Amanda Larkman's Blog: Middle-Aged Warrior, page 3
March 16, 2022
FRIEDA OUT NOW!
The second in the ‘Woman and the Witch’ trilogy, it tells the story of Frieda Beaudry - Mrs B. - and her mid life crisis.
Description
The highly anticipated second volume in the popular 'Woman and the Witch' trilogy
It’s 1959, New Year’s Eve. Paris. Frieda Beaudry can’t go on. Forty years of doing exactly what she wants has taken its toll. Not even a week at the Ritz can restore her spirits.
Banished to a tiny village perched on dangerous cliffs, Frieda looks for peace. Instead, she uncovers a monstrous secret, and the day a child goes missing she is forced to make a terrible decision.
‘You’ve always been a coward, Frieda. You’ve never stood and fought. You’re selfish, vain, and destructive.’
Is Frieda too old to change? Maybe it’s time to stop running?
Frieda
February 12, 2022
New Book! Frieda, the prequel to The Woman and the Witch
‘Frieda’ tells the story of Mrs B as a young (well, younger) woman. Read of her adventures as she escapes to a tiny village to take stock of her life, only to discover she’s tumbled into something terrible.
Watch this space!
https://youtube.com/shorts/HXrLtL6vtN...
January 7, 2022
Author Magazine Interview
I got interviewed by the wonderful InsideKent magazine as they chose me as part of their Kent Winter Reads article.
You can find the whole magazine here https://viewer.joomag.com/insidekent-...
I had a lot of fun doing it - great to see responses from a number of wonderful authors.
The Bookbinder – Out now on Audible!
I couldn’t wait to share this with you! My most recent book, a thriller, has had the audio treatment and I am so pleased with it! I hunted down Alex Lee as I really liked her voice and she was very experienced with some popular series. I was delighted when she liked the book enough to agree to bring my characters, Liz and Amber, to life.
Have a look at this advert to get a feel for the book. It’s a very dramatic scene I think Alex did very well.
You can hear a longer sample by heading over to Audible – where you can also buy it! 
For those of you who like to read rather than listen, you can buy the book in paperback, hardback and kindle. Have a look at the sample below. Your support is much appreciated!
I hope you all had a wonderful, covid free, Christmas and New Year. I’m beavering away on the prequel to my book, ‘The Woman and the Witch’, see link below, and it’s very hard work. It’s called ‘Frieda’ and I hope to have it published around April. Fingers crossed, anyway.
An Interview!Something very very exciting happened at the end of last year. My local magazine, Inside Kent, asked to interview me as part of their Kentish Winter Reads. To say I was OVER THE MOON is to put it mildly. I never thought when I started this blog so many years ago that by the time I got to 2022 I’d have four books published with one on the way and get interviewed in a proper, physical magazine that other people would read!
You can have a gawp by clicking here where you can have a look at my beaming face. Look for page 36 – I’ll put in the screenshot here or you can see the whole edition by clicking the link below.
Me in Inside Kent Magazine December 2021Husband, Dog, and teenagers all doing well. Though son managed to break his nose playing Rugby just before Christmas and daughter keeps borrowing my clothes and looking amazing in them. Here’s to an amazing 2022! Lots of love to you all.
'Frieda' the Prequel to 'The Woman and the Witch'
'The Woman and the Witch' is planned to be a trilogy, the first is called 'Frieda' and tells the story of a middle-aged witch (though don't call her that) who grows bored with her charmed life. She escapes to a tiny village in England where she discovers there's more to life than men and jewelry, but almost gets killed in the process.
Then you can read further about Frieda in 'The Woman and the Witch' The Woman and the Witch where she is now 100 years old, grumpy, and fed up. She meets Angie, a fifty-year-old cleaner, who is still reeling from her husband having an affair and leaving her alone with nothing. Together, they forge a powerful friendship and Angie discovered the meaning of the sigil she has carried in her hand all her life.
Finally, I hope to write 'Angie' the end of the trilogy, about what Angie does after learning what about her powers and what they can achieve.
I hope to get 'Frieda' out for sale April/May 2022.
For those of you who enjoyed 'The Woman and the Witch,' I hope you love 'Frieda' as well. Keep an eye out, I will update readers here on when she will be ready to be unleashed onto the reading world!
January 5, 2022
The Bookbinder Out on Audble!
Here's a link to a little peek into one of the key scenes where Liz, the bookbinder, tries to get Amber to listen to her.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6aMU...
The Bookbinder
November 6, 2021
A Weekend in Venice: One Must Suffer to Achieve Bliss
I’m of the opinion a good holiday has to be preceded by a number of disasters and inconveniences. You have to suffer in order to be rewarded with a trouble free, enjoyable holiday.
Preferably the suffering happens BEFORE you depart so you can fly off safe in the knowledge that the worst is behind you and the happy holiday can begin. (Crossing fingers so as not to jinx anything). God forbid your booking and initial travel goes smoothly because that probably means your luggage will disappear in transit or your hotel will get flooded.
Of course, it’s been so long since Rob and I have been on holiday we’ve got out of the habit. Like all of us, it’s been stay at home all the way for the last few years. But what struck me as half term approached was the fact that Rob and I haven’t flown anywhere without the children for eleven years. ELEVEN YEARS!
Since they were born it’s been driving to France for self-catering holidays or cheap trips to Spain where my parents had a flat (now, sadly, sold). So romantic getaways as a couple just didn’t happen.
NOT ANY MORE! I vowed. Son is 16, daughter is 14. Both were capable of being without Mum and Dad for a while and brother, sister, and mother-in-law kindly agreed to come and stay for a weekend to make sure they didn’t organise any wild parties.
In a sort of blurred craze I made the decision to surprise Rob with a romantic weekend away in VENICE, BABY!
