My Week and its Lessons

Mr Misfit was admitted to hospital this week.  I won't go into details but a check up at the hospital on Monday (after a reaction to some medication) saw him admitted there and then, and surgery performed on Friday.

Finding myself suddenly without my partner in crime, and bearing in mind that we are together 24/7, taught me a few things.

* Not driving for 6 months, is a bad move. When you then HAVE to get back behind the wheel, your confidence is shot.

*  When a friend then offers to drive you to the hospital in her Porsche to re-acquaint you with the route, do a quick finishing school course.  Legs were everywhere, bum and back contorted in a very unladylike fashion.

* Getting back in your own car and negotiating London traffic after such a long break is actually as easy as falling off a bike.  IF you have petrol in the car.  Getting petrol - after possibly five years - wasn't so hard either.

*  NHS nurses still range from FANTASTIC to WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THIS PROFESSION?! If someone calls at 8pm to ask if their loved one is back from surgery, DO NOT say, 'He's not back yet, ring in the morning.'  Also, don't send someone to surgery with no wrist band and such a poor command of the English language that the forms you should have filled in days ago leave you asking, 'What is dental crown?  What is cap?'

*  Hospital food can be astonishingly good.  Either my husband has become institutionalised or he hates my cooking because all I ever hear about is how good his meals are.

*  Parking at a hospital is bad for your blood pressure.  THIRTY minutes of driving around looking for a space almost hospitalised me!

* You learn who your true friends are and how far they will go to keep your pecker up and offer company in their own ways. Visits, meals, drinks, texts and calls have kept me sane through a tough time.

*  Being a self-employed writer is a Godsend.  I've earned money without needing to worry about working.

*  Christmas shopping (online) is a great distraction and disposes of hours.

* A free Word Search app on your Kindle can get you through those worrying hours of surgery.  Who'd have thought it could take so long to find the word. 'Loo'!  I was just willing Mr Misfit to come round just so that he could find it for me!

But most of all, I've realised how much I miss my mum - do we ever stop needing them? - and how much we relied on each other.  And, of course, how much I love Mr Misfit.  He is such a huge driving force in my life and, without him, I feel as if my battery is missing.

Roll on tomorrow and (hopefully) his return home - there's another word I can't find in my Word Search!

Wandsworth Charity Event

Anyone who knew my lovely mum would know that she was worth celebrating.  I wanted to mark her passing in a positive and happy way - a way she would have been proud of.

As a Putney resident for most of her life and a willing volunteer for Age UK Wandsworth and their 'Be a Friend' scheme - even into her early 80's! - raising money for them seemed the obvious choice.  Imagine my delight when I rang them to propose my fundraising idea and they readily remembered her and sang her praises.

So ... Putney/Wandsworth/London residents, why not come and join us at a local event that promises to be heaps of fun and all for a good cause (click on picture below for details).  Age UK works tirelessly to support the elderly.  They recognise that growing old can be lonely but their vision is for a world where everyone can love later life.

And if you can't be with us on the night but would like to support my cause, please visit my JustGiving page and donate as little or as much as you can.  On behalf of my mum and the elderly residents of Wandsworth, I thank you.

With thanks to Mr Cute

About 18 months ago I decided it was time for us to have a dog in our lives again, having lost our beloved rescue dog Ralfie back in 1997.  Looking back, it could have been considered madness. I had an elderly mother to care for and two cats - one who gave the impression that she'd never accept a canine intruder in her house.

Today we celebrate the first year of Alfie living with us and I do it with much joy and a hint of sadness.  I now know that I was led to him (and he was led to me) for a reason.  Put quite simply, I wouldn't have coped as well with the passing of my mum if it hadn't been for him.  He's given me a reason to get up, to smile and to feel love again.  There's nothing quite like doggy kisses first thing in the morning when you wake up feeling low.

I firmly believe that my dad popped the idea into my head on the fateful day that I decided it was 'doggy time' again - he knew it would be what I'd soon need in my life to help me through.

Today reaffirmed that 'stuff' happens for a reason.  On Alfie's first anniversary with us, he more or less re-enacted a pose that our much missed Ralfie did all those years ago. 

Right dog, right time, right place.

From Ralfie to Alfie

And furthermore, he was the inspiration behind my latest novel, 'KISSING FROGS AND DOGS'. So thank you, Alfie.  For the love, the laughs, the hope and the massive lump I have in my heart and my throat as I write this.  As a bundle of cute, you do a pretty good job.

PS:  Mrs Nervy Cat is now totally cool with her new house-mate.  It took a year, of her taking sanctuary in her 'penthouse' above the fridge, but we got there in the end!

