Roland Ladley's Blog, page 13

Oh dear …

So there’s a new variant. It can’t be good news if our government is among the first to stop flights, call a Saturday evening press conference and mention a mask mandate (although His Borisness didn’t get as far as calling it – he’s left that to Sajid Javid; it’s as though he wants to distance himself from a decision that will inflame his base).

For us, like you, I guess, it’s a miserable outcome. If Bex and Steven make it back from Korea, which is now in doubt, they will have to isolate until their PCR test results come back. Which is not great for them, nor us, as we had things planned. It also puts our January trip to Chatel in doubt, which would be a bit of a bummer. But, of course, that’s all immaterial, isn’t it? If this variant is as infectious and as vaccine-avoiding as it might be, then it’s a worry for everyone. All of us. And, let’s face it, the last thing any of us want is another lockdown. Ho hum.

Bradley Stoke Christmas lights turn on. Hardly Oxford Street, but fab

Aside from that, on Friday we made the trip to Wool in Dorset to see C’s middle sister. They’re not coping that well and, as a result, it’s becoming something to stick into our routine. We then tried to drive to see my Army pal, Kenn, for a cuppa. But the traffic across the top of Bournemouth was as rubbish as it could be, so we gave up on that. Friday night traffic meant it took us four hours to get home. Thankfully we weren’t/haven’t been blown about too much by Storm Arwen.

I have managed to fill the rest of the time with, you’ve guessed it, writing. I’m now at 112k words and probably three chapters (another 18k words) from finishing. The next couple of days are going to be difficult because we’re going to see mum and Mary (taking Jen and Cassie with us, which is nice). But then I have eight clear days before we’re off again to Mary’s for her birthday. Eight days might just be enough, and that would be fab. I have written this so quickly, it’s probably my most disjointed first draft ever. But I love the edit part and have a clear vision of what this thing should look and sound like. If it works, then maybe splurging out the first draft is the way ahead? We’ll see.

can’t bear the thought of not seeing this chap this Christmas

I’m waiting on the final technical edit from James and, if nothing else, I hope I’ll be able to upload the audiobook of Unsuspecting Hero onto ACX next week. If that goes well – and I have no idea what that looks like as I’ve never done it before – it might be ready for next weekend, that’s just a few days late. I have absolutely no expectations for this. If I put it out there for £14.99 (a very reasonable price for an audiobook) I’ll need to sell about 400 copies to break even – I think royalties are at about 40%, but I’m not even sure about that. It’s a bit of a voyage of discovery …

Anyhow. Even more so than ever, please stay safe. I’d hate for my last three readers to get unwell.

cold run this morning

Tax return – tick

I’ve done our tax returns (for 20/21). It’s never a fun process because we always owe Her Majesty some money at the end of it. And it’s not without complication. I’ve been doing our returns forever. But semi-retirement and reasonably recent self-employment (books and consultancy), along with income from property, means there’s a lot of form filling. More accurately, there’s a lot of sensible, but dull, book keeping needed to make sure what I submit is accurate. Anyhow, I am a bit of an expert now so I get it done without tears – until I have to get my/our cheque book out.

Oh joy …

I mention this because if you are military (or ex) and reading this, you may want to check that your state pension contributions are fully up to date. I did 26 years service (and then 8 years as a teacher – added together, this is one year short of the 35 years National Insurance contributions you need for a full stte pension). Although the record shows that I have full contributions in those years, some of the military years don’t qualify. In short I was 7 years short. If you have been employed since you left and, as a result have paid PAYE tax and NI, then you’re probably OK. But if not, you might be short and will need to catch up by paying for the lost years, or paying Class 2 or 4 NIC between now and your pensionable date. This is complex, so if you want to DM me, I can try and help … although I am not a financial adviser.

It’s worth it, by the way. A full state pension is just over £9k a year. For many it’s could be a lifeline.

You’ll be pleased to hear I’m not going to go on about His Borisness’s CBI speech, nor the awful tragedy of the souls lost to the English Channel. My view is we should be providing safe passage for those seeking asylum. I think that’s international law. Whatever, it’s the humane thing to do. We can then process these people, many of whom have families in the UK and are of working age. Those who don’t pass the asylum rules are then taken home. Humanely. No more deaths. Please.

heartbreaking …

We had a lovely time at Eva’s. Alas we couldn’t find Kevin’s heart on the Covid Memorial wall, but the experience of visiting the wall – which is just an enormous tragedy – was one of those must do, however heart-wrenching, experiences. I’m not sure if there are 145,000 hearts on display … but that didn’t matter. It was just horrible.