Hang the expense! I thought. I couldn’t remember the last time we were in a hotel room with a minibar and hotels with mini bars are my absolute favourite thing in the world.
We needed to spend some proper time together, I’d been working long hours, so had Rob, and what better place to go than Venice. I’d been once when inter-railing a lifetime ago and remembered it as hot, busy, and smelly but that was August and I read that late October would be perfect as it’s not so hot and hopefully not quite so crowded.
So, the planning began. I wanted to tell Rob our destination as a surprise the week before. I bought a copy of a DK Eyewitness travel guide to Venice, the ones with loads and loads of pictures, and thought I’d give it to him wrapped up so he could plan where we would eat and where we would go before we left. I think for Rob that’s his favourite part of going on holiday.
I booked the holiday on lastminute.com. Flights booked, hotel booked. Sorted! Then I remembered Covid tests. And learned about digital passenger locater forms. Even writing these words fills me with a terrible remembered dread.
More Googling. And then even more Googling. I had to book a PCR test within 48 hours of arriving in Italy. No! Wait! Hang on – the rules changed. I only needed a nurse admitted antigen test. Phew! OK – Boots did those. Another Google. In my town? No. They did them, but only in a town which was a fifty minute drive away.
Oh, we’ll make a day of it, I thought airily. There was a good shopping centre nearby and we could take the children out for lunch, do our antigen test, get our certificates and Bob’s your uncle.
Then I learned about the day 2 Covid test you have to do on your return. I also had to fill in a passenger locater form to get into Italy and then another different one to get back into the U.K. To fill that one in you needed to put in booking codes for the day 2 PCR test the U.K. demanded you do when you return.
So at great expense and on the recommendation of a very helpful parent friend, I booked a drive through PCR test through a company called Collinson (highly recommended them, by the way*)
We would drive out of Gatwick, drive through a car park, get swabbed and Bob would be my uncle again.
But wait! The rules were changed again! After 26 October the U.K. government no longer required a day 2 PCR test, an antigen would be fine. OK, no problem. I logged onto Collinson, changed the test from PCR to antigen and got a refund.
Sorted!
But, no. I thought all was fine. I was smug and super organised, Rob remained in the dark ready for his lovely surprise at the start of term.
But then I got a call from Lastminute.com. The flight had been changed from Sunday night to Monday morning. Hope that’s ok? they said.
No. This was very much not OK. I’d arranged car parking, child care, dog care, Covid tests both ways, passenger locater forms both ways all on the basis of returning late Sunday night. (Remember this is for a two night trip).
What about the hotel?
Oh, it’s fine! They said. They’ll give you an extra night free.
Realising there was nothing I could do I sighed, straightened my shoulders, and rearranged everything.
I begin to get excited about the trip and couldn’t wait to tell Rob where we were going. I ignored the tiny niggle of worry I had that lastminute.com hadn’t sent through a confirmation email.
I called them and was reassured – all in hand, madam! They said. It’ll come through soon!
Days passed, weeks passed, and no confirmation of the updated flight and hotel details arrived. I phoned, emailed and chatted lastminute.com and every time I was reassured.
The week before we left two things happened. First, I gave Rob the book and he was over the moon delighted and couldn’t wait to start our romantic break. I left him happily researching restaurants and places to visit. Secondly, Lastminute.com called to say they were very sorry but actually the hotel didn’t have a room free on Sunday night so I could fly back Sunday morning?
Considering we were flying in on Friday night, leaving at 7am Sunday morning was not the dream holiday I was hoping (or paying) for. No, I said. That was very, very far from ideal.
‘I’ll call you back,’ she said.
Rob, alarmed by my shriek of despair and outrage came running into the bedroom where I was hiding with my phone.
‘What’s up?’ he said.
‘Nothing!’ I said. ‘Everything is absolutely fine.’
‘It’s just, you seem to be gritting your teeth and I heard you scream so …’
‘Don’t worry – everything is going very smoothly.’
Lastminute.com called me back. ‘They have a room for Sunday night!’ she said.
‘Hooray! I said.
‘It has to be a suite as they’re otherwise fully booked,’ she went on.
‘Oh, that sounds lovely.’
‘So if you could transfer over €600 I’ll get that confirmed.’
‘Wait. What?’
After a very long drawn out and protracted conversation in which I pointed out I had phoned ‘twice a week!’ to confirm the hotel was booked and the extra night would be free, and every time (‘EVERY TIME’) I had been assured all was fine. And how it was very unfair to tell me at the last minute (ho ho) ‘we’re leaving in FOUR days!’ That we had to pay the entire cost of the holiday again for ONE extra night …
Anyway, after a long conversation in which the customer service woman stayed very calm while I got increasingly hysterical, lastminute.com called me back to say they would cover the cost of the extra night in one of the best rooms the hotel could offer.
I am now completely in love with lastminute.com and will use them for all my holidays from now on.
The only remaining disaster was when we trekked over to the fifty minute away town to get our pre-flight tests I hadn’t realised we were supposed to bring our passports.
‘Can you accept photos of our passports?’
‘No.’
‘How long are you open for?’
‘The nurse finished her shift in an hour. How far away are your passports?’
‘Fifty minutes there, fifty minutes back.’ I said sadly.
‘Oh, well that’s that, then,’ said Rob.
But Collinson saved the day. As we drove back home I logged on and managed to book a pre-flight test for the following afternoon using the same drive through car park outside Gatwick we had booked for our Day 2 return tests. I updated the passenger locater forms and all was (finally) sorted.
Venice was everything I hoped it would be and more. The hotel was stunning, the city was more beautiful than I could possibly describe and Rob and I reminded ourselves why we liked each other enough to get married in the first place.
It was utter bliss from first to end and all because I went through the tunnels of hell first in order to make sure that happened. One must suffer to achieve bliss.
