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.

Asking for a Friend ...

I have a friend ...

She's mainly happy but often sad and sometimes a little bit broken but she pulls herself up and carries on because she has no choice.

Her husband is her rock and, on bad days, she feels she'd be nothing without him.  But she knows - in her darkest moments - that if it comes to that, she would have to, once again, pick herself up and carry on. To mix the happy with the sad.

You see, she's watching someone slowly slip away from her - not dying but gradually, almost as if ounce by ounce, become another person on a journey that they can only take for themselves.

It's hard. She feels lonely, frightened, angry, isolated, tired, fed-up and sometimes - just sometimes -  a little bit sorry for herself.

Losing someone you love is always hard but when you start to blame yourself - and other people - for their demise, it's unbearable.  To the point where it physically hurts.

She asks herself what could she, and those significant others, have done differently?  Is it too late to turn back the clock now?

In reality, probably yes.

The damage has been done.

My friend will do what she can, gritting her teeth, allowing silent tears to fall whilst wondering just how it came to this sad and bitter end.

And through all of that, she'll mentally plan an inevitable funeral that won't be a fitting end, surrounded by love and happy feelings that the person she's losing so deserves.

In the meantime, she'll keep on keeping on.  With love in her heart, as much patience as she can muster, tiredness in her bones and a little piece of bitterness that will never understand why people can't see what she is seeing.

What would you do?

Asking for a friend ...

Finding your Happy Place.

People who know me and love me would say that I can sometimes be a bit of a control freak and can very often be black and white with my opinions.  I hold my hands up in surrender and admit to both of these accusations.

 My name is Amanda Egan and I am what I am.

There's nothing like life and experience to make you realise that there can come a time when you have to change your way of thinking - you can't always be in control of things that happen, you can't influence people and sometimes you have to 'roll with it' rather than drive yourself nuts.

Over the last few years there have been about four life changing issues that I've had to do battle with.  I won't go into details but, suffice it to say, I've realised that there's only so long you can give 'set in stone' situations any more head-space.

There are two routes:

Madness.

Peace and acceptance.

I tried the first option and it didn't work for me.  Sleepless nights, constant inner turmoil, voicing worries/discussing with hubbie and/or friends - nothing changed.  The worries and problems remained as large as life, refusing to leave.

So ... I booted them out.  I didn't need them.  How were they enhancing my life?  And, if I was totally honest with myself, the misery I was putting myself through would never actually affect the future outcome.

I guess that's what my husband is so good at - being pragmatic.

Definition: dealing with things sensibly and realistically in a way that is based on practical rather than theoretical considerations.

Maybe a bit of the pragmatist has rubbed off on me (no euphemism intended) but once I learnt to let go, I felt a whole lot happier.

My energies are much better being channelled towards the characters who live in my head.  And that's not madness, that's a happy place!

Thanks John Lewis!

There are milestones in any mum's life when you realise that your baby's not a baby anymore.  There are the obvious ones - those first steps, words, day at school, sleepover.  Then they move on to secondary school, heading off to Uni or work.  The list is endless.

Often these are joyous occasions, mixed with happy tears and at other times they can be heart-wrenching and those sobs aren't so easy to shed. It's all part of parenting and we wear our lines and wrinkles like a badge of honour.

You just never know when the next one is going to hit ...

This morning I had a face which would have been fit for Halloween as my mascara and eyeliner went southwards.  Yes, dear reader, I watched the new John Lewis Christmas advert just before heading off to do the weekly shop.  A bad move.  I'm convinced I frightened small children and old age pensioners as I pushed my trolley around in a daze. 

If you haven't seen it yet, have a little look and then I'll tell you why it moved me so much.

 Are you dry-eyed?  If so, stop reading!  Or maybe read on and see what caused me to sob.

My boy will always be my baby but he's now a fine young man who works hard and plays hard - despite the troubles he's had in the past. Stick with me and I'll give you the background to why this affected me so much.

When my baby was about two, he had an obsession with Pingu.  Remember him?  (Our female cat is even called Pinga - as in the sister).