London was lovely

You won’t be surprised that this week has been about writing … and more writing. I’m 105/130k words in and heading for the final stretch. All work and no play and that, so yesterday I popped up to Jen and James’s to help with the building work. When I was there Jen finished the cover for the audiobook of Unsuspecting Hero, and then berated me for not spending enough time marketing the series. I promised her, as I do you, that that is my next job. Once I have a first draft of book 8 on the chocks.

final version

We’re off to see C’s middle sister tomorrow, down in Dorset. And then on Sunday we’re off to see mum, coming back via Mary’s. Jen wants to come with us for the longer trip … which will be nice.

And then it’s the run up to Christmas. Where has all the time gone?

Keep safe everyone. The numbers in Central Europe may be high, but ours have been consistently there since September, and may rise even more as it gets colder and more of us stay indoors. I wouldn’t want any of you to get the disease. Masks in shops, then!

Irony is a terrible thing

Alanis Morissette had a point, although it’s fair to say that much of her song isn’t about irony, but bad luck. It is, though, a tricky word to get right. For me, the best personal example is a semi-humorous incident that happened when we were out being firemen in Northern Ireland about 20 years ago. It was one of those strikes, and the military put together Op FRESCO, taking responsibility for any fire across the whole of the UK. Me and the battalion were in The Province at the time – it was a thing, let me tell you. We couldn’t use Green Goddesses, the Army’s fleet of very ageing Bedford fire engines, because, well, they were green – you couldn’t deploy into catholic West Belfast in green vehicles. So we had bright yellow ones. They were fab.

Anyhow, my point. We were called to a fire … outside a striking fire station. What had happened was the strikers’s oil-drum had a conflagration and was out of control. We put it out as they watched on. Now, that is ironic.

And that’s how I feel today – but without the humour. Yesterday we were, as I told you last time, due to go to Kevin’s daughter’s final play at Mountview, her drama school. We wouldn’t ordinarily go, but with Kevin taken by covid we thought it right that she had some senior family support. Alas we got a call that the performance (there were going to be three, we had booked into the Saturday matinee) had been cancelled … as a member of the small cast hadn’t fallen ill with covid. Sad irony.

Centrepoint in the big smoke

C and I made the decision to come to London anyway. We were due to stay with C’s cousin, Eva, who lives in a lovely expansive flat directly opposite the British Museum. And, as it was going to be a ‘Kevin weekend’, we wanted to walk to the covid commemorative wall on the Embankment and try and find his heart. We’re off to do that today, having had a super convivial evening last night.

Oh, and hang on. When we got here yesterday we walked to Covent Garden, and quickly turned around again. It was packed. Overflowing – shoulder-to-shoulder, and very few masks. As a result our little excursion didn’t last long. [If Johnson decides to reimpose restrictions I sense there will be a riot in this country.]

the least busiest part of our trek to Covent Garden

What else (other than all the mad politics – what about the clearing of Kyle Rittenhouse in the US? How does that work?)?

Oh yes. We had a lovely evening on Wednesday when Heidi and Chris (Heidi was one of C’s girls and she was in my first, quite disastrous, GCSE class.). And, apropos my last ‘I’m not sure what to do next’ blog, I was really taken by offering myself to teach maths at the local pupil referral unit – a handful of kids who have been permanently excluded from schools – Heidi and Chris both work there part time. She got in touch with me yesterday to say that she thought the PRU were looking for a maths teacher and would I like her to get in touch? Thanks, but not yet … we need to go skiing in January and nothing is going to break that promise to ourselves. But the PRU is something to think about for next year?

Finally about book 8. I am really happy with where I am (100/130k words in) and I know how it ends. I also had an arc to get there, but for the last couple of days I’ve been thinking that if I follow that path, it’ll end up being a bit linear. Which I really don’t want. So … my head hit the pillow last night and, two hours later, I had it. Good news is, I have a pretty spectacular ending worked out. Bad news is, I’m shattered and need a good night’s sleep.

we got our boosters

Well, I’ve got to go. We’ve got some walking to do. Stay safe. I sensewe might be a month behind central Europe with regard to covid … or, maybe, we have killed so many vulnerable people and spread the disease so widely that we have, brutally, found ourselves at herd immunity. Whatever …

I’m not so sure I like the night vision camera on my phone. This is the view from Eva’s flat.

