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.

Young Man for Sale

It's a funny old time in the Misfit house - at this time of year our son would usually be back at school but he's currently at home, A level results and CV at the ready, and hoping to grab the right job opportunity.

Because he's one of a 'strange breed'!  He opted out of University - practically unheard of in this day and age.  Only three kids from his year chose not to go - and I know we're talking private school, but it's also clear from his old friends who didn't take the private route, that it's become the done thing.

It's almost considered a bit 'odd' now if kids choose not to do a degree. When I was at school it wasn't the norm to go to University, unless you wanted to be a doctor, dentist or lawyer.

I have to say, as a parent, I don't mind either way - Uni has to be because you want to do it, not because your parents want you to.  I also believe that it's not the be all and end all if you choose to go later in life, as I think so many kids feel like they've had enough of studying by the time they leave school. One boy that went to school with my son told his parents that he felt burnt out with books and just wanted to get a job for a while - they insisted that he go to Uni and he was left with no choice.  I just hope it works out for him but a little part of me doubts it.

I don't like the fact that it's now considered part of the progression to apply to Uni.  I also don't like the looks people give me when I tell them that my son has chosen not to.  It's not for him right now - maybe never, who knows?  But why should that matter?

He's chosen another route - the one that he feels is right for him at the moment. And what does that entail?  Applying for job after job and never hearing a word back from anyone!  How rude is that?  Just a one line email is all it takes - a 'thanks but no thanks'.  And I'm not talking jobs that are way out of his range either - I'm talking bottom rung, internships, apprenticeships, junior roles - some paying less than a hundred quid a week for a full time position but a great way for him to get experience and training while earning a bit of money and finding his independence.

He's currently hanging on to the hope of a job through a contact from his old piano teacher - the classic 'it's not what you know, it's who you know' syndrome, and we have everything crossed for him.  All he needs is a chance at that first job, the first role to put on his CV other than his work experience and the various other design jobs he's completed from home - off his own back, incidentally, from contacts he's made on line and then gone on to complete a great piece of work.

So ...

People!  Don't look down your nose the next time you hear that someone hasn't chosen Uni straight from school. 

Employers!  Think about when you applied for that first job.  Please send that email to tell a young person if they've not been successful.

And if anyone in the London area has a heart of gold and is looking for a hard working IT whizz with a HUGE talent for graphic design, get in touch!  I have just the young man for the job.  You won't regret it and you can help him get his foot on the ladder - how good would that make you feel?

AUTHORS!  Got an image for your book cover but no idea what to do with it next?  He's your man!

Happy Ending to our School Journey

Last night we were delighted to attend the Upper Sixth Leavers’ cocktail party at my son’s school.  Those of you who are regular followers of the blog or my books will know that my son suffered from school phobiawhen he changed schools at eleven.

I couldn’t have wished for a better school to help and guide us through this awful experience and I feel that the time is now right to name that school and shine a light on the staff in all their wonderful glory.

In 2006 my son moved from a very small prep school in Putney to his secondary school in Barnes.  For whatever reason the transition didn’t go well (we’d recently had my elderly mother living with us part-time as she was suffering from panic attacks - who knows what effects this had on a young boy?) and he went through a very dark time.

There were occasions when we thought that the only thing we could do would be to move him on to somewhere else - but where?

With the support and unfaltering understanding from every single member of staff at The Harrodian we managed to (eventually) create a boy who is sad to leave a much loved school.

The Harrodian is a very special place - you only have to walk around it to sense that- and we first saw this on one of our many initial visits.  Every child is seen as an individual - no one is expected to be good at everything and that felt so right for us and our boy.

The Harrodian School, Barnes, London

From his first ‘blip’ - when he suddenly couldn’t bear to be in a classroom- we felt that help was on hand and that whatever happened they would see us through it.

Some would say ‘Money talks’ and, yes, The Harrodian doesn’t come without its price but there were many times when we struggled to find the school fees and the school did all they could to set us on the right path to find the assistance we needed.  Without the ‘beyond the call of duty’ assistance from Mr Hooke or Dr Parmley, my son would not have had the wonderful education he has been privileged enough to enjoy.

