Milly Johnson's Blog, page 4

A Life on the Ocean Wave (well, a fortnight!)

'Working on a cruise ship' is a bit like 'working testing chocolates'... it makes a lie of the word 'work' because it doesn't feel painful.  I love cruises, I love books and I love performing - so it was perfect for me to jump onboard and talk novels and ship-missing and people-watching.  I took my two teenage lads with me as, bitter-sweetly, this was the last planned holiday we would have as a family of 3 (their step-dad was at home feeding the animals.  Food and 'not to each other' we hoped!) They're getting older and socialising with their friends is where they want to be at, not being dragged around ancient ruins with an ancient ruin so I wanted it to be special.

A fourteen night Med cruise on P & O Cruises Azura was ours then.  A port-rich one - 8 in total - so not many sea-days which suits my big lad who prefers to be out and off, though I love my relaxing lazy sea-days.  We take the Eavesway bus down to Southampton, they leave from all over the country and take you directly to the docks.  No worries about getting stuck in traffic (which we always do) because these bad boys are allied to the cruise company and if it arrives late, the ship will wait for you - which it won't do if you're held up in your Fiat Punto.  Once our bags are loaded on at Barnsley, we don't see them again until they are outside our cabins. Our holiday has begun.

We pull in at a service station where the lads have a rubbish burger and we are handed our change without a thank you.  It always happens.  We have come to look forward to the change which will happen within hours.  Delicious cuisine and being called 'ma'am' (me, not the lads)  And someone making my bed for me.

A hark back to my childhood when we got all excited about spotting Blackpool Tower on the horizon, we get the same feeling looking for the first view of the ship.  I should have grown out of it by now - but I haven't.
Being on board as a half-passenger, half-guest means I get a nice big fat welcome.

Though it doesn't let you off having to do the lifeboat drill.  Don't think I have much chance of drowning.  I'm more likely to be suffocated by the life-belt being pushed upwards by my gazongas and cutting off my air-supply.

Not a bad view from the balcony.  I can wave to the bridge.

...And we have set off.  Despite the fact I could have got a free glass of champers at the sailing off party, I always find I just want to get the clothes hung up and then I can relaaaaax.

And though those bottles of champers were tempting... it is TRADITION that I have a glass of Pellers Cuvee Rose in my lovely Glass House.  It tastes of holiday, ergo it is a must.


Oh boy did we sleep.

Seaday the next day - so we headed off to our wonderful Glass House for lunch/breakfast.  What is it when you get up at 12.00?  Tapas for me, fish for my big lad, steak for my little one (who is bigger than his brother - with me so far?)


And a Raspberry Creme Brulee cocktail.  I'm on holiday so if I want one as a pudding, I'm flaming well having one.

It's traditionally a formal night on the second night.  Bay of Biscay was sort of behaving - a cheeky little force 4/5 so we got tarted up ready for dinner.   Ooh - what is that at the door - more champers and canapes.  You do know how to spoil a girl, P & O!


We had club dining - same time every night (6.15pm) same table, same waiters: Linus and Dhana in our case - lovely boys!
And who was waiting outside the dining room to greet everyone - only flaming Marco Pierre White!
Okay - now here's a little story about this man.  I first met his years ago when we were cruising together the summer after my second book came out.  I wouldn't have asked ordinarily, but I ran into him on a staircase and we had a chat and I asked him if he minded that I was writing a story (A Spring Affair) and was planning to reference him in it.

I have spent the years between thinking that he must have thought me a right knob.

And I have been in his company a few times and never dared speak to him.  Hi remember me? That woman you thought might be trying to chat you up on the staircase using a ridiculous story about a novel?

But - A Spring Affair featured an Italian/Yorkshireman and a woman who loved cooking - I wasn't lying. How could I not put him in it?  Sacrilege! Just after it came out, I did Come Dine with Me which featured an apron with that book on it and my sales went through the roof.  It changed things for me and MPW was my good luck charm - and I'd always wanted to tell him that. And as we were posing for that pic, I did.  And he was delighted and we had a right old natter - and it was one of the highlights of my holiday. And that long dark shadow of 'knobness' was at last lifted.



I ate my dinner with a knife and fork and a big smile.  Lady Muck 'ere does like a bit of lobster!!

And so to the next day.  Vigo.  There is a fab beach there but we just plodded around for a bit. I had forgotten a pair of shoes but was rescued on finding a Clarks in the shopping centre.  With a sale on.  The kids, thirsty for WiFi were rescued also.

We didn't miss the ship.

Livery looks great on the ship doesn't it?  (Forgive the photos.  I don't think David Bailey is worried for his job)
And then we set sail for sunny Lisbon.  Had a lovely day sitting in a (WiFi) cafe with a great lunch, soaking up the sunshine.  Getting under the bridge as we leave is always a moment when you feel you need to bob your head. Then off to Gibraltar for a poke around.  There was a sale on in BHS and I bought a top. How's that for international shopping.  The duty free prices, I noticed, were greatly reduced from what they usually are. I think Gib got a bit greedy and then realised that people just weren't buying anything.  Mum and dad benefited from a £6 litre of Bells whisky on that trip.
And I was performing that night too.  First talk - both sittings - about my books.  People turned up.  Including one great elderly guy who came to buy a book afterwards at my post-show signing.  'I hope you don't mind me saying,' he began, 'but I only stayed because I had some beer left in my glass.  And I thought, what the bloody hell is this, when you first started talking...'  Anyway, to cut a long story short, he stayed for the whole thing and turned up at my next talk too.  Sold out of  my entire stocks of Here Come The Girls that night. 
We had a day at sea then. Little lad was in the pool, big lad was doing something mysterious on his phone which had something to do with wifi no doubt.  Lovely lazy day.  I went for a massage in the spa - a 50 minute back, neck and shoulder massage with a Chinese masseuse called Grace.  It was borderline abuse what she did to my spine with the points of her elbow - but strangely marvellous.  I could have stayed there all day.
Then, the next day, we went to Monte Carlo which was boiling at 10.00am in the morning when we walked up the hill to the famous casino.  I'm standing between Adam and Eve by the way.  To look thin, stand between fatties.



Big lad at the casino with the Azura in the distance







Some VERY nice cars there and yachts.  I wasn't greedy - a little one would have done.  And obviously I practised a bit of french and partook of some local wine.  French wasn't very good though, because I actually asked for a spag bol.
Oh then off to La Spezia - from where we would be transported to the delights of Pisa and Florence.  This isn't an actual picture btw because the bus was going too fast to capture one BUT we passed fields and fields of dying sunflowers.  I was actually moved to poetic thoughts to see them.  They were all being loved to death by their beloved sun.  They were drying out to make oil - millions of them.  It must have been a real sight a month or so ago when they were in full bloom and I'll make a note to go back earlier in the year to see them.  God I love sunflowers. Did you guess? 

It was 42 degrees mid afternoon.  Gorgeous.



