Roland Ladley's Blog, page 20

Happy birthday to me …

The most important news is that Jen is now home and, whilst it was a traumatic hospital stay for her, she’s safe. It’s as we thought – nothing life threatening, but could be massively inconvenient and distressing. Bless her. What a way to live.

a pal of mine raises chickens … here’s an early Easter present

So, it’s my birthday. 59 today and feeling every year. Creaks and soreness and a constant head cold and … what will it be like next year? But I have so much to be thankful for. I know that. Today we’re off up to Jen and James’s. C’s cooked a chocolate cake and, for when we get home, she thoughtfully bought me a half bottle of Retsina, which, for those of you who don’t know, is a Greek white wine made from the sap of pine trees. It is truly awful, but it is from Greece – our favourite country. We shall be raising our glasses to warm sand and a Mrs Sun who doesn’t mess about.

today we will mostly be walking in the rain

On that note I think I’d like to remember internet pals of our, Eric and Shazza. I’ve mentioned them recently – they were one of a number of inspirations for us to go fulltiming seven years ago. They get another mention today because they’ve had to return from Spain due to the post-Brexit 90/180 day ruling for Schengen countries, which includes Spain. In short, you can only spend 90 days in the Schengen area out of any 180.

This means for folk like E&S, where they bought, with the absolute best intentions, a retirement bolt-hole in Spain – their only property – to all intents and purposes that ‘retirement’ spot has now become no more than a holiday home. Nearly all of the flexibility they were hoping for has gone. Sure, they can get Spanish citizenship, but there are issues of tax, car ownership, expensive medical insurance, new driving licenses etc. Brexit has taken that from them, and I know that the tabloids will report that that’s what they voted for, but so many people like Eric didn’t vote for Brexit. And, in any case, Brexit was never spelled out in that way. I really feel for them … in short their retirement plans have been scuppered. How awful. But, Eric is a resilient bloke and I know the pair of them will get this sorted.

We’re off to Jen’s this afternoon and Mary’s tomorrow. Jen’s again on Wednesday, and then Mum’s on Thursday. It has all started to run away with itself again. Bring on the next lockdown. (Only joking …)

something different – I was the project leader for this, 20 years ago. It’ll be in service in a couple of years. It’s a very long story.

A pal of mine told me yesterday that the Oxford variant (ours) is only 10% effective against the South African variant. That may, or may not, be true. The bottom line is that we are not out of this yet, although walking Cassie this morning, you would have thought that we were.

Stay safe everyone … please.

And for our next move …

It’s been quite a few days …

First, our Jen is in hospital. It’s complicated and I know she didn’t want me to unnecessarily share what’s happening, but I will do if and when the time is right. In short it seems likely that it’s a continuation of her mental health issues which have dogged her since she was in her teens. And, as far as any one can see, it’s neither life threatening, nor life shortening. It’s just something else which she and James will likely have to deal with. Ho hum.

We’re going up to see them again on Saturday – we hope she’ll be discharged by then – and then we can work out how best to handle this all. Along with that, we hope to drive to Mary’s on Sunday for the day (a day before the government relaxes it’s out of area curfew, but it’s best for Mary) and then we plan to make a day trip to Colchester next Thursday to see mum. That’s one helluva a journey, but we’ll manage.

Cassie watching me do the front garden

My calf told me I could run this week, so on Tuesday I did some hill work (which was fine) and yesterday I ran my 5 km … which wasn’t so good. As a result my calf was mad at me this morning, so it’s back to walking – which Cassie loves and the local squirrels … well, not so much.

And we’re getting closer to forging a mid-term plan. Originally, like Mao, we had a five year plan which was based around us staying here in Bristol and travelling as if our live depended upon it. That worked for year one … when we skied, did Scotland and spent 6 weeks in SE Asia. Last year was going to be: ski, Scotland and a car road trip to Baku, on the Caspian Sea. Well covid put paid to that. We managed skiing and 6 weeks in Yorkshire in Doris, but no road trip. Fate, however, was on our side in that, between lockdowns we managed to get to Seoul for 6 weeks (including a 2 week mandatory hotel quarantine) to be there for Henry’s birth. So it wasn’t a complete right off. This year, as you know, nothing has happened thus far, although we hope to get away in Doris for 4 weeks once they open the campsites in mid-April. But it seems that overseas travel might be unlikely this summer and with a third wave expected in the winter, year three of our five year plan looks set to be a wash out.