But, money aside, I don’t know of many schools where they would have been happy to have a mother sitting and reading (or writing!) on a sofa, just to see that their child would go to classes.

I’ve been slated, slagged off, called a bad mother and a soft-touch for what I did but I would say to any of those (small-minded) people, ‘Walk in my shoes and THEN tell me how you would have dealt with it.’

All I know is that I now have a very bright and well-adjusted young man who’s sad to leave a school he grew to love - in his own time.  What more could I ask for?

School phobia is nasty but very real.  We all hope that our kids deal with transitions in life with ease and excitement - but it doesn’t always happen.  All children are different and, as parents, we have to deal with the cards that we’re given as they grow and change.

We just happened to be lucky enough to choose the right school for a very unhappy boy who grew to be happy.

In the words of his Principal, ‘They say your school days are the best days of your life but I hope those days are still to come when you go on to realise your ambitions and dreams.’

And in the words of his Head, ‘The Harrodian is more than a school - it’s a family.  And a headmaster’s ‘chicken and chips lunch invitation’ is permanently extended for whenever you wish to return and update us with your news.’

These are the reasons we chose this school and why we’re happy/sad to leave. It was one hell of a journey but we got there in the end!

With extra special thanks to Andrew Parmley, James Hooke, Alison Heller, Shirley-Anne Burton, Ben Roets, Adele Monsef and Jake Murray.

 Dad still has to tie my tie!

 More hair, almost more height!

 Mum and son.

With his nanny.

 By the pool at school.

 Best music buddy.

 The boys!

With special thanks to the Head.

You've Got a Friend in Me

The theme of friendship is one that I hope comes across strongly in my novels.

Friends come into our lives for all sorts of reasons, don't they?  Often from the most unexpected of places and those who stay with us the longest are sometimes the most unlikely.

My two closest friends are both very different but I know that they will always be there for me with either a shoulder to cry on, a friendly ear or lots of giggles.

Friend #1 has been around since I was 18.  She was the year above me at drama school and I always thought she was so in control and grown-up (I soon learnt that was just an act!).  She'd moved from Scotland to live in London and she just seemed so worldly-wise. She was (is) also a Tourette's sufferer and (perversely) I found this fascinating.  At 18, she was just so DIFFERENT to anybody I'd ever met before.
A drink at the pub after a rehearsal one night and we were soon inseparable.  I'd often be found at her piddly bed-sit (read 6ft x12ft servant's loft room in Notting Hill Gate) 'topping and tailing' in a single bed and talking through the night as we tried to remember all the characters names in 'Crossroads' or the lyrics to a Bay City Rollers' song.

Never able to afford cabs back from parties or clubs we'd simply pick up a shopping trolley on the way and take it in turns to push one another home.  To this day, we can still be seen sticking out a thumb to a discarded trolley and shouting 'Taxi!'

Thirty one years later we are still friends - she moved back to Scotland and married, having a son two years and two days after I'd had mine.  We've spent good times (and bad times) together as families and, although I have some issues with the way she is choosing to live her life at the moment, I know we will always be there for one another.

Friend #2 came to me via my son's best friend from prep school. She's my 'Fenella'!  Chalk and cheese in so many ways and yet so alike in others.  She really is the 'Have' and I am the 'Have Not'!  Think a city version of 'The Good Life".

It was a cheeky ciggie that brought us together at a parents' quiz night many years ago.  Finding the company of the other parents a little too over-powering, I'd sneaked out to the front of the school for a nicotine fix and some peace only to find that she'd had the same idea.  As we started to chat it began to snow - huge magical flakes were beginning to surround us - by the end of the conversation we were ankle deep in snow and she'd invited me for dinner.  The rest, as they say, is history.  We often laugh about how our coupling happened because we'd both felt so out of our depths with the other mums and her favourite line to me is 'You had me at the snow!'