Everyone we knew bought our son penguins in all shapes and sizes - his bedroom became a shrine to them.  But not one of them meant as much to him as 'Teeth' - a particularly mouthy looking specimen picked up at a car boot sale for 50p.  Teeth went EVERYWHERE with him.  The dentist would chuckle when she saw him in the chair and, on one occasion, I bumped into a lady at the college where I was teaching at the time. We stopped, assessed one another whilst trying to remember how we knew each another and she suddenly shouted, 'Teeth!' - it was my son's dental nurse! Yes, he was a well-known penguin, talked about around town!

The John Lewis ad became more poignant for me as Teeth too found a pal. Not a wife, but a side-kick in the shape of 'Gums'.

Hubbie was working in The City at the time and he called me on his way home from work to say that he'd seen Teeth's double attached to a lamppost on the side of the street.  It turned out he belonged to a tramp and was part of his patch.  I knew we had to have him, even though hubbie told me he was a fatter, fluffier version of Teeth (at this point Teeth had been in the washing machine a few times and lost a little weight).  A few quid to the tramp for some food and drink, and Gums was on the tube coming back to live with us.

As soon as hubbie appeared at the door with him, our wide-eyed son looked in awe and shouted, 'Teeth!'  And so they became two - who still live, in pride of place, on his bookshelf.

Watching this advert took me on a journey of being a mum and all Christmases past - that first Christmas Eve with a new baby, and all the joy and worries you know it will bring, and then moving on to the excitement of secrecy, stuffed stockings and those sneaky visits from Santa.

It's role reversal now as our son isn't asking for anything for Christmas.  He has a job that pays well - so what he wants, he buys.  Now, HE'S the one planning and plotting with excitement.  And that makes me happy/sad.

So, John Lewis, I know you only do this to make us flock to your shops and buy your products (I'm not stupid!) but your ad made me think about family, childhood, love, pride and cherishing every moment.

Thanks for wrecking my face!

By the way, I write books too!  Get your Kindle copies here. (In paperback at Lulu)

In Celebration of the Teen

The teen will turn 19 on Thursday, so last night saw us enjoying the first of many celebrations.  We got together with his best friend from primary school - before he heads back to Uni tomorrow - his parents and sister, an old family friend and another of the teen's pals from secondary school.

The theme was 'Curry & Games' and, as usual, we had a ball.

We'd just recently been given a John Lewis voucher for our anniversary so we splashed out on new china and cutlery.  I think our black and white themed table looks pretty glam.

Our dining table had to get ditched in the garden as it's not big enough for nine guests.

This is our ping pong table glammed up by a damask cloth my Dad acquired as an antique dealer.

I'm ready to party.

Still hating the new hair.

As the current obsession in the Misfit House is 'Breaking Bad'

we ordered a rice paper cake topper from eBay for his chocolate birthday cake.

The 'cooking' reference comes from the series!

He was pretty impressed.

Once the meal was over we started on the games.  The Misfits are well known for the daftness of our parties and, thankfully, our guests are always willing participants.

We started with 'A word from a Song' - this involved single words on a piece of paper, picked from a hat and then we each had to sing a line from a song containing that word.  E.g: LOVE - 'She Loves You' or 'Love, Love me Do.'  The aim of the game is to find as many as possible containing the word.

Then we moved on to 'Paper Art'  - we picked a category such as 'animals' or 'things you find in the kitchen' and we each had to tear a piece of A4 paper into the shape of our chosen object.  We were surprised at how many cats and giraffes we had.  Then we had the lazy man's effort of 'a puddle of milk' for 'found in the kitchen'!

Next was 'Alphabet Story'  - we began at a random point in the alphabet and told a story line by line with each person starting the next line with the next letter of the alphabet. E.g:  Amanda went shopping.  But the shops were closed. 'Can't think what to do,' she said.

The game we played for the longest was 'Keep it going' - the teen would find a well known song on his iPod and we would start to sing along with it.  One example was 'Bohemian Rhapsody'.  While we were singing, he would suddenly turn it down so that we were unable to hear it and we had to keep singing to see if we were at the same point on the track when he turned it back on.  Much fun and laughter was had by all, and I have to say we didn't do too badly.