Henry showing off all of C’s wonderful knitting, including a Wolves cardigan

So we got to thinking.

Depending on where Bex and Steven decide to go, school wise from next summer, we will likely move from Bristol. This was the move we might have taken at the end of the five year plan. But if we’re tied down this Christmas with lockdown measures, then why not make that move early? And, if so, what does that look like?

We think it means selling our current place and using that cash to buy somewhere on the Welsh border between Gloucester and Telford – equidistant between Jen and James and Steve’s folk. The assumption is that Bex and Steve will stay abroad, but likely come to Europe. Moving out of Bristol will give us the cash to buy something a little bigger, but we’re not after a palace. A view would be good … close to local amenities, also. And enough room for people to stay. We think that should all be within budget. We might use this next Doris trip to do some research. Anyhow, we won’t know until about Christmas time, when the overseas teaching market runs its course. But it’s a thought.

And you know us … we might do something completely different.

Anyhow. We’re fine. I hope you are all well and staying safe. Remember that a single jab is really, really good .. but it’s not bombproof. So keep your masks on and stay away from the crowds.

Our Jen …

Life goes on. I think we’ve decided to visit Jen and James (she’s not been herself recently) on Saturday – garden only – and then Mary on Sunday, a day prior to the government lifting restrictions on travel. We don’t feel too bad about it. Then, I think, we’ll take a day trip to Mum’s sometime after that (before 12th April) with the aim of getting in Doris on the 12th and heading away to campsites for a month, if and when they’re open. Ordinarily we’d be in Scotland now, and that may be an option for this Spring, but I’m not sure the Scots are ready for us. So we’ll stay put. Next? Not sure. I’ve got some chunks of work coming up and it seems likely that Bex and Steven may be prevented from travelling from Korea, mainly because they won’t be able to get back into the country without quarantine. But we’ll see …

… in-post addendum. We now have Cassie with us. We were called up to Jen’s just now – and have been up there, stayed for four hours and returned; all within the covid restrictions. She’s not been well since Thursday and we found ourselves needing/having to go and see them both. It’s complicated, and I’m unwilling at the mo to share symptoms and diagnoses, but the long and the short of it is she needs help. They have his lovely parents staying in between selling/buying houses (a long story of covid-isolation and a now a wait for house completion) and that has been a Godsend in many ways. Our bit of assistance is to have Cassie for a while, which is no hardship at all. We now have to hope for a speedy resolution … it’s all been a bit of a sad saga. Ho hum.

we have Cassie at the mo

On a positive note the guitar playing is moving on. Whereas at Christmas I was struggling to make any progress, all of a sudden I’m picking up some quite complicated pieces, both picking and strumming, and sounding vaguely competent. It’s when the YouTube teacher says, ‘you might want to try hammering these notes on, but that’s only for the more proficient amongst you’, I’m sensing that progress is being made. Currently I’m half way through ‘You’ve Got a Friend in Me’, which is a complex picking and percussive piece. I might video it and show it to you if I discover the courage.

a new windbreak for Doris … an early birthday present (happy birthday to me)

Other than all that, we’re fine. I managed to service the bikes on Friday and, because I’m not running (C’s current plan is to run every weekday), I’m trying to get out every day for a one-hour power walk. So far I’m managing that. And, you will have noticed, that I’m avoiding politics. However … the whole Union Jack/Flag business wears me out. It’s not important. As a country we are defined by what we currently do – who we currently are. Traditions, flags, banners and statues are all well and good, but if we bigoted, unpleasant, unwelcoming, incompetent and uncaring, then no amount of flag waving is going to change that. I love my country. I like the Union Flag/Jack … it’s pretty. But I don’t have to like where we find ourselves at the moment.

Stay safe everyone.

Why?

I ran today. Which was a surprise. I was hoping to get around my 5km run without my calf ‘pinging’, but no such luck. It’s been under a week since I strained it and over the past two days I’ve managed long power walks without a problem – so I was feeling confident. The issue for me is that walking doesn’t exercise my lungs in any way near the same level that running does. And as my lungs have always been a bit problematic, running it is. So, I set off today at a steady pace, trying my best not to overstretch the calf. It was sore pretty much immediately. And then, at about 3km, it let me know it wasn’t happy, so I walked/hobbled in. It’s not as bad as it was first time round, because I stopped quickly, but it clearly needs more time. Ho hum.

nice hat …

And I’ve been busy. I’ve had a report to write for an MOD team based on someone else’s focus groups, plus some of my own investigation. I hope I’ve added value – because I made a number of recommendations. I’ve also got ongoing coaching with a couple of schools with some planned bigger chunks of work in the next couple of months.