That was eleven years ago - our boys, having changed schools, have still remained friends and I am also Godmother to her lovely daughter.  We have also become close friends with her ex-boss and we share dinners, drinks, family celebrations but, most of all, laughs.  She (and her husband) have been more supportive than I could ever have imagined all those years back in our Winter Wonderland fag break.  Yes, she holidays in the sun, has beauty treatments, shops till she drops and thinks nothing of having cocktails, a theatre trip and a meal all in one night, but we just 'click'.  We get one another and I know that we will be friends for life.

Another of my closest friends came about in a strange way.  I was friends with her (now) husband first, and she was actually my sister's friend before mine, but thirty-four years later we have stayed close and meet a couple of times a month usually for a huge meal and some silly games - I was the person she called in panic when her husband suffered a heart attack and I was pleased that we could be there for her.

Others have moved away - our dear friends who were caretaker and teacher at my son's prep-school (again a union made from 'not belonging'!) went back to Oz but we chat on the phone and they stay with us whenever they pop back to the UK.  It's thanks to them that I have my lovely little antique writing desk and my Kindle - constant reminders of a shared affection.

My closest gay friend took his life four years ago and is still sorely missed.  I can never replace the friendship we had and will often see or hear something that I know would appeal to his bitchy sense of humour and I have a little smile for him.

And of course my best friends EVER are my lovely husband and my mum - I couldn't ask for better.  The love and support they give me are priceless and I count myself truly blessed.

So what do you look for in a friend?  Are your friends similar to you or totally different?  Do you choose your friends for different reasons?  Who's your oldest friend?  Could you live without friendship?

I'll end on this song purely because I love it and it reminds me of my other little buddy's growing up years - my son.  It was also once played, by accident, on a loop at a school assembly until it drove us all mad.  My son's Headmaster stood and said, 'Well, it's just as well I like that song!'

The End of an Era

Today was my 17 year old son's last day at school.  Following a week's study leave he will then just sit the last of his A levels and then his schooling will be behind him.

How on earth did this happen?  Where did those years go?  It really feels like just yesterday that I was dropping him off at nursery, with a lump in my throat and his tiny hand in mine.

FIRST DAY

Regular blog followers will know that this hasn't been an easy journey for us.  School phobia at eleven and  then fighting tooth and nail to financially afford to keep him in the private school he grew to love, have left us with a huge sense of relief and achievement (and debt!).

But nobody has achieved more than him - our lovely young man.  After missing out on a full year and two part years of education he still managed to forge friendships and come out with 9 GCSE's and 3 AS levels.  We have quiet confidence in him passing his A levels this summer - but with teens, who knows?

Would I do it it all again if I had my time over?  Aside from the crippling fear which engulfed him, hell yeah!  I believe that every sacrifice we've made has been more than worth it and we've given him the best possible start in life - what he now chooses to do with that is up to him.  And even his anxiety can be turned into a positive - if I hadn't been there in my car for three years to support him, I may never have put finger to keyboard and written my first chicklit novel.   I guess all things happen for a reason.

In fact as my son often says, 'If it hadn't been for my mad phase, you might never have become a writer.'

Yes, he is one quirky boy!

LAST DAY

So tonight, I shall raise a glass to my young man - who still doesn't drink and says he never will! - and reflect on the years which have flown by at a rate of knots.  All you mums out there with kids about to start school - love every minute because you won't believe how quickly they pass.

Now a new journey starts for my boy - job searching.  Watch this space ... 

The Love/Hate Thing

I LOVE being a writer.  On any given day, I can become new characters with their own thoughts, lives, histories and problems.  It's like being a little girl playing dress-up all over again.  Or an actress, as I used to be. When I open up that Word document, I take control of the stage and my audience.

Yes, that creativity had to come out somehow.  And thank goodness I found a way that works for me.

So, what are the bonuses?  What makes my little author's heart beat the fastest?

1.  When I have that first exciting seed of an idea and it suddenly grows arms and legs faster than I can type or scribble my notes.

2.  Checking my sales figures on a day when I can put two fingers up to the publishing houses who were considering me and then changed their minds.

3.  When my husband reads what I've written for the day and looks at me with a smile and a nod, saying, 'I really want to know what happens next.'

4.  To have been able to be there for my son (when he's needed me - now, not at all!) and my lovely mum.  I am my own boss - I can make up time as and when I need to.  Juggling as 'The Sandwich Mum' has become my special talent.

