Roland Ladley's Blog, page 12

2022 … yelp

We’re half way through the second and final stint of having Rebecca, Steven and Henry. It’s an amazing balance between just fabulous and absolutely exhausting. We’ve had two nights with Henry (C and I, that is. The youngsters are in Doris) where he has failed to get to sleep. This has meant late evening walks and plenty of TLC. If mum had been on hand she’d have sorted it in a second. But that’s not the point, is it? Anyhow, we’re getting through it.

NYE …

New Year’s Eve was a dash to Jen and James’s for steak and chips (the seven of us) and then home for an early night … which didn’t transpire because Henry didn’t want to sleep. The bonus was a small fireworks display as we left their place. They live next to a small green and a couple of families were setting off some fireworks. We were able to stand at the edge, with Henry, and watch the show. Lucky us. Last night was an early night … apart from us! I think the plan tonight is to watch the new Bond film. And then tomorrow night we might give Dune a go. That’s got the last couple of days covered. The three of them have had their travel messed around now that Dubai is asking their transiting passengers to have a negative PCR test before flying. This means they’ve had to rebook their tests and move some other stuff about. Let’s hope covid is on the way out. It really is messing up everything.

Still … none of us have yet to get the disease. Finger’s crossed it stays that way until they’re on their flight. And then C and I will try our best to keep safe, but expect to get the virus. I think that’s the only way to have a sensible life.

Greggs … Yum

2022? Well, apart from being a transformational year for us – whatever that looks like – we do have some tentative things in the diary. First we aim to see mum and Mary as soon as possible. Then we’re going away in Doris for a few days, just to get away. We might travel no further than Weston-S-M. There’s a decent campsite right by the beach. We have a wedding to go to in mid-Feb and then, hopefully, skiing might be back on the cards. After that we’re hoping for a Spanish session in Doris, say 6 weeks in the Spring. We have a wedding in Italy to attend early summer and then, v likely, two months in Saudi starting in late August to help Steven and Rebecca sort out child care for Henry. That should keep us going to a bit.

As for books … I have signed up for an Amazon Ads course starting in a couple of weeks. I have the metadata to sort on all of the books. And, of course, the covers. I have a load of reading (marketing) planned to start mid-week and book 8 to edit. That should keep me busy for a while.

Anyhow, I’ve gotta go. Apparently Bex and I are taking Henry to the play park. Joys!

I like cooking!

Stay safe everyone. And, from C and I and all the Ladleys, the very best for 2022.

Choices, choices …

I said last time that 2022 was to be a transformational year for us. I am working on what that means for me in terms of work at the moment but, for both of us, we do need to work out whether or not we’re going to stay in Bradley Stoke. And, if not, where do we go?

tough choices – vegan or normal?

We are lucky. I have a decent army pension and we have some property income (and, I have to add, some mortgage debt). I also get a small teachers’ pension next year, C then gets her state pension in 2023 … me a few years later. Altogether we could, pretty much, do what whatever we wanted. And we are v lucky, we know we are. In a different life we always wanted to live in an old property in France. Then we thought about moving to the Alps and living in a pretty chalet. Financially both of those options are open to us … but Brexit has put paid to that as full time choice. And there are tax and pension issues with living abroad, no matter how romantic the notion. In any case, our approach has morphed. I think we’d much rather rent than buy.

And, as perennial travellers, we still feel that our home is just a base from which to launch the next adventure. Covid, of course, has put paid to that plan. How long that will last remains to be seen. But we still have a bucket list which includes South America, the Nile, India, Scandinavia, a beach in Central America, as well as the yearly ski trip. Let’s hope we can reboot that soon.

