some of you can recount tales of the holiday from hell, but that is a different  story!)

Well, I'm wondering if most, if not all of those good things can be achieved whilst staying at home. Many workers today don't get paid if they don't work. Perhaps what's needed is that they should have two weeks paid leave a year as used to happen in the sixties to do all those things cited by Dr McCabe. The thing is they don't need to be done in Spain or France; the garden or the local park can offer relaxation too. 

McCabe has questioned whether a holiday is a right or a privilege. “In France there is the chèques-vacances system — vouchers given out by employers and by the government which can only be spent on holidays. In Spain, the Imserso programme sends older people, who are often among the most socially-excluded in society, on holidays. In the UK, the work to get disadvantaged families on holiday is generally done by charities." 

He doesn’t discuss the modern mindset about holidays, but perhaps that is important too.  

Dodging the rain

 The only negative thing about holidays is the amount of laundry required once back home. Especially when we have rain for two days without a break. The clothes will get washed eventually, and dried, which is actually the bigger problem; but when is the big question. Still, it was a very pleasant break. We walked nearly 36 miles in 5 days which is pretty good for a pair of geriatrics like us! 

We slept very well, too. My Fitbit sleep score rose  to 82 on Friday night. It often hovers around 65 back home. But then, in the cottage there were no late night revellers going home, no traffic that we heard though the road was only 100 yards away as the crow flew. The one early morning riser who lived down the lane   managed to sneak by our cottage at 6.55am in silent mode - I only saw the lights of the vehicle flash across the ceiling through a gap in the curtains. 

Now I am slowly adapting back to normal mode. Dental appointments, blood check on Thursday, catching up on e-mails, grocery shopping and dodging the rain on dog walks.

Oh for more energy!

This is Tim finding one of the few sticks on the freshwater beach at the head of Loch Laggan. There are a few half buried tree trunks and he visits every one! The weather is pleasant for autumn, with dramatic clouds and sun - the landscape seems to change as the light changes. The trees are starting to turn glorious gold and copper and we have seen few people around the estate. Most of them have been on quad bikes, but we've stuck to walking everywhere.

We nearly made it to the Falls of Pattack yesterday, but had no map and the trails are not abundantly marked. We passed two little bue arrows (and they are so discreet, about 2 inches high) in five miles. When we stopped and turned back, we were right outside the gate we should have gone through to cover the last few yards through the woods to the falls. If we'd known, we'd have made the effort to go on. (I know, always carry a map....duh!)

Ardverekie began to garner interest in the eighties and nineties when it appeared in various film and tv productions, notably Monarch of the Glen. That was where it got my attention and I've always wanted to visit. I only wish I'd done it sooner, when I was fitter and had more energy to tackle the longer walks. As it is we walk with Tim and I take lots of photographs. And it must be most annoying as I keep saying, "Oh, look at that!"

We've run away!

 This is our new home for a few days. We are in Scotland, on the Ardverekie estate on Loch Laggan and very much enjoying the peace. Our very comfortable cottage is hidden away among the trees though we can occasionally hear traffic on the A86. We did a fairly long walk (for us, that is) and fitbit tells me we did 17,089 steps yesterday. Right now Bill has taken Tim for a short walk as he (Tim) needs to go "outside." Once they are back, we'll all be setting out to walk by the sawmill route up to the Falls of Pattack.

What with walking, watching tennis at Roland Garros and sleeping like proverbial logs, we're doing very well. 

The seasons change

Central Heating on last night! 

First time since about February.

So to cheer everyone here's a pic of a nice hot beach in Australia where they are just coming into their summer. For those already in Australia, it is forecast for 3 degrees C here tonight, and I think it was 4 last night. I now you think 14 is cold, but spare a thought for the UK!

Otherwise, life proceeds as normal. We watch the figures for disease going up and wonder if our five days in Scotland is going to happen or not. Are we heading for a general lockdown again? I hope not.

 Ever since I watch Monarch of the Glen years ago, and more recently on BBC4, I wanted to go. So I booked in January for a week in October. Hopefully, we'll still get there. Isolated cottage in the woods. No neighbours. Shouldn't be a problem. There was a re-run of A Murder is Announced with Joan Hickson as Miss Marple on tv the night before last, and lo and behold, the police inspector went to Ardverekie to interview the millionaire sister! "Whoa! He's gone to Glenbogle!" I cried. I do hope we manage to get there. In case there might be difficulties shopping for food there, I've been building up a small cache of necessaries to take with us. Lots of rice and pasta....
 