5.  Looking at hunky guys on the web for 'research'.  We all want to have a clear image of the love interest, don't we?  It's a tough job but I hope my books are better for it.  (My excuse and I'm sticking to it).

6.  The thrill of having someone who didn't even know of my existence until a couple years ago, asking me when my next book is due out and telling me that they can't wait.

7.  Those reviews that bring a tear to my eye and make me realise that someone 'got' exactly what I was trying to say with my words.

8.  Getting up in the morning and knowing precisely where my characters are planning on taking me.  (Though sometimes cursing when life throws a curve ball at me - because 'you're not in an office so you don't really work, do you?')

9.  Having friends introduce me as 'a writer' - I still feel a fraud but, hey, why should I?   This is how I earn my money.

10.  Typing THE END.  And then the buzz I get knowing that I'll soon be typing 'CHAPTER ONE' again.

BUT ...  there is a flip side to every coin.  What do I hate?

1.  The days that I spend forever either staring at a blank screen or a boiling kettle as I drink endless cups of unwanted coffee because my characters seem to have gone AWOL.  I refuse to call it writers' block - the ONLY time I have that is when I'm waking up to the idea that I'm writing the wrong book.

2.  A bad review - thankfully I've not had to weather too many but, ouch, they hurt!  Thank you for taking the time to tell me that my baby is ugly, dear reader, I hope you always feel guilty when you indulge in your secret pleasure.

3.  Editing.  Don't get me started.  Regular readers will know - it's a time of great stress and exhaustion in the Misfit household.  If I never had to edit another book with husband again, I'd ... oh, I don't know, I'd run naked around the neighbourhood singing a 'Radiohead' song with a feather in my cap.

4.  Promoting.  Again, you all know why.  I JUST WANT TO WRITE!  If a character is calling, I don't want to have to put them to bed so that I can look at new ways of selling myself.  I'm a writer not a hooker.

5.  The fact that Indies are, generally, still not considered to be real writers.  And the attitude of some  traditionally published authors.  Get over yourselves!

6.  Knowing that I only have a window of a couple of hours before either chauffeuring, shopping or carer's duties and if I don't get all my thoughts down then, I'll be stuffed.  On days like that, I'd like to put my brain, or other people, into 'freeze mode'.

7.  Getting HALF WAY through a manuscript (about 40K words) and realising that I've fallen out of love with it.  The chances are, the feeling will have been creeping for a while but I've chosen to ignore it (a bit like when a relationship sours with a dodgy boyfriend).  I now have several hidden in a drawer - (books, not men - that would an arrestable offense and just a tad odd) but, the good news is, there have been characters within those rejects with such strong voices, they've either emerged in other books or are waiting in the wings for the next. 

8.  When I wake up in the middle of the night with THE BEST plot twist and I'm too lazy to turn over and write it down.  I can guarantee that it won't come back to me until about four the next afternoon.

9.  Always wondering if it's time to approach agents again.  With my 'stable' of books and my rather lovely reviews, am I doing myself a disservice by continuing to struggle as an Indie?  Is it time for me to have my faith in the profession restored?

10.  The first few weeks after releasing a new book and wondering if even my most loyal readers will hate it.  I can take the bad reviews from a one-off reader but if a 'regular' came back and said I'd lost the Egan Spark, I might lose the will to live.

So, that's it!  As a reader, I hope I gave you a bit of insight as to what goes on in a writer's head.  And to all you writers out there  - do you agree?  Tell me your thoughts, please - I'd love to know I'm not the only one who has this love/hate relationship with writing.   Oh!  And my latest novel is due for release on June 19th!  Sneak preview here.

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 and Son on TV!

Oh boy, today was the day!  Our big TV debut.

Who would have thought that my son's crippling condition of school phobia would lead to me writing five books, featuring in the Daily Mail, on BBC Radio London and THEN ITV's This Morning.

I'm so proud of my young man - from all of the bad, so much good has featured in our lives and today really proved that.

So ... I was up at 6am today ready for our cab to ITV at 7.45, in the vain hope that my face might wake up!  Mum Fail #1!