But … do we stay in our two-up, two-down in Bradley Stoke? Our friends mostly think we’re mad. In fact most of them believe that I coerce C into staying in our small house – and, previously, living in a motorhome for five years. Surely she wants to live in a house in the country (which we could easily do) where the children and grandkids could come for Christmas with all the room anyone could wish for? What about the neighbours where you are? And the lack of a view? And then there was the trip to Shetland! In a tent! What was I thinking?

mmmm

You get that I write this blog in the first person. I often, maybe not as much as I should, mention C. But, it’s fair to say, you read Roland’s view. As such how could I possibly say that I know my wife’s mind? That I am certain the decisions we make are joint? I can’t. You’d really need to speak to her. But, for the sake of argument, let’s assume I do. Or that I persuade you that we do discuss these things. And I am sensitive to her needs and desire. Go on, let’s …

I think we’ve drawn a line through buying and selling. There’s a cost to that, probably in the order of £10/15,000. And what happens if you buy somewhere you find you don’t like? Do it all again? So, letting and renting is our preferred option.

First off, we like Bradley Stoke. As folk who are getting a little older, we like having things on our doorstep. We can walk to everything: decent shops, a good surgery, opticians, and a dentist. We can cycle into Bristol in 40 minutes, a city we love. And we have two bus routes – which take us into town – within walking distance. I like our close. There’s no traffic. We know and like our neighbours. OK, so it’s not full of dignitaries or busting with middle class, but the people are caring … and decent company. We have got to know a single mum and her son (she works in Greggs), a civil servant and his wife, and a post woman who lives on her own with three mad Jack Russells. Our closest neighbour is a v quiet and lovely elderly Portugese lady who works as a porter in the brilliant local hospital. Down from her is a Polish carpenter. Across the road is an Iranian lady who cuts C’s hair. We all say hello to each other, and often chat across the garden fence. And we all help each other out – when we go away in the car I leave Doris’s keys with my mate John, the civil servant. I’m resting my case there, for now.

The house is small, for sure. Two rooms downstairs. Two and a bathroom upstairs. The garden is v small, but neat. It is easily a third bedroom and a downstairs loo too small. In an ideal world we would wave a magic wand and fix that. We thought having the kids here (two big adults and a toddler) would break us. But, with Doris as their base, it hasn’t. Sure we could have done with the third bedroom and the downstairs loo, but we managed four nights without disaster. Was it perfect? No. Would we, for that time, prefer a large house in the country? Of course we would. But only for that time.

lucky to live near here …

How do you reconcile a large house, which you only really need when family come, with a travelling life? I guess an argument is that you’d travel less and enjoy the house and its surroundings more? Become gardeners? Get to really know your environment. You could still travel, but maybe not as much? All these are sound questions – and thanks for the advice. But who cleans it? Who maintains it? And the money you spend on heating and council tax (and, and) is cash you could use exploring the Pampas in Argentina, or driving to Baku, or skiing in the Rockies? Why wouldn’t you save some of that and rent accommodation over Christmas when the kids need a bigger space (we almost did that this year)? And can you really lock up and leave a big house? It takes us 20 minutes to close this place down, and 20 minutes to open it up again.

However, that still doesn’t answer the question of a third bedroom (study, music room) and a downstairs loo. Which is an imponderable. Nor does it satisfy the issue of getting older. And being close to all of the facilities we have here. And leaving our neighbours.

And it doesn’t yet take into account whatever it is I will need to do if I can’t make a success of writing. Nor does it mix in the fact that we may be needed in Saudi Arabia for a couple of months late summer whilst Bex and Steven sort out a live-in nanny for Henry. And that, once covid is lifted, we will ski and we may well push off to Spain for six weeks after that.

I suppose we’re the luckiest people alive. For a start, we have somewhere to live, that’s ours. And we can afford it, even with rising utility prices. And we have options. Let’s see how goes, shall we?

Keep safe everyone. And have a brilliant NYE and a prosperous 2022.

Yo ho ho?

some early mornings

It’s been a bit of a time, really. The four days with Bex, Steven and Henry were as intense as anything I can remember, certainly outside of work. We set it up as planned. Bex and Steven were in Doris (which C had decorated for them), working as a studio apartment. And we had Henry. Our aim was to give them a complete break. I think we achieved that … but it wasn’t without effort.