Which is a good job because books sales, which were buoyant in February, are poor in March (I think I sold about 10 books so far this month). It does make me re-ask the question – what is the point? – but I’m hoping that sales will pick up again, as they do, and put that to the back of my mind. Of course I could spend some money on marketing. Now, there’s a thought.

Just now, as I was hobbling past the skate park, with overcast clouds and a cool wind, I did ask myself the perennial question: why am I not walking back along the promenade to our apartment in Spain? Well, we don’t have an apartment in Spain, which is one reason. The other is that we still have absolutely no idea what’s best for us in that department. But it doesn’t stop me asking the question. The perennial one. Of course, it wouldn’t be in Spain, would it? It would be in France? And if it was in Spain, which particular part? And why buy somewhere. Surely we have the van and can park it on a decent campsite with facilities and make do? Or we could rent somewhere over the winter?

Whatever. I want to know why I’m running in the cold, with no views and a cloak of unburnt diesel, when I could be in a singlet with Mrs Sun browning my shoulders?

nice flower …

Knowing us it will remain a perennial question to which the answer will be – dunno. And once covid restrictions are lifted and we feel safe to travel again, it will probably become quieter and quieter. Hope so …

In any case, I hope you are well. We are fine – really. C is now knitting for next door’s little girl. She’s taken to running every day and I think the slight upturn in weather is helping in that regard. I think the slight negative effects of the vaccine which affected us last weekend, have well and truly gone, although I continue to suffer with sinus issues. I keep saying that I’m going to press the NHS to sort this, and then I never get round it. It’s like the Spanish question, I guess. Perennial … and unanswered. Ho hum.

Keep safe.

grumpy Henry

Happy Mothers’ Day

Happy mothers’ day (I’m guessing the apostrophe is in the right place … but it works for me in this case). Especially to the four mum’s in my life. First the newest – Bex. Who’d have thought it? It is something extraordinary when one of your own decides to grow up, get a job, get married, move to a foreign country and you still feel that they’re still a child (in your heart, clearly … not in your head). And then they go and have a baby of their own. What’s that about? How is that even possible?

And C, of course. The mother of our two girls. Motherhood shines from her brighter than any other mum I know. Third is our pal Mary. Much love to her today, a difficult day for so many reasons which I won’t elaborate on. And, finally, my dear old mum. She’s lost a husband and a son in the past two years and somehow, from somewhere, she finds compassion and joy. She is a remarkable woman. One of a certain generation, for sure, where stoicism and a good slurp of pragmatism sees her through. Based over 250 miles away, and unreachable during covid, it could have been an awful year for her … and, therefore, for us … but she’s weathered it without fuss. Phew … and thanks and love, mum, for everything.

Happy Mothers’ Day … oh, and our new shelving in the garage (£12 each from B&Q – yippee!)

And how are we? Well, generally ok. I’ve ripped something in my calf. It started as aching knot over the past two weeks and then, on Friday when I was out running, something gave up. The pain was on the chart, but close to the edge and I had to hobble in. Since then I’ve made it to the stage where I can walk without looking like I’m dragging my leg behind me like a sledge. But I can’t see myself running anytime soon. Ho hum.

We’ve got some stuff done. I’ve put shelving up in the garage, sorted some of the back garden, finished edit two of The Belmonte Paradox, started a new consultation with a school in Sussex and continued other support with the odd telephone conversation here and there. We’ve eventually got to the end of The Marvel series of films which manage to get the balance between sensationalism and humour about right. They are v light and easy. We wanted to finish them because we’ve heard so much about Wandavision which, apparently, you can’t start until you get to the end of the series. That’s next once we’ve finished with Parks and Recreation, another madcap Netflix series which is funny and just about manages not to be repetitive. It’s a welcome follow on from Schitt’s Creek which I loved – C not quite as much toward the end.