The big decision

We've finally made a decision.

all summer we've been thinking we might get to France this year if we just waited a little while until things had cleared.

We kept moving the shuttle booking further into the year, but we've decided we will lose the booking fee and resign ourselves to not attempting to go this year. The hotel bookings we cancelled with no charge. So we've lost £160; it's a pity they will not let us take it over from one year to another but that's the way it goes. So, its roll on 2021.

We worried that our dog, who had an emergency vet appointment twice in June because of an inability to pee due to bladder stones, might suffer a similar emergency in France. We know the vet, and have no doubt of his abilities, but out of surgery hours we have no idea where to contact him and of course there is the language difficulty, especially on the telephone. We are hoping the Allpurinol is busily dissolving the stones in his bladder, but if they are not gone at the next scan, then surgery is the next step. And that will be  around the end of this month.

We have a holiday booked (way back in January) in Scotland on 6th October, so we might just make that week at Ardverekie. Let's hope so.

As for things clearing Covid-wise, I'm thinking we will have to learn to live with it, as we once did with measles, diphtheria* and whooping cough. As a friend said ,"Its out to kill us, you know."

*Yes, that's how Blogger spells the word. Rather too many aithches in my view.

France 2019

June 15^th, 2019

Travelled down to Folkstone on Tuesday 11^th through terrible rainstorms between Northallerton and Cambridge. South of Cambridge, all was fine, so we had our usual walk in Hatfield Forest before heading for the tunnel, where there was some delay. Our 3.50 crossing was cancelled, reason unknown, and the 4.20 was half an hour late – again, no explanation given. This meant we were later to Abbeville than we expected, so we simply had dinner in the restaurant and then went to bed.

I slept well, but Bill says he did not. We didn’t wake up as early as usual, so it was 8 before we went to the park of the two lakes in Abbeville and walked Tim, and almost nine before we set off south. We had intermittent rain all the way down. However, we made it to the mill somewhere between 5 and 6pm. The weather was not very good and the house cold, so we lit the big woodburner and were soon toasty warm.

Thursday. We had sunshine until about twelve, when Tom came to check over the pool and “hand over” to Bill. From then on it was clouds and rain, so we lit the fire again. Temperature inside was 17 degrees. The phone kept ringing, but when we answered we got only crackles on the line so eventually, on Tom’s advice, we disconnected it.

Friday. Tim began his antibiotics today. The weather was fine, and our first task was to remove fallen tree that was partially blocking the track. Out came the tractor and we attached a tow rope and pulled the stump out and dragged it as close to the dump as we could get it. Two ladies were picking asparagus ten yards away as we did all this, but we exchanged no more than “Bonjour,” and some banter when Tim bounced across to see them. Later Farmer Eric appeared to ask if there was “a problem,” but language proved a barrier. Still, any problems we must contact him at L’Hermitage.

Since the tractor was out, Bill cut the grass, and then it rained again. Fire lit again!

Saturday. Temperature now 19 degrees inside and rain and grey clouds outside. Bill is painting, I have written a chapter of Viking Wedding.

Sunday. Now we’re talking. Cloudless blue sky and beautiful sunshine. Sat in the sun and came in at eleven as said sun getting too hot for exposure of white English skin.

Monday. The ladies from the farm were here picking asparagus before 8.30 in the morning and they were still here at 11.30. Backbreaking work, legs splayed, bending from the hip to cut the asparagus below the soil level. Very hot, approaching 33 degrees. Had my first swim in the pool, but water very cold still. Didn’t stay in long, then dried off in the sun. Bill drove to Vergt and stocked up on groceries.

Change is Everywhere

In spite of the Brexit challenge, we have gone ahead and booked the Shuttle and the hotel in Abbeville to get to the mill in June. Tim has had his rabies booster and will have his blood test to ensure it has "taken" in a months time. 

There comes a time when  the only thing to do is throw the hands in the air and say "Sod it!" let's do it anyway. Who knows what will come from this political mess? We don't know what the vet in Vergt will be saying about returning Tim to England, but we will have to sort that out when we get there. From his point of view - the vet, not Tim - I cannot see much changing, except that no doubt his fee will have gone up.

 The pic is from 2005 and the mill has changed considerably since then. The large pine tree was taken down  because it was perilously large and close to the house and the west winds at storm force would have laid it right across the roof. Other trees have gone in various storms and of course, new saplings are shooting up everywhere. There is a swimming pool now instead of all the grass! Everywhere, there is change. Politics change, people change, nature changes. We can't stop it. Sometimes we can't even start it. 