Me and Dave



We had lasagne in a cafe that sprayed out water vapor, we had ice-cream, we were in a little bit of heaven.  My big son found a Stone Island shop and took some great selfies (very important for teens).  
Then for tea we went to the new Beach House (which used to be the Italian Verona) and sailing out of La Spezia was stunningly beautiful.  Such a perfect day (cue: Lou Reed)



Now Rome, the next day, was an adventure and a half.  2 alarms set failed to go off, which meant that when I woke by chance at 7.45am, there was a mad dash on as our excursion was setting off at 7.50am.  Benny Hill music started up and we - don't ask me how - made it.  We had booked the Roma Express, a train into the city instead of the bus, and it was beautiful - like a mini Orient Express.


I need some training in how to take proper selfies apparently.


 Circus Maximus - home of the chariot races
Alas the Trevi Fountain was under reconstruction so we had to console ourselves with massive ice-creams.  BTW, the Hop-on, Hop-off bus was 18 euros each and definitely worth it.
It was HOT.  Which forced us, conveniently, to park in a free WiFi cafe for a while, far more interesting to teenagers than a colosseum. And it was such a nice day we went back up to the Beach House for tea - cooking steaks on the lava stones so they were perfect for our tastes (a rare, a medium and a well done)
 I knew I was getting lazy because this felt like self-catering!
Corsica the next day and more stunningly gorgeous yachts.
 (WANT! - you listening, Santa?)
And my second talk - all about cruising.  People-watching and Missed Ships.  A worst nightmare for many people (missing the ship you cheeky thing, not my talk)  And it was tropical night, hence the get-up.  Hard to compete with that but I was pleasantly surprised that both talks were packed out.  Someone even clapped.

At sea the next day. I was on duty book signing - met some lovely lovely people!!  Then went off to a posh lunch with the captain.  Who is quite a contender for Nigel Ocean-Sea...
Formal night - so dress up time.  Someone said we look as if we belong on a Martina Cole cover.  I could live with that.
Cadiz the next day - Spanishy, sunshiney and so I Sangria-ed.  I didn't expect him to bring me a flaming pint of it though.

I'm quite proud of this slice of sunshine shot...  
 Check out the swimming pool on the top layer!
 Had a quick Money Spider in the Glass House when we came back.  Look how Olly Smith describes things.  Don't you just want to dive in?  He should write profiles for internet dating, you couldn't resist could you?  

Great theatre shows on board, by the way - we saw something every night.  Gary Barlow tribute act (brill) The Headliners theatre company (which was very Yorkshire-heavy.  Even a Barnsley lad in there).  We love the shows!  Even big lad goes.  Little lad retires to the cabin and orders a room service spag-bol.  It's 'tradition' he says.  Can't think where he has picked up such a ridiculous saying! 
 There was too much on to even make it to the lovely sea-screen which I love (sitting in the open air on a sun lounger with a blanket watching a film - cocktail obligatory).  Anyone who thinks they will be bored onboard is out of their head.
Then it was a sea-day.  So we had a lunch in the old Glass House.  My son had a chocolate canneloni.  We had to try the peanut butter ice-cream with caramelized bacon though.  


Interesting... but I ended up picking off the bacon, have to be honest!
Atul Kochhar was on board too and he is the NICEST bloke ever.  And very funny.  He should do a standup routine about spices.  His talk was packed out and quite rightly so. Very very interesting, and a proper inspirational story he had to tell in his own modest way - adorable man.

And then, sadly, it was onto packing.  But holidays must come to an end and we were missing our family and pets a bit.

(incidentally - the dog greeted us as if we had died and come back to earth again.  The cat looked at us in disgust as if we were complete strangers who had walked in covered in horse manure)

As is family tradition, we had a proper sit-down breakfast in the restaurant on the last morning.  It's available every day but we don't have breakfast simply because we have to cut some meals out!  Plus we are never up.  The boat lulls you to sleep like a giant gently rocking cradle.  I sleep like a baby on a cruise.


Sitting on a bus with the last look at the ship is a sad sight, however much we are looking forward to seeing the folks back home.  This one was a bit teary for me because the likelihood is that I won't be sitting on the bus again with my boys (who were feasting on being back in the land of the internet again).  But it's a new phase.  Next time I'll be with the OH.  I just hope that next time is sooner rather than later...

Why there will NEVER be an E.L.Johnson

It’s a standing joke amongst us authors how many times we are asked this question:  ‘I bet you wished you’d written that 50 Shades of Grey, don’t you?’ With an estimated wealth of £75 million, although that figure rises on a minute-to-minute basis, 647,000 sales in its first 3 days, number one position in the Top Ten charts – it’s an author’s dream surely?  My book is now number 5 in the best seller charts and my publishers are whooping at our 6,500 book sales in the same 2-day sales period.  But to have sales figures like EL James, well, what wouldn’t you do for that?

Just after the first 50 Shades hit the shelves, a few of my author friends who wrote racier books than mine, decided – or were encouraged by agents and publishers – to indulge their talents in the genre.  There was obviously a hungry demand for this sort of book if the sales figures could be trusted.  I waited for the call but it never happened.  That ruffled my feathers! I was editing my own book at the time and included, through sheer devilment, a graphic earthy sex scene between two of the characters, only for my editor to draw a red bracket around it and add the comment: ‘ Ugh.  Can we take this out please, Mill?’  Even my agent rang up, after she’d read it, to see if I was all right or needed a lie down. My Yorkshire stubbornness rose to the fore.  Determined to prove that yet another respectable-looking, middle-aged woman can break the mould, I thought I’d show the world just what I had in my literary store-cupboard.  But, ever with an eye on a point of difference, I started to write a story from the wilder fetish world.  I intended to make EL James look vanilla with extra vanilla pod-seeds by comparison.

My plot 'Selene's moon', named after the Roman goddess of the moon, was set in a small mysteriously-childless hamlet on the wild Bronte moors in the nineteeth century (no animals, no kids – my depravity had some limits).  A young virginal servant – Rose – joins the household of  very rich landowner Sir Maximus Stone.  Day to day everyone lives conventionally, except for the day of the full moon when the villagers succumb to ‘specialist’ desires’, six hours either side of midnight.  Barricading themselves in their houses, is an option should they wish not to partake of the feast of the moon goddess, Selene, but no one wants to miss out.  At six bells any action must stop and never be referred to in Vanilla life. ‘Think Jane Eyre crossed with ‘The Purge’.  Rose is an innocent, Maximus is stunningly attractive, but older, impotent and therefore he must give and receive his pleasures in alternative ways.   The villagers are kind, respectable people but they have been raised in a village where deviance has become the norm.At the heart of the tale there is a love story between a younger woman and a much older man who are drawn together but know they will never be able to consummate their relationship 'traditionally.'   Maximus has to satisfy Rose by proxy – with a selection of villagers and their wild ways.  I won't go into too much detail but though Rose’s love for Maximus is initially pure, her body begins to crave the wildness of her sexual encounters with the villagers.  Throw in an ideology that begins to sour as Rose's beauty begins to change the dynamics between the villagers... and there was my intended story, which I was rather proud of.  It was a twisty, turning plot - and I liked the characters who could have been your neighbours.  Who knows what goes on behind closed doors?