This then led onto 'Joint Bongos' with the teen and his friend taking half a bongo each and bashing out tunes while we danced - quite a lot!

Action shot!

Their hands were moving so fast, they're a blur!

I can't believe that these are the two boys who used to camp on the floor.

Fine young men to be proud of and a joy to spend time with.

And from our boys, I gained a best friend.

(and also a Goddaughter - not pictured)

A sneaky ciggie in the snow, 13 years ago, and we're still going strong.

'You had me at the snow!'

Ugh!

The worst part of a dinner party - the clearing up.

 

Mr Misfit and other menfolk were at the party but we seem to be short on photos - which, when it came to the dancing, is probably just as well!

 

We had a fabulous time and were all feeling a little exhausted this morning.  Now ... on to his actual birthday on Thursday.  But first, sleep.

The Day after the Night before

I'm a little bit 'floopy' today.  After weeks of preparation we finally enjoyed our 20th wedding anniversary party last night and what a night it was!  My poor feet and legs are in complete shock as our resident DJ (read: The Teen) barely gave anyone time to grab a drink, his tracks were so varied and infectious.  In fact we danced SO much, the photos are a little thin on the ground as we were all too busy getting our groove on.  The teen got lots of video evidence but there's only so much I'm prepared to share!

Our theme was FUNKY FLORAL SUMMER and thankfully the weather delivered beautifully.  After heavy winds and cloud, the evening suddenly became almost tropical and we were able to enjoy using the marquee in the back garden to chill out and then (at 2 in the morning) our little patio area at the front.

Our marquee, complete with FUNKY FLORAL bunting - made from oilskin - and some pretty flower lights

 

We decided to take it easy on ourselves with the food as we knew how much we threw away after my 50th.  Some pre-cooking and freezing saw us come up with this selection of delicacies.

Salmon roulade, savoury muffins, mini quiches, Thai fishcakes.

What this photo doesn't reveal is that there's a heap of food on the other side of the kitchen!

We gave each of our 30 guests a nice little glow with some Bloody Mary Gazpacho shots too.

We decided to be brave and inventive with our 3 tiered cake.  I ordered the large base cake from Waitrose and then we iced and decorated 2 more tiers. We incorporated the FUNKY FLORAL theme and this is what we came up with. 

Great British Bake-Off eat your heart out!

As our guests arrived we had cocktail music playing in the background and a copy of our wedding video playing on mute.  Many of them found themselves lost in watching and laughing at how we've changed over the years.  We also put together a selection of photos for people to giggle at.

The teen was invaluable and helped with food, technical issues and being an all round good guy.  Here he is having a pre-party shuffle with his Nanny!

And looking pretty pleased with his DJing skills!

The marquee got quite packed at times after all that dancing.

And here's the happy couple with their baby boy!

We were delighted to welcome my Twitter buddy to our home again.  The beautiful @Nurseyjo boogied her little socks off and was the perfect party guest.

We look like we have rather extravagant head-dresses on - me with the peach and her with the pink.

We HAD just been shimmying to 'Copacabana' but no headgear was required.  Or maracas!

My good friend 'Fenella' started the entertaining with a couple of songs and then ended with audience participation in a singalong to 'Honey, Honey'.  From then on there was no stopping us!

Once again, everyone left saying what a fab time they'd had and I've had some pretty weary texts and calls today.

Who says you have to spend a fortune to have an absolute ball?  Cinderella and her Prince Charming of twenty years did it with style on a shoestring.

Smug!

Twenty years ago today, I married my best friend and today I'm shouting it from the rooftops.  There was never any doubt that we'd make it this far - we're in it for the long haul, through thick and thin, richer and poorer (!)

My life without Mr Misfit would merely be an existence - I realised this when he went back to Oz to see his family in June and I went on the 'MY HUSBAND HAS GONE TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD DIET'!  Hello Size 10 jeans and people saying, 'What's your secret?'

But I'd rather have a few extra pounds on me and have my soul-mate by my side.  Simple.