What next?

Our 3.8 year old fridge freezer broke Sunday. It’s a Kenwood and it wasn’t cheap. I did all the usual things. I took the back off, looked to see if there was anything which looked like it might be broken. The compressor was hot, the fan was working and the lights were on. But no cooling. We took some advice and it seemed that the compressor system might well be down, a repair of which is not cost-effective. Which, in these days of climate change and the supposed longevity of white goods, is a real pain. Thankfully we have the van and some lovely neighbours, so none of the food is lost. But what do you do … other than not buy another Kewnwood?

In the end we’ve bought a new one. We did look at going second hand, and there were plenty to choose from on the market. But, again looking environmentally, an old fridge uses a lot more electricity … etc. Anyhow, we’ve bought a Samsung, pretty much like-for-like, accept this one has a 5 year warranty (10 years on the compressor). Hopefully the next time we need it replacing we’ll be thinking about which nursing home is the best choice for us and won’t be taking it with us.

still walking

I have to say I’ve been feeling a bit down for about a week. I would never describe myself as a person who ‘gets depressed’, but a combination of not actually feeling great (ears and sinuses, mostly), the weather and home-based routine hasn’t helped. But, do you know what? It’s more than that. It goes back to my point I’ve made a number of times about having a purpose. I’m writing like a demon (87/130k words now) and that gives me some sense of achievement. And we are so close to getting the audiobook of Unsuspecting Hero out there – publication still planned for 1 December. But, if I’m honest with myself, is that enough? If I were selling 5,000 books a year (which I am definitely not), then this might all be different. And, of course, I have purposefully cut down my consultancy work … and I still stand behind that decision, but it leaves a gap.

The last time I felt like this was four years ago … pretty much to the week. Bex and Steven were in The Bahamas and not coming home for Christmas. We had time in Chatel sorted for January, but little beyond that (this time round we are planning to go to Korea in the Spring). And I was restless. So I started doing some supply teaching. I offered myself to a number of schools in Bristol and was immediately taken on by Bristol Free School. Things moved quickly and before you know it, just before Christmas, I was offered a part time job with the school. And having turned down another part time job at Badminton, I chose state over public. The next eight months were, I can best describe it as, ‘an experience’. And I didn’t stay there after the summer. We got on with the rest of our lives. I often reflect that if I’d gone to Badminton, I might still be working there now. I’m not convinced that would have been a good thing.

I suppose my point is, for those of you of my sort of age, retirement is complicated. If you have the finances to support your chosen lifestyle (we do … our travelling is of the budget variety and we live in a small house) then the next issue is are you prepared not to be wanted? Some people fill their lives with their grandchildren. And if that works for you, then fine. But if your previous existence has been hectic, and if you loved the cut and thrust of work, standby to wake up one morning and think … what on earth am I going to do today to make a difference? And this is particularly problematic if you are travellers, like us. Who wants to employ someone who is constantly away?

we knocked some walls down

You won’t expect this void. And you won’t necessarily feel it for a good while. Maybe even a year? But I think that, unless you take up golf, or have a big garden, you might get caught out by the ‘void’.

In some ways I’m lucky. For the next 10 years I could always find a PT job teaching somewhere. Maths teachers are scarce. And, assuming the kids are well behaved (note … probably a public school, Roland) then I know I would enjoy and get great satisfaction from the work.

Ideally, though, I’d be selling 5,000 copies of my novels a year. And, as you know, that is my next job … once I’ve finished this one. Mmmm. I wonder what I will be penning here in 12 months time? Who knows.

book coming along nicely

Anyhow, for the record we’ve spent two days at Jen and James’ knocking down walls, we have finished our edit of Unsuspecting Hero, we have one of C’s girls coming for supper tonight and, after a no-show last week, I’m meeting with Kenn tomorrow where we shall, inevitably, talk a load of rubbish about politics. Hurrah! And we’re off to London this weekend to see Kevin’s daughter in her final play before she graduates.

It’s all go.

Stay safe everyone.

Medals or no medals?