C did the house stuff. What food did they want? Which drink? When did they want to eat? Can we get you anything else? And that worked well … in that the pair of them did seem to spend a lot of time asleep. Both of them are keen not to catch covid because they can’t easily get back to Korea if they’re positive. And the school does expect them back. So there was no plan to go out for supper, or across to Cribbs to do some shopping.

a rare moment of peace

My job was Henry. He’s not yet sleeping without an adult and, as a result, he and I took the spare room. He’s a bit of a mover and wakes a couple of times, only to go back to sleep once an adult has found his dummy. But he is an early riser – which is fine, although none of us are as young as we used to be. During waking hours he needed to be fed and kept an eye on. We’re v relaxed about our belongings and he was perfect with what he was allowed to touch, and accepted what he wasn’t. His current joy is taking things out and putting them back. Toys that provide that opportunity, such as a shape sorter work, but nowhere near as much as granny C’s pan drawer. Our small kitchen floor was always an obstacle course of pans and lids. When needed I took him for walks, either in a pushchair or a papoose. We were often at Greggs eating a bacon sandwich before it was light. Or looking at the many fabulously over-the-top decorated houses on the estate.

And I loved it. I really did. I know he’s our grandchild and therefore immediately better than any other child in the known universe, but he is. He’s robust, he doesn’t cry and he doesn’t long for his mum. He smiles all the time and he is amazingly inquisitive. And I find him hilarious. All the time. even when, on the odd occasion, he’s grizzly or petulant (if he doesn’t want something he pushes you away). Anyway, enough of that. Steve’s father picked them up on Christmas Eve … and they may be back with us mid-week. There is currently no plan.

wear a mask!

But, it wasn’t all plain sailing. Apart from Bex and Henry, we all had various illnesses. I had one of those one-day colds where I can’t stop sneezing. Steven had a really sore throat. And C, bless her, had an awful night on the 23rd where her tummy gave up the ghost and wasn’t accepting anything. There was a real chance we wouldn’t make mum’s on Christmas Eve, she was that unwell. In the end having slept all the way in the car, whatever she had passed. She think it might well have been all the rich food we ate at Jen and James’s on the night of the 22nd – where, it has to be said, we had the best family time we’ve had for a v long while. Thanks to J&J for putting that together.

Henry woke me in the middle of the night on the 23rd. I wasn’t feeling great. I assumed he wasn’t feeling that good either, as he wouldn’t settle. Did we all have a version of covid? Four lateral flow tests later, and we were all clear. So that worry passed.

mum was fine …

Mum’s was fine. C went pretty much straight to bed when we got there. She had already prepared ham and chips for Christmas Eve supper, so I cooked that. And Christmas Day was the usual bucks fizz breakfast followed by a walk (leaving mum at home) and then lunch. It was, in its own way, a relaxed, quiet and booze-free day. Mum was good as gold, reminiscing about Christmases past. We watched the Queen’s speech and then drove home. And that was Christmas. Today we’ve cleaned the house, I’ve been for a run (C is out now), and are hoping for a couple of days of nothing before the Henry onslaught begins again.

And then?

Well, that’s a good question. Certainly, should France remove the ban we will head for Chatel at the earliest possible time. If that seems like a distant dream, we might well take Doris away to a decent campsite by the sea somewhere and have some downtime. Beyond that? I sense 2022 is going to be a transformational year for us. I don’t know what that means … yet. Once we’re clearer I’ll let you know.

In the meantime, stay safe wherever you are.

Cat’s letter – 2021

So, it’s that time of year again. If you’re new to this, the Ladleys – now very not alive – cat pens a Christmas missive about what the clan have been up to over the past year. It is below …

(For those of you expecting a card, sorry … we try very hard to reduce those we send for environmental reasons.)

Haven’t we been here before?

His nibs has asked me to tell you that it’s been a bit busy up here. It’s taken some time to get it passed the planners, but we’ve managed to throw up an extension for the influx that started in mid-2019 and hasn’t abated. It’s not that we’re short of clouds, it’s more a case of expectation. People expect a certain standard of accommodation – with all mod cons. And, as you know, there’s been a bit of a problem with drivers and materials. As for white paint, well, if you’ve tried to get some – without luck – from B&Q, you know where it is. Up here. I haven’t been able to get the smell of white spirit out of my fur for ages. 