So, fetch your sick buckets because here's my tribute to the other half of my whole.

TWENTY THANK YOUS for:

All the laughs.  Never a day goes by ...
The endless songs from the minute you open your eyes.
Supporting me and spurring me on.
Your patience.
Our gorgeous son - we did good.
Putting up with me.
Your calm logic.
Being the voice of reason in tricky times.
Making me a part of your lovely, accepting family.
Cherishing me and always making me feel special.
All the toasted sandwiches.
Never looking at me as if I'm mad - when deep down we both know I *may* have lost the plot.
Telling me if my bum looks big or if something doesn't suit me.
All the times you've told me, 'Well you didn't die last time so I don't think it's likely this time'.
And all the times you've told me, 'No the cat is definitely not dead - I'd say he's probably asleep under a bush'.
Loving my mum and all her foibles.
Making me feel complete.
Running with my stupid ideas - but having the courage to tell me when they're really stupid.
Wanting to spend as much time with me as I do with you and not getting bored with me.
But most of all for being the nicest, kindest most caring man I know.

20th August 1994 and married for 20 years.

I raise my glass to Mr and Mrs Misfit.

 A team to the bitter end.

Misfit's Macho Males

I've wanted a parrot for years and had great fun writing the character of Timothy in my romcom 'Tabby & Kat'.  We'll often go to pet shops and I could spend hours talking to the birds and looking into their beady eyes as I wonder what they're thinking.

So I guess the teen has got his love of them from me and he's always fascinated to hear the stories of the talking budgie that hubbie and I owned before we were married.  With the teen's new job coming up he's considering buying a parrot.  Now this will come with its problems as we have two cats, so it will need much thought/research and maybe we'll decide not to go ahead, but watch this space ...

The current animal discussions in the Misfit Household have led hubbie and me to laughing about the male creatures we've owned in our life together.  Our 'lady' beasts have been elegant and demure - one budgie and one cat - impeccable manners, no unsavoury habits and a little bit snobby.

But our males have been ... how shall I say? ... testosterone-led and a little bit randy!

Let's start with the talking budgie.  Jack had a rather fruity vocabulary - not taught by us, I hasten to add.  We replied to an advert from a young couple who were starting a family and needed to find a home for him as they didn't want their new baby to pick up his bad language!  He was a funny little thing and would keep us entertained for hours.  His long suffering 'wife' Mimi was constantly jumped on and when she eventually got to the point where she'd had enough, she'd throw him off with a weary wing and leave him to  ... 'finish himself' on the back bars of the cage.  We soon realised that it wasn't just his filthy little beak that had let his first family to re-home him.

Moving on to our rescue dog, Ralf.  We took him on when he was eleven and his owners decided that he was ready for the knacker's yard so that they could have a new puppy.  I know, nice huh?  Ralf was a cross-collie and we loved him with all our hearts for five happy years  What we didn't like was the fact that he hadn't been castrated and on hot days, when an old man's fancy turns to romance, his ENORMOUS donkey-sized appendage would pop out making it virtually impossible for him to walk.  He would literally shuffle around on his back legs dragging his goods around with him.  Needless to say, we did the responsible thing and had him 'seen to' - he was a much happier dog for it and we no longer had to hang our heads in shame as small children pointed at him in the park.

That then brings us to our current ginger tom.  His ginger nuts were removed as soon as possible after he developed a penchant for a fluffy toy belonging to our son and he'd spend many hours making Happy Time with Mrs Snaky. The Christmas morning we spent watching him in action with his Lady-Love on a black sack will stick in my memory forever.  A few months ago, Mrs Snaky was rediscovered in a cupboard. The cat showed instant recognition for her, became a little amorous and then clearly realised that he no longer had the tools for the job.  After a brief flash of embarrassment, he dropped her and moved on.

So ... what is it with male animals in our household and if we do go ahead and get a parrot, should we be opting for a female?  Just to be on the safe side!

Stuff happens.

Ain't that the truth?