I’m writing this just before we pop over to the Bradley Stoke town centre (it’s a square in the Willow Brook shopping centre) to attend the Remembrance Service. We’ve been before. It’s a bit left-of-centre, a touch haphazard and includes all manner of folk, from counsellors to scouts, doing their best to remember those who have fallen so that we may be free. It’s very unmilitary … and that’s no bad thing. Sure it’s a time for us old boys to remember those we have lost. But it’s a country-wide thing. Those who died fighting for our freedom, died for everyone. And those who attend these services do so because they wish to pay their respects, whatever colour or creed they may be. And I love that.

My question has always been whether or not I wear my medals. I have medals from service in Bosnia, Northern Ireland and Sierra Leone – and I spent a couple of months in Afghanistan, but the way the military count the days meant I couldn’t (and wouldn’t) claim a gong. I have a jubilee medal, another gong where someone thought I’d done a protractedly good job, and a small branch on one of the medals for the same reason. It’s hardly a chestful, but they mean a lot to me. If you look at the more recent veterans, some have rows and rows. And that’s because in the last two decades the British military have been deployed to lots and lots of places, many of them very dangerous. And to be clear, our military do not frank a medal without good reason. Unlike the US where you get a gong for crossing the Atlantic, here there has to be real jeopardy in where you are serving and you have to be in amongst that jeopardy for a long time. They don’t fall out of cereal packets.

So I am proud of my small row … and I am very proud of those who I served alongside. It was an extraordinary 25 years. I wouldn’t have missed a moment of it … but I don’t miss it for a moment. Life goes on.

Today, then. Should I wear my medals? I used to when I was at the school. I was ultimately responsible for the cadets and, whilst I never wore uniform, I did put a suit on plus my medals on Remembrance Sunday when the cadets did their thing. But I haven’t worn them since.

I won’t wear them. It did cross my mind last night, but only briefly. If you’re attending a military show, then I can see why you’d want to be part of that band of brothers (and sisters). But here, in Bradley Stoke. I’m unconvinced. What am I saying? Look at me? I’m one of maybe three others in 200 who have served? Sure, there are plenty wearing grandad’s medals and I respect that. But why do people need to know that a soldier walks among them? Why do I want to draw attention to myself? Please don’t get me wrong. If you’re a soldier reading this, wear your medals with pride. Tell the world. You deserve it. What you did was something extraordinary. And doubtless you will know of someone who died and many more who were injured. Wear your medals for them.

I just can’t. I want to enjoy a moment of reflection. I want to think about all my mates. I want to remember my dad. I don’t want to be on display. I don’t need other people to look at me and have a conversation with themselves. I am proud of what I did. I am proud of what my father, my wife (no medals, but she served) and her father, who made it through the war, achieved. But I don’t want the attention.

Stay safe.

for the record, we knocked some walls down yesterday in Jen and Jame’s house …

I feel like a writing machine. I’m 73,000 words in and, b...

I feel like a writing machine. I’m 73,000 words in and, by the end of today, that’ll be at least 75,000. That’s about 70,000 words in a month, some of them in the right order. I am getting them down on the page much quicker than usual, and certainly much faster than I could hope for. I should, notwithstanding an earthquake, have a first draft by the time Bex, Steven and Henry arrive home on the 18th of December. That would be fab.

it’s all getting a bit complicated

It’s been a strange, but interesting book so far. I normally have Sam and the team split between a couple of locations. And a further major, sometimes two, subplot(s) which seemingly have nothing to do with the book, but eventually tie in with the main plot. Other characters pop in and pop out, and it’s always a bit crazy, but I manage. This time I have Sam and the team split between two locations, but Sam and Jane are constantly moving (just left Athens). And I have two and a half subplots, including three new characters. I have also brought back two old characters (Wolfgang and David Jennings) and intend to bring back two more – the Israelis from The Belmonte Paradox and, if you’ve read the books, do you remember the congressman’s daughter from The Innocence of Trust? It is doing my head in, especially as every time I write something, something new pops into my head which can’t stop itself … because it’s interesting. And trying to keep the whole thing afloat so that I don’t have a plot hole, or an issue with continuity (like, have I mentioned what Heather is wearing? Did I describe her coat? Does it have a hood?) is an intellectual minefield. My head is hurting.