Broken Funny Bone

I'm not blowing my own trumpet here but I know that I have many readers who eagerly await my June and December releases.  I thank them for their support and loyalty and I owe them my best.

At the moment I don't think I can deliver that.

Oh, I've been writing like a demon.  35,000 words of one novel and 13,000 of another but ... I'm just not feeling it.  I don't think they're good enough and I won't ever put something out there that I'm not proud of.

When my mum passed away, almost seven months ago, people kept telling me to be kind to myself.  At the time, I didn't understand what they meant.  Now I think I do.  I cared for my mum for almost nine years and now I don't know my life any more.  It's different, beyond different and that's going to take some getting used to.

If I had a regular job to return to where I had daily tasks, routine and a structure, it would obviously be another story.  But writing, especially light, fluffy chicklit, is a whole different kettle of fish.  I don't feel funny.  I don't feel quirky.  I feel grey, bleak and dull - my readers don't want that.  Every sentence is a struggle and the plots aren't allowing me to inject my usual sprinkle of humour.

In short, I'm going to start being kind to myself.  I'm going to stop beating myself up and hold my hands up and say. 'It's OK to cancel my December release.  It's better that way'.  I'm also going to congratulate myself for finding the resolve to get my June release out on time, against difficult odds.

I'm fortunate enough that, although I won't be physically working, I'll still be earning a living from my other books and I'll also have the time to actively promote them and maybe blog a bit more.

So, apologies to those I'm letting down.  Who knows, inspiration might strike and I might ease myself in gently with a Christmas novella but, for now, I'm just letting plots bubble in my head until I feel strong enough again.

As always, thanks to all those who have read my books and continue to support me - not only with my writing but also through a tough time.

KISSING FROGS AND DOGS - New release

Tomorrow (22 June) will see the release of my 11th full-length novel, 'KISSING FROGS AND DOGS' - and you can pre-order now for delivery to your Kindle as soon as it goes live! Also available in paperback at Lulu.

THE BLURB:

Daisy's given up on love.
 
She's had the dirty done on her once too often and has put her heart on ice.
 
A chance meeting with a sexy singleton leaves her kicking herself - what a time to become a Born Again Virgin! - but when he suggests she gets a dog for company, she can't begin to imagine the complications that follow.
 
Join Daisy as she falls head over heels with her four-legged friend, discovers that not all men are mongrels and realises that sometimes, once you stop looking, you'll find exactly what you've been searching for.
 
‘KISSING FROGS AND DOGS’
Which one will lead to a fairy-tail ending?

I'm often asked where I get my inspiration from and, with this book, the answer is easy.  Around about last June I decided that the need for a dog in my life was too great to ignore anymore.  The time was right and a niggling thought began to tell me that it was almost essential that I listened to my gut feeling.  Much searching online, convinced that I'd find a dog who 'spoke' to me, and two months later a black bundle of fur, fun and love came into our lives in the shape of Alfie.

I'm a firm believer that many things happen for a reason. Why was it suddenly the right time to take on another little life?  For those who know me well, it's blindingly clear.  Alfie came to help me during the difficult time of my mum passing and to remind me to smile through the grieving process.  In short, he's been my saviour.

So, that got me thinking about how a dog can change a life and thus 'KISSING FROGS AND DOGS' was born. Alfie was by my side as every word was written.  He was my buddy when I returned to work after losing my mum thinking I'd never get the book finished and he forced me to get up and get on with it - and on the days I couldn't, to just go walking until the block lifted.

Without Alfie, there would be no book.  Although don't tell him that - he might want me to give him his share of the royalties to feed his addiction to Doggy Chocs.

So without further ado, here's . . .

Chapter One

'I really think that tonight may be the night, Grace.  Women get a feeling for these things, don't they?'

I was celebrating my twenty-eighth birthday with my best buddy and a mountain of cakes, sandwiches and Earl Grey tea at a posh hotel in Mayfair.  We'd talked about doing it for years and, with the money finally in my account from a particularly lucrative illustrating job, I'd decided to treat us both.

Through a mouthful of egg and cress, Grace replied, nodding enthusiastically, 'Oh, deffo!  When Milo proposed, I practically said yes before the question even had a chance to form on his lips - I just knew it was coming.'  She rubbed her enormously pregnant tummy and continued, 'Oooh ... pass me another smoked salmon sarnie.  Bubba's hungry today.'