 

My next full length novel was due for release in June but sadly, due to family commitments, the joint edit is now unlikely to happen within that timeframe.  Anything is possible of course but I just wanted to let those who were eagerly awaiting its release (yes, there are a few!) that there’s a possibility it could be slightly later than expected.

In the meantime, I’ll leave you with the title - I hope it tempts you and makes you want to know more.

THE ALL OR NOTHING GIRL   ©

Coming soon-ish.

In the meantime, you can check out all of my other books in the UK or .com

Happy Mother's Day

What does your mum mean to you?

Mine is now 87 and she means the world to me.  Yes, she sometimes drives me up the wall - and I return the compliment!  It’s a generational thing and we wouldn’t be normal if we saw eye to eye all of the time.  I don’t always agree with my teen either - that’s life.

But for the main part, my mum is my rock and I am hers.  I’m there for her in the same way that I know she’s always there for me - that’s what a mother/daughter relationship is all about, isn’t it?

Very rarely is there a day that I don’t see her - since recovering from her broken pelvis she has become less independent and, I won’t deny, this can be tiring and limiting.  Even when I had flu a couple of weeks ago, I dragged myself (in my PJ’s!) to spend a couple of hours with her in the afternoon.  She craves company - I believe it keeps her young and without it she would have aged more quickly.

I owe it to her.  She looked after me, now it’s my turn.

She won’t be here forever and that saddens me.  I couldn’t have asked for a better mum and I don’t need Mother's Day to make me aware of that.

Celebrate your mum every day - you wouldn’t be here without her!

Mother Christmas

This Christmas day will be the 50^th I’ve spent with my lovely mum - well, that’s if you include the one when I was in the womb.  Fifty Christmas days!  I count myself truly lucky as I only shared eighteen with my dad before he did the dirty on me and packed his bags before hotfooting off to heaven.  But the eighteen I had with him were all good, all special in their own way and all jam-packed with love.

As I prepare for my 50^th festive season with my mum, I’ve been reflecting on how things change.  This year’s been a difficult one for us as my mum broke her pelvis in September and that’s made getting out virtually impossible for her and in turn doubled my work load.  I’m tired and sometimes my patience can be slightly lacking but I always try to remember that it’s not easy for her either.  Our relationship has changed - she was the one who always cared for me and now she relies on me for nearly everything.  The circle of life, huh?

But every year is another that I count my blessings - another Christmas to spend with her - and who knows how many there may be ahead of us?

Life changes, families change but I know I have the one constant in my life - the much loved lady who brought me into the world and who I have so much to be grateful for.

So at this special time, after all my mum has been through and continues to struggle with, I’ll be raising my glass to her and thanking her for everything she’s done for me and the strength she still continues to display when times are hard.

There’s a lot I can’t change for her but I can still make sure she has the happiest Christmas Day I can give her.  She deserves a whole lot more but the rest is out of my hands.

Happy Christmas to the best Mum ever.

Nanny Misfit

(not bad at 86!)

And a very Happy Christmas to all my readers - thank you for your support.

A Short Post About an Elephant with a Long Trunk.

Caring for someone you love is a tricky one and anyone who does it on a day-to-day basis will know that things can change from one minute to the next.  Just as you think you've overcome one problem or managed to get an issue covered off, a new one will raise its ugly head.

I'm managing to cope with those curve balls that get thrown at me (actually, read: 'I'm dealing with them but still learning on the job!').  But the hardest part is dealing with the emotional side - when my mum says something that rocks my world.  The world I'm trying very hard to keep stable.

She said one of those things to me last week.  Now, I won't share what she said - that wouldn't be fair or necessary - but it made me stop and think.  The more I thought, the more I knew that something had to change and that we needed to do a whole lot more talking.

I felt happy with our progress ... until I took her to her hairdressers yesterday and got some insight, from a family outsider, about my mum that I knew had been troubling her but had no idea that she'd chosen to share the severity of her upset to such an extent.  That hurt.  Quite a lot.

It was like seeing a tiny raw piece of the woman who brought me into the world - a piece that I knew was there, but magnified under a microscope.  It was out there, beyond us.  Suddenly, it became bigger than an elephant in the corner and it's since been there waving its trunk at me.