But we’re coping. We thought the influx might abate, what with all the smart scientists amongst you, but some people have a death wish. And others tend to think of themselves more than their fellow man/woman. If you don’t care to wear a mask or get jabbed, just wait until you see the rules Peter expects you to follow up here. For those sorts I leave a little present for them in their bunks … just saying. 

The Ladleys have managed to live through this year without losing another relative. (Kevin, as both a builder and party central, has been a Godsend, by the way.) And, it’s fair to say, for the Ladleys, it’s pretty much been business as usual … they’re hardly blessed with great imagination. I could actually end the update here and you’d be just as well informed. 

Having said that, and with some excitement, Bex and Steven’s little lad, Henry, has kept us amused from afar. He’s big, for a little one. And he’s immeasurably happy and smiley – Grandpa could do with following his lead. Apparently the young lad gets a lot of his joie de vivre from his endless days at Korean playgroup, where the local grandmas smother him with bucketfuls of love … and pickled vegetables. It’s a shame that the current problems have made travel complicated (Bex and Henry came home in June, leaving Steve to work), but they have all made it back for Christmas, much to everyone’s delight. Teaching for them remains a pleasure although, after four years in Seoul, they are due to move to Riyadh (Saudi Arabia) next September, for a new school adventure. Thankfully neither of them are Washington Post journalists …

Jen and James continue to lead a very pleasant life. We think Jen has now had all her maladies investigated and catalogued. In that regard she is managing life really well, with the help of the indefatigable James – who continues to write code for nuclear power stations (if there is a meltdown somewhere, I didn’t tell you that). They have started on their grand plan, which is to knock through the downstairs of their house. Jame’s dad is a decent builder and he’s in charge of the measuring stick. Dad helped, for a bit. He was given the job of tidying up the rubbish … something just within his gift. It’s going to be brilliant when it’s finished. In amongst the builder’s rubble Jen continues to lavish the world with her art … she’s now moved onto computer art. I think it’s fair to say she’s very good at it.

Mum and dad have, against all the odds, tried to eke out their travelling lifestyle. They couldn’t ski but did manage to get away in Doris to east Wales, Lancashire and Ayrshire – over a couple of trips. They were planning to take the car and a tent to Baku, on the Caspian Sea, but that was impossible. So instead, against all advice, they (with the car and a tent) drove to Shetland. Now call me a hopeless romantic, but that sounds like a decent plan should the accommodation be top-rated hotels and the mode of transport a decent grand tourer. But, no. The old Focus, a festival tent, and a single burner gas stove was the answer to that question. In summing up, all I can say is that four weeks later they had seen some fabulous stuff – and were still married, just. Shetland, Orkney, Mull and the north and west coast of Scotland also survived the expedition. 

Mum’s other role has been keeping Parcel Force in business. She has become an expert wool to baby-clothes to brown-paper-package to Seoul production line; there are some very chilly sheep on a hill somewhere. Oh, and as usual she has managed to keep Dad sane, as well as supporting the relatives in need. 

Dad continues to believe he’s a writer. He published book seven in the Sam Green series, The Belmonte Paradox, as well as finishing the first draft of book eight … that is before, just now, Henry gatecrashed his and mum’s life and diverted both of their attentions (he is soooo exhausting). Dad’s also ventured into the audiobook business. Book one in the series, Unsuspecting Hero, is now available to listen to  – as well as read. I’m convinced it’s more good money after bad, but there’s no persuading him. James and Jen helped: James, with the technical editing, and Jen with the cover art. Dad also dropped his consultancy stuff to something manageable, giving him more time to pretend he’s an author. 

And next year? Much the same for the Ladleys – travel very much dependent on the lie of the land. 