The flight was uneventful, we landed smoothly in Venice where my pre-booked water taxi was waiting. Speeding across the water towards the light of Venice was a BLAST! We felt like James Bond and the boat was gorgeous, all white leather and polished wood
Water taxi from Venice AirportThere were many highlights but one still makes me giggle whenever I think about it. Queuing to enter the magnificent Doge’s palace we were asked to show our ‘green cards’ or Covid vaccine certificates. Both Rob and I had been very sensible and downloaded the QR codes to the wallet app on our phones.
I showed her mine, all fine, waved through. Rob, somehow, showed the guide the QR code for his ‘I Don’t Know How But They Found Me’ concert ticket.
Aside
Some months before Daughter had persuaded us to take her to see this band IDKHBTFM. It’s an off shoot of another band even I’ve heard of – Panic at the Disco. It was a great night but Rob and I felt very old as we queued around the block outside O2 Forum with five million thirteen year olds all wearing outrageous outfits and chewing gum whilst scanning us up and down with scathing glances.
How on Earth Rob had that on his phone wallet I don’t know, but it seemed to do the trick as he too was ushered forward ready to experience the architectural wonders of the Doge’s palace. Perhaps the guide thought that anyone who supported ‘I Don’t Know How But They Found Me’ would definitely be up to date with their Covid vaccinations.
Initially it was crowded with people but as Rob and I wandered around glued to our audio tour phones, the people began to thin out and eventually in the last few rooms Rob and I were the only ones left. Because we are TOUGH and SEE THINGS THROUGH TO THE END! Even listening to every word of an eighteen minute description of a Titan painting that I suspected was a print.
The Doge’s PalaceI’m glad we did stay as the final stage was over the Bridge of Sighs to the prison – a sobering experience to say the least and an interesting contrast to the pomp and self important extravagance of the palace.
We did St Mark’s Square and didn’t mind paying €25 for an orange juice and fizzy water because it was BEAUTIFUL! Pigeons circled in the blue sky above, white coated waiters brought us crisps in silver bowls, a piano played and all around us was the babel chatter of Italian, German, Chinese and French.
Oh! I had missed that so much all those years trapped in a pandemic ridden U.K.
That evening we went to a fancy restaurant which was pretty and had a lovely view over the Grand Canal but … meh. The food wasn’t great. The waiters were off hand and the main course was served on cold plates and felt like they’d been hanging around a bit. Maybe just me, but I like my food piping hot. The tiramisu was fantastic though.
The next day was a free tour of a wonderful glass making factory. It was lovely and warm next to the 1,000 degree ovens and we watched in amazement as a master glasssmith extracted a huge glowing blob of glass from an oven and just … pulled a horse out of it with his great big iron tweezers. His skill was amazing. And I quite like how grumpy he was at the group of gaping tourists standing around him.
We wandered through the gallery, I fell in love with the most exquisite tray of carafe and wine glasses but took a smart step back when I saw it was €3,800.
The gift shop was more suited to our pocket and I eventually found what I was looking for, a gorgeous chunk of blue and gold bubble filled glass to use as a paperweight.
Isn’t it beautiful?After the glass tour we wandered through the Jewish quarter, stopping for more Aperol Spritzs accompanied by delicious cichetti, before walking all the way down towards St Mark’s Square in search of a shop I had fallen in love with the day before. It was full of the most amazing thing – FRAMED BOOKSHELVES! Look at them! Look at their gorgeousness.
So many clever and interesting things
I had to add the name of the shop with the email to contact Teresa if you fancy buying one of these amazing pieces.The wonderful Teresa told me all about the Lebanese artist who moved to Venice 30 years ago. He studied architecture at The Università Iuav Di Venezia (I think that’s what she said). He now makes these frames full of piles of paper, postcards of cats and lions, and the spines of books. I absolutely loved them and when I put them on some Facebook Bookgroups, they loved them too! I hope lots of them go and buy them from Teresa.
This is the one I bought – well, Rob did as a holiday present bless him – I love it more than words can say.Then the moment came. The moment when we were to move from our standard double to our lastminute.com-paid-for Junior Suite!
I must tell you about the hotel. It’s called the Hotel Al Ponte Antico and it’s perfectly placed in the centre of Venice right next to the Rialto Bridge and overlooks the Grand Canal.
It was built in the 1500’s (a relative newcomer, Matteo the owner told us) and is a palace that has been lovingly restored.
It has a dock and the water taxi took us right there where we were met by Tommaso, immaculately dressed in a tailored jacket with pocket square and cravat. Warm, welcoming and knowledgeable, he greeted us by name and showed us around the hotel and made us delicious Aperol Spritzs that he carried out to us on the terrace. Bliss. He reminded me of a character from Dickens.
The Al Ponte Antico Hotel, amazing breakfasts, amazing views, incredible service.I was expecting the service to be good, based on the trip advisor reviews, but it was exceptional. Nothing was too much trouble. Everyone knew who you were and advised on where to go and what to see as well as organising tours and trips.
I loved how there were massive piles of books everywhere. And Barbara’s baking was incredible. For weeks beforehand I had been logging on to their live webcam and it didn’t seem real when we were finally there and I was looking at the view in real life.
Click here to see the live web cam of the Hotel Al Ponte Antico
And here is the webcam! See the Rialto bridge?What was lovely was when I posted a picture of this on Facebook an old school friend got in touch to say her husband had proposed to her on the Rialto Bridge!
So, we were already in love with the hotel and now we were to spend our last night in the junior suite. This is what we found…
To make the most of it we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon just watching the world float by on the Grand Canal from our hotel window. We could have high-fived the gondoliers, they were so close. It was bliss.