Son fell out of bed at 7.10, bright eyed and bushy tailed - not an ounce of nerves in sight! Point to Son #1.

Arrived at the studios to the friendliest security man in living history, instantly put at ease in my sleepy and nervy state.

Directed through sets and storage area to lift - Mum Fail #2 - I hate lifts.  Son told me not to be daft and so I got in.  Point to Son #2.

And it's such a glam lift, how could I resist?

Me looking like I need a nappy change - just a tad scared by now.  Mum Fail #3

ITV coffee and croissants, toast or biscuits before make-up

One view of the Green Room and the TV hubbie watched us on.

The framed photo to the left of the TV says,

'Please Tweet your performance on ITV's This Morning'

Love it!

I have to say what a lovely bunch of people work at This Morning - we were made to feel welcome from the minute we arrived and everyone was just so happy!  People who love their jobs and want to be there - special thanks to the lovely Flo, in particular.  Son was so impressed, he's already been invited to send his CV in as he really wants to work there (BBC and ITV now!)  Point to Son #3.

OK, so next I headed off to make-up.  Lovely ladies but I will never let you near me again.  You may have tried to curl my hair but you will soon realise it has a mind of its own and please don't cake me with STUFF! Mum Fail #4.

With my boy - coffee #1

This is where we hit Mum Fail #5  - weak bladder!  Off I went to the loo ... and got lost.  It's a big place, ITV! So Point to Son #4 - who then had to take me to the loo and bring me back each time.  His comment?  'Mum!  Please don't make me do this!  It makes me look clingy!'  Extra Point to Son #5  for humour and putting me at ease! How the tables turn!

Cool, laid back son - tweeting and chilled.

Hilarious!  I was guided here to smoke, in the non smoking area.

Go figure!

Piles of fag ends at my feet!

So ... then we had our tour of the studio.  Sooo tiny and really weird to see it when you've watched the programme on and off for so many years (throughout the whole of my pregnancy and breast feeding!!!).

We shared the Green Room with David Mellor and Tom Parker-Bowles (or Tom Parker Meat-Bowles, as son has now renamed him after he cooked horse free meatballs on the show!)  Point to Son #6.  Liz Fraser was also there - fellow Twitterer and author - but I didn't get the chance to say hello.  Mum fail #6. We have since Tweeted one another and promised to say Hi, if I'm ever invited back!

And then it was 10.45 - the ad break and time for us to head to the set for our slot.  Phil and Holly were lovely and SO eager to make us feel comfortable - kisses and hugs all round and a quick chat about our interview and ... BAM!  they were into it!  Unbelievably cool, calm, professional - Philip is so cute and Holly is glamour personified (like a lovely dolly fresh from the box).

The interview was over in a flash - I have now had the chance to watch it and I  feel so very proud of my lovely young man.  He was confident and well spoken and he made my heart swell with pride.  Point to Son #7.  I, on the other hand, looked like a woman attacked by fear and a make-up artist.  Mum fail #7.

All those hours of panic were over and we headed back to the Green Room for coffee.  LOOK at the mug they gave me!!!

And we were then given these signed photos to complete our morning out:

The Silver Fox

And the lovely Holly Willer-Boobie!

Our cab brought us home and we were just in time to watch it on ITV+1.  Bad move!  I was cringing and moaning about how old and YUCK I  looked.  Mum fail #8.

Son said, 'Yep, I looked OK.' and disappeared to Tweet and play on the computer without a second thought.  Point to Son #8.

And then of course, we had the 'haters'!  Amongst all the wonderfully positive comments on the show and on Twitter, you will always get those without a brain cell.  This is old hat to us now - been there, done that.  We've clearly helped so many people to start talking about their own experiences, I'm now past caring.

My final point would be this.  Some may think that school phobia is just a 'label' but it's a very real feeling - it's not naughtiness, petulance or 'trying it on'.  My son was not bullied or lazy - PLEASE people, listen!  I just pray you never face anything like it in your lives - karma will be your reward.

And to all of you who have supported us along the way and those who have spoken out or asked for advice, I thank you and I wish you well.

