Jane Wenham-Jones's Blog, page 3
May 23, 2020
Life’s a gas when you pinch your husband’s Zimmer
May 16, 2020
A Wet Nose (and Foot) doesn’t dampen Chippy Dinner Delight
May 9, 2020
Will my window-cleaner be oven-ready?
May 2, 2020
Circuit training and out-of-date bacon
April 25, 2020
The Cat’s Distancing Skills Still Need Work…
April 18, 2020
I could now get work as an extra in Peaky Blinders
(First published in The Isle of Thanet News Friday 17th April)
As lockdown continues, Jane remains in isolation with husband, son, cat and a pair of hair clippers…
Sunday
It’s a strange old Easter with no chocolate eggs but my new-found domestic goddessery continues apace. Since Friday I have made my own (slightly unusual, still edible) hot cross buns, baked a Madeira cake and fashioned my own pizza dough. I spend the afternoon roasting a chicken and hammering nails into the kitchen wall replacing pictures taken down five years ago. My efforts are not enhanced by dropping the spirit level down the back of the radiator. Nor is my mood when I snap the handle of the net we use to catch the cat’s offerings, trying to retrieve it.
I have just got the tongs wedged down there too, and am having to turn potatoes with a fork, when my husband wanders in for more wine – the better with which to appreciate his book – and the sounds of a new video game float down from overhead. “Enjoying yourself?” my spouse enquires, as I burn my thumb, jump backwards and send the only straight frame crashing to the floor. I have just opened my mouth to screech: “I do everything round here!” when the news comes on. The death toll from the virus has topped 10,000. I shut the hell up and have a drink myself.
Monday
By popular request (my stepson Paul and his wife Lynda), I am videoing my method of making bread. I have been engaged in distance-bartering via packages on doorsteps, with Jo Scott, of Broadstairs Food Festival fame, and now have both flour AND yeast. I don an apron and the first lipstick for weeks, eager to demonstrate my unique rapid preparation of stage one. My fantasies of rolling this out to an enthralled nation soon fade when I realise the cameraman has chopped my head off in most shots and it is obvious when I’ve measured out water with aplomb, that the sink needs a good clean.
If I stand before our picturesque dresser, I look like my grandmother. Positioning myself in the softer, wrinkle-blurring light, offers a full view of the tiles that need re-grouting and my Sellotaped list of what’s out of date in the freezer. Filming continues on and off all day, with each phase getting shorter and less focussed as cocktail hour comes and goes. Eventually, I’m waving a glass of red at the finished loaves, with a cheery “There you go!”
Very good, texts Lynda the next morning, but you didn’t tell us the oven temperature or cooking times. Details, love, mere details.
Wednesday
Great excitement at today’s Amazon parcel. The hair-dressing scissors have arrived. I have cut out a guide to doing your own locks and believe I have made a fair fist of my fringe. The problem is knowing when to stop. I feel like My Naughty Little Sister in the Dorothy Edwards books, who cuts to ribbons an entire length of fabric destined to be her bridesmaid dress because the snipping makes such a nice noise.
As I’ve never been good at eye/hand coordination via a mirror I need help with the cropping bit. I assess the barber-skills potential of the two men I live with. One is likely to shave the wrong side entirely while the other will think it amusing to write I D I O T in tramlines along the back of my head. In the end, it is a joint effort. My husband manages to achieve a tufty finish as if I have mange, which my son then “tidies up.” I am now entirely bald behind one ear and could work as an extra in Peaky Blinders.
Thursday
I was late to the tale of Captain Tom Moore. By the time I donated, this marvellous 99-year-old had already raised eight million pounds by making laps of his garden with his walking frame. Today he has topped sixteen million. What a man! What a total inspiration!
Here, I have what now constitutes a packed diary. We have scored a Waitrose delivery and I have booked for yoga online. Plus it’s Clap Day and the weekly shout to the neighbours followed by another Zoom quiz. I have a lie-down in the afternoon to ensure I don’t peak too soon.
Lockdown tip of the week
You can cook with salsa that has a use-by date of February 2016 without fear of familicide. Even if it was supposed to be used within four weeks after opening and refrigerated, and this one’s been hiding at the back of the larder for three summers. Toss into some old turkey mince (2018) from the bottom of the freezer and fry with extra chilli, garlic and some finely chopped veg and give it an oriental-sounding name, for a quick supper that impresses the family without killing them. Yet.
Isle of Thanet News April 17th, 2020.
*The Big Five-O on Sale*
If you need any reading distraction during all this, my latest novel, The Big Five-O is currently a bargain at only 99p throughout the month of April 2020. You can secure your copy here.