I can care for my mum, feed her, do her washing, clean her house, do her shopping, boost her spirits, keep her company and can generally be her 'cheer-leader' but, deep down, I know I can never make her truly happy.

Not by myself.  And not until that elephant in the corner is gone.

When it's best to keep quiet.

People have been asking why I've not been posting any blogs, other than FUNKY FRIDAY, and I guess I owe those loyal followers an explanation.

How do I sum this up without giving too much away or ranting?

I'm tired, sad, angry, emotional and not too much fun to be around at the moment.  I feel like I'm grieving - grieving for many things but with no actual death to show for it.  That's a funny kind of grief - but it doesn't make me laugh. And it doesn't make me want to write blogs that will draw in the crowds - no one likes a misery.

I'm just so relieved that I have my new novel under my belt and undergoing the editing process because, right now, I don't have it in me to lose myself in another world - my real one is too consuming.

In short, I take my hat off to all those carers who do it for love - it's a 24/7 job and often has little reward.  It's so hard to keep someone UP as they drag you DOWN.  It's also hard to remember that you love that person with all your heart, to not resent them and to remember to think of yourself in amongst all the other stuff you're dealing with.

I realised, on yet another sleepless night last week, that I've had a total of seven years of caring in unusual circumstances - I'm not talking just being a mum, or a daughter to an elderly parent.  In 2006 my mum had a tough time and needed to be guided through it.  As soon as she 'emerged' my son then developed school phobia and I needed to be there to see him through that.  He's now left school but I find myself back on 'Mum Duty' again.  In all of those years, I haven't had one holiday.  No, I'm not asking for you to bring out the violins, I'm simply stating the facts as they are.

I love them both - I will do anything for them.  I've proved that.  But now, I'm tired and a little bit fed up.

That's why I've not been blogging.

Thank you all so much for your support and love - whether it's been through Facebook, Twitter, emails, phone-calls, texts or lovely, little parcels.  You know who you are.

Take a letter, Miss Misfit ...

I’ve seen the new craze going around where bloggers write snippets of letters that they know they will never send - just to get stuff off their chests.

I like this idea so I’m jumping on the bandwagon and churning out a few of my own.

Remember, these are my personal thoughts - if you can’t relate or don’t agree, piddle off and write your own.

Dear Employers

You are totally passing my husband by because of his age.  This means that you have lost out on one of the most decent and hardest workers I have ever known.

But that’s fine.  It means I’ve had him around me for longer and SOON, when everything goes OUR way, he won’t be looking for your poxy jobs anyway.

Dear Husband

You are the best (and more) than I could ever have wished for.  Every day with you brings a smile and I feel totally cherished as you promised all those years ago.  Times have been tough but together we can face anything.  I owe you an Aston Martin with bows and nipple tassels!  One day …

Dear Doubters

School phobia is very real.  This is the last time I hope I ever have to say this but it is not naughtiness, petulance, mollycoddling, ‘trying it on’, hating school - NONE of those things.  Live through it with a child or see someone experience a full-blown panic attack and then get back to me.  A slap doesn’t solve everything and this condition has not just been brought to the public’s attention because of sodding ‘Emmerdale’.  Get a grip!

Dear Son

How proud I am of you that you would come through such a difficult time and turn it into a positive - to be happy to chat to newspapers/radio and appear on TV in the hope of helping another child who is going through the same thing.  I think that says an awful lot about you.  Weird, whacky, a mind of your own and someone who will go far.

Dear Readers

Thank you so much for taking a chance on me and (mainly) loving what I do.  Every great review makes me smile so broadly, I wish you could see me when it happens.  Your words mean the world to me and spur me on to write more.  The support that you give me via blogs, email Facebook and Twitter is one of the greatest feelings ever.  Thank you.

Dear People who harm children, animals, the old or vulnerable.

No punishment is enough for you.  You will rot in hell.  Enough said.

Dear Putney Mums

You’ve been talking, I know you have.  That’s fine.  It was always going to happen.  There is no ONE individual represented in my books.  You are not Character A or Character B - but if you recognise a sprinkling of your traits in any of the people within the books’ pages, are you nice or nasty?  YOU decide!