Grace and Milo's whirlwind romance and almost instant baby making had given me hope in the wilderness of single life and disastrous dates.  Theirs was a classic love story that made your heart flutter and your pulse quicken - every girl's dream.  In true tradition, their eyes had met across a crowded bar and ... bam ... within a flash, they knew.  There was no going back - they were done for!  He'd bought her a drink, asked her how many babies she wanted and within a week he'd proposed.  No one questioned it.  They were just so right.  He adored everything about her and she reciprocated.  Their happiness gave the rest of us saddo singletons the faith we needed to keep on looking and to believe that love was out there for us somewhere.

Shortly after Grace and Milo married, I bumped into Reece - quite literally.  I was late for a meeting with an author and their publisher, and my head was filled with pixies, magic dust and flying unicorns.  No, I hadn't been on LSD - my mind's usually away with the fairies because that's what I do best.  My speciality, as my friends call it, is LaLaLand.  It's a cosy place to live and certainly beats the real world.  When the going gets tough, I sketch a mystical creature who bestows love on the world and everything is sparkly and shiny again.

Anyway ... I digress.  Bumping into Reece shook me up a bit.  You see, I'd convinced myself that I'd have the same thunderbolt moment with the man of my dreams.  After all, as best friends, hadn't Grace and I always spookily followed one another in the patterns of our fortunes - good and bad?

Let me give you a few examples so that you don't start to get the impression that I'm totally loop-de-loop and I think you'll see what I mean:

I lost my beloved mum when I was only fifteen.

Grace lost hers a year later.

My dad remarried an older lady - the lovely Elsa.

Grace's dad also found love again - except he bought himself a rather young Thai bride on the internet and was happily knackering and bankrupting himself.

My dad has since passed away but he left me with the best stepmum I could have hoped for.  Grace's is OK too but she looks more like a lady-boy and constantly pinches Grace's clothes and her dad's money.

We both failed our driving tests three times before we eventually passed, had our tonsils out at eleven, had crushes on two separate boys called Tim when we were in the sixth form and neither of us passed our GCSE maths despite numerous attempts.

You see?  So, once she met her Prince Charming, I just knew that it wouldn't be long before I followed suit and I was ready and waiting, legs waxed and sexy underwear on ice.

My collision with Reece was just the way I'd come to expect my own love story to begin.  Lady Luck, fate, Cupid, or whoever had the responsibility for the meeting of soul mates, had plotted and planned to lead us both to that moment when we made our connection - in our case, my head with his back as I hurried through one of those stupid glass spinny doors where you're meant to stay in your own section.  As we both spewed out the other side of it and I fell in a heap on the marble entrance hall, he bent to pick up my bag, file, umbrella and mobile and I swear I heard angels singing.  The bemused twinkle in his eye set off butterflies I didn't even know I had - certainly far more than any that had ever fluttered before.  This was it!

'Well, I've heard of falling for someone, but this is ridiculous!' he said as he took my hand to help me to my feet.

Corny?  Yes!  Win me over?  What do you think?

My poor besotted brain struggled to get through my scheduled meeting - not helped by the fact that the book I'd been asked to illustrate was about a Princess bride and her excruciatingly handsome Prince - because after helping me from the floor, Reece had asked if he could meet me for coffee.  Just to see that I hadn't broken anything, he'd said with yet more of that wonderful eye-dancing stuff.

It had been almost six months since that joyous day and I was walking on Cloud Ninety-Nine.  He was good looking, solvent, generous, attentive, funny and rather good in bed.  The only downside was he worked a little too hard - always at weekends - and I worried that I might end up being a lonely wife and mother.  A small price to pay though for having him in my life, but I was sure that once the first stunning baby came along he'd cut down on his hours a bit.

'Where's he taking you?' Grace asked as she devoured a slice of Madeira cake.  'That could give you a better idea.'

'He's booked a table at The Ivy.  Pretty special, huh?'

Grace smiled approvingly, pouring more tea into our fine bone china cups.  'Oh yes!  That does seem like he might be about to pop the question.  Have you got something new to wear?'

'I bought a gorgeous little black dress and some killer heels.  Figured I couldn't go wrong with those.'

'Lucky you!  I couldn't get this bod anywhere near anything little right now - and as for killer heels, just about any shoes cripple me at the moment.'

'Yes, well with any luck, this time next year it'll be me complaining about those sorts of problems.  Oh, Grace!  I can't wait!  Why can't it be eight o'clock already?'