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April 11, 2020
Still in Lockdown
My second column Lockdown column for the Isle of Thanet News appeared on (Good Friday) 10th April…
Saturday
We have a flutter on the virtual Grand National and I can’t believe how realistic it is. All the fun of the race with no fear of false starts, squashed jockeys or horses with broken legs. I win with Potters Corner (kerching!) but that isn’t the only reason I’m an instant convert to computer imaging.
Surely there is scope to roll out the model further. Could we have a virtual family Christmas for example? Imagine if we could harness data algorithms with the latest graphics to predict who would drink too much, who was most likely to stomp off in a strop and who’d crash before pudding and snore on the sofa. There’d be no need to cook. We could enjoy the day supine, champagne in hand, while it all unfolds on a screen in the corner.
Sunday
My son and I take our exercise by walking to Broadstairs jetty. We are keeping our distance but there is hardly anyone about.
The light is sparkling on the water, the sun catching the pastel shades of the deserted beach huts. I think how fortunate we are to be isolating here instead of an inner city high rise. As we walk back along Stone Bay, I launch into a long, meaningful speech about living in the moment, and the restorative, life-changing powers of counting one’s blessings in uncertain times. When I eventually stop for breath my son looks thoughtful.
[image error]The real Peanut. Photo by Nish Bhattarai
“See that–” He jabs a finger at a small sausage dog reminiscent of the one his girlfriend owns, that is running in circles. “That dog looks exactly like Peanut.”
Monday
I am finally all set up on the app to volunteer for the NHS. I have registered as “on duty” and am poised to “check-in and chat”, when needed. Nobody has required my support or comfort yet but I am keeping my hand in. I hover at my son’s shoulder as he scowls at his laptop screen. “How are you feeling?” I enquire. He does not look up. “Stop being weird,” he says.
Tuesday
I am startled, considering the rivets I have spat in the last three years, by how upset I feel about Boris. I saw our Premier speak circa 2007 when he was campaigning to be Mayor of London and was impressed back then by his creative thinking and social conscience. I realise now that much of my outpouring of impotent rage against him for Brexit, was down to disappointment.
During the virus crisis, I have felt the first stirrings of mollification. And even if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t want him – or anyone else – to be ill. He has family and friends and a pregnant partner and certain comments on social media are shameful. I keep the radio on long into the night, willing him to pull through.
Wednesday
I call a Cobra meeting around the kitchen table. My husband is Rishi because he pays for most things, I am Home Secretary and Minister for Health combined (as the only one standing between us and total squalor); my son was going to be Boris as he is the best at funny voices, but out of respect for our PM’s confinement, elects to be Jacob Rees-Mogg instead. (Mainly for the chance to use the words sesquipedalian and floccinaucinihilipilification.)
There is only one item on the agenda. Lack of cleaners (#firstworldproblems) – and I attempt to outline the gravity of the situation. “Terri…” I begin.
“Is that the tall one?” My husband interjects.
“No,” I snap. “Terri and Charlie have had to be furloughed but we must set up our own employment retention scheme….”
“Splendid,” says Jacob.
“Not so fast,” I add, pulling him back. I’m not doing all of it. We need to allocate tasks.
My son is clearly preparing to make a second break for it. “I actually don’t know,” he says conversationally, as if discussing sky-diving or the finer points of macramé, “how to go about cleaning…”
I shove Jif and descaler into his arms. “Look it up on YouTube.”
Thursday
I am finally going to discover how to use “Zoom”, for an online quiz, organised by an actor friend. Apparently, there will be lots of us on the screen pitting our wits against each other and I am looking forward to it. Quizzes are high on my list of things I enjoy but am fairly rubbish at, along with tennis and singing. It starts at 8.15pm so we can thank the awe-inspiring NHS staff first.
There is nothing virtual about this. Real people shouting greetings at each other across the street and applauding wildly. I don’t have words for the gratitude and admiration I feel. I’ve never clapped harder.
This post is also published in the Isle of Thanet News of April 10th, 2020.
*The Big Five-O on Sale*
If you need any reading distraction during all this, my latest novel, The Big Five-O is currently a bargain at only 99p throughout the month of April 2020. You can secure your copy here.
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April 4, 2020
Lockdown Lowdown Diary
My husband – more than two decades my senior – is now of an age, with health conditions that have put him on the list of shielded patients. I am currently taking medication that affects my immune system and my son – who I usually see for about two hours a day Monday to Friday – is working from home here full-time and can no longer travel to his girlfriend at weekends. We were in semi-lockdown already and now, along with so many others, it is total. I’ve packed the blunt instruments out of sight but we’re all still speaking. Just.