Dear Daddy

Not your fault I know, but no girl should lose such a lovely dad at eighteen.  You are in trouble when I reach the Pearly Gates - listen out for the shouting!  Thank you for being the best and making your presence felt every day in some small way.

Dear PPI

STOP ringing me!  I don’t have any money due to me!  Do you not think I would have taken it if I had?

Dear Friend in Scotland

You are a mess and I am ashamed of you.  Thirty years of friendship is about to go down the pan as I stand by your husband and your son.  The alcohol needs to take a back seat and you have to remember that, first and foremost, you are a mother.  You have gone from ‘one classy lady’ to a candidate for the Jeremy Kyle show.  Stop and think what your parents would be saying.

Dear British Summer

We haven’t seen you for a while.  About three years?!  Get your bum into gear and hit us with a humdinger this year.  I have books to write and a garden to write them in.  What I don’t have is a passport, money to go overseas or the time to travel - I need you to deliver to my front door and this time, if you don’t, I will be writing a strong letter to The Times - enough’s enough.

Dear Family

Your mother/grandmother is not getting any younger.  Things can be left until they are too late and nobody wants that.  Do they?  We are ALL guilty in our own ways for being where we are, every one of us, and I think she deserves more.  Every single member of my family who reads this should take stock and ask themselves some questions.  Every single one.

Dear Blog Readers

Phew!  Bit of a marathon this week, wasn’t it?  If you made it this far, go and grab a cuppa or a glass of something lovely (depending on the time of day - I’d hate to encourage early boozing) and while you’re at it check out my books on Amazon!  Gotta keep that leaky old roof over our heads!

Misfit Advent

Christmas is looming.  Are you excited or stressed?

I must be getting old because I’m sure it was only yesterday that I was last dragging my tired old bum around the shops looking for the perfect gift for ‘X’ or the ideal stocking filler for ‘Y’.

The reality?  Every gift I buy for my mum will be returned - sleeves too long, neck too low - and every present my teenage son will receive will have been on a list of wishes.

Cynical?  Me?  Hell, yeah!  Christmas is for kids and, once they’ve grown up, just a little bit of the fun goes out of it.  Don’t get me wrong - we always have a great time, filled with our own traditions.  My mum has her stocking after visiting us for a homemade chicken curry (!) on Christmas Eve, hubbie and I have our stockings at midnight with a glass of port (OUR time) and then our HUGE son has his stocking in our bedroom in the morning - and I’m so happy that this is still his favourite part of Christmas.

But things change, don’t they?  Kids grow, families drift apart, parents age.  MY Christmases will never be the same again - they will morph and change with every passing year.

So, this Christmas I have some very simple wishes - for my mum to remain as healthy as she is for her age, for my son to stay safe and make the right decisions in life, for my marriage to remain strong and joyous and for a miracle that means I can keep the very leaky roof over our heads.

And, if I can be greedy … to a very special man who was a massive influence in my formative years - you might be a cranky old bugger, have a lot to answer for and drifted out of my life (and others) but you are still the person who I chose to give me away at my wedding and very much loved by so many - I wish you peace and I wish you well.  You may never read this but it’s heartfelt.

So, Misfit readers, what do you have on your list of wants this year?  Put aside the ‘I want the tree lights to work first time’, and ‘I’m planning on cooking the juiciest turkey ever’, or ‘I want the kids to love their remote control car as much as I do’.  What do you REALLY want?  What would make you happy?

Think about it.  Can you make it happen?  Can you give YOURSELF the gift you want the most?

Shameless plug - but I do need to keep that roof over my head - check out my Christmas novella here or my latest chicklit novel here.  The messages are the same - it’s the little things that matter.

Enjoy the mad lead-up to the festive season but, most of all, take some time to reflect.

An Extra Christmas Treat

An extra blog post for you this week as I think I may have some information that my lovely, loyal readers will be interested in.  At least I hope so …

That time of year is approaching again.  You know, the one where Santa fills your stockings and you eat too much?

