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)

FUNKY FRIDAY - with poet Kela Lewis Morin

This is my final FUNKY FRIDAY - I feel after nine months of fantastic interviews with readers and writers that it's now reached a natural end.  I'm always more than happy to continue hosting authors or reviewers from time to time so feel free to get in touch - it's just that this won't be a regular feature any more.

So ... I met this young man just recently on Twitter and, after reading some of his poetry, I wanted to share his talent with you all and shine the spotlight on him.

So, Kela when did you first start writing poetry and do you also enjoy reading it?

Poetry is an art that has always been a part of me in one form or another. I have always had an active imagination that just wanders off on its own tangent. I have an insatiable thirst for obtaining an understanding of how and why things happen. I am constantly questioning every assumption this world has to offer. The only way I could fully express the thoughts that circle in my head was to jot them down. Then my worded thoughts flowed into poetic streams of rhythm. My mind is riddled with a range of rhythmic paces, elaborate metaphors and double entendres. At first I kept my poetry to myself because I believed it was too personal to reveal. I was totally against anyone reading my work. The idea of uploading and exposing my work online for complete strangers to read petrified me. I was content with just keeping almost like an alter ego protected in the depths of saved documents. I was addicted to the freedom of passionate phraseology but I feared what others would think of me. Until one day someone very close to me rummaged through my laptop and read all of my private pieces. Despite my resentment it felt good to finally be honest about what I love doing.  The word spread around my friendship group and to my surprise I received a vast amount of encouragement. After a flurry of persuasive, peer pressure tactics I decided to create a blog and find out what the world thought about my work. Now after years writing and gaining confidence, I now think I have something different to offer the world. I openly admit that the belief I can have a fruitful career in writing is based on the validation from others. I am only as good as people say.

I love reading poetry because there is an infinite amount of ways to express the same words and sentiments. Art feeds art and all it takes is a couple of insightful words to spark your own train of thought. I see reading other peoples poetry as a constant source of inspiration. I admire poets like Sylvia Plath, William Wordsworth, Philip Larkin and Tupac Shakur because of their intricate world play. Also by the fact although they are no longer physically here, their literal legacy will forever live on. I aspire to have that kind of impact on the world some day.

Big Brother are doing a 'Writers' Special' and they want you to go on it.  Would you accept?

That is an unexpected question but truthfully I would be hesitant to enter. Although I am open with my thoughts, I still like my privacy. I am sure I would not feel comfortable in having my every move televised; I can’t handle that much judgement at once. However, I still consider myself to be very social and forthcoming with my opinions. The irony is I spend my days performing in every environment in order to be accepted. But because the circumstance always changes I know that every performance has an eventual end. Eventually the curtain is called allowing me time I to centre myself and continue. On ‘Big Brother’ there is no intermission period. You are constantly on display for viewers to pick apart and evaluate. I don’t think I could hold up the visage for long and eventually my true colours will show. I am not saying the real me is someone to be revered, but I know I have a tendency to be distant. I can be withdrawn and I do not talk to others because I am already talking to myself.  Being distant does not bode well in these kinds of reality shows. Basically, I am a crazy, abstract mute who occasionally smiles and mutters words to himself. On the off chance that I do happen to communicate the conversation would be disjointed and only end in regret. I would probably end up in a 5 day old man sized nappy, throwing his own faeces at the cameras. If the viewers would like to watch a psychological, reality wild life drama then by all means, sign me up.

What about 'I'm a Celebrity'?  Would you eat kangaroo's bits?

Kangaroo bits? There is no scenario were my name and Kangaroo bits would be included in the same sentence. On ‘I’m a Celebrity’ I would be forced to face my fears in front of the entire population. That is just a multitude of opportunities for me to embarrass myself on an epidemic scale. On second thought if you were allowed to bring your assortment of condiments, then maybe I would consider it. Kangaroo bits drizzled in a peanut and paprika dressing sounds strangely appetising.

Weirdo!  Tell us about your dream week as a poet.

My dream week as a poet would include an indoor work study with a scenic pool side view. I would love to be granted full time to work on my up and coming poetry collection. I am currently a teaching assistant in a local primary school, I specialise in literary and creative writing workshops. Sadly, I cannot financially live of my dream yet but I cannot wait till the day I achieve this. In this flawless instance I would be doing nothing but writing, re drafting and writing. Hopefully I would already have a flourishing career from consistently producing quality books for everybody. I have been working on a science fiction novel for some time now but I wanted to conquer poetry first. This fanciful week would allow me to work on all my writing projects with precision and total commitment. Free from all other ties and obligations, this would be a surreal but ideal situation.

You can follow Kela on Twitter or why not check out his website to see some of his work? I did and really enjoyed.

FUNKY FRIDAY - with writer Gilli Allan

Here we go again with a fab FUNKY FRIDAY.  Drum roll please for fellow author and Twitter buddy, Gilli Allan.

So, Gilli, describe yourself as a writer in five words.

Unconventional, unpredictable, truthful, compassionate, romantic.

You've been invited on Big Brother - Writers Special!  Do you accept?

No! I am painfully aware of the need to promote myself, to raise my head above the gazillions of other Indie writers out there and grab every opportunity that comes my way to communicate with the reading public, but Big Brother (even a special writers’ edition) is a step too far.