Then, happily, we found a fantastic restaurant a few minutes from the hotel. Called Ristorante Ca’ Dolfin it was a good, basic pizzeria. Rob had prawns to start and I had a delicious Mozzarella and tomato salad. They’d strewn both dishes with flowers, something I didn’t see until I looked at the photographs! The pizza I had was perfect and more tiramisu was consumed by me while Rob had a gloriously wobbly pana cotta.
StartersWobbleSo, thank you Venice, thank you lastminute.com, and Easy Jet, and Matteo and Barbara at the Hotel Al Ponte Antico. We had the best holiday I can remember in years.
* I have to mention here how great Collinson were. The website is easy to use and the chat function works well. The customer service was responsive and knowledgeable and were really helpful when I was trying to fill out some hideous online forms. The drive through car park was 12 minutes from Gatwick. Clearly signposted, we followed the cone lined path round and up to a booth where we checked in with our booking reference. Then we drove to the swabbing booth. Two nurses appeared on either side and double checked our details before swabbing. We could then either drive off and wait for our results to appear online/be emailed, or wait for the results. We were told if we waited they would print off the certificate to prove we had tested negative for Covid. I quite liked the idea of having a paper copy. We were warned it could take 45 minutes – that was fine as we had ages until check in. Well! TWENTY minutes later the nurse appeared with two certificates which proved we were negative and ready to go. The whole process was smooth, straightforward and professional and it was equally easy on the way back. Testing to fly is a pain, but Collinson made the whole thing a breeze. If we still have to test to fly I will definitely use Collinson again.
November 4, 2021
A Couple of Corkers: Lisa Jewell and Clare Chambers
Two books rocked my world this last week. The first, The Night She Disappeared by Lisa Jewell, an author I first discovered in 1998 and have adored ever since, and the second is a new author to me, anyway, (I’m always late to the party), Clare Chambers’ novel Small Pleasures.
I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed these books. I knew I’d love the Lisa Jewell one, I have written before of my embarrassing reader crush I have on this author and her latest didn’t disappoint. But the second I would never have chosen if it wasn’t for the hundreds of times I had seen it praised to the skies in my Facebook book groups.
I received my copy of Lisa Jewell’s book the day it was published. I’d pre-ordered it months before and couldn’t wait to get stuck in. The trouble is I can’t write my own book and read Lisa Jewell. I don’t know why. I think it’s probably because I think she is such a clever writer I start burning up with envy and it knocks my confidence and then my book seems really bad in comparison. Yes, I know, I shouldn’t compare, no good can come of it etc, but I can’t help it.
So I put my lovely new hardback on the shelf and tried to get on with my new novel. I was off to Venice for a 20th anniversary weekend with Rob so I thought I’d save it until then. Unfortunately, disaster struck when I realised that due to the stupid new Easy Jet regulations, there was no way this sumptuous new hardback could fit into my tiny hand luggage bag, so I had to buy it again on Kindle. This must be the fifth time I’ve done this. I don’t mind, though. Lisa Jewell deserves every penny.
The Night She DisappearedThis is a very clever and completely absorbing book. Jewell draws three narrative strings together set over two years. It opens with Kim, mother to Tallulah, and grandmother to Noah. She is babysitting Noah while her daughter – who is 19 – goes out to have some fun with her boyfriend Zach. The first chapters follow Kim as she becomes increasingly concerned that she can’t get hold of her daughter. Days pass and there is no sign of them. Kim knows something must have happened as Tallulah would never leave her baby son.
The second narrative is set a year later. Sophie is moving in with her older boyfriend to a posh crammer school near Kim’s village. She writes detective fiction and learns of the story of the missing teenagers. She is intrigued and begins to investigate when something happens at the end of chapter two that will have you immediately hooked.
The third narrative features Tallulah in the months leading up to her disappearance. It is perfectly placed as clues start linking together and different interpretations of events are unfolded and presented to you without comment or guidance. You have to stay alert to pick up the clues.
So why did I love this one so much? Well, the plot is brilliantly crafted so I have that sense of reading an author who is at the top of their game and writes with absolute authority and has such confidence you know you can trust the craftsmanship. Lisa Jewell told me she doesn’t plan her novels, she never knows where it’s going to end up, and I take my hat off to her because I don’t know how she can do this without detailed planning. She must have a mind like a trap.
But, as I have said before, it’s all about the characters. Jewell is the rare writer who can construct pacy, gripping plots but is also able to present characters you care about. They are vividly drawn in a few strokes and it’s her sparse style I like the most. Not a word is wasted – the mark of an experienced and accomplished writer. I must also add that there is a brilliant bit involving a secret (don’t want to give anything away) which, when I got to it, made me as excited as I was the first time I read a Famous Five novel when I was seven.
This is what reading is all about. When I was reading it I could have been anywhere – Dr’s surgery, tropical island, ASDA – it would all disappear as I was so completely caught up in Jewell’s world. I forgot I was reading as the events unfurled and I could picture every tree, every brick of what was described. I feel if I could find the right address I could go and see Kim and Sophie and Tallulah and they would greet me like an old friend, I know them so well. They are flawed, infuriating, charming, and passionate but, like all Lisa Jewell’s characters, they are human and real and that’s why you care about them.
I don’t want to give any of the plot away as it would really spoil it, but I promise you that by the time you get to the final third of the book you will be racing to the end, heart-thumping, mouth dry. My husband had to wait twenty minutes (while we were on the trip of a lifetime to Venice for goodness’ sake!) for me to get to the end as I simply could not put the book down. My fatal mistake was to start reading the last few chapters while he was having his morning shower and then of course I couldn’t stop reading and had to get to the end to find out what happened. Jewell keeps you guessing until the final paragraph. Bravo, Lisa Jewell.
Small PleasuresThis book couldn’t be more different to The Night She Disappeared, but both have that depth of character that means you find yourself thinking about the people long after you have closed the book. I loved this heart-warming, gentle tale of love and life. I have never read Clare Chambers before and now I can’t wait to order her entire catalogue.