Well, call me a fool but, as soon as the final draft for ‘Stilettos & Stubble’ was finished (release date 28^th November), the idea for a Christmas novella I’d been making notes on for a while suddenly took on a life of its own.

And so, unless I get run over by a bus or abducted by aliens, I’ll be releasing a new story on Amazon and Lulu on 1^st December, entitled ‘Christmas Deliverance’ - a novella.

‘Because Christmas doesn't always deliver what you want but,

sometimes, you might get just what you need’

So now you have two dates for your Christmas diary.

28^th November - ‘Stilettos & Stubble’

1^st December - ‘Christmas Deliverance’

As for my December - I may well be found sleeping in a heap under the tree.

Am I mad?  Answers on a postcard please!

All 3 of my current novels can be found on Amazon and Lulu.

Nice One, Half Centurion!

The year after next I shall be 50.  FIFTY!  How on earth did that happen?  I’m the baby of the family so that must make the others positively ancient!

My dad was 56 when he died.  This is a scary thought.  I am almost as old as my dad - I know that’s not logical but you get my drift.  My husband will turn 56 this week - also scary for so many reasons but none that I care to dwell on.

So do I feel 50?  Do I feel ‘middle-aged’?  No, of course I don’t - inside I still feel like a pathetic 18 year old, always wondering if I’m doing the right thing, acting appropriately, giving off the right message.

But then there are the little ‘reminders’ - the subtle little digs that make you realise you are ageing!

Feel free to add your own, but here are mine:

1. I am now totally unable to cope with small print.  I can see for miles but give me a jar to read and I’m absolutely stuffed.  I made it to this ripe age without needing assistance and I hate to hear people say to me now, ‘Oh, you can’t see that without your glasses, can you?’

2. At an absolute push, I can do two late nights on the trot but I most definitely pay for it.  Gone are the days of surviving on two hours sleep - I did this for a year when hubbie and I were ‘courting’ (now that does show my age!)

3. My face takes forever to wake up in the morning.  I know Twiggy says the same, so I feel I’m in good company.  The only upside is that I know I will improve as the day goes on.  By four o’clock I’m not scaring quite so many small children.

4. I hear myself sounding like my mother when I talk to my son.  ‘Well, in my day …’ and ‘You mark my words!’  I give advice that I know won’t be taken - and serves me right really!  Did I listen to my parents’ advice?  Not a lot …

5. Although my son has a very varied taste in music and appreciates everything from Bowie to jazz, there are still some tracks that I’m subjected to in the car that leave my ears bleeding.  I can often be heard saying, ‘Sorry, it’s just not music!’

6. Just as I vowed I’d never be one of those mums who discussed the best brand of disposable nappy, I also swore I’d never discuss the price/quality of meat at various supermarkets.  I am sadly guilty of having done both.  I hang my head in shame.

7. I have become pragmatic.  I now accept that there are some things you are unable to alter - fighting them, moaning about them or worrying about them won’t change a thing.  It’s taken me many years, and lots of coaxing from my husband, but I now know it makes sense.  I channel my energies elsewhere.

8. I see the loneliness of my mum and feel that I’m not too far away from that.  Husbands, friends, siblings die and we’re left alone.  Old age can be cruel and I don’t look forward to it.  Who wants the highlight of the week to be a visit to the doctors or chiropodist?

9. I can’t bear to see young boys with their trousers half way down their bum-crack.  I’m sure, as a teen, I wouldn’t have found this a turn-on then either.  I just don’t get it!  They even have to adjust their walk in an attempt at keeping them up.  I have an overwhelming urge to hoist them up by their waistbands and chuck a belt at them.  I fear this would result in arrest though.

10. I don’t look at babies and go all gooey.  I look at them and think, ‘Phew, mine’s a teen and lets me sleep as long as I want!’  I do however look at dogs and go gooey - a companion for my fast approaching old age!

Hope I’ve not depressed you too much.  The upsides to look forward to are - no spots, not caring what people think and no more monthly visits from the glorious Mother Nature.

Bring it on!

Both my novels are available at Amazon and Lulu.