So I plunged into the dark pages of the net, thinking that I was quite worldly, but it appears not.  I had to look up a few activities to see what they entailed.  I didn’t think a lot of them were physically possible, if I’m honest.  Then again, I’ve played Twister with a group of drunken pals, and you can bend a bit when you have to. I swallowed any prudery and searched through the depravities, trying not to wince as unexpected close-ups popped up to put me off hot dogs for life.  Older women with young studs, biting, orgies, foot worship,  watersports, glass coffee tables… I looked at a few things from behind a defensive cushion.  Still, I was determined to set a love story to this colourful, kinky backdrop.   I quite fancied a Ferrari and a film-deal. I’d insist on Gerald Butler for the lead so I could meet him. 

I started to type, I was into my story... then I got to the first gritty bit, where Rose walks in on lesbian orgy and I caught sight of myself in my bookshelf glass door to see I was tapping away at my keyboard wearing a grimace. I carried on.  The toe-sucking farmer, the butcher who spent the whole feast night naked in stocks, taking whatever the villages gave him, the staid preacher’s wife with a taste for something very odd. Oh, you name it, I had them all in there with their feather duster, Iron Maidens, nettles and strap-ons.

To cut a long story short – whereas writing about my South Yorkshire world and its people, I could laugh and cry and celebrate with my characters as I created, this alien world just didn’t do it for me.  I wasn’t writing with conviction. I can write with enjoyment about a group of gossiping birds, I’m in the story with them, but I felt emotionally unmoved writing about a woman emptying her bladder on the mayor, however much he happened to be loving it.  If I cry when I’m writing, I have a chance at bringing a lump to my readers’ throats.  I wasn’t titillated writing about Rose’s adventures… and I think I’d be right in guessing then that I wouldn’t be turning on my readers.

EL James might not have realized what she started when she wrote 50 Shades.  I’m sure that she never thought her little fan-fiction book in the footsteps of the Twilight Saga would have divided the world as it has.  Yes 50 Shades is fundamentally a love story and the ‘action’ takes place between consenting adults – it’s fiction, it’s a story.  To some Christian is masterful – he only ever has Ana’s pleasure in his sight.  Others see him as abusive – they see the stories as ‘normalising’ that controlling behavior.  I knew, in my tale , that I was trying to cast a soft romantic glow on a pit of perversity – and doing quite a good job of it too.  But still it wasn’t sitting well with me.  I forecasted my book sitting on the shelves of Morrisons – wearing its classification of ‘romantic’ rather than ‘adult’ fiction (which wouldn’t have got past the supermarket buying censors.)  There is no age limit to the books – teenagers are reading them.  Are they being indoctrinated into thinking that BDSM is something they to indulge in to make themselves desirable to lads?  If they read mine, would they think that everyone was into the extreme? One person’s ‘escapist erotica’ is another person’s ‘glorifying depravity.’  Where are the barriers?  Could a story about a romance between a man and a five year old be classed as ‘escapist erotica’ then? After all they’re just words on a page too.  See what I mean? Oh as writers we harness the power of words to tell stories, but we do influence…however much our first duty is just to tell stories and entertain.

This week EL James went live onto Twitter with #ASKELJAMES in a major PR disaster move as haters sprang to their keyboards to ask if she was proud of herself for romanticizing abuse?  Others jumped to her defence ‘It’s a story – don’t read it if you don’t like it!’  Feelings on all sides were running very high.  But would you care what people thought if you were earning the amount of cash that EL James does?  Whatever the criticism, she continues to outsell us all and bank the very many cheques.  I mused how I’d be in that position.  
#ASKELJOHNSON.  Questions firing at me from all over the globe:  are you happy that teenage girls are picking up your books in Asda and thinking they need to indulge in group sex covered in jam in order to hook a man? 

‘I couldn’t handle all that,’ I reported to my other half.  ‘I could,’ he said, fantasizing about the private jet and mansion. ‘I really couldn’t,’ I stressed.  I like being liked too much.  I realized that I didn’t want to write a book that might have brought me a fortune, but also would have made me so many enemies.  The EL James story: the capitalist half of me that wants a mansion and to clear off my visa bill wishes it were mine, the soft half doesn’t.  We will never know as Rose and Maximus have been flushed from my recycle bin into the ether along with the birch and the big glove (don’t ask). Sex and danger just don’t go hand in hand for me. 

 ‘Selling loads of books isn’t the same as being well liked’ someone wrote on Twitter about EL James and they’re right.  I wish her, as a fellow writer, luck.  But all that controversy… naw - it’s not for me.

The lasting legacy for me though is that my PC is now bugged up to buggery with dodgy pop-ups from visiting porn sites and a least twice a day I have a new list of housewives up for it in my area and invitations to be a ‘f*** buddy’  Yesterday I was referred to as a Pussy Sensei, which I am presuming is nothing to do with my patronage of Yorkshire Cat Rescue.   I’m even getting German spam (not meat.  Well, not in the traditional sense.) And an invitation for some ‘hot anal burning’ I’m figuring isn’t anything to do with a chicken phall. 
The worlds I create are feelgood and gentle.  I connect with my readers – they see my stories as an extension of me and think of me as a friend, someone approachable that they can write to about my work and why it means so much to them because I’ve hit the spot for them (not the G one).  I don’t want to mass offend – and I like being liked too much.  Money really isn’t everything in my case... I’d prefer ten smiling people at a book launch to a hundred with protest banners.  The mansion and his and hers Aston Martins will have to wait (sorry, Pete).  I’m now writing a book featuring owls, villages and candles (no wax dripped on skin though – they just sit on the mantelpiece and burn).  There’s no gratuitous sex forced in (excuse pun), just tea, buns, birds romance and Yorkshire countryside.  Number 5 on the best seller list – I think I’m managing to do it okay my way. 

The Launch continued...

The weekend wasn't a time for resting on laurels - although we did go out to Rinaldi's in Wakefield to officially celebrate the launch with Prosecco, red vino and a vey vey nice steak.

Any campaign to get a book out there has to be hard-hitting in the first week and a half especially.  So I had a fabulous signing in WH Smiths in Barnsley on Saturday. I was working solidly for the full hour and a half.  It made me very grateful to have moved on from the times when I was sitting there with no interest whatsoever in  my direction and just wishing the clock would hurry up and move towards the 'end of my shift.'  You have to start somewhere...  But thank you to all the people who turned out to support me and bought books and chatted.

with Jenny - one of my 'regulars'The afternoon saw me doing a fundraiser at the White Heart for Claire Throssell. My Tea party and it was just wonderful - vintage china, beautiful sandwiches and scones and home made carrot & coriander soup in a teeny cup!  And lots of sunflowers. Claire's situation has touched everyone - and nowhere stronger than in her own community.  We had a prize draw and raised £623.00 for her.  