Up here? Well, believe it or not there isn’t some grand plan. We sort of make it up as we go along – hence the accommodation crisis. As for the living, if you don’t mind me saying it would help if you chose your leaders with more care. Think of what your mother told you about relationships: steady and sure … not narcissistic and dishonest. They may seem attractive in the instant, but over time that veneer wears thin.  

Stay safe all of you …

97 Ormonds Close

Bradley Stoke

BS32 0DU

Roland: 07795 314423

Claire: 07585 667106

the.wanderlings@gmail.com

A small percentage of a large number is still a large number

It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas (2020). the wards are full of antivaxers and some children. And many staff are isolating with covid, compounding the problem. Other than vaccinate the world to prevent new variants, which is something we surely should have been/should be working harder at, I guess there was an inevitability about omicron. The question is, what do we do now? It is, of course, about not overwhelming the NHS, and that looks close to happening.

Many of us will now get the disease and, assuming that it not as bad as delta, then we will be ill, moan a lot in bed, and get better. The problem is that for the unvaccinated and vulnerable, hospitalisation is very likely. So, a lot of people get the disease, but only a small proportion get sick enough to warrant a hospital bed … but a small percentage of a big number is still a big number. And that’s the problem. It’s the problem for the vulnerable. and it’s a problem for all the other people who need beds for non-covid reasons. A lot of people will die of the disease. And a lot of people who need life saving treatment, won’t get it. I really feel for them.

You and I are doing out best. We are being sensible with who we meet, taking tests (two this week), getting boosted and wearing decent masks. Others, not so. The 100 Tory MPs who voted against Plan B – which we all knew would be too little too late – are part of the problem. The white, 50-something man in Costa in Birmingham Airport yesterday who, with two masked friends in the queue, wasn’t wearing a mask – he’s part of the problem. And the ex-pat mother, adorned with fabulous jewellery, coming off the Dubai flight with her public school son, telling their driver that they needed to get a move on because the lad had to get to the football match – she may be part of the problem as well because, actually, madam, you need to test and isolate until a negative test comes through.

And you know my view … I still believe we should have been wearing masks in shops and public transport throughout the autumn; and we should be implementing a vaccine passport process. We are one of only a very few countries who avoided this measure. Don’t wish to be vaccinated? Fine, but don’t expect access to places where those of us who are vaccinated want to go.

Of course the problem the government have now is, with the 2020 Christmas party fiasco, they have no credibility. So why would the man in Costa give a monkeys? Or why can’t the lad go straight to the footy match? One rule etc …

Enough. I think.

the best news

Henry (oh, and Bex and Steven) are back. Fabulous. We met them at the airport, took them to Steve’s Dad’s place (thanks for supper Paul and Janet) and then we drove home. Assuming their tests come back negative we’ll pick them up tomorrow, drop off for a cuppa via James and Jen’s, and then bring them home. We have enough food to survive a four-week lockdown, even if most of it is chocolate covered.

And just a few sleeps until Christmas. That’s a way-hey! What is not a way-hey, is that we have had to cancel Chatel, well, because the French cancelled us. In some ways we’re relieved. We were already talking about how we would get to the slopes; whether we’d use the ski-bus, etc. The whole covid thing just makes you think twice, which makes you a little more worried than you want to be. Hopefully, the pandemic will slow down and there’ll be a window of opportunity in a couple of months? We’ll see.

Stay safe everyone.

And we cycled into Bristol on Thursday and had an Al fresco lunch with old pals Elizabeth and Andrew

The new venture …

Here it is. The end of a project which started out in January last year. Two narrators, a whole load of hard work and a dent in the wallet, and it is done. I’m really proud of it. So much so I just want to get on with Fuelling the Fire but, until and if we get some sensible sales, that’s not going to happen. In the meantime here’s a snip of dear Alice Porter doing her fabulous stuff:

22 months in the making …

The links to the audiobook are here: iTunes – https://apple.co/3pXWY1f; Audible UK – https://adbl.co/3DYhK63; Audible US – https://adbl.co/3DQPYs0, in case you’re interested. As is always the case, if you do listen to the book please pen a review. And, as a reminder, I don’t get to set the price. That’s done by Audible and iTunes. Ho hum.