Of course, it is beautifully written, lyrical in fact. Jean is a journalist at the end of the 1950’s. Getting older now, it is hinted she has been disappointed in love and now lives with her mother, who demands a great deal from her daughter. Jean becomes obsessed by a newspaper article about parthenogenesis, virgin births, and when a woman called Gretchen writes in to claim her daughter is the product of a virgin birth, Jean pleads with her editor to be allowed to investigate the story.
We follow Jean in her quiet little life as she moves between work and home, catching her excitement as she learns more about Gretchen and her mild-mannered jeweller of a husband, Howard. Secrets and stories and betrayals are gradually revealed, all set against a vividly described England of the 50’s. I was reminded painfully clearly of my grandparents’ house where nothing had changed for forty years. The food, the streets, the details of dressmaking – something that was so much a part of post-war life where many clothes were handmade – is portrayed with great skill and conviction.
It is so hard to talk about this book without spoiling the story. But I could tell you that Jean falls in love and find happiness, and the truth of Gretchen’s letter is much more surprising than you would expect. It’s a story of church knitters, gardening, and old women who visit the lonely. There is great kindness to be found here and it was like a balm to my troubled soul.
SPOILER ALERT PLEASE DON’T READ UNTIL YOU’VE FINISHED THE BOOK – DON’T! YOU WILL REGRET ITI have to talk about the ending. I won’t tell you what happened but it left me heartbroken. Like, properly heartbroken, in fact, I was quite cross with Clare Chambers for letting it happen. (In the same way I was VERY cross with what Rachel Joyce did to Enid Pretty in Miss Benson’s Beetle (another wonderful book that you must read)).
I like happy endings. I was so upset by this one part of me wondered if I wish I’d never read the damn book as I was sad for days. Honestly! Pathetic I know, but it really got to me. It reminded me of reading another of Lisa Jewell’s – Then She Was Gone – OMG I kind of wish I’d never read that one – it filled me with anguish. But no, on balance, I’m glad I did read Small Pleasures. It’s such a lovely lovely book. I can’t wait to read everything else Clare Chambers has written.
October 19, 2021
It’s all about the Granola – and a Horse Fly
Last time I wrote about food it was my unhealthy obsession with grilled halloumi, specifically the M&S halloumi kebabs intended for the BBQ. You could get them in either the sweet chilli version or the pesto. Both are delicious.
After gorging myself all summer on the damned things I can no longer look a halloumi kebab in the eye. Life became bleak. There was little of interest on the TV, the nights were beginning to draw in and I had to face the consequences of a carefree summer eating the contents of the M&S chilled aisle.
The treat cupboard was emptied. Grim lists of vegetables, salads, fruits, and healthy meats were drawn up. The weeks stretched joyless ahead.
Until I remembered my chocolate hazelnut granola.
Five years ago when I was in the thick of my journey to knock off the weight and bring down my blood sugars it was the only thing that kept me going.
As long as I didn’t inhale the whole jar and accompanied it with some thick, creamy and delicious full fat greek yoghurt it kept my blood sugars stable. It’s not a low fat dish but the fats are relatively healthy ones and it’s packed full of nuts and flax seed so lots of omega oils too.
I don’t usually approve of that very very dark low sugar chocolate (cheap box of Milk Tray will do me) but it works in the granola giving a chocolatey richness without being too sweet.
Chocolate and Hazelnut Granola Recipe
So this afternoon I spent a few hours mixing it all together and it was delicious. Now all I have to do is keep the children away from it. Rob keeps coming in saying, ‘they’ve eaten a kilo of Greek yoghurt. A KILO … I only bought it this morning…’ before shaking his head and walking into town to buy more.
Dog, it turns out, adores Greek yoghurt too and watches every mouthful consumed with unnerving intensity. Woe betide anyone who leaves their bowl unattended …
Rob and the BlogI started this blog a good while ago now. It doesn’t seem possible but my first post was in December 2017 – almost five years ago! Well, in that time Rob, my darling husband, never read it. He wasn’t my target audience to be fair, and with the loss of his father and his struggles with depression, he never got round to it.
The good news is Rob is much, much better. Off the meds and is happy and purposeful. It’s fantastic and joyful and I am remembering the fun we had when we first met before tragedy hit, and the children reached that ‘difficult’ teenage phase. A side effect I wasn’t quite expecting is his guilt at not being more involved in my writing and this led to him reading my blog.
Every.
Single.
Post.
Rob has steadily worked his way through nearly all of them in the past week, This is a tremendous feat of tenacity as there are almost a hundred on here. He also had to put up with me saying ‘did you like it?’ ‘What was the best bit?’ ‘What line made you laugh?’ every time he reached the end of one.
We did have a slightly awkward conversation about my Norman Reedus articles. I’d forgotten all about them so seeing Rob read an article where I wrote about my inappropriate middle-aged crush on a B movie actor from ‘The Walking Dead’ was a little uncomfortable, but we got through it.
It wasn’t like I tried to hide anything, I hasten to add, in fact Rob is such a fantastic husband he actually paid for me to meet Norman Reedus at a Comicon event for my birthday. I had a blast and thought it brilliant he trusted me so much, but hadn’t quite taken into account that Rob hasn’t read the article.
I think this proves how strong a marriage we have, and I was delighted when Rob then read his way through all three of my books offering insight and tremendous support.
The best bit was it made him realise how brilliant I am (Ha! About time!) and reading posts like this helped him to understand how difficult it can be to live with a partner with depression.
He felt bad, which he didn’t need to do as I love him, of course, and I think we have learned to forgive each other for our flaws and weaknesses, but I was very pleased that he wanted to buy me something beautiful – two bracelets that I accepted with great grace. He showed real taste and I adore them – what do you think?