It's your dream week as a writer - anything is possible!  Tell us what happens.

On Monday I’m phoned up by a top flight literary agent.  On Tuesday said agent has set up a bidding war between several multinational publishers.  On Wednesday my book is number one in all the bestseller lists and the film deal is confirmed.  On Thursday I win a prestigious literary prize (the Orange perhaps - this is a daydream, right?) and I’m interviewed on The Culture Show on BBC2, and by Mark Lawson on Front Row on BBC radio 4.  On Friday I’m invited to take part in the filming of my book, and to be an adviser on the script and casting.  On Saturday I’m taken out to a posh London Restaurant by my leading man.  On Sunday (after a spending spree) my husband and I fly off to some exotic holiday location.

Shallow?  Moi?

Sounds heavenly to me!  What's the best and worst thing about writing, for you?

I wish I was one of those writers who are bubbling geysers of ideas and plot.  Sadly I’m not. So starting a new book is the worst part of writing for me.  I don’t know what I'm going to say, how I'm going to say it, or where a story is going until I (metaphorically) put pen to paper.

Being a writer like me, sometimes described as ‘into the trees’, is tough.  It’s not just a wander in poetic solitude into a misty copse.  It’s a frustrating stumble through impenetrable fog-cloaked forest, barking shins, stubbing toes, becoming entwined in a tangle of bramble and then veering off-course into a quagmire.  The easiest way to cope with this problem is simply to avoid starting a new book.

But, after the lows, the high.  I know that if I persist there will come a point when the fog clears and I suddenly emerge into the light.  Then the ideas start popping up and the plot unravels in front of me, sometimes so fast I feel I need to run to catch up.  This is the best part of writing the first draft and ‘discovering the story’.  It’s like having an affair - all the breathless bliss of falling in love, but none of the guilt.

If you had to take one book to a desert island, which would it be and why?

This is a hard one.  To take the question seriously, perhaps I should take Swiss Family Robinson, by Johann Wyss, or Robinson Crusoe, by Daniel Defoe, for tips on how to build a shelter and find food. Or even better, a Bear Grylls book on survival.

On the other hand, perhaps you want me to name an all time favourite book, which I could read and reread to while away the time.  I always say that my favourite book is Dostoevsky’s Crime & Punishment, but I’m well aware that this sounds incredibly pretentious.  In all honesty, I read it five times between the ages of sixteen and twenty, but not since.  If it was the only book I had with me on the island, I would soon discover if it still retains at its number one status or whether I’d now find it grim, dark and heavy going!  My next favourite is the Gormenghast trilogy, first discovered in my early twenties.  At least it would offer escapism into the wonderfully eccentric and fantastical world that Mervyn Peake created.  Other than those two, which made an enormous impression on me when I first discovered them, I can’t pick a single favourite book from the thousands I’ve read since.

So, perhaps I’ll go for something long and improving, in the hope that it will keep my mind occupied for the duration of my stay, and I’ll be wiser, more literate and better educated when my rescuers arrive.  In keeping with my “pretentious” reputation, how about Proust’s - A La Recherche Du Temps Perdu?

I read Crime & Punishment at about the same age and loved it.  I dabbled in Proust in my teens when I wanted to look intelligent!  SO  ... if you were offered a squillion pounds to never write again, would you take it?

Yes, I’d take the money.  To begin with it would be a relief (see my fourth answer). I’d never have to put myself through that agony again.  I could just concentrate on art.  But I’m so contrary I guess that once I’d signed a contract NOT to write, that is when the ideas for a new story would inevitably start to bubble up irresistibly, crying out to be written.  So I’d probably cheat.

Nice answer, Gilli!

QUICK FIRE ROUND

Planner or Winger?

I think I’ve already answered this.  I am definitely a winger .  All I have, when I start a new book, is an out-of-focus scenario and a few character sketches.

Night or Morning?

I’m not a morning person.  I’m far better in the afternoon/evening.

Doer or procrastinator?

Procrastinator

Writing/first draft or editing?

I love the editing process.  I could go on editing forever.

Tea or coffee?

I like both but the one I choose depends on the time of day.

You can find Gilli's books on Amazon (take a 'Look Inside' while you're there!) or visit her Blog, Facebook or Twitter pages.

* * * NEWSFLASH * * *

In case you missed it, this week I posted a guide to The Essential Mummy Misfit.  If you're new to my books or blog, it highlights lots about me and some defining posts.

I had a little dig at the Paltrow/Martin lunacy and my blog hits went wild!  'Conscious uncoupling'?  My bottom! 

The current work in progress is SO close to the end of the first draft.  Blood, sweat and a few tears have been shed but I'm getting there.  Next week should see me jumping for joy and ready to start the next phase.

I met a lovely young man on Twitter in the week when he offered to share the Blue-Tac he uses to glue his bum to the seat for ensuring a lengthy stay at the laptop.  What a weird and wacky place the Twitsville is!  I'd like to introduce you to him and to his work as he starts on his journey and builds his name.  He writes poetry, which you can read here and you can also follow him on Twitter @Kela:LewisMoran.  I particularly liked this poem.   Go on!  He'd love you to read his work and give him some feedback.