'Promise me you'll ring me as soon as you can.'  Grace was clearly as excited as I was and she suddenly looked all dreamy-eyed as she stared far into the distance.  'Oh, I can just see it now - the candlelight, the soft music playing in the background, you looking good enough to eat and him all chiselled and groomed.  He'll be a little nervous - and you'll be cacking it - but he'll take your hand ever so gently and then he'll utter those words ... bloody hell ... he's over there with another woman!'

I'd been so wrapped up in Grace's description of how things might play out, like a child being lulled by a bedtime story, it took me a while to feel the impact of the dropped bombshell.  What on earth could she possibly mean - over there with another woman?

Grace had carefully placed her delicate cup and saucer onto the table and, as my eyes turned to see where she'd been looking, I kind of wish I'd done the same myself.

Dropping Royal Doulton porcelain on a marble floor makes one hell of a racket.

*****

Luckily we were at a table where we could see them but were obscured enough by a giant pillar for them not to be able to see us.  It brought bile to my mouth to watch them but it had to be done.  Maybe she was his sister or just a friend?  Maybe we were over-reacting.

The kiss he gave her as he got up was our first clue, swiftly followed by two kids who appeared from a table behind him uttering the words, 'Bye Daddy.  See you later.'

Pretty conclusive evidence, I'd say.  Wouldn't you agree?

'Oh, Daisy!'  Grace looked positively sick - either with sympathy or from excessive cake and sandwich consumption - and I pretty much felt the same.  'What are you going to do?'

I could barely think straight but I knew I couldn't just let him get up and walk out of the hotel without him knowing he'd been rumbled.  Gathering every bit of my courage and taking a massive breath, I stood and began to approach the treacherous bastard.  It would be cold comfort but I just wanted to see the look on his face when he realised that his game was up.

The woman I now assumed to be his wife smiled pleasantly at me as I got closer to their table.  Reece had his back to me as he readied to leave and turned to see who she was acknowledging.  He may just as well have had 'Guilty' branded on his forehead - the colour drained from his face, he gulped, his eyes darted like a cornered animal and I could almost hear his sphincter pucker.

Good.  He deserved it, and a whole lot more, and it was on the tip of my tongue to reveal the whole sordid story there and then - to let his, really rather pretty, wife know what a cheating heel he really was.

But then I saw his kids - two girls, wide-eyed and innocent.  Probably Daddy's girls who believed that he was the best man in the world.  I realised then that I couldn't do it to them, I couldn't rob them of that.  A vision of my own dear dad popped into my head and I had to swallow down a mounting sob.  It was because of him that I'd followed my chosen career path.  Years of bedtime stories filled with dragons, magical people and fantasy lands read in his myriad of voices had given me a vivid imagination and a dreamy outlook on life.  In light of recent events, maybe too dreamy, but I couldn't shatter these little girls' lives.  I may have drawn many wicked witches but I would never be one.

'Reece!  How lovely to see you,' I said as lightly as I could manage.  Grace later told me that it was Oscar worthy.  I then turned to his wife and added, 'Hi.  I'm Daisy.  Reece and I worked together years ago.'

'Pleased to meet you,' his wife replied, offering her soft and beautifully manicured hand.  'Was that at Newton Pierce?'

'Yes!  Yes, that's right,' Reece cut in hurriedly.  'Good to see you again, Daisy.  Where are you working now?'

Taking my final look at him and meeting his gaze head on, I replied, 'Oh, I don't work any more.  I'm married with two kids.  You know … these things happen, don't they?'

The colour returned to his face in a flush but he was unable to answer and I was done with him.  I just needed to get out while my dignity was still in one rather fragile piece.

'It was nice to finally meet you,' I said to his wife.  'Reece used to talk about you so much,' I lied with my last reserve of fake jollity and then, as I turned to walk past Reece, I mumbled loud enough for only him to hear, 'May you rot in hell, you stinking piece of crap'.

As birthdays went, it wasn't the best I'd ever had.

*****

Grace insisted that I went home with her and stayed for dinner with her and Milo.

'You can't be alone and miserable on what should have been your special day.  It's unlucky.'

'Unlucky?  Not much more can go wrong, can it?  I thought I'd be betrothed by now and instead I'm single once again and feeling like a complete and utter mug.  I hold you two wholly responsible.  If it wasn't for the fact that you and Milo had given me such unrealistic expectations, I'm sure I wouldn't have been quite so gullible.'

'That's a bit unfair, Daisy,' Milo said gently.  'We were as surprised by it all as you were.  The right man's out there for you somewhere though - you just have to believe.'

As Grace placed a bowl of ice-cream with a lit candle for me to blow out, I said, 'Well, I don't believe any more and ...' extinguishing the candle with a violent huff, added, 'You wanna hear my birthday wish?  I wish that my heart becomes like stone and I never let another man take me for a ride again.  I'm done with love!'