And then there’s the whole series continuity. That’s about balancing history – making sure that when I go back in time, or mention the past, I’m accurate. But actually, it’s more than that. Is Sam Green still Sam Green? Does she do things Sam would? Does she say things like Sam does? Is she believable as a continuity character?

Eight books in and it’s all a bit messy. But, it is fair to say that I am still loving it.

And C and I are very close to finishing the second edit of the audiobook. I think we’re on Chapter 17/24. Unless I haven’t understood the Audible process, a 1 December publication looks like it’s workable. And Jen has finished the artwork, which we both love.

mmmm

It’s not been all work, though. Yesterday I took the car to get a new tyre (it was an MoT advisory and we are heading for Chatel in January and you can’t beat having decent tyres). In the end I went to a very decent garage which does part-worn tyres. I got a winter tyre, four balances and tracking done for £77. I didn’t go ‘new’ because all of the tyres will need replacing next winter and I’m sure what legs the old girl’s got left in her. C reckons the winter looks new … and it does. Clearly it’s off a car which has been in an accident, but I took it up to Gloucester yesterday and it ran perfectly.

looks good?

My trip to Gloucester was to see my mate Peter, who’s had his knee replaced. I went bearing gifts of grapes … and we had a good old chin wag. All’s well there, which is great. Tomorrow I’m out for breakfast with Kenn, one of my other Army pals. We go to the Tollgate, just north of bath. That’ll include a lot of politics. And then it’ll be back for some more writing. And more writing after that.

Keep safe everyone. C had a scare yesterday when she woke not feeling great. She took a lateral flow test, which came back negative, so that’s ok.

And off to Jen’s on Saturday to knock down some walls. I might do some writing between times …

I’m not going to …

I’m not going to fill this post with a look-see at the government’s behaviour this week. I’m not going to mention sleaze, George Paterson, the role of Rees-Mogg and the Chief Whip, the ongoing investigations into Johnson’s holiday-for-peerage affair (among others), that you can buy a seat in the House of Lords for £3m, and, this morning, that George Eustice tells the telly that this is all Westminster storm in a teacup. and that they (the government) just wanted to change the process and that Paterson hadn’t had chance (over two years) to defend himself or appeal. I think it would take someone with very thick skin not to see this as it is. Sleaze. Sure. Corruption? Probably. Especially as Randox, one of Patterson’s lobbying employers, was awarded a £347m PPE contract last year. I’m not going to mention that. None of it.

But I am going to say that it beggars belief that Boris Johnson, Rees-Mogg and the Chief Whip got this so wrong? They created this scandal. If Paterson had taken his 30-day suspension we probably would never have heard any more about it. Sure, the Standards Committee would have remained in place to be able to continue to investigate how Johnson had/hadn’t managed to pay for his wallpaper. And that was probably not acceptable to His Nibs. But … they created the problem which forced their own u-turn. It is a shambles. And, and this has worried me from the beginning, how can he/they be so blooming incompetent? Like the sewage u-turn (that was only two weeks ago, for goodness sake) how could they spot the dead end ahead? How could they not see the outcome of their actions? Pitiful judgement and leadership.

Which is a worry. isn’t it? Let’s imagine, for a second, we were hit with a global pandemic. How would this groups of self-serving incompetents manage? Would lots of us die? Would we forget about the care homes? Would we offer PPE contracts to our mates? Or would we lock down, mask up, and cut the likely death toll, whilst keeping the economy moving along? Who knows? But it is a worry.

I just love this photo …

On a more positive note, I am soooooo excited about my new book. I am at the point (60k words, half way through) where I really want to keep ahead of the story, which is running away in my head. But my fingers can’t keep up. I wrote 2,900 words yesterday, most of them in the right order. And 2,000 words is looking like the new daily norm, which means I could be finished well before Christmas, which would be fab.

And, as well as publishing the audiobook by 1 December, Jen and I have decided that we will revamp all seven Sam Green covers by Christmas. BECAUSE, and I am shouting at myself, next year I am going to become a marketing expert on Amazon and FB ads. I am. Next year, with eight Sam Green books out there, all with shiny new covers, I’m going to sell some books. I am. That’s the truth. It is.

Anyhow, stay safe. C and I have just booked our booster vaccine and all is looking good for skiing in January. Between now and then we all need to stay as safe as possible. You too, by the way.