Henry and his dad

We’re now beginning to gear up v slowly for an escape. Campsites open on 12th April and it seems v likely that we will pop into Doris and take a few weeks away somewhere, reasonably local. Scotland would be on the list, but I don’t think they’re ready for us yet. In big chunks of stuff I think we’ll stay local for the summer and, everything crossed, head over to the continent for September and get the last of the warmth before we transgress it into winter. Of course this is the first year in as long as I can remember when we haven’t skied. Which is such a shame and we both miss it so. Oh well.

Finally, you may have noticed that I have avoided politics this time round. I had a faint ambition to talk about the Sarah Everard murder and the Met’s response to last night’s vigil, but I won’t. All I would say is that any of you using the #NotAllMen hashtag, I’d give it a rest. For a start, it’s not about us (same argument with #AllLivesMatter and BLM). Second, women know it’s not all men. The problem is, they don’t know which ones. I’ve learnt to purposefully avoid looking at single women when I’m out and about, and I often cross the road or, when running, give plenty of space to women especially when I’m coming up behind them.

my mate Al works in Saudi. His latest weather update …

Anyway. Enough. I hope you are all well and keeping safe. And I’m guessing many more of you will have had your vaccinations? Brilliant. The more the merrier.

I can’t stop myself

that’s a cormorant on our golf course

It is difficult to pen a blog just now without wanting to write something about the Harry and Meghan ‘thing’. Ordinarily I would leave well alone because I’m just not that interested – there are many many more important things going on (like sorting the mould out in our bedrooms, and the £23bn test and trace system which has shown ‘little discernible benefit’ according to a committee of MPs). And, like nearly all of us, I know very little about it – not really – and, as a result, I should keep my opinions to myself. But …

This is not just Palace versus Sussex – a second division football match. We are in this as well. Us, led by the press. It’s a triumvirate. And I accept my portion of responsibility.

I am not a royalist. But neither am I a republican. I sense that our country gets something from the monarchy. It adds something, more than just a touristy allure. And now that, as I understand it, the Civil List/Sovereign Grant has been paired back (enough?) and we no longer pay for the minor royals not to work – with some of them holding down decent jobs and/or competing in sports at a high level – we might well be getting value for money. And if we want something, and the Royal Family are it, then we should pay for it.

Are they anachronism? Should we really have to defer so deeply in their presence? Could they try and be a little but more human? Possibly ‘yes’ to all those questions. Are they institutionally racist? Do they disregard their own when they have mental health issues? Well, do we actually know the answer to those questions? We can’t be sure. However, and here’s the big thing I’ve learned in the last decade or so: as a middle-aged white man I absolutely cannot comment on whether or not something is or is not racist. I can’t. I cannot know. I have no idea, because I am a privileged middle-aged white man. And, as someone who has never suffered from mental health issues and certainly never thought to take his own life, I am not in a position to judge as to whether someone else is or has. So if Meghan said she was suicidal, and we sense that she’s been treated in a racist way, we probably should leave it at that.

And, let’s be clear about Harry for anyone who’s thinking of judging. Leaving aside following on behind his mother’s coffin in front of a huge global audience, he spent 10 years in the military, with two tours of Afghanistan at the height of the conflict. For one of those he flew an Apache helicopter, arguably the most difficult man-directed mechanical thing ever invented. I’d take him at his word every time.

Should they have done the interview? Leaving aside the very sound argument of ‘what you’re prepared to share’ versus ‘what is stolen from you and then shared against your will’, my jury is out. Sure they’ll get paid a lot and that’s an attraction. And maybe they thought it was the only way to get the House of Windsor to wake up (the present tense of ‘woke’, by the way) and get these things right. Maybe the Sussex’s thought they were doing them a favour? I dunno. I’m not sure I would have gone on Oprah in the way they did. But I’m not judging them.

Finally, the press … and us. I have a thing here. I have personally (professionally) been on the wrong side of the press twice. And I wasn’t happy. They are sensationalists and they have an agenda. Every time. They would argue they have to be that way in order to sell their stories – and bad stories sell better than good ones. It’s human nature. And I could go on about the right-wing press barons, but you’ll have to wait for book 7 in the Sam Green thriller series to read more. But they clearly have a thing against Meghan Markle and, therefore, Harry. And they force opinions. We live in a divided country – more now than I ever remember. Right versus left. Brexit versus remain. Independence versus unionism. We are encouraged to take sides by the press – their side, whatever their editor thinks we should feel – when most of us are somewhere in the middle. They, and they always have, focused opinion. In this particular argument, nearly exclusively against Meghan Markle.