Then I had to run to Manchester (okay drive then) for the BBC news review the next morning.  I was jiggered and I think it showed.  But hey-ho.  Live TV is scary and pressurised and even the presenters get it wrong sometimes.  It feels, when you are stuck on a word, that time freezes still for an hour and a half.  But, seconds after going off air, you are the equivalent of yesterdays chip paper.Anyway - here's a little diary of what it's like.10.00pm - get to the hotel and post a copy of my keycard. OH says '2 adults????' It's a mistake. I'm too tired for anything other than a lasagne and a glass of vino in the bar.  I nearly fall flat into that snoozing!  5.00am - I'm up.  Actually 4.30am I'm up because my brain is worrying on a subconscious level that I'll miss the alarm and so shakes me into consciousness.
Check out the themed earrings...


5.50am - I set off for the studio, which is a 2 minute walk from the hotel.
 6.00am - I'm upstairs sitting with all the daily newspapers.   Nice to see I'm in them... ahem! Don't think they'll let me get away with a plug though.
 The Sun...
 The Sunday Post
The Mail on Sunday.

I have to pick 6 hard-hitting and mid-hitting stories and some softer ones.  It's not so hard picking the stories, it's making sure you can pick stories you can handle talking about. Not the front-page stuff, that'll be covered.

7am - I'm whisked into make up.  She's got 5 minutes to make a pig's ear into a silk purse.  She manages a pig's purse.  Heated rollers, anti-glare dust.  My hair is fluffed up whilst I'm talking through the stories I've picked up with someone who refers them to the producer for approval.  A cat stuck behind a wall, a massacre in America, Father's Day, the rise of the YA novels, the baby killed by a dog, a tortoise trained to touch a PC screen to get a strawberry (!) Summer Solstice at Stonehenge, Father's Day Duncan Bannatyne and his ex, teenage hair transplants... I think that's a fair mix to go at.

7.15am - I'm miked up and led through to the studio.  Quick hello to the presenters who are always so lovely. 7.20 am - I'm on.   Talking about that poor baby ('You looked tired,' said my OH later.  'And you said that a Pomeranian killed a dog in America, not a baby.' - yikes, I didn't even realise that)  And then onto Young Adult novels.  I say that they aren't Mills and Boon then freeze... oh GOD I put that wrong, I think. My meaning is that they're more than escapist romance but harder-hitting and I think of all my friends who write Mills and Boons striking me off their Christmas card lists.  So little time, so few words, but still so much opportunity to cock up.7.27am - I'm back looking at the newspapers at the stories we didn't use. 8.10am - I'm drinking a coffee and being re-make-upped.  8.17am - I'm back in the studio and ready to go on air to talk about teenage baldness.  Can I get the word 'psychological' out for love nor money???  It feels like I've been stuck on the word for 150 years. Live TV, a brace and exhaustion are a fatal mix.  But we do the cat story and I get a plug in that I'm the patron of Yorkshire Cat Rescue, at least.No one seems that concerned I fluffed up when I come off.  Happens all the time, they say. That's Live TV for you.  I need a media course!!8.30am - I'm on my way home for a kip and then to make dad a slap up Father's Day dinner which goes surprisingly well, considering my eyelids are help up with scaffolding.The good thing is that you've filled the slot, done your job and - if you do cock-up, it's worth remembering you are the equivalent of yesterday's chip paper seconds after coming off air.  Thank goodness, on this occasion! 

A GRAND LAUNCH

Well, I always think, if you're going to launch a book into the open seas, your best bet is to give it a bloody big push.  Though my book is not officially out until Thursday, this weekend was the one when the champagne hit the side of the good ship sunflower. And I have to say, it was a cracker.
There has been teacups and sunflowers all over my house for a while now - I even have themed socks...
And, far more interestingly, themed chocolates... the Marilyns - named after the beautiful Ms Monroe (it's all in the book) ...clotted cream and summer pudding (with a splash of champagne) chocs from the wonderful Ms Sciolti 
Now we had shady dealings with each other - trading illegally on the chocolate and book black market and I had to make the pick up last week in a car park miles from anywhere.  But all went well. No one got hurt.

Then it was off to Middlebrough library for their Crossing the Tees Lit Fest where the first copies of my books were available. And what a beautiful place.

And check out the themed buns!
Then the next day it was off to Radio Sheffield to record Liveish with Bernie Clifton under the watchful eye of my producer pal David Markwell - and fellow panellist Huw Thomas who had never done the show before and will never be the same again. Poor bloke.


And if you've never played PING PONG DING DONG on air, well, you haven't lived!

Then I had to scoot down to London (like you do) for an afternoon tea at the very gorgeous Grosvenor House on Park Lane for a v important #teammilly strategy meeting.  Champagne, fruit amuse-bouche and a sorceror's apprentice constant supply of plates, warm freshly baked scones and never-ending tea.  It wasn't bad at all.  Oh and the classiest goody bags in Christendom.  And the place was bedecked in sunflowers for me.







And the company was totally delightful.  It's so lovely to put faces to names.  Well it is for me - I'm sure it was of a shock for them!
What was a nice surprise was the 21-bum salute the hotel arranged for me.  OK - not really - a naked protest meeting with mainly cyclists and some joggers.  We were so disgusted, we raced to the windows to make sure our eyes were not deceiving us.


By Sunday my house is unliveable in. It is full of raffle prizes so kindly donated by everyone - Elizabeth Arden, Yorkshire Tea (see my previous post about details), Barmy Bunting, ARK cosmetics, Chris Sedgewick, Walkers, Bahlsen, Tetleys... And THE most beautiful Rob Royd hamper.

Yesterday we loaded up the cars and belted over to Mapp Village Hall - after my fix of drugs - ie coffee, lippy and a squirt of Elizabeth Arden perfume

. My son has finished school so he had the choice of helping his mother or being shoved up a chimney.  He picked the latter, but I dragged him along anyway.  240 goody bags to fill... and they were crackers this year!


we got there in the end!
Though I heard later that some were more interested in the bag than the contents
The Staniforths Cakes were as SUPERB AND MASSIVE as always


Early arrivals were fellow author M Jonathan Lee 'Joff' who sat on the far aisle so he could make a quick getaway ;) He kindly donated a stack of books which went down very well if the cheering was anything to go by.  Bigger cheers than mine, not that I'm bitter.  But he's not invited again.
The prizes were amazing and kept coming ... including this beeeoootiful cake by Christina.