They are from Missoma and made of a gorgeous green stone called malachite. I’ve never heard of it before but it is now officially ‘my stone’ and I want lots of ‘pieces’ made from it.
The Horse FlyLess good news has been the effects of a particularly nasty horse fly bite on my foot, I will spare you the photographs but be assured I have an entire album of photos on my phone tracking the progress from initial, innocent looking ant-bite to huge swollen trench-foot like monstrosity. It still hurts now, four weeks later.
I started thinking something was wrong when I woke up to find a strange puffiness around my toes. By the end of the day the whole foot was throbbing angrily around the innocent looking dark red spot left by (I presume) a horse fly.
As I hobbled into work a colleague asked what had happened. When I mentioned I suspected a horse fly he gave a gleeful description of how a horse fly bites. ‘It might as well take a dirty knife and fork to your skin!’ he said. ‘Filthy things, all sorts of bacteria swarming around in their jaws. They don’t sting you with a needle like a wasp, they have two blades in their mouth – they lacerate the flesh by chopping it up and then they use their labella – the softer part – to suck up the pool of blood.’ He nodded down at my swollen foot. ‘Looks nasty,’ he said before walking off. Bloody Biologists.
Look at those blades!! All ready to chomp at your skin.By the end of the day I was in agony. Every time I put weight on my foot I felt the pressure would burst it open, like an over-cooked sausage. I took endless photos, much to the family’s disgust.
‘Urgh, Mum – leave it alone! Stop picking it!’ they would say before edging away from me. None of them seemed to be taking it very seriously.
Happily, the next day I was seeing the Doctor for a (gasp!) face to face appointment. I’d booked months in advance and after passing through three gateways of telephone interviews, the promise of my eldest child and an hour’s tutoring for the nurse’s daughter, the receptionist graciously allowed me to meet my GP in person.
‘I suggest you go to A&E about that foot,’ she said as I limped to the door in my flips flops.
‘Oh, no really?’ I said. ‘Can’t you give me something?’
She glanced at me from her seat at the computer. ‘It’s infected and may lead to sepsis. I suggest you get them to have a look, you may need an IV antibiotic.’
‘Wait. What?’ I said, immediately panicking. As readers may remember, I have slight issues with hypochondria. I was filled with visions of them sawing off my foot.
‘I’m sure it will be fine,’ said the Doc. ‘But better safe than sorry.’
The treatment I’d had from the GP involved extremely strong pupil dilating drops. At this point I couldn’t walk and I also couldn’t see. Fortunately Rob was nearby to manhandle me over to A&E where they examined my foot and thought I’d be OK with some oral antibiotics.
I was slightly alarmed when the nurse drew a line around my ankle with my biro. ‘If the swelling goes beyond that line,’ she said, ‘you must come straight back into A & E.’
Cue me spending the next few days obsessively checking the swelling as it inched towards, but thankfully not over, the biro line. I panicked a bit when it got washed off in the shower but luckily I’d taken eleven billion photographs of my foot and ankle so could redraw the line.
The RunLuckily, I was on the mend by the time I got to the long awaited Race for Life 5 K run. I’d signed up for it months and months ago and was training well but never quite got to the full three miles. ‘It’s actually over three miles,’ Rob kept reminding me, annoyingly.
As the day approached I cursed my stupidity in encouraging some of my pupils to sign up. It’ll be great! I thought. We’ll raise some money for a brilliant cause (Cancer Research UK) and it’s a good example to set to the other pupils!
Of course I’d forgotten they are lithe 17 year olds who do eight hours of sport a week. I started to worry when one of them said, ‘I might do the 10k, Miss, is that OK?’
‘Fine! Of course! Great! Good for you!’ I replied, my heart sinking. Would I get round the course? Would I be the last one to trail in as the girls failed to hide the pity in their eyes? I was old enough to be their (glamorous and youthful looking obvs) grandmother! Oh, the humiliation!
Of course it was fine. 10k pupil bombed around the course and managed to make the top ten. The rest of us started off and I shouted ‘go on ahead, you three! Don’t wait for me!’ and lowered my head to start running up the giant hill that started the run.
As I pounded up it, panting like an old warthog, I realised the track looped back on itself and in what felt like about 30 seconds I saw my three pupils merrily skipping back down the hill not a bead of sweat between them.
‘You go, Mrs Warrior!’ they shouted with a triptych of grins lighting up the grey day.
And I went. I plodded around, blasting ‘You gotta work, bitch’ by Brittney Spears through my AirPods. I got into my stride and was powering along. I ignored the fact I was being passed by people who were walking. As far as I was concerned I was doing a steady jog, maybe they were just very quick walkers.
Dripping with sweat I kept going, I even got into a bit of a rhythm. I took a gasp of air and inhaled a fly. It better not be a horse fly I thought grimly as I got to the final bend. I spent a good five minutes trying to hack out the fly before giving up and washing it down with a bottle of water kindly proffered by a volunteer.
It wasn’t quite Chariots of Fire, but when I saw the finish line I sped up a bit. I took out my headphones as I realised I could hear shouting. There they were, my pupils who’d run and the others who had come to support, lined up all pink faced and cheering.
‘Go on, Mrs Warrior! You can do it! Woo hoo!’ they yelled.
It was the best thing. I soared to the end and managed to knock six minutes off my best time. I have decided whenever I go for a run I need a full entourage of whooping supporters. It’s a great confidence booster.
I made sure to take lots of pictures with the pupils holding up their medals. The school wanted me to send them over to put on their webpage. I tried to hide behind the pupils but they’re so dammed slim I didn’t have a chance.
Oh, well, I thought. There’s loads of us, I’ll be at the end – they’ll crop me off.