Look at the son I have to show for it now!  #SonWins

My School Disco - at 49

Today is my 49th birthday.  Scary stuff, huh?  One more year to the big five-oh!

So on Friday we decided to have a 'School Disco' dinner party with some close friends - it took a bit of the old grey matter to dredge up my memories of the late 70's but it was great fun and a lovely dose of nostalgia.

It was also the perfect way to throw a party on a budget - see what you think of our ideas - I'd imagine this came to under £30 for the whole event (booze aside).

First we had the table settings - made by my own fair hands.  Drink mats and sweetie boxes, filled with fruit pastilles.  No classy chocolates at a school disco!

*   *   *   *

Centre piece made of Drumsticks and Chupa Chups

Bow tie serviettes and pencils at the ready for homework! (quiz)

Cake stand made from old vinyl (Kate Bush Album/New Seekers Single)

Monster Munch, old concert tickets and a pic of me at 15!!

 

Hubbie ready for action!

I gave him a great black eye too!

Me ready for action!

The blackboard and easel my dad made

for me 45 years ago came in handy.

The 'One Direction' fan arrived in PE kit!

One of the public school boys - minus tie at this point.

 We danced.

A lot!

Girls with attitude!

Yes, I really married him!

Shepherd's pie and baked beans or spaghetti hoops was

followed by jam sponge and custard (no lumps though!)

Entertainment was a picture quiz - album covers from the 70's and 'The Gargling Game' - songs from the 70's done by gargling with water.  A particularly wet game as it's hard to gargle and giggle - as my friend said, 'Can you please guess this song soon, I'm drowning here!'

Music was all my favourites from the 70's - The Police, Blondie, The Pretenders etc. and we bopped the night away - friend in her best DM's!

And today I received lovely cards and presents from friends and family.  But the card that literally made me drop my toast on the floor was from my 17 year old son.  As many of you will know, we will be appearing on ITV's This Morning on Tuesday, talking about school phobia.  SO ... my son decided to photo shop my head onto Holly Willoughby's and THIS was the result!

And this was the back - I LOVE it!

What a clever son I have and what lovely friends for making my birthday so special.  If you fancy tuning into ITV on Tuesday morning, I'll be the terrified one on the sofa looking at the camera like a rabbit in the headlights!

Happy Birthday to me.

A Good Face for Radio!

Happy 2013 to all my readers!  How’s it been going for you so far?  Good, I hope, because we don’t want it any other way, do we?

A short but sweet blog this week as I wanted to keep you up to date with happenings here at Misfit House.

My year has certainly started in the right way and long may it continue.  Our New Year’s Eve was spent in the company of close friends, drinking champers, eating and taking part in a quiz.  Oh, and teaching a puppy to dance Pudsey-style but that’s a whole different story and no, there are no pictures!

And on the back of my Daily Mail article, I was offered two radio interviews.  The first was for Talk Radio Europe and it was recorded today ready to go on air tomorrow (Thursday 3^rd January) at 6pm and repeated on Sunday 6^th January at 9pm - you can eventually listen to it here.  

The second will be going out LIVE at 3pm (eek!) on BBC Radio London 94.9 this coming Friday 5^th on the Jo Good show.  The producer has told me that I’ll also be taking calls from listeners, so I fully expect to be ripped to shreds, but I welcome the chance to defend myself and my son.  Bring it on!  I’m also looking forward to a visit to the BBC studios - exciting times!  You can tune in on the radio or online here.

So, all in all, a positive start to my new year.  BOOK SIX is planned and ready to be started next week. I’m thoroughly looking forward to getting back to some sort of routine and knuckling down to get that first draft out.  The characters are ready and the stage is set - all that’s needed is for me to say ‘Curtain Up!’  And that may give you a slight clue to the book’s content.  ‘Nuff said!

So, New Year’s resolutions?  Nah!  I never bother because I don’t believe in them.  Although I've kind of been forced into one.  My goddaughter reminded me that we’d made a vow (three years ago) to have our hair permed on my 50^th birthday (February 2014) so this year’s challenge is to grow my hair!  Hubbie is NOT happy - he likes the bob too much but a godmother never goes back on a promise.