When they do, we must remember who owns them. Remember who pays the editors and how those editors were selected in the first place. And we should remember that people like Piers Morgan become people like Piers Morgan because they are narcissists. They crave attention. Our attention. They are outspoken not because they necessarily have those views … but because having those views keeps them in employment. The press are in it for the sales. No more, no less. And that drive continues to put pressure on those in the public eye whilst encouraging us, mere mortals, to take more and more partisan views.

And I have no idea what we do about that.

Finally, I think it’s worth bearing in mind that whilst the The Daily Mail had a Meghan and Harry special yesterday (13 pages – and we know which side they’re batting for), Prince Andrew continues to fail to be interviewed by the FBI in relation to the Epstein paedophile racket. I don’t remember seeing a Price Andrew special, or the realms and realms of print and other media interest (other than the quite excellent Emily Maitlis interview) on Andrew’s relationship with Epstein and those girls. Do we know why? Is it simply because Markle is black? Divorced? American? Or is it more contrived than that? More nefarious?

Who knows.

if it doesn’t move …

Anyhow. Enough.

I’ve finished resealing Doris’s 7 roof lights. And we’ve started some minor painting and decorating. Other than that, it’s been business as usual for us oldies.

Doris’s very clean roof

Keep safe everyone.

Mojo?

I have a number of things to catch up with. First, we’ve both now had our first jab. It was painless and efficient and we can’t thank the staff and volunteers enough. It is true to say that both of us felt a bit low afterwards (I didn’t sleep at all well last night and C is feeling distinctly groggy this morning), but we’re done. And thank goodness for that.

jab 1 – tick

And, leaving aside how ‘a little fluey’ I feel this morning, I think I’ve got my mojo back (a bit). It started on Friday when I was looking over my old Instagram posts where I have been posting for five years – every day, religiously. Leaving aside the past 12 months, which is a series of dull pictures of home (other than our autumn trip to Yorkshire), we did used to do a lot. I mean … a lot. We were always away. The Bahamas, SE Asia, east coast of the US, most of Europe, Scotland more times than I could count, a good deal of England. We visited friends – old and new – and our feet were hardly ever strapped to the ground. The Insta posts were associated with fun things and fun stays. And it was relentless. I was exhausted looking at them.

Nowadays? Not so much. And it had started to get to me. As though our current predicament is ingrained and all we could ever expect to do in the future is go for a walk/run, do a few jobs around the house and then watch telly. OK, so I have been working a lot – certainly last month – and I’m close to finishing edit two of The Belmonte Paradox. And, of course, in the first lockdown I did write of Black Bulls and White Horses. So we got a lot done … but we didn’t get away. It has all become monotonous, to the extent that breaking from that seems like it’s going to be a lot of effort. As though that was our previous life and this is our future. We went into lockdown full of the joys of spring, and emerged in the autumn of our lives.

Except … that’s not going to happen. Because, and that’s the beauty of social media, the memories of our previous life are just there. On our phones. In glorious technicolour. You can feel the joy. So, yes, I have my mojo back. And we will go away at the first opportunity. And we will go abroad – fly somewhere hot, or take Doris to Greece – when the window appears. Yes, that’s what we’re going to do. Hold me to it.

what do you mean I’m not allowed any of your hamburger?

What’s also interesting, for me at any rate, is that I have, probably unsurprisingly, put weight on. C and I did a bmi check the other day and I’m now over half way through the green zone – the wrong half. My fighting weight is 12st 7lb. When I was in my 20s and as fit as I ever was, I was below 12 stone. At 6 foot 4 inches, I think most polite people called me slim. Others used more descriptive terms. Well, for the first time in my life I’m over 13 stone and I have a little pot belly to prove it. I am exercising as much as I usually do, but home life and home cooking and, I guess, age and general inertia, have ganged up against me. Am I worried – he says reaching for another piece of cake? Not really. I’m not sure I want to put on much more weight though. I’ll do my best. Now, where’s the biscuit barrel?

I hope you are keeping yourself safe. For those of you without vaccines, they’re coming. We intend to stick to the same routine – double masking in shops etc – I think forever. Certainly until this time next year. But, with my mojo back, we’ll be doing that somewhere strange. And that can’t come soon enough.