In parallel with this I have been updating all sorts of marketing material as well as finishing off the epilogue of book 8. There really hasn’t been any time for much else. Oh, we did take Doris out for a spin yesterday, just to make sure everything is working. Which it is.

C’s feeding a lorra lorra pigeons

Next is the arrival of the clan. Covid is making life complicated for all of us. We’re hoping to pick them up from the airport on Saturday, assuming that both of us are well (I have to say I’m feeling a little under the weather at the mo!), take them for their test, drop them off at a friend of their’s house, and pick them up again on Monday – assuming we have remained well. With Omicron doing its best to plague the country and still some people not wearing masks in shops, I really do think it’s just a matter of time before we succumb. Once with us we’ve decided that Bex and Steven will sleep in Doris which, to all intents and purposes, gives them their own fully furnished apartment. We’ll have Henry in the house, which allows them a breather. After four nights we’ll have all probably had enough!

They may stay for longer than the original ten days, so we might see them again, which would be nice.

And then it’s skiing. We will need to take a PCR test before we leave and it looks likely the French might ask us to take a test on arrival and then isolate until the results come through. We’re already having discussions about whether we’re going to use the buses in the resort, and which lifts we will feel comfortable with. Is it going to be more trouble than its worth? Definitely not. We’re going, come what may.

Finally, I’d like to be reporting that His Borisness has done the decent thing and stood down. That hasn’t happened. Like Trump, I guess they’ll have to drag him out. I couldn’t do it … stay on post, that is. I couldn’t cope with the fact that half of my MPs couldn’t cope with me, and over half of the population think I’m a numpty. I’d have to go and spend time with my many children …

Anyhow, stay safe. It’s all pretty dodgy out there.

And … relax

We’ve made it home. The weekend with Mary, for her birthday, was a lot of fun. It was a lunch for 15, all ages. We had a fab time. But, it’s so good to be home. Next thing is picking Bex, Steven and Henry up from Birmingham airport on Saturday, dropping them with friends whilst they isolate and wait for negative tests to come back, and then picking them up on Monday for a short sprint to Christmas Eve. By then we’ll need another rest … I’m pretty sure of it.

Calm before the storm …

I finished Book 8 (less the epilogue) over the weekend by gritting my teeth and eking our 4,000 words on Friday. I’ll push out the epilogue tomorrow afternoon and then let it soak for a bit. How long, I’m not sure. Part of me wants to read it to C – she’s always the first – but I can’t do that until I’ve finished the second edit. Dunno, therefore. It will be at least 144k words which makes it longer than the previous longest, Fuelling the Fire, and much longer than the next, at 134k. Again, I don’t know what I think about that. The second edit normally adds, rather than removes words. Mmm. I probably need a decent editor.

The other news is the audiobook of Unsuspecting Hero has jumped all the hurdles (what a relief) and is available now. I am purposefully not yet marketing it as I need to get my head around a few things before I do. Release is 10 days later than planned, and I’m happy with that. And I have already sold three books, two to the US; only 397 to go to break even! Much more details on this to follow once I am on top of it all. Hopefully I’ll be able to publish appropriate links on Wednesday, if you’re interested.

Next up I’ve got to recover Fuelling the Fire. That’ll be a trip up to Jen’s on Wednesday. At the same time I need to condense the paperbacks of the other five. That came to a bit of a halt at the end of last week, as I was writing away. There’s a long, dull story reference the typesetting Innocence of Trust, which I won’t bore you with. All you need to know is that reformatting it is a headache. To show some progress, below is the new cover of Unsuspecting Hero. I’m happy with it. But I do think I’m going to switch to glossy, rather than matt. If you have a view, do let me know.

And there is plenty of snow in Chatel. They’ve just had a huge dump. We’d hope to be over there in early January. I think we both agree that it will take a biblical event to stop us from getting on the ferry.

Anyhow, that’s me for now.

Stay safe. The first UK hospitalisations with the omicron variant have just happened. Let’s face it, you don’t want to be spending Christmas in a ward with a whole load of other sick people.