France and Brexit

My blog has recorded holidays in France over the last few years and judging by the visitor numbers to the site, many of you like reading about them. But now we are in a quandary, because if Brexit goes through, how will the travel rules change?

If we have to pay more to get there, I'm not  worried much; I'll save a bit harder before hand. But what if all the nice rules about taking your dog on holiday (or your cat, mouse, hedgehog, whatever) suddenly stop and go into reverse?

So far there is no information about this.
There's no way any pet lover would put their pet through weeks of quarantine just for a few weeks holiday. Certainly I would not. So if the worst comes to the worst scenario, we won't be going to France again. Tim doesn't know there is any problem, but he loves the open spaces there, jumping in and out of the stream, hurtling through the woods.

What will I miss? The absolute freedom to do as we wish. The sunshine, the wonderful walks, the sightings of deer, foxes, ducks, fish and the occasional farm dog. Oh, and those big, big cattle in the next field, with their delightful calves. The kites that fly over the valley, the mice that escape the farmer's hay cutting, the lizards that run up and down the walls and even the occasional snake.

Come to think of it we've seen several snakes over the years: a small black one dropped out of the bolly roof and vanished down the nearby drain; we found a similar one in the balcony room and watched it wiggle its way out onto the balcony proper and then vanish. A small adder  near the stream, wiggling through tree roots, another on the wall where the old pound wall used to be and one year a much bigger snake we never identified, but about four feet long; it came to rest  at the top of the bolly steps at the side of the house, and I took a picture of it over the bolly rail before it slid off across to where the walnut tree hung over the grassy bank.  Then there was the time Tim jumped on a snake in the ditch beside the road; the snake retaliated and bit Bill in the calf before scuttlinng away back into  the ditch. Bill, I am happy to say, suffered no ill effects and we assumed it was a grass snake. Then there was the time we found two of those very large, muscular cattle in the field with us, ambling up to the house...but that is a story for another day!

Sri Lanka

22nd September 1981

After a light breakfast in my room I felt well enough to visit several temples and the ruined city of Polonnaruwa. The highlight of the morning was definitely the reclining Buddha at Polonnaruwa, but we also visited a ruined palace that once towered several stories high and all built from tiny hand-made bricks. It was extremely hot and I tried to keep in the shade and not walk far.

Razeen told us about the king who had built the things we were to see and our very first stop was at a self-portrait the king commissioned, cut out of a living rock. The figure was most impressive and reached a height of about twelve feet, carved three dimensionally.

The palace was built in small dark red bricks and only two stories are now standing. We discovered a family of month old puppies and their mother living in a neat little nest among the walls, covered on three sides and roofed with dried palm fronds by some kindly disposed person.

Our next stop was at a vast temple-palace complex where we photographed iguanas and drank coke purchased from a wayside stall. None of us will try the king coconut or arrack because of the germ risk! There were a few beggars by the stall, including one old man in a wheelchair because he had deformed legs.

Back at the Village Hotel at Habarana we ate a mediocre lunch and then swam in and sat by the pool all afternoon.

(Because my pictures of this trip were -and still are - on slides, I have included a link to the  Unesco site http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/201 where there are pictures of many of the sites we visited.)

Memories of the past

20^th September 1981 (Found in an old diary)

Rose at six in order to swim before breakfast but were forestalled by pool cleaning activities, so had an early breakfast instead. The car for our trip around Sri Lanka was comfortable and seemed much sounder that many of the vehicles on the road. Very few have doors or driving mirrors, and I don’t look too closely at the tyres because sometimes there aren't any. There are no pavements except in Columbo’s major streets and the roads are thronged with people, bullock carts, bicycles, dogs and children in even small villages in the countryside. Our driver sounded his horn at every obstacle, so that our progress was punctuated by the horn blowing every few yards.

There were two or three sudden and heavy rain showers, but fortunately they occurred while the four of us were safe in the car or inside a café having a coke. I couldn’t face the smelly loo, and was therefore most thankful to see the standards at our lunch venue were very much higher though it did not match the splendour of the Oberoi Lanka in Columbo.

Lunch was edible though nothing very special. The soup was strange, faint, watery affair with white mushy strands and a few carrots. Instead of rice with the curry we were given what I think were thin noodles made from rice flour. Dessert was a small cup of fresh fruit among which we identified mango and banana but nothing else.