It was full to capacity.  I talked for a bit - fully themed up!
And then when everyone had woken up - we drew the raffle - which took AGES!!!  But Yorkshire Cat Rescue and the Well can split £1400 between them. And there was £100 and some loose change in the bucket for Care for Claire.  Isn't that lovely?
And it is ALWAYS such a privilege to sign books and talk to the people who buy them






 Including Jo - who came down all the way from Newcastle to see me - we were in school together for years.  ('Bloody hell, she's doing well if she's the same age as you.  She only looks about 35.'  Cheers - OH!)  That was a TREAT.
And we surprised our lovely town librarian Jill who had recently retired with a call-out because you remember (or at least you should) those who were with you from the very beginning.  My lovely Carnevale friends made her THE most beautiful cake in the universe.
The wonderful Sandra at Mapp village hall won the Teapot I had my eye on.
AND MY MOTHER WON THE P AND O FERRIES TRIP TO AMSTERDAM!!!
A word here about my two glamorous assistants who were run RAGGED Yesterday picking out the tickets and delivering the prizes... Isabelle and Amelia.  I couldn't do this without them...


And - THERE IS A GOD - because guess who won the giant Lindor Sweetie!!!

Thanks to everyone who came and all the lovely comments and buying the books - 200 and odd sold.  I had a great time but boy I was knackered.  I took a giant Mapplewell freshly baked scone in a goody bag though for the next day.
But only one way to end a night like that... with a giant scone and a Marilyn or two and a little bit of fizz.

You are invited to Afternoon Tea at the Sunflower Cafe!

I can't believe we are nearly there yet again with another book launch  - this time it is AFTERNOON TEA AT THE SUNFLOWER CAFE.

Well if you check out my website  there are some dates where I'll be signing books - but this blog is all about the official launch in Mapplewell Village Hall, our traditional venue.
The themes of the books are here - without giving TOO much away... chocolate, cleaning, sunflowers, Marilyn - and of course afternoon tea!
*
If you want a ticket, you should get in quick as they sell out.  The details are all here - ring or email Caroline or Sandra.  They don't take card payments but you can send a cheque or cash, call in for the tickets or leave them here for the day.  Please unpaid for tickets cannot be reserved as there will be a waiting list.
It's on Monday 15th June 5.15pm - doors open for early bird signings 6pm - we start!  I'll do a talk and then we will hold THE GRAND RAFFLE 7pm-ish... the doors to the world-famous buffet open & I'll be signing books which will be on sale on the night (and also some of my backlist)
Please feel free to bring any books you have already bought if you want them signed, I don't mind at all.
NOW... there are a lot of people to thank here for their contributions to the raffle and the evening - not the least Mapplewell Village Hall and the catering ladies, the caretaker and the management who are great and it's such a fab space to rent - at very reasonable prices.  I always have very little to worry about in their safe hands (very little = nowt)
Bidbi are doing the goody bags.Steel-City are supplying some of the stuff inside (shhh) 
The raffle is held on behalf of Yorkshire Cat Rescue and The Well, which is a therapy centre for local cancer patients.  Both of them do an amazing job.We have all sorts of prizes coming in daily so keep checking what you could win... promises of massages and food - oh all sorts!
Here are some of the fabulous contributors! (please look at their sites - there are some great deals, competitions, fun stuff on them)
P & O FerriesTwo lucky people are going to win a mini-cruise break to Amsterdam leaving from Hull  There they will be able to see Van Gogh's sunflowers for themselves.  Amsterdam is a fabulous city - I'm very much in love with it - and we go on these mini breaks a lot.  They're great value, great fun and there are always loads of special offers ( 2 for 1 !!)  We've also done the Bruges one - but this prize is for Amsterdam because of the subject of the book... all will become clear on reading.  My lovely Aunt Bessie has sent me coupons for the goody bags.  

Tetley have sent this gorgeous clock - and loads of tea bags! 
The Holiday Inn, Barnsley - a Sunday Lunch for Two voucher! 

My incredibly talented photographer and artist friend Chris Sedgewick has donated these two beautiful hand-tinted sunflower photographs.  If you want to see more of his work, then please go to the Spencer Arms at Cawthorne because they are exhibited on the walls.  Chris is available for portraits and weddings and is bloody great at his job (he does all my pics and manages to make a sow's purse out of a sow's ear... next stop 'silk') 
 Elizabeth Arden have sent me lots of sunflower goodies - it's been my 'day' perfume for years - it's beautiful. 
 We have these adorable sunflower candles!
A beautiful Beswick trinket box (donated by my other half which I'm having trouble even thinking about giving away!)
I have a set of nails voucher from Unique Nails on Racecommon Road - they do mine! 
And a lovely vintage Afternoon Tea for Two at the beautiful White Heart in Penistone
I have massages from the wonderful therapists at The Well in Barnsley
I have a signed book by my author friend Debbie Viggiano  A lovely pendant from Roobies (who make some beautiful stuff!)  Gorge sunflower earrings from Chris Rose Linacre!
Sunflower and paw earrings from Daisy and Bert, who are on facebook as https://www.facebook.com/daisyandbert...
£50s worth of vouchers to spend at Belinda Price's Nail Spa in Scisset (so generous!) Belinda also does loads of beauty treatments too x
The girls from Perfect Pout have donated this really smashing lip scrub and balm.  They're Horizon CC students who have set up an enterprise and can be found on facebook here  https://www.facebook.com/PerfectPoutb... and Twitter here @ARKcosmetics.  They've just been granted £2000 to develop their product range - how great is that for our local lasses?
*
There will also be two tickets to see Peter Foster and myself perform April in Paris (in October) at the Lamproom
* Some beautiful Van Gogh postcard books

And YES there will be the usual monster Staniforth cakes! 

The most beautiful bags in the world!!!

I have some of the most beautiful bags in the world in my possession.  My OH and I are in the process of collecting stock to open up a literary Teashop (how could I not... I fell in love with Leni's shop as I was writing it) and have some beautiful bags made from books as my first stock.

I have A Christmas Carol, The Secret Garden, Black Beauty, The best of Lewis Carroll, The Complete works of Shakespeare, The Picture of Dorian Gray, The complete Sherlock Holmes, Emma, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Rebecca,  The Bronte Sisters, Wuthering Heights and a Harry Potter, Jane Austen

Some have a slightly wider base than others but all are priced £55-£60 (+ £5 recorded postage).
I can't stress how gorgeous these are - I don't even care if I don't sell them because I'll keep them all.  They're hand-made to a fabulous standard and I even envy myself having one.  You won't find them in shops either - guys, you can get real brownie points buying one of these for the Mrs! 
Some of these are custom made for me so you won't find them anywhere else.
Pressy for a loved one - guaranteed delivery before Christmas.

Santa needs a bit of help!!!

I heard about the Barnardo's family centre this week after a friend told me that they were desperately short on pressies for Christmas for kids in our local area who come from a variety of backgrounds and circumstances.