Not only did they not crop me off, one of the featured pictures in the article they’d cropped all the pupils off and zoomed in on me so I appear, centre stage, hair tied back, bright pink, sweat dripping from my eyebrows and jaw with a cross-eyed grin that shows off my crooked front tooth.
However! I ran over three miles, in my quickest time, and between us we raised £1,869 for a brilliant cause. Well done us!
And finally … Books!A couple of recommendations. I really, really enjoyed these. Have a look, you won’t be disappointed.
And I cannot tell you how lovely this is. I’ve never read anything like it – a gorgeous, sumptuous read.
September 13, 2021
Better Than Cake – Proper Comfort Reads: Keyes and Kinsella
Reposting in honour of the VERY exciting news Marian Keyes is publishing a sequel to ‘Rachel’s Holiday’ screech!
Comfort comes in many forms. Hugging your loved ones, taking a bath, opening a bottle of wine, watching a good movie, or eating as much cake as you can get in your mouth.
All of those work for me, but the cake is not a good idea if I’m trying to stick to my low-carb diet. When I say comfort reading, I mean that the books are so absorbing, so gripping, they help you escape from the world for a few hours. If I’m having a hard day and there is no wine (or cake) available, these writers make is all better. Today this post is all about those funny, warm, and – above all – entertaining books which tell a bloody good story. This is the second in my series on amazing books I recommended, have a look at my first one: Louis de Bernières and Liane Moriarty.
When I choose my books they have to tick five boxes – you can click here to see a reminder of the the rules If they don’t meet the criterion – they aren’t getting in.
Marian KeyesMarian Keyes is my absolute go to number one author if I want a bit of escapism and comfort. She ticks the boxes for all of my rules with most of her books – mainly because l I don’t want them to end. Luckily, she writes lovely, long novels which keep me going for a good while. Not only do I have to slow down when I reach the end, I have read all of her books three or four times and I always pre-order the next one even if I don’t know what it’s about. I have everything written by her including collections of her articles and her cake recipes.
I have a particular soft spot for the Walsh family. Five of Keyes’ books centre on Mammy Walsh’s daughters. I read the first, Watermelon, many years ago and fell in love with them all straightaway. Set in Ireland, the family is led by the redoubtable Mammy Walsh with her long suffering husband Jack. They have five daughters, all of whom at some point have had their poor mother’s ‘heart scalded’ with worry. All of them are hilarious. There’s a lovely little interview with Marian Keyes talking about the Walsh Family on the Penguin Website.
In Watermelon , Claire Walsh, the eldest daughter, gives birth to a beautiful baby girl. On the same day her husband leaves for another woman – the skinny cow who lives in the flat below theirs. Claire flees back to the arms of her loving family in Ireland to recover her strength. But going back home after being independent for so long is harder than anticipated. This book made me SCREAM with laughter.Rachel Walsh’s struggles as a drug addict in rehab is the story of Rachel’s Holiday. More on this one below.In Angels , previously sensible and boring middle daughter Maggie runs away to Los Angeles to have an adventure. She gets off with a lesbian, and flirts with movie stars, much to the consternation of her family. Anybody Out ThereI’m putting the big link up for this one. It’s a beautiful book. Very sad at times, you’ll be gulping back tears, but oh my goodness is it funny. It is the story of Ana, previous ditsy hippie stoner, who is recovering back home following a dreadful accident in New York.
I don’t want to give away any of the story so I won’t tell you the plot. I do want to quote these lines which had me crying with laughter. Here, Mammy Walsh, driven to distraction by the selfishness of her girls, shouts:
‘One of you five bitches has stolen my Multiple Orgasm. It’s like the time you stole all my combs -‘ this was an often-repeated resentment – ‘and I was going to mass as it was a holy day of obligation and I had to comb my hair with a fork. Reduced to combing my hair with a fork!’
Imagine my delight when I went to see the lovely Marian Keyes being interviewed and I got a chance to ask her a question. I mentioned this quote and she confirmed this was, indeed, based on the experience of her own mother, (it was so real and so funny I was sure it was based on real life) who once had to comb her hair with a fork because her children had pinched all her combs.
The way this novel deals with grief is simple, engaging, and at all times moving; but counterbalancing that theme is a an exciting plot based on the marketing of an exclusive make-up line, as well as further insight into the family dynamic of the Walshes. It really is a lovely book and you will find yourself thinking about the characters long after you have finished.
The youngest daughter, Helen, stars in The Mystery of Mercy Close where she tries to make a success of being a PI. I didn’t enjoy this quite as much as the others, probably because I live with someone who suffers chronic depression and this felt a little too close to home. But it was worth a read to get to meet Mammy Walsh again and to hear how the other sisters are getting on.So which of this series am I going to put on my list? Well, it has to be Rachel’s Holiday. All of them are great, but this is the one I must have read five or six times. Like all of Keyes’ books there is great tragedy and despair to be found. You can’t call any of her books lightweight, despite the fluffiness of her covers. (They are less fluffy now)
I can’t quite explain how she does it. In her novels Keyes covers domestic abuse, addiction, rape, abortion, sudden paralysis, depression, anxiety, suicide, miscarriages, divorce, and terminal illness; and yes, these things are dealt with in an unflinching – never sentimental – way, but she STILL manages to make you laugh. And they always have happy endings. I agree with Keyes, life’s tough enough without sad endings.
Rachel’s Holiday is a really good example of this. Oh my gosh I love it so much. So it opens with Rachel in New York. She is a good time girl out for a laugh. She and a fellow Irish friend paint the town red, drink, and take drugs at parties and basically make the most of their youth.
It is so clever how Keyes slowly and delicately manipulates you into recognising that Rachel is a flawed and unreliable narrator. It’s written in the first person and Rachel’s voice is so lovely, so vibrant and outraged at all the ‘killjoys’ who surround her, it takes a while before you realise how screwed up she is.