We were besieged by beggars who “entertained” with cobras and wailing flutes. On the whole I decided my sympathies were with the de-fanged snakes, which were basketed and unbasketed every ten seconds or so in order to winkle money out of us tourists.

Our first stop was at the shrine enclosing the sacred Bo tree, of which we saw only saplings taken from the original. We walked around in bare feet among the pilgrims who were dressed all in white as they prayed or meditated on the impermanence of life which is likened to the beautiful lotus offered on the altars – beautiful but short lived.

From there we waked across short grass to a vast dagoba built solidly of bricks. It was dazzlingly white in the sunshine and towered over our heads. Each level of the dagoba has a symbolic meaning which was explained to us. but the only one I recall is the crystal surmounting the final pinnacle; it represents nirvana. The lowest level of the dagoba is surrounded by a frieze of eight-feet high elephants, head and forefeet appearing out of the wall, tusks towards any person who dares approach.

Here we were accompanied by first one, then two, then three little girls who attached themselves to members of our party. They pressed flowers into our hands and offered small phrases in English. They were very pretty; in fact one was beautiful, but their faces had already become their fortune. Very soon they were asking for two rupees to buy a school pen. It is a tiny amount, but when we gave coins to the three little girls we were immediately surrounded by ten or eleven others all demanding rupees.

One small boy switched from asking for a school pen and pointed to my Kuoni baggage label. “I like that very much. I would like to have that. You give me that?”

I pointed out that I needed the baggage check on my flight-bag so that my bag would get home to England. I gave him my British Airways label, which he obviously thought a poor substitute, for he kept up his request for the Kuoni label all the sixty yards back to the car.

As we climbed inside we were surrounded. The light was blocked as children crowded round. Bob tried to distribute “Treets” against Shirley's advice - one to each child but gave up as hands thrust through the window. One boy grabbed the bag out of his  hand and disappeared as fast as he could leaving disgruntled children glaring at each other. The lucky few ate their milk chocolate Treets.

Our next stop was the ancient city of Anuranapur which was once the size of London today. Our tour guide Razeen gave us a lecture about a semi-circular moonstone, and then moved on to a bathing pool once reserved for monks from the nearby sanctuary. Since the light was beginning to go – photographically speaking – we told our driver Shirley Fernandez to head back to the hotel. In case you are wondering, Shirley was male.

In the village of Harabanai, the hotel consisted of cottages away from the main hotel buildings. There is a shower, but the water pressure is weak, and nothing like the pulsating jet at the Oberoi Lanka.

I was very hungry, but dinner was a disaster in many ways. The soup was some kind of fish plus celery which no one cared for overmuch. Then we were served fried bread topped with ham topped with fried egg. It was awful, fried I think in coconut oil. The main course was meatball and mine, contrary to everyone else’s, was almost raw. When this was pointed out, it was exchanged but the second was not much improved. I ate most of it not because I liked it but because I felt obliged to after making a fuss.

It was around this time that the waiter caught Marion around the ear with a plate and then nearly tipped an armful of dirty plates over her as he stumbled. Minutes later another waiter dropped the sugar bowl in trying to place it on the table by reaching over my shoulder. The final disaster was much later when the meatball had its revenge – I was very sick about two in the morning.

Noises in the morning

We’ve been relaxing and not doing much work the last few days. The little black flies have been horrendous this year, possibly because it is so damp. Lots of rain earlier in the year, but the stream is back to its normal levels now, so Tim is much happier. He didn’t like it when it was so deep. At one point I realised I was wearing long trousers and long sleeves – and still getting bitten! I asked myself why did I come to France? 

Today however, I’m hopeful the worst is over, for the air is much drier and the flies are much fewer. I’m still wearing long trousers, but it is not a conscious decision. Just a left over from a seven o’ clock walk in the dew-wet fields with Tim. We got barked at by something we never saw, lurking in the bushes, and Tim was nervous. I can only assume it was the big dog-fox dh saw when we first arrived. 

So far I haven’t seen any wildlife at all – things just keep making noises in the undergrowth. One morning last week something was hissing and spitting at me and Tim ran ten feet away. That wasn’t a fox, but it might have been a coypou, or an otter? It was on the river bank, in dense undergrowth. I saw grass moving as it vanished, but that was all.

We had a brief spell without the swimming pool. We knew it needed a new part, but were not prepared for the electrician to switch the punp off when he came on Monday. Without the pump the water doesn’t move, flies dive bomb it and little bodies, leaves and stuff floats around on the surface. We had our doubts about the electrician ever returning, but he did today, and with the new part which he fitted and voila! We have a functioning pool once more. I shall have a dip around four this afternoon when it is hot and the water has warmed up in the sunshine. 