It’s Christmas

They’re laughing at us …

let’s start with some stubby tulips

You should move along, Roland. It was twelve months ago. It’s the Westminster bubble. Nobody cares. There are other things which are much more important.

Indeed. All those things are true. And it’s not that a party (very likely parties) took place on 18 December last year in No 10, when Boris Johnson was up in his flat (who has a party in their house and doesn’t get invited?). It’s not that Johnson has continuously lied about it. He’s apologised for the video … in which his press secretary, Allegra Stratton, jokes about the party (for which she’s resigned), but not for the party having taken place. It’s not that he’s asked minister after minister to go on TV and defend his position – that no party took place and the covid rules were followed. It’s … well … it’s the guttural ache which I get reading the comments from decent people who obeyed the rules last December. Who weren’t able to visit loved ones as they died in hospital. Who spent Christmas alone. Who did as they were asked.

And, and this makes me mad, what of the the students who were fined £10,000 for holding a similar bash at the same time? Police are still prosecuting breaches of the law in this area as I write this, so it’s not too late.

It all stinks of entitlement. And it’s all very wrong.

Worst of all, as the new variant explodes in society, those who don’t want to follow the rules which will ensure we all remain relatively safe, now have very good reasons not to follow government advice. And who can blame them?

Of course, for me, this is atop all of the nonsense of the past few years. Brexit, of which I can still see no benefit, the treatment of refugees in the Channel, the failure to publish and pursue the Russian Report, the whole PPE scandal, Barnard Castle, the purposefully slow reaction to the first three covid surges, the first of which may have taken my brother’s life, the police bill which restricts freedom of protest. And the team: Johnson, Patel, Raab, Hancock (originally), Dorries, Rees-Mogg, and Truss. I am a natural Tory … although every day I feel more and more left leaning. But this bunch. I don’t get it.

Anyhow.

slowly getting the covers changed

I am (yippee) one scene away from finishing book 8. It’s a biggee, at 135,000 words. I hope to complete it over the weekend. That’s a first draft in just two months, which smashes any previous record. And we are waiting for ACX to release the audiobook of Unsuspecting Hero. No news, I hope, may be good news.

On Monday we travelled up to Gloucester so Jen and I could work on the ebook and wrap-round cover for Unsuspecting Hero. And we also took some photos for the new cover of Fuelling the Fire. We had a laugh practising how to fire a pistol. Apparently, according to C, I still have it. That’s good news, come the revolution.

trust me, we changed trousers!

Off to Mary’s today for her birthday party, which should be a scream. We are both sensitive to covid – if we catch it, we will need to isolate. And that would mean missing Bex, Henry and Steven, who come home next weekend. So everyone is taking a test before they come. Hopefully we’ll be ok.

Stay safe everyone. Just a few sleeps until Christmas.

Busy, busy

Bradley Stoke Christmas lights

I don’t know why I’m so concerned about Unsuspecting Hero’s audiobook? We finished the technical edits yesterday (thanks James) and, via ACX – the recommended site for all Audible and iTunes audiobooks – I started the upload. They do it chapter by chapter, checking for technical issues as they do. All of our chapters passed without incident, I was then asked to fill in some other stuff, but nothing about pricing, and I pressed ‘send’. I got a nice email back saying that the team at ACX would review the submission and, if there were no problems, the book would be released in 10 business days time.

frightening …

Nothing about pricing? Well it seems you don’t have a choice. Both Audible and iTunes set their own prices. Does that mean they market your book? Do they price-offer your book at certain times? Do you have any influence at all? Doesn’t seem so. Am I bothered? In some ways I’m delighted. I worry about overpricing anything I write – surely my work can’t be worth that much? So, if someone takes responsibility for that (like Amazon did when they owned the ebook of Fuelling the Fire) then that’s fine. But, what happens if someone pays £14.99 for my audiobook and they don’t like it? What happens if they don’t think either my writing or my narrator’s reading is worth the money?