This is a call-out for anyone who could slip an extra present in their shopping basket to donate for kids 0-16  like books, clothes, sensory books, teen stuff.  Alas the older kids get the short end of the donating stick so any help there is especially welcome.  No electrical stuff unless it's brand new with kite marks please and no need to wrap as the staff will need to check and match it to a child (via Santa of course).

I can't bear to think of kids without something to open on Christmas morning, and inconceivable as it is in this day and age, it happens.  So if you can shove something extra in your trolley and drop it off at Priory Campus Lundwood, Barnardos - driving instructions here (it's only darn Pontefract Road)  Yep, we are all busy at this time of year but I guarantee that your effort will be better received than you could imagine.  Oh and yes, I'm not just making a call out and sitting back duty done.  I'm donating.

The kids are having a party on the 12th December and if you can deliver before then, it would help.  Plenty of time to get organised helps the staff.

Please help if you can.  And if you are reading this from out of the area, there are your own local kids in the same boat.  Give a kid you don't know a reason to smile a bit this Christmas.

Thank you xx

Christmas is coming...

Well, at time of writing, it's months away - BUT I'm trying to get organised this year which is a good idea if you want some special presents that might take a bit of time to organise (rather than make a mad dash to Argos on Christmas Eve).  I'm lucky to have come into contact with a few artisans on the web who produce some fabulous stuff and not at ridiculous prices - so here are a few recommendations for things you won't find on the High Street.

1)  ME!!!!  Okay - you'll find me on the High Street, but not the gift-wrapped versions of my books.

Every title is available - it will be signed to the person of your choice, with personal message if requested, come complete with a bookmark and is giftwrapped with miniature novelties: eg:  tiny Miriam Stoppard books and Yorkshire Puddings for The Yorkshire Pudding Club, Midnight Moon romance books and teeny pack of bluebell seeds for The Birds and the Bees, passports and flipflops for Here Come The Girls, wedding dresses, clouds, classics, cakes and ice-creams, postards and mini brollies, bars of chocolates, even Daily Trumpets, wrestling posters and teapots.  Then wrapped up in cellophane, beribboned, rosed and gift-tagged.   All for £10, including postage.  Please get in touch via my  email address  if you require one of these for Christmas or another special occasion.
I can also supply Roobies It's Raining Men umbrella earrings and leaf earrings with An Autumn Crush and Mr Bingley cat earrings (feel free to mix and match) for £18.00 (signed, wrapped and delivered).
I'll need:
Payment (cheque or paypal - please tell me which you would rather)
A sending address
Any personal message
Occasion - if any (as a guide to the decorations)
And if you want earrings with that, which sort and which colour if you are                       having the teapots (and brass or silver casing)







2)  Roobies  is a lovely handmade jewellery site.  Ruth Hill makes the most beautiful gifts, many personalised with stamped plates (see my lovely bracelet)  And as a price guide - the teapot earrings are only £6.95. There are some lovely gifts on the site - even personalised guitar plectrums, wine rings, keyrings for couples as well as bracelets and necklaces. AND IF YOU USE THE PROMO CODE : TEASHOP, you'll get 5% off.




3) The Literary Gift Company has fabulous gifts for book aficionados - like this writer's block scribble paper.  Whether you like reading or writing - or both - take a look at their site full of book-related things: mugs, tee-shirts, post-cards


...even a personal library kit


4)  I LOVE these bags from Novel Creations  in the United States



You can customise the handles, add frills and feet and they are beautifully crafted - and the perfect gift someone who loves books and books (who doesn't).

5)  Callula Glass were a real find.  Joanne makes the most beautiful bespoke treasures and is a truly  talented artist.  Last year I had a drawing one of the kids had done of my mum years ago made into a drinks coaster - a totally unique stocking filler - which caused a great laugh (it wasn't a flattering picture!) It cost around £10.


6)  The Dormouse and the Teapot is a pretty vintage site featuring lovely china, hand-stamped spoons with your own personal message on them, perfect for anyone who is tea-potty... and everything is so beautifully wrapped.
AND  here's a message from them... 'We would like to offer all Milly Johnson readers 10% discount on all products at www.dormouseandtheteapot.com just enter milly10 at checkout. Offer ends 1 Jan 2015. X' 


7) Slurp.  If your friends like a bit of the liquid stuff - this site have never let me down.  Their products arrive on time and sturdily wrapped and they have some great offers and wines you won't find on the High Street... such as my favourite tipple PELLERS CUVEE ICE WINE.  Sod champagne (unless it's offered, then I'll take it) - this stuff is THE best fizz.



..it's about £25.00 but it's a real treat :)

8) Barmy Bunting is the brainwave of local lass Eve (great Christmas name ;) who was only 14 when she set up her home-made bunting business - and now she hasn't got enough shelves in her house for all the awards she's won. A Christmas decoration you'll be able to use year after year after year (and they have some gorgeous Halloween and Birthday ones too)


9)  How lucky can I get - having a friend who is an award winning chocolatier?  My pal Fiona Sciolti makes THE most delish organic chocolates which are a total treat for those with a sweet-tooth. The BEST ingredients, no cheap short-cuts and they're such unusual flavours - and they arrive too good to eat (well, you think that for 5 minutes then dive in)




10) Might sound a crazy present - but it's a FABULOUS ONE!  An OVEN CLEAN
I had a fellow from Barnsley in and he transformed mine to a shiny new one again.  I thought at the time - what a fabulous pressy this would make for someone.  I was absolutely delighted with the result.
11)  Chris Rose Linacre makes some gorgeous jewellery using beads, pearls... even stone.  Very unusual and singular.  And her jewellery making blog is really interesting too and can be accessed from her website


12)  And if you are looking for some Christmas cards AND want to help a charity too - my lovely charity Yorkshire Cat Rescue have some sweet cards in their online shop and obviously would welcome the donation to their funds.  Thank you very much if you do.  They're great friends of mine and have given me some wonderful pets over the years.  The first one I got from them sadly died last year, aged nearly 21 :)


13) My friends at Embroidery and Print city in Barnsley have some fabulous personalised gifts for sale if you're looking for a stocking filler mug, hoodie, T-shirt... oh all sorts.  Great quality and really lovely people to deal with.


14)  Or what about a lovely vintage afternoon tea voucher at the lovely White Heart in Penistone - there are a few menus to choose from.  Vintage crockery and lovely food in the most beautiful place.

THE WOMAN WHO GAVE UP CHOCOLATE

My dear readers... have I let you down yet?  Would you have sympathy with a woman who could give up chocolate?  No - well just trust me.  Do not recoil (do women really trust women who could give up chocolate - for other than health reasons of course.)  My heroine is a nice woman.  And she falls in love with a chocolatier.
Which is why I have been doing TOTALLY ESSENTIAL research with my friend Fiona Sciolti who makes THE most beautiful and unusual and fresh and gorgeously proper chocolates.

Fi doesn't cut any corners.  Her orange peel is hand-candied (there was a big pot of cooling sweet rinds in the kitchen) and the vanilla pods she uses are soft and lush and the best that India can give up.  Made the withered dry sticks I get from the supermarket Morrisons look tatty by comparison.