The Northumberland coast

We spent the next couple of days walking for hours on glorious beaches, stopping when we felt like it, poking into rock pools, having lunch at a pub right n the beach and discovering Monk House - once owned by the monks of Lindisfarne and the point from which they rowed themselves out to the Farne Islands, In the 1950s it became a bird observatory and still is as far as I know. For anyone who wants more detail on this Heritage coastline, there's a lengthy document here

By Wednesday we were all tired, including Tim.
He slept all the way home in the car and he isn't a good traveller usually because he feels too far separated from us in the big Honda. In my mini he can snuggle up right behind my shoulder, leaning against the dog bars, but in the Honda there is the big gap of the rear seats between us and him. He objects most strongly.
He slept for the rest of the day and the evening. The next day he was content with one walk on the field up at South Park and then slept all through without a hint of wanting more exercise. I think he's about back to normal now though!

The only piece of technology I took with me was my ipad, and that only because I wanted to check on Rafa's progress at Barcelona. (He seems to be back to his normal self, thank goodness.) I have to say I didn't miss the laptop or the e-mails, and it was good to have a break from writing and editing. Good to get away from normal things, in short.

We were very lucky with the weather, as the pictures show. There was some wind, but by Wednesday even that had gone. We slept well, ate well, and enjoyed some wine. But most of all we enjoyed our wonderful coastline.

Alnmouth and The Huffy House

Saturdau night we went to bed at the ridiculously early hour of 8.30pm so on Sunday morning we got up early and were on the beach before ten. The minor road heading to the sand was so rocky that we thought we'd got the wrong road, but we saw other cars, and continued at a speed of something like ten miles an hour. Once we got to the beach  that runs south from Alnmouth to Warkworth, we decided it was worth it as the beach looked magnificent. We walked as far as Birling Carrs where the rocks run out to meet the waves of an in-coming tide. I wore my trainers and dh wore his wellies, which meant he could wade through the shallows while I stuck to the dry sand. In turn, that meant that Tim ran from one to the other and no doubt trebled his mileage!

Then it was off to the supermarket in Alnwick to stock up on necessaries for the next few days. After that it was back to the Huffy House for lunch and a well earned rest before venturing out again to the beach north of Alnmouth. More sand and more waves but somehow subtly different from this morning. Tim is tired tonight, and sleeping quietly. My knees ache with all this walking, but as soon as I move around, they loosen up. I took photographs, but because I couldn't upload them from my camera to my iPad, I was stuck. If I'd taken them on my phone I could have done so, but the picture quality would not have been so good. Dilemma. (But now sorted as I am back home and using all the correct equipment!)

The Huffy House was once Rosie's pig sty and the old netty. It began its transformation in 2006 and finally opened for guests in 2013  - utterly transformed, I might add..  It is not far from Alnmouth, the oldest port in Northumberland founded in 1150 by William de Vesci, Lord of Alnwick. A charter from King Johnis dated 1207.  The town was almost destroyed by Scots in 1336 and by the Black Death twelve years later, so severe a disease that a third of the population died.

On Christmas Eve 1806 a storm hit the county, The river Aln flooded to such an extent that it created a new, shorter route to the sea which meant Church Hill was cut off from the town. The change was a death blow to the port as the new route was difficult for shipping, being much shallower than the old route. Railways dealt the final blow as goods travelled via rail instead of ship, The railways also brought tourists in growing numbers and Alnmouth became a Victorian favourite destination. There is a story that Charles Dickens  visited regularly, presumably to visit his cousin since he proposed to her. Unfortunately she was actually pregnant by a seafarer. Rejected, Dickens left Alnmouth. That same night the ship carrying the seafarer went down with all hands.  How true that story is, I don't know.

Rain, editing, dentists and holidays

 The rain goes on. We don't go for walks any more, Tim and I - we go for a splodge. Wellies a necessity, rain proof clothing a boon and off we go. In a strange way it is invigorating, and we can always come back to  nice warm house and a cup of coffee.
Good weather for editing, I hear you say. Well, yes, and I am. But I've found that I can only do so much before the eyes glaze over and I've stopped - the critical faculty ceases to operate. So at the same time as editing the beginning of the book Queen's Courier (the sequel to Abduction of the Scots Queen) I'm seeing the last few chapters through the critique group. This might sound as if it would be confusing, but it has advantages as well because each edit deepens the characterisation - or I hope it does - and refines the plotting. Working at both ends of the book means I am familiar with it in a way I wouldn't be if I was working from a-z each time.