Do you see why I’m a bit nervous? Anyhow. I need to sell around 400 book to break even. It’s all a voyage of discovery and it might end up being an expensive one.

At the same time I’ve been trying to compress the size of the Sam Green paperbacks (specifically books 3 – 7, as they are blooming big), so when Jen and I recover them they’re a more manageable size. I won’t bore you (oh, but Roland, you already have) with the details, but it’s not a pleasant experience. And, of course, I’m still writing book 8. I’m pretty much on the last scene (120/130k words). Is it any good? I don’t know. I am always fretful at about this point. I’ll know more once I’ve done the first edit early next year.

I did resurrect this push along for Henry. Two weeks to go!

So it’s all been about writing. Sure, we’ve continued our walk/run regime. C’s been knitting for Europe, although as we’re technically no longer in the EU, that’s probably a misstatement. We are close to putting up our Christmas decorations and, sadly, we have not been away in Doris … for some time. Which is the way things are. I said to C yesterday, ‘did we really have four Christmases in a van?’ We did. The first was on Sicily. It was blooming cold … typical for us. And then three in the UK on various campsites. The whole episode is lost in the mists of time.

And onmicron? What does it mean for us? Well, we’re still steering clear of tight spaces and wearing our masks. I’ve done as much reading as I can. I think the jury’s view is that it is much more transmissible, but no more or less nasty, than delta. A triple jab should help a lot. But we’ll see.

You keep yourself warm and safe. I think the view is that we all need to stay out of hospital as beds remain short. So watch your steps (mum fell over the other day … oh dear). And get those decorations up!

vegan or traditional?

We’re back!

Jen came with us

Back from mum’s and Mary’s. It was fab having Jen with us – and Cassie, of course. Cassie is a wonder dog. Not only has she been great for Jen, she is also such a tonic to have around. When we’re at Mary’s (there’s a big back garden) she chases the squirrels. And when she’d not chasing the squirrels, she’s on the kitchen bench staring out of the window, on squirrel hunt. She also likes spiky horse chestnuts, which I believe she thinks are dormant hedgehogs. So they get a good seeing to. She easy to walk, comes when asked and, as a cockapoo, a pretty thing. Oh, and doesn’t shed. All-in-all the perfect dog.

Not for us, though. We’ve often thought about it, but not for long. They are a tie. And when you’re travelling, that can be a problem. How would we, for example, ski for almost a month in January? We could, because people do. But there is an awful lot of paperwork. So, no dog.

Cassie came too

We are back down Godalming way next week, but do have a week with nothing in the diary. I am hoping to get most, if not all, of the book finished by then. I pushed out 3,700 words yesterday, which is a new record for me. I have the final bits of plot sorted, including a twist, and just need to get the words down on paper. It’ll happen. I have, you may have noticed, missed the 1 December deadline for the audiobook. The narrator edits are done. I’m just waiting on the technical piece to be finished. Hopefully next week we’ll be done. And, as Jen and I revamp the front covers, I’m looking at reducing the size of the paperbacks. That means reformatting all of them … not my favourite job without a decent Windows machine. I started on The Innocence of Trust last night. And that didn’t go well. I’ll have another stab today.

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I guess we’re all waiting for the outcome of the Omicron variant on all of us? How transmissible is it? Will it kill/hospitalise us, even if we’re vaccinated? C can report that there are still a good number of people not wearing masks shops … she had a bit of a go a man in Aldi yesterday. You know my view. I get that the libertarians have a thing about being told what to do. That anti-government stance is at least bearable. But, to follow through with that decision when you know that not wearing a mask puts other people’s lives in danger is a position I will never understand. Ever.

Ho hum.

this is my fave Henry photo of all time. His 1st birthday at Korean playgroup

Oh, and we’re watching Colony on Netflix. It’s a near future affair with unseen aliens and a sort of Vinchy government running Los Angeles. It’s multi-layered, well acted and surprising. Loving it.

Stay safe everyone. Watch the Christmas parties. Clearly it’s OK for No 10 to hold them last December when we were all semi-locked down. They do take the mickey, don’t they?