A writer’s life …

I’m at 60,000 words into Book 8. That’s in a month. Which should mean, although I started this process a month late, I will have a complete first draft by Christmas, which will be back on track. I have to say I am really pleased with how I’m making up for lost time. And I’m also really pleased with the story. It is complex (they all are) and I started on a new character with absolutely no idea how they were going to fit into the plot, but I really liked him – he’s the prime minister’s valet at Chequers, don’t you now. And now, halfway through, I’m still unsure. Oh well, it’ll work out in the end, I guess. I bet Le Carre doesn’t have these problems. And we’re about halfway through the second edit of the audiobook … and still loving it. I’m really hoping that will be ready for 1 December. That’s the plan.

mum in a contemplative mood

We did mum on Monday. She’s been after a handbag for a while and we took her to Colchester which, on first inspection, looked like it might be a palava. In the end, though, other than a longish walk (for her) from the car park to the handbag shop, and a trek back again, it was fine. I think she likes her new bag, but you never can tell. We then drove to the local pub and had lunch, which again, was less hassle than usual. All-in-all we came away much less stressed than we usually do which was great for us and, I sense, really good for mum. I suppose many mums are like it with their sons, but it has taken her a while to appreciate C (only 36 years) but, and this is a nice thing, we’re there now. It has not been without tears, but it’s great that we’re now all on the same page. (Lets out a small ‘hurrah!’)

mmmm, Wells

Yesterday, after a day of admin and writing, we had a trip down to Wells, where we used to work, to meet up with a trio of C’s girls. It was great to see them and catch up with all their news. One girl, Katherine, is a virtuoso violinist from New York (originally Korea); she was fascinating. And it was great to catch up with Spud and Sally afterwards. C was the housemistress of a house which was conjoined to a second, where Sally was in charge. It was, at times, a scream. At others, not quite so much, but that’s kids and their parents for you.

Today we’re back in the groove. I’ve just finished my trash-edit of what I penned yesterday (I still managed 1200 words even though we were out for the afternoon), I’ve made a couple of calls, and we’re about to pop out for a walk. This afternoon C’s making the Christmas cake as I write – I’m, that is Sam and Jane, are in Athens at the moment. And then we will listen to a couple more chapters before we go to bed and start again tomorrow. It’s a writer’s life, you know …

and Henry, of course …

I think that’s me … I’ll leave you to it. Stay safe, as always. We’re not through this yet.

A big week

This is a big week, isn’t it? It’s the week we discover if the world leaders are serious about arresting climate change. I’m going to wait to pass judgement, although agreeing something by next weekend and actually doing something are two separate ‘things’. China produces the most emissions. The USA next. India after, then the EU and then Russia. All the other nations’s contributions, especially Africa, pale into insignificance. Climate change has been created by the first world and yet it’s the poorer countries which will suffer first. If the big five can’t come together and make real pledges, then The Solomon Islands, are doomed. As is any desert region, which will heat further and spread wider.

We may not like to admit it out loud, but this country can cope with the change of climate. Leaving asides local floods and droughts, many here think attracting the weather of the south of France is not a bad thing. Who wouldn’t want Mediterranean weather? You know I complain about it often enough. But that misses the point by a country mile. For us, it’s not the actual change in climate which is the issue. It’s the affects of climate change, as they reverberate around the globe, which will make life very uncomfortable for everyone. Sure, we may be enjoying longer summers, swimming in our sewerage infested rivers (that’s a quiet different point, obviously), but the world will be ablaze. There will be water wars. There will be land wars, as populations move to escape the heat … or, like is happening now but in larger numbers, they see opportunities to live where the climate is less harsh. Economic and climate migration.

It will happen slowly. But it will happen. And we will be affected by it. The edges of the global village will be damp and smelly after repeated floods and rising sea levels. Its sports pitches and parks will be dry and cracked after prolonged droughts. Many of its people will be hungry, poor and frustrated with what will be very obvious injustices. The global village will no longer be an economic opportunity. It will be the opening credits of a disaster movie.

Did I tell you I write thrillers for a living?

first draft of Unsuspecting Hero audiobook cover

No, but really. Come on.You don’t need me to describe this to you. And by then Biden and Xi Jinping will be dead, Putin will be leading Russia from a nursing home, and Johnson and his sixth wife will have retired to a tax-haven on stilts and won’t give a damn. The elderly are in charge. And that’s part of the problem.