This week I've had lots of dental visits, too. Three in a week is too much for comfort or a good night's sleep, but hopefully the root canal and the abscess are now history and I can banish the Paracetomols to the back of the drawer again.

Another good thing - we've started to think about holidays in France and possibly a week in Kielder Forest before the midgies emerge - and that means pre-May. They're nice thoughts to curl up with as I glance out of the window and contemplate the third walk of the day with Tim. Wish me luck - it's raining again.

Kippers, anyone?

I'm pretty close to releasing another book and wondering how many checks I'm willing to do on the text to make sure it is perfect! Once the plunge has been taken, I'm going to concentrate on PR and Marketing my list because I have ignored the need for it for so long. Most of this year, in fact. I am writing a second draft of a sequel to Abduction of the Scots Queen, but that will take some time and I don't envisage publication until next year at the earliest.

I'm also investigating the possibility of a week's holiday in a cottage on the Northumbrian coast in the autumn. It seems such a long time since we came back from France, and change of scene would be nice. The weather can be really good in the autumn, too - bright, cheerful days full of colour. I have to check carefully  before I book, because not only do we want somewhere nicely furnished and not too Spartan, but we want to take Tim. Some places won't take dogs at all; some charge for them. Some say they must be comfortable on the lead because of livestock and wandering cats and hens which is fair enough but not for us. Tim still pulls like an express train on the lead. What we want is wide open spaces where he can run to his heart's content. Then there's the internet/wi-fi situation to consider, I'd want to take my laptop and keep up with writing and all its attendant responsibilities, and dh will want to be in contact with the off-spring in Australia plus his interests. So, the coast seems a better option for us than the countryside with all its cows and sheep, and I'm looking at the area around Craster and Embleton. Craster is famous for kippers and not far from Dunstanbrough Castle and there are some gorgeous beaches along the Heritage coast. Might be windy, but it certainly won't be crowded!

Pre-Orders

Something I'm trying for the first time with THE CRAIGSMUIR AFFAIR - pre-order at Amazon.
I've set a date and loaded the cover. I've been given a date by which I must load all info, which is fair enough. Now I'll wait and see when and where it is listed - if it is!

Astonishingly, we haven't begun packing yet. It looks like it is going to be the usual last minute dash, but that's all part of the fun. Before we set off on the journey south I shall have to give Tim a good walk so he'll sleep until we get a good way down the country. That means getting up very early, but that's OK too, as we're usually alert and awake well before normal time when there's a big trip in the offing.

I'm trying to ensure that I have everything I want loaded onto my laptop so that I can continue to proofread while I'm in France. Disaster if I forget anything! Tennis is distracting me right now. It's the Madrid Open Final tonight and it is between Andy and Nadal. Finally, Rafa seems to be back on track, so I think I shall splurge £6.99 and pay for 24 hours viewing so I can watch the match. If I were to stay in England it would be better value to pay for a month but that's OK. The price is considerably cheaper than paying to visit the venue!

Spring is a lovely time to visit England - so many shades of green to enjoy. The froth of white in the pic is the mass of garlic flowers that have opened up in the last week. The bluebells are out too, in the shadier places.

Writing? What's that?

I have the strangest feeling. Just can't get interested in writing. Weird. It seems long holidays will do that to you. I don't have ideas for anything new, and I noticed over this last week that I'm thinking up things to do that do not include writing. Maybe I should just give it a rest for a while, and come back to it when I'm ready. Or at least, more ready than I am now.

Of course there's loads to do after the holiday. The garden is a jungle. I've got caught up on the washing, ironing and mundane jobs like re-stocking the fridge etc. Tim thinks he can still run out when ever he wants and go where he pleases, and he can't. He's forgotten what a dog lead is for. so we're having to re-learn walking on a lead. The weather is good, and walking out is a pleasure. The tadpoles have all gone from the pond, and a neighbour said he had trouble cutting the lawn for us because so many tiny frogs were leaping about. They seem to have dispersed now, thank goodness.

I banked a cheque from Amazon the other day, and that was some encouragement to go on writing. It's about the only recognition that ever comes my way, so it is good to receive. Maybe I'll check out Create- space and see if that will entertain me for a while. It would be nice to see one of my books in print again.