Wish me luck as I head off to my interview and, if any of you fancy ringing in, it would be great to hear a friendly voice.

I wish you all a happy and healthy 2013

'There but for the grace of God' ...

As the saying goes, ‘there’s no such thing as bad publicity’ and, after appearing in The Daily Mail yesterday, I couldn’t agree more.

Regular readers of my blog will know that I began my writing journey after my son developed school phobia and I found that I had time on my hands to read and ultimately fulfil my dream of completing a novel.  My son was crippled by his condition and, at the time, there was very little help or information - even online.  So when the opportunity to feature in a national newspaper came up, both my son and I agreed that if it could help just ONE child it would be worth it.

I’ve now had many people contact me through Facebook, Twitter and via comments on the article saying how relieved they were to read the story - that they no longer feel alone.  And, always a bonus, my book sales have rocketed and my first book ‘Diary of a Mummy Misfit’ is back to #49 in humour on Kindle.  And for those who aren't familiar with my writing, none of my books are related to my experiences with school phobia - I write humorous chicklit, which I don't think came across in the article.

On the downside … people can be so nasty!  Some of the comments made by ill-informed readers astonished me.  I don’t mind for myself, but when they’re spiteful and directed at my son, that’s when I start to see red!  Thankfully, he’s a level headed boy and has had a good laugh at them - no, he’s no the weak little weasel who likes trainspotting and hides behind his mother’s apron, as some readers seemed to think. He’s a tall and feisty 17 year old with a wicked sense of humour and a definite mind of his own.  I agree that the photos are very staged and imply that we are joined at the hip - but that’s the papers for you!

But the truly laughable comments were:

‘So sad when you see an old mum’ !!!

OK so I’m almost 50!

‘Where was the father in all this?’ / ‘Another single mother ruins a child’s life’

Did you not read the article?  It clearly states that I’m married and my husband was supportive.  Why show yourself up by commenting on something you haven’t read?

‘Why didn’t she get him counselling or attempt half days?’

Go back and have another read, love!

‘How convenient that he developed this problem in time for some publicity for a new book’

Er, excuse me, the book mentioned in the article has been published for 18 months.

‘How wordy is this article?  Did she have to hit a word target?’

This was an annoying one as, although the article had my name at the top, I didn’t write it.  This had worried me from the start but it was the only way the Mail were prepared to do it. I'd also like to add that I never agreed to the headline, 'Now she wonders if she was devoted or deluded' - this implies that I regret my decision, which I don't.

Then, of course, you have the bullies - the type who would have made other kid’s lives a misery.  The ‘clip round the ear’ / ‘give ‘em a good whacking’ type who have been fortunate enough to never suffer from feelings of fear or panic.  I wouldn’t wish it on anyone but, you my friends, can have a bloody good dose of it and rot.  And, as one reader suggested, God forbid you should ever have to be there for one of your own loved ones - you wouldn’t have the tools to cope.

Just to set the record straight, I did not mollycoddle my son when this condition started - I was a hard-hearted, mean mum who screamed, shouted and lost the plot on several occasions.  I’m not proud of that but we had no idea what we were dealing with at the time.  I helped in the library for a year (unpaid) and was on the brink of being offered a job there when the owner of the school decided against employing a mum - so, to all those who implied I was a lazy middle class cow who was happy to sit in my car and file my nails, remember newspaper articles never print all the facts.

It’s so easy to judge, isn’t it?  We all do it - I’ve been guilty of it in the past.  I can fully accept that there will be many people who will totally disagree with the way that this problem was dealt with, but they haven’t lived through it or walked in my shoes.  I have no problem with reading people’s opinions but is there ever any excuse for such vitriol?  I wonder if it makes these trolls feel good?

So … would I do it again?  Hell yeah!  As long as my son is OK with nutters’ views, then I’m happy and all we’ll do is focus on the positive comments and hope that we can continue to help other kids and parents.

And if you are one of those people who go round, willy-nilly, leaving vile words - stop and think before you type.  Or maybe just try getting a life!