A little testy …

So we’re one of the Brazil variant postcodes. Which is pretty frustrating. We’ve worked so hard to stay safe and, I would argue, because the government applied the formal quarantine process too late, a new mad-strain of the virus appears on our doorstep without a Copacabana. It is untrue for Johnson to say that he acted as quickly as he could – of course it is. We flew to Korea in November and were, without any ceremony, hoarded, chained and then thrown into a government hotel – for two weeks … at our expense. Of course it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as that, but there was no way – unless we’d made a dash for it – we could have escaped the Korean government’s clutches. And, do you know they reckon 15,000 people a day are still flying into and out of our country? Why? Where the hell have they been? Where are they going? We are so close to getting this thing under control. Why risk an errant strain when you don’t have to? And think of all the money those hoteliers could have been making – the ones with buildings standing empty at the airports. It does, I’m afraid, make me a little testy.

Anyhow. We’ll get our first jabs by the end of the weekend. Add two weeks to that and then we will be happy to go and see people within the parameters of the government’s rules. Phew. That is, unless we catch the Brazilian variant between now and then.

I hope I haven’t b*ggered it up

We’ve kept ourselves busy. I’ve waxoyled Doris’s chassis extension – I’m sure I told you that before. And I have resealed two out of the five roof lights on her roof. I’m never sure, because none of them are leaking, but I do sense that the current seals are losing the grip and it can’t do any harm? Out last (Doris one – she was lovely) van had a leak through the main roof light … which I fixed badly. Anyway, we’ll see. They certainly look better, but I just hope I haven’t removed old sealant which was doing a perfectly adequate job. Hmmm. I must keep an eye on that.

In the process of resealing the openings, when C was cleaning the plastic rooflight, she noticed that one was badly cracked. I have a plan for that which includes clear sikoflex. I’ll let you know how that goes. Whatever … it’s great to be out in Doris. I do miss being away in her. Hopefully our time will come sooner rather than later.

I’ve also sorted the garage. Our neighbour was getting rid of a single set of shelving (I need three – they’re from Ikea). His kind donation provided the impetus for me to take everything out, sort and put it back again. Ever since the original Brexit food panic, we use the garage as an extended larder. I think it’s going to stay that way for a while. My next job is to get the final two shelves and fix the whole thing once and for all.

our green walk goes OOB soon

Editing of The Belmonte Paradox continues. I’m sticking to a chapter a day (I do that before breakfast). I’m looking forward to reading it to C when I’m done. I got a frisson of excitement yesterday when I started thinking about the second book in the short two-book mini-series (within the whole series). It is fabulous being a writer – allowing your imagination to run away with itself to places you’d like to go … to meet people you’d like to meet. I’m thinking a ballet dancer, possible male? Based at the Czech national ballet? I went there once and saw some show (I can’t remember which). It was fabulous … and very John Le Carre. There were spies and informants in every row. It’s a thought. Where else? Any suggestions? Any particular characters you’d like? Anyone want their names in the next book? More than happy to do that. I can’t guarantee I won’t kill you.

he’s a content little chap

That’s it from me. Next time I write we’ll have both been jabbed. I hope you’ve either had one, or are very close to getting one. Between now and then stay as safe as you can. And thanks for all the nice comments about reading this drivel. I will continue not to disappoint.

Why are your reading this drivel?

I have absolutely no idea why you continue to read this drivel. It is the ramblings of an older man which, since last March, have almost exclusively been focused on irrelevances out of our small home in Bristol. But, twice a week, a number of you do read what I pen and, as it provides a diary for C and I, I will continue to write. Trust me, though. I will not be in any way boverred it you give it all up and instead listened to the latest Now Show podcast. I wouldn’t.

Yippee!

Actually, some stuff has been happening, First, we’ve been call for our first jabs. To be accurate, I was called and then C got all humpfy, went on the NHS website where it encouraged her to book a slot. Hey presto, we both get our jabs at the end of next week. Hurrah! We have continued to stay at home, only venturing out to walk, run and shop irregularly. I hope we can keep ourselves out of harm’s way until out veins are throbbing with antibodies. I hope you are all getting yours soon.