And we’re not fools. Nobody believes this is easy (least of all Rishi Sunak whose latest budget didn’t make any allowances for green policies. None. Instead he reduced the tax on domestic flights. I have absolutely no idea how that works.) This world – and this country – have many many pressing problems (some, such as Brexit, self imposed). If we dictate that we all should eat less meat, then what of the beef farmers? If we plant more trees, how do we build more houses? And, the nub of it, if we spend more money on climate policies, then what of the poor?

It’s not easy. We all know that. And I’m not the one making and then having to implement the decisions. I know. But that doesn’t abrogate the responsibility from our leaders. The 2008 financial crisis wasn’t easy. The pandemic isn’t easy. And just because the climate disaster is slowish burn, it doesn’t mean it’s easier because it isn’t happening exactly now. We can do this. They can do this. They have to. But, before we judge, let’s wait and see what Johnson and Alok Sharma, the COP26 president, pull off.

And let’s hope they’re not distracted by the ridiculous spat over a fishing trawler which, it turns out, is actually owned by a Canadian firm. Hating the French, of course, is projection. It’s what some English people do when they realise their own house is not in order. And it’s the wrong thing at the wrong time. We need as many friends as we can get at the moment. And when we’re trying to galvanise the world, making doorstep enemies is a damaging and pointless exercise.

In the meantime, stay safe. Numbers are bad …

… and, for the record, we’re at Mary’s and off to mum’s later today. All is good.

Stuff’s happening

Lots of book things continue to happen, all at once. First, I’m over 40k words into book 8 … and loving it. Second, C and I are 6/24 chapters into the audiobook of Unsuspecting Hero and loving it too. One edit only so far from all we’ve been through. Third, Jen and I (mostly Jen) have been working on the audiobook cover, which will, eventually, become an ebook cover, which will eventually become a paperback version of the book. Jen is fab at this and she has a top-of-the-range iPad which does all of the art work. There is much to do, but already the cover is a million times better than the original. There are, of course, another 7 books to do when this one is finished. But, at last, we’re on it. Hurrah!

I’d welcome thoughts …

C and I have been keeping our heads down. Lots of walking and running, writing, knitting etc. Although, as an excursion, on Monday we went to see her middle sister down in Wool, Hampshire. It was a social and a business call. We both have some responsibilities down there which, as time moves on, means we do need to help out a little more. C’s been down twice in a week, so that gives you an idea of where we are. Thankfully we have the time (and we managed to pop in and see ex-Army pals John and Liou, yippee!).

To balance that, it seems likely we’re going to get away in January skiing. The ambition is for three weeks in Chatel, which would be fab – and something we’d both really look forward to. As a covid pressie we’re going to treat each other to a new pair of skis (C’s has reasonably new boots, and I bought a new pair last time we were away [2019, we missed a season due to covid], when my 30 year old pair irrecoverably fell apart). I’m looking at getting mine from Decathlon on the way down. C is more choosy and will get hers in the resort. We will have to put bows on them.

And we have some things in the diary. First we’re with Mary and then Mum from tomorrow until Tuesday. My mum, bless her, wants a treadmill … which is not going to happen. But how do you let her down softly? She’s half blind, struggles to walk anywhere and will, inevitably, fall off the machine having pressed the wrong button, impaling herself on one of the sticky-out bits, to be found by the postman. Some subtlety required, I think. That’s a job for Monday.

Then we’re off down to Wells on Wednesday to see one of C’s girls and pals of ours from the school. Saturday is the big kick off day for coming up here (Jen’s) and helping Jame’s dad (yes, Bob, the builder) knock down a couple of walls … and then the biggest of them all. C and I have tickets for my niece’s major drama college production in London on the 20th of November. Kevin, as you know, is no longer with us … and I feel absolutely compelled to go. We can stay with C’s cousin outside the British Museum (not, thankfully, under a tarpaulin) and were thinking of travelling up by coach, which we have done before. The problem we have are the covid numbers. Whilst it seems unlikely that a mini-lockdown will prevent the show going ahead, we continue to follow our own version of responsibility. So, is the coach too much? Is the theatre too much? These are rhetorical questions at the moment. But they will need to be answered before we travel. We’ll see.

Anyhow, that’s all going to keep us busy for a while. In the meantime, stay safe everyone. 280 deaths yesterday, which does seem like an awful lot of dead people to me …