Fi picked some fresh lavender and mint from her garden.

Amazingly by the end of the day these would be in chocolates ready to steal... er I mean bag and sell.  She heated up some locally produced honey and cream and poured it all over the lavender and split vanilla pods. I can't tell you what the smell was like.  But it was good.  That was left to cool whilst she got on with making some orange chocolate bars.

The candied orange is hand sprinkled in the bar trays so that every bit gives up the flavour and then the divine chocolate mix is piped over.  I sampled the Belgian chocolate buttons which are melted to make sure that Fi's claim they're the best were true.  I had to sample quite a few.

The Sciolti chocolate factory is compact but everything she needs is there and machines are whirring and reporting temperatures and it's like a small laboratory rather than a kitchen (give or take the gorgeous smells).  Fi knocked me up this lovely chocolate pizza heart with freeze dried strawberries and raspberries which are full of sharp taste because only the water has been removed - no vitamins.  This lasted about 5 minutes after I'd got home.  It's such gorgeous chocolate.

If the chocolate isn't mixed enough or the right temperature to work with you miss out on the gloss, the taste suffers and the snap is affected when you break it.  When the bars were turned out and ready to sample, there was plenty of gloss taste and snap, let me assure you.  I'm not the best fan of orange in chocolate, but - wow. Beautiful.

The lavender infusion was squeezed through a filter and mixed with chocolate to make a ganache and then handpiped onto trays

Then we stated on the mint thins, chopping up the fresh garden mint, the senses in  my nose were in overload.  The mint thins were piped onto trays too, then white chocolate was piped over them when they were set into flat circles (how does she get them all the same size?)



I had the duty of licking the spoon (a photo which my son forbade me from putting on facebook)
Then it was back to the truffles.  Dipping them in the hot glossy chocolate and covering them in cocoa and icing sugar

Then Fi's lovely man Giles told us lunch was served and we retired to the garden to eat quiche, warm fresh bread and salad in the sunshine, all washed down with a very fruity wine.I declined a sweet.  I had had too many burnt caramel truffles which really are as nice as they sound.

And there we have it - fresh garden mint chocolate thins and Lavender truffles.And I have some to give away.
All you have to do is answer one simple question.'Sciolti' means melting... in WHAT LANGUAGE?(could she have a more appropriate name?)
Send your answer to milly@millyjohnson.co.uk.  I'll pick out the winner on Sunday from the hat so I can get these fresh babies in the post to you first thing Monday morning.  UK only folks 
Check out Fi's website as she does the most beautiful chocs as presents and demos, talks and courses.
Good luck all! xx