She ends up in rehab. This is the point when everyone remembers Keyes was an alcoholic who was in rehab. I’m not sure how relevant this is, but the descriptions of what goes on in the centre certainly have an undeniably gritty realism. And oh! The characters Rachel meets there. Although I first read it – God it was published in 1997!! – years ago, I still vividly remember Jackie, and John Joe, and of course the delicious Luke in his tight denims.
I wish I could explain why I keep going back to this book. I think why I like this one the best (although Anybody Out There is almost as good) is the way initial judgments are peeled away and exposed as superficial and foolish. Characters constantly surprise you and firmly held initial impressions are shaken to their core. I remember weeping when one character is slowly guided to realise that his alcoholism has turned him into the father he hated. He now terrifies his children the way his father terrified him. Keyes’ sympathy and tenderness in that scene is so delicately expressed you won’t forget it.
Then, after being drained emotionally, having cried your eyes out over tragic scenes like this, full of despair and horrified realisation, while the tears have barely dried on your face, you will be chuckling at the next chapter. One springs to mind: Mammy Walsh apologises to Rachel because she thinks she ruined her pants when she put them in the wash. She holds up a G-String. Rachel explains that they are fine, it’s a G-String and it’s supposed to look like that. She responds:
‘You brazen HUSSY! That might be the kind of thing they wear in New York, but you’re not in New York now and while you’re under my roof, you’ll cover yourself like a Christian.’
I love this – it’s such a mum thing to say. But Keyes takes the humour of this scene and turns it into something dark and emotional. Rachel can’t bear her mother’s anger and runs out of the house, putting herself in danger. It’s a crisis point which forces her to realise she needs to grow up, and approach her relationship with her mother on adult terms. Until she does, she can’t address the issues that have led to her addictions. I’m simplify it majorly, as this is only a thread in the complexity of Rachel’s character – but it was an interesting lesson to me on perspective – and dealing with your mother!
Keyes has written other novels not about the Walshes and of those my favourites are: Lucy Sullivan is Getting Married, It’s a book for the young at heart, I think, as ultimately it’s a romance. Lucy Sullivan, living with two other women in a flat hates her job and dreams of meeting the man a fortune teller told her she would marry soon. She adores her father and has a difficult relationship with her mother. The part I felt was particularly well done was the slow development in Lucy’s relationship with her father. Is he the man she thought he was? Is her mother really a hard-hearted killjoy? Why does Lucy think a man isn’t worth dating if he doesn’t mistreat her? It was questions like this which lifted the novel out of the run of the mill romance genre. Although the romantic bits are sweet and will leave you smiling goofily.
The second is This Charming Man, which explores the impact one man – Paddy de Courcy – has on three different women. This book will make you shake in horror and fear but you can’t put it down. Also, little details like the girl in the newsagent/video shop (who cynically and hilariously mocks middle-class women who roam about the moors getting wet in the rain because they have been unlucky in love) pull you out of the horrors for a bit so they are not unbearable.
If you haven’t read Marian Keyes, please do, and start with Rachel’s Holiday. You can then go and explore all the others. If you have a long journey, are on your beach holiday – want to escape the kid/partners/work etc, they are ideal. I love opening them on my Kindle and it says ‘Typical time to read: 10 hours and 46 minutes’ ahhhhh bliss.
Sophie KinsellaYou may be familiar with Sophie Kinsella from the very famous ‘Shopaholic‘ novels, which were made into a pretty good film. The first in the series is called The Secret Dreamworld of a Shopaholic. There are eight in the series and I enjoyed them all. They are light, fluffy and entertaining – perfect for holiday reading. You can buy the whole set here.
But I felt that series got enough publicity. I want to talk about Twenties Girl. This was brilliant and I have lost count of the times I have read it. Lara attends the funeral of her Great Aunt Sadie who has just died at the age of 105.
At the funeral, Lara meets the ghost of her Aunt Sadie, in the shape of a very demanding, Charleston dancing, girl from the 1920’s. She insists – as Lara is the only person who can see her – she must help her find her necklace. She won’t take no for an answer.
I’m not going to tell you this is filled with poetry and Shakespearean quality imagery, but it is fluently and charmingly written, with characters who leap off the page at you. The dialogue is natural and funny and the plot sweeps you along. I’m always a sucker for an ‘exposing corporate business men who are screwing over the little guy’, though I know it’s not Chaucer. But it’s not supposed to be!
This is why I don’t understand why people are so derogatory about women writers like Keyes and Kinsella. What people (men) don’t seem to appreciate is they are bloody good story tellers. And though the vocabulary may change, and the syntax might be more complex, all great writes – from Tolstoy to Chekhov, from Dickens to Woolf – have to tell a good story.
The other Kinsella I am going to recommend is The Undomestic Goddess. I remember gorging on this one blissful holiday in France when the children were obsessed with the swimming pool. I would set myself up on a lilo in the pool to keep an eye on them, and then read this for ages with the sun beating down. Lovely.
This has such a great story. Samantha is a super-high powered lawyer who is about to be nominated a partner of her firm. This is something she (and her family) has worked towards for years. She works ridiculously long hours and is vibrating with stress. Then something disastrous happens – she misses an important memo which has catastrophic consequences – on a level with Nick Leeson’s effect on Baring’s bank.
Stunned and in complete shock, Samantha walks out of her office in a daze and gets on the first train she sees. Long story short, she ends up working as a housekeeper and cleaner in Lower Ebury. As Samantha doesn’t know how to cook or clean she has to work hard to stay undercover.
Lovely story, pacy plot and a happy ending. A great comfort read!
I’d love to know what you think of these books, if you’ve read them, and if you go and have a look following my recommendations do let me know if you agreed with me!
Happy reading, Warriors!