I hope you enjoyed the taster - and remember, you can pre-order NOW!  Also in paperback at Lulu.

Alfie has his copy!

 

Happy Birthday Mr Misfit

The lovely Mr Misfit will be 60 next week so we obviously had to celebrate in style.  After too many parties in the house, involving weeks of work and food prep, we decided to take the easy route and book a room in a local pub and let them take on the hard graft. Food, booze, clearing up - sorted!

We booked the fantastic double act 'For The Boys' - after seeing them regularly at The George Tavern - for a vintage singalong and decided the ideal theme would be 'Dress in the Era of Your Choice'.

For decorations we decided on good old British and Aussie bunting (Mr Misfit's roots) with some flags for waving (à la Last Night of The Proms) and some photos of the Birthday Boy through the ages.

'For The Boys' did a fab job of getting everyone singing along to classics from the 30's to the noughties and then we handed over to our son for the dance tracks.

It was most definitely a night to remember, with friends embracing the theme and turning up in their finery.  We had everything from cowboys to flappers, French Revolution through to the 70's and a Madonna!

Many photos below but I think, on this occasion, they speak louder than words.

It had to be a Mummy Misfit dress, didn't it (?) complete with my Godmother's ORIGINAL 1940's astrakhan stoal.

The Misfit with 1960's Nonteen

... and the Alfie dog in his matching Misfit bandana.

With my Mr Misfit birthday boy

"For the Boys" - our entertainment, always ready for the camera!

Leading everyone in 'Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes'

Getting into the British spirit!

A good ol' Sing-a-long

Big night, little dog ...

The three of us ... and the new James Bond.

Sexy sirens

Make love, not war

There's always the photo-bomber ...

All the nice girls love a man in uniform

Mr Misfit over the years

Saints and Sinners

Howdy Pardner!

The Twitter Girls

A very British (and Australian) Affair

In full swing

Yin Yang Bonds

Mr Misfit takes the cake

Wasn't he a cutie?

Doing 'New York, New York'

The Misfit and Madonna

"Over and Out" - Mission accomplished.

In Rainbows ...

Apologies for the blogging break but ... well, between trying to hang on to my sanity and get a book finished, I haven't really felt up to it.

Today though I do have a story that I want to share with you. It's something that happened yesterday that made me realise that my mum is with me all of the time and she will find ways of showing me.

We need to go back in time a bit to get the full picture, so bear with me.

I lost my dad when I was eighteen.  As a Daddy's Girl, this was tough and I would cry myself to sleep at night longing for him to visit me or, at the very least, give me a sign.

Then I had 'the dream' ...

There were huge fluffy clouds and the most amazing light - pretty corny so far, huh?  Poking through the clouds was a stunningly vibrant rainbow but it was actually an arched ladder and my dad was at the top of it with a paintbrush.  He turned and looked at me - he was really happy and clearly pretty chuffed with himself - and I asked what he was doing up there.

'This is what I do now,' he said simply.  'I paint the rainbow.'

Well, as he was a painter and decorator during his time on earth, this seemed a perfectly logical explanation and - in the time honoured tradition of bad story-telling - I woke up!

But ... I woke up happier.  He'd given me that sign I'd asked for. Even my son, as a child, used to point to the sky and say, 'Look what Granddad did!'

So imagine my surprise thirty-four years later when my lovely mum called us to her bedroom to say her final goodbyes and within the hour a rainbow had appeared in her back garden.  You couldn't make it up, could you?  My dad was there, ready to take her to be safe and he was telling us he loved us.

My Dad's rainbow in my Mum's garden

Then yesterday I was going to a friend's for lunch and I was dreading it.  My mum would always come along with us and sit and chat to his elderly mum and it just seemed wrong going without her.  Our friend had been thoughtful and set the table in a different room to where we would normally eat so that we didn't feel like there was an empty space and we had a lovely lunch - but it still felt odd.

When you're grieving, you become adept at painting on a smile and chatting as if you haven't got a care in the world but suddenly I found that I was smiling and really feeling it.

Because I'd looked out over my friend's back paddock and there she was - only this time with my dad.  His MASSIVE, vivid rainbow ... and later the shadow of a double rainbow by its side, which Mr Misfit joked wasn't as bright because she hasn't been 'up there' long enough to earn her stripes!

She was looking over me, after all!

Thanks Mum - as always, you were there when I needed you and I hope I did the same for you too while I was lucky enough to have you.

I found this song - says it all.