Workplace Bullying is Sadly a Common Problem

Last week I did an article for the Sunday Post about what doesn't kill you, making you stronger.
Sunday Post Article Here
Anyone who met the gobby Northerner I am now would be hard pressed to picture me as a blubbering wreck of a woman I was a few years ago.  I was a single mum, had forged a great career writing jokes, drove around in a nice flash car which I’d bought and paid for myself and I was bloody proud of myself.  Then along came a huge international greetings card firm, made me an offer I would have been hard pressed to refuse and so I joined them as staff.  The trouble was that my salary was a point of resentment for some.  Not my problem, I thought.  The firm came to me, not the other way around.  And I know how much profit there is in cards.  I might have been well paid, but what I generated spun a fortune.  And people who could sit down and churn out jokes day after day, week after month after year were thin on the ground.  I was quite aware of my worth. I worked my backside off because I loved what I did.  Life looked very good.
The fly in the ointment was a nasty little bleeder of a boss.  Let’s call him ‘Mark’ (not his real name, which was Stalin).  He hadn’t had a particularly successful career himself but, through bosses leaving, found himself in a top seat.  And more than once during wine-fuelled dinners was quite open about the fact that he felt he couldn’t do the job he was given.  And his insecurities made him the type of boss who liked to drag people down.  He ridiculed young artists in public, he claimed other people's credit and deflected his mistakes onto others.  He had people in tears everyday.  He turned my 6ft 5 rough as houses boss into a jelly being constantly on his back until he was forced to leave. My boss complained but nothing was done. Other people complained about him and those complaints were swept right under the carpet too - the man was teflon.  Complainers were threatened with the sack if they so much as looked at him in the wrong way and seeing as they had put their jobs on the line to complain, and nothing had been done, they put up and shut up.  
It was made very plain that you were either with him or against him – no middle ground.  There are always those who flock to people like these to get positions of privilege themselves and I was amazed to find out that a person I considered a good friend was given the chance by 'Mark' to fill the boots left by my boss. But I kept my head down.  I was only interested in doing my job and earning my wage.  Then 'Mark' phoned me at home and the call turned very aggressive very quickly.  He told me that I had NOT to be friends with my ex-boss.  And when I answered that no one told me who to be friends with, my fate was sealed.  ‘It seems as if there are two camps here, Milly, and you’ve picked the wrong one.’ He said.  (Although in my personnel notes, this was tweaked to:  Milly said that she thought there were two camps and she had picked the wrong one.)  I was told that my job was not safe, which threw me into a total panic.  But then 'Mark' liked having power over people.  They were more likely to do what he wanted when they felt they were in danger of losing their jobs.
My ‘friend’ – let’s call him 'John' – became my boss.  But he was out of his depth and obviously felt uncomfortable working with me and made moves to shift me to another department – traditional verse, which isn’t my strong point and I didn’t like writing it.  But I needed my job, so I moved to another boss, determined to keep my head down and earn my wage.  Then I found emails from ‘John’ to my new boss telling her to watch me as I was prone to skiving.  I was absolutely devastated.  Anyone who knows me will tell you how much of a vicious lie that was.  But my new boss didn’t know me and judged me on all the info she’d been fed with the result that the department was very hostile to me.  Plus I was very overpaid in that job and the people I worked with knew that.  It was painful how I had to present the work I had done and have it slaughtered in front of me.  I was pulled into meetings with ‘Mark’ and his assistant and told that I was overpaid (and I worked from home which was another annoyance for them).  I didn’t want to cause any trouble so I took whatever they threw at me, but my health was starting to suffer by this stage.  I went to the doctors feeling very rundown and he signed me off.  I saw the children off to school and then sat in a rocking chair all day and slept.  Not like me at all. 
But eventually I had to go back to work.  But I wasn’t well – and I’m always well!  I remember sitting in one meeting and being told to drive home – from Bradford to Barnsley – and alter a comma that I’d inadvertently put on the end of a poem to a full stop – and then bring it back.  I thought the girl was joking.  Now - I would have told her to do it her bloody self, but then I had lost all my confidence.  At least I didn't do as she said... I wasn't quite that bad yet.   It’s amazing how a culture of bullying affects people. Powerless little beings suddenly find themselves in the light of the main bully and turn against the same people they don’t like to curry favour.  That’s when a good friend of mine, who was seeing my crumble, quoted me: The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.  I couldn't blame a lot of people for not backing up the ones in trouble.  But I will always blame the ones who joined in so they wouldn't be seen to be 'in the wrong camp.'
Anonymously I wrote to Head office in America and was told that I could speak to a woman in HR in total confidence.  So I did.  And the HR woman went straight to 'Mark' and told him everything I’d said.  I was terrified. I nearly crashed the car driving there one day I was so anxious about walking into that building.
My friends were getting very worried about me.  I couldn’t concentrate on the one job I used to love and I was scared that this would give them all the ammunition they needed to sack me.  My new boss picked apart every one of my expenses.  ‘Mark’ dragged me into meetings to tell me I wasn’t pulling my weight and maybe I should leave.  I said I didn’t want to leave.  They wanted me to go of my own accord, but I stuck fast so their only option was to drive me out. These meetings were all recorded, but tweaked in his favour and not wanting to cause a fuss, I signed the record to say that this was a  true account of what had been said.  Stupid and unbelievable, I think now, because there is no way I should have done that.  But, I was a single mum with two kids and I couldn’t afford to be out of a job. 
One day I woke up with a raging cold, sore throat and I couldn’t get over to Bradford, so I rang to say as much, and went back to bed.  Within the hour, someone from the department rang me to ask how long I’d be off sick.  I hadn’t a clue, I replied.  She asked if I had seen the sick form they had sent to my pc yet, because it needed filling in.  I replied that I hadn’t even switched on my pc because I’d gone back to bed.  They reiterated that I needed to fill it in.  I went back to bed.  They rang again, I let the answerphone pick it up.  They demanded I fill in the form.  They rang again, asking for the work I should have presented to them that morning.  They rang again wanting to know if I would definitely attend a meeting the following Monday.  I got up and I looked at myself in the mirror, crying with a mouth covered in cold sores and I knew I couldn’t ever go back to that place.  
I rang the first solicitor I found in the Yellow Pages for help.  He asked if I could get in to see him.  We became good friends over the years myself and David Gordon (real name).  He says he will never forget the sight of the crying woman who sat in his office that November morning.  She looked like a plague victim with all the sores.  She had flip flops on and it was freezing and raining.  She was a wreck.  I might have been paid £63,000 a year but it wasn’t worth any of it.  He advised me to get a taxi and see a doctor because he didn’t think I’d be able to drive safely.  He said I had a strong case for constructive dismissal – ie when they do everything they can to drive you to the point where you feel you have no option but to leave.  It cost me all the life savings I had built up, but I had to fight him.  Because I had done nothing wrong and they had.  
Droves of people had left quietly because of Mark and I wasn’t going to be one of them.  The firm were effectively taking the food out of my children’s mouths.  So I made them sit up and notice me.  Head office in America threatened to sue me if I slandered them – it all got very global.  They kicked against my solicitor at every opportunity but he forced them to hand over my personnel file which – in the months I’d been in the firing line – was huge.  Every little thing I did was recorded.  I was even suspected of issuing anonymous death threats to ‘John’  (which my solicitor chuckled at).  It was a total character assassination but they couldn’t say that I didn’t do my work, because it was all there.  Incidentally I kept a diary of all the work I did to cover myself and Mark’s retort was ‘I wish I had enough spare time to record what I’d done… so you see what I was up against.)
            My barrister was a lovely guy but here’s where the fight started to unravel.  He believed me implicitly but told me that it was very hard to prove a bullying case.  Because it had happened to so many people at the place, it could be proved I wasn’t singled out.  Or that he was just a ‘strong’ manager.  If he’d groped me, easy case.  Bullying – nigh on impossible to not have strong counter arguments.  I did have some legal cover but it was capped.  I’d spent thousands.  I had to take out a massive loan which - six years later - I am still paying off.  But I am so glad I did it.  Because it was the right thing to do something.  And so many people contacted me afterwards who had been through the same at his hands and wished they hadn't taken it lying down - but it is SO difficult when you are in the thick of it all not to just jack in the job and let them get away with it.
            Even if I had won, it would have been a very hollow victory, my solicitor told me.  There would have been no apology from them.  It wouldn’t get me any money back.  So I decided to let it go, when I had taken it as far as I could feasibly go.  And I wrote about it.  And I advise people about it.  But I can look myself in the mirror and be proud that I took on a massive company.
            So what happened next?  ‘John’ couldn’t handle the job and took a reduced role.  Then ‘Mark’ started to pick on him.  That’s the trouble with little turncoats you see – they use each other but they can’t trust each other.  ‘John’ went off sick with stress and then left.  ‘Mark’ was reported by someone else he tried to bully and the firm decided that was one too many case to fend off so ‘Mark’ was given a nice fat payout and told to leave quietly.
            And whilst I was at my son’s rugby match, a couple of years ago, I saw ‘Mark’ (account here).  He spotted me and sped off as if his backside was on fire and stayed out of my way.  I wanted to punch him, throw my coffee over him and scream… but knowing that he had absolutely no power over me and that I’d come out of the experience wiser, richer (although not in money) and with guts took the sting out of things a little.  There is no greater revenge than success and he isn’t doing that great.  But I am.  That will hurt him far more than a coffee in the face would have. 
And my advice for anyone in the position I was?  And some of these are difficult to do but have to be done.Firstly – some people just don’t realise they come across as bullies.  Your first step should be to hold a meeting and tell that person how they are making you feel.  That may resolve it.  Or it may prove to you that you’re right and you then need to take further steps.
Talk to friends.  Make sure that you have a real case and it isn’t just a personality clash.  Bullying is a very different scenario to ‘not getting on with your boss because he’s a prick.’
Do not suffer in silence.  No one has the right to threaten you with insecurity in the workplace.  Keep a diary of all the incidences as they happen. Write the facts as objectively as you can.  Make a separate note of how these incidences make you feel.
Talk to someone in HR if you are getting nowhere.  Don’t worry about ‘stirring up trouble.’  You have the right to complain and you MUST have what you are saying logged.  People are often scared to complain because it shows up on their records and they think this blights any future chances they have at other jobs.  If you are in a position where you are being victimised, you need a paper trail.
If you have a union rep – see them also.
NEVER sign an account of a conversation if it is not recorded truly to ‘not cause a fuss’.  You need to cover your back and insist on changes being made or refuse to sign. You have to be a good friend to yourself in these cases, dot all the 'i's and cross all the 't's.

You will feel better for taking steps to watch your own back. Do NOT do nothing.  A real bully will not go away.  
Let litigation be the last way - you need LOTS of money and time and energy to go down this route and the victory is shallow if you get it.  Don't undertake that lightly if you don't have a watertight case.  
The more people that shout up, the more chance the law has of changing to recognise genuine cases of bullying.  As it stands there is little between complaining to HR and litigation.
Hope this helps you
Kindest
Milly