And you may have noticed that Mrs Sun has joined us. Hasn’t it been fab? It has made all the difference to us. C has been out in the garden and I have done all manner of trivial tasks which have been outstanding since last year. Both yesterday and this afternoon, in a very crazy way, I was outside in a t-shirt. It’s not March yet … I can’t remember ever being outside in the UK in a t-shirt in Feb. Other than making my usual climate change comment, I’m not complaining, as I have waxoyled (a oily compound designed to prevent rust) Doris’s chassis extension, resealed the first of five roof lights, mowed the lawn, and sanded and teak-oiled the top of our garden table. Along with that we walked around our local golf course twice … the fist time we did pretty much the whole thing and were out on our feet for almost two hours. And it was lovely – just grass, nature and the warming rays from Mrs Sun. Fab.

done this … just us and nature

Work continues. I have some meetings with the second MoD team this week and I started with a new school in West Sussex on Friday … which looks like it might grow into something. As you know I don’t have a website and don’t market what I do. All my work is either repeat or by recommendation. And, just now, what with editing book 7, I’m at about the right intensity. I’d hate to have to turn some people away. We’ll see.

Other than that I had a bit of a wobble about living abroad (again). We’re catching up with ‘A New Life In The Sun’, and whilst that C4 programme focuses on people setting up businesses abroad – whereas we would just move there – it does remind you what living in France, Spain or Italy would look like: very attractive. Pre-Brexit that would have been as simple as moving to Northumberland. Alas, no longer. Isn’t that sad?

Enough. I should be relishing and recognising the plusses of Brexit. All that sovereignty and happy English fish. Oh, and the £350m a week for the NHS and the relief that the Turks are not going to invade and take our jobs … and not having to provide troops for the European army. I could go on.

where’s Henry?

Stay safe – please. I’m 59 and have been called for my jab. You are all clearly much younger than me, but it can’t be long!

Imposter syndrome

I’m onto Chapter 4 of The Belmonte Paradox, book 7 in the Sam Green series – edit 2. So far, so good. It’s funny. I follow a lot of writers/would be writers on Twitter and Instagram and the angst about novel writing, editing and then self-publishing (only a select few make it to the heady heights of traditional publishing) is palpable. Lots of encouraging memes and self reflection. Which is really lovely and very helpful … but in the end, there’s only one piece of knock-em-dead advice, and that’s write. Just write. If you don’t write, and do so in a coherent way which sees you pen a beginning, a middle and an end, then you will never finish a first draft. Give yourself a target – and be realistic. Mine is always a relentless 1,000 words a day from 1 September. 130 days later I have a finished book. OK, so it’s nowhere near perfect, but as some bright spark author once said – I fill a sandpit with sand – my first draft. I’m then ready to build a castle.

I’m an imposter

I guess it’s a confidence thing, and don’t think for a second I don’t suffer from it. I’m always fretting about my work. Currently, book 7 has, I think, has some fab parts, but is the plot too contrived? Is Sam really that bright – or that lucky? Does it make sense. Does it finish, as my pal Al always says (critically), with a ‘crash, bang wallop’? (That is too quickly.) I know there’s an issue with the current draft about how Sam and her team find a complex in Bosnia, about 3/4 of the way through this book. And I need to smarten that up. And there’s her OCD which sometimes I don’t make enough of … I need to sort that. And, well, is anyone really interested in the books? Am I an imposter? Are my novels really 4.2 stars/5 (when you average all the hundreds of reviews across Amazon and Goodreads)? Why am I even thinking about making this book the first of a two-novel series – a series within a series? Are people actually boverred?

grumpy Henry

So my heart goes out to all of the writers out there who, unlike me with my misplaced confidence who has these fleeting insecurities and then just writes anyway, suffer from self-doubt. If it’s something you love doing, do it. And ideally, set yourself a daily target and just write. Sometimes it will be good stuff. Often it will be rubbish. But you can’t edit what you haven’t written …

We’re fine. We’ve both been for runs today. I’ve been doing some Doris tidying in the warm weather, polishing and cleaning here and there. And I’m close to getting a few more songs sorted on the guitar. It is getting easier and I hope in a couple of months it will be easier still. I do like it when the guy on YouTube says, ‘this is going to be tricky even for an intermediate’ and then, after some practice, I just about manage it. I think the noise is probably driving C a little mad; certainly when I get the plectrum out. The problem is I never seem to finish a song, and as I tend not to sing along other than in my head, I could be playing any old set of random chords … which must be frustrating.

Our Jen did this with a computer drawing programme. No trickery … just an eye and hard work. I love it.

Other than that, we’re waiting for our jabs and then, and only then, will we think about lifting our heads out of the lockdown sand.

Keep safe everyone. Phone a pal you’ve not spoken to for a while. That’ll cheer them up.