Tuesday
We play a complex game of musical offices. Tom is based in the dining room but after a high-level conference call during which my husband hove into view pushing his Zimmer and shouting ‘Morning Tommy’ while the cat strolled across the table, he now moves upstairs when the camera has to be on. After a brief experimentation with his own room, my writing space was commandeered. Its proper desk and a view of my bookshelves being deemed preferable, as Tom’s boss acidly observed, to the chief executive from their biggest client getting a view of socks and my son’s unmade bed.
I’ve got a book to write, I mutter, secretly relieved I can procrastinate a bit longer. I have made a list of Things to Achieve during Lockdown. It includes said manuscript, home maintenance, transforming the garden and tackling the stuffed writing room cupboard, last breeched in 1997. So far, I’ve made two carrot cakes, watched the first two series of The Windsors (very funny) and planted a tray of chive seeds.
Thursday
My son has taken to addressing me in the voice of Harry Enfield being Prince Charles (we’re on season three now) and puts his head around my door to announce with twitching facial expressions: “‘The delivery has come.”
Since it is the last slot we are likely to score for about three months, the plan was to be comprehensive. I have tried to be considerate on the hand-wash and loo roll front (there’s none to be had anyway), but the goods still take up half the path. “Do you actually need that many?” I enquire, waving through the glass, as the delivery chap beats a hasty retreat and my son and I prepare to stagger inside under a weight of wine boxes.
We soon discover my husband has also been panic-buying pineapple, getting round the three-items-only rule by ordering across several different brands.
“Nine tins,” I say crossly, “is completely irresponsible.” He looks truculent. “I like pineapple,” he grumbles.
If you do too, I can only apologise.
He has forgotten several items we genuinely need and ordered custard, which we never eat. There is still no bread flour. I make bread regularly and have for years. I bet those who’ve stripped the shelves have never baked a loaf in their lives, I rant to the the cat. “You keep saying that,” says Tom.
“They’ll have weevils by Christmas,” I add darkly.
Tom holds up a fresh pineapple by its spikes.
“What did you order that for?” I demand of my husband.
He shakes his head. “I didn’t know I had.”
Saturday
The cat has upped his rodent quota and there is a large dead mouse on the hall rug. I like to think it’s his primal instinct to contribute to the family food banks in times of crisis. Especially as this is a sad day in the supply chain. Nick the butcher from W.A. Hazell in Broadstairs is retiring after decades in the town and I am bereft. His chickens were the best and, bracing ourselves for this moment, we’ve been unashamedly stashing his chipolotas since long before the virus. Nick has been brilliant at delivering to the elderly and vulnerable. He’s going to be missed.
Meanwhile, I’m wishing I’d got my hair cut while I could. The side of my head I keep cropped is growing over my ears. I am just wondering if I can trust my husband to give it the once-over with his beard trimmers when I find him in the kitchen stabbing at the pineapple with the breadknife.
The hair can wait a bit longer….
This post is also published in the Isle of Thanet News of April 3rd, 2020.
*The Big Five-O on Sale*
If you need any reading distraction during all this, my latest novel, The Big Five-O is currently a bargain at only 99p throughout the month of April 2020. You can secure your copy here.
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October 24, 2019
Fancy a scavenge?
Because I am all heart, I am helping the lovely Kellie with the 4thewords Scavenger Hunt. It all sounds rather complicated to me, but if you are here, searching for your code word, then you’re clearly a bit more techno-savvy. (NB the codeword is at the bottom! :-))
Since you are here, perhaps I can draw your attention to my exhaustive list of books and amusing publications, particularly my latest novel The Big Five O set in my home town of Broadstairs (to hear why click here) and the perfect gift for the 49-year old in your life (or anyone known for lying about their age). (Which I do all the time! :-))
I would love to hear what you think of it! Thanks for dropping by. jane x
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Here’s the lowdown: 4thewords is an online writing platform that takes your writing into a game world. Use quests and monster battles to help increase your word count all while levelling up your character. All throughout October, you can unlock hidden items using special code words, found on some of your favourite websites (like this one). If you haven’t tried 4thewords before, use my code word to unlock a surprise and a free month of playtime! Your code word:
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Enjoy!
July 12, 2019
The Big Five-O live and kicking – and set in Broadstairs!
[image error]It’s here! My sixth novel, The Big Five O, is now live and kicking on kindle and in e book (the paperback’s in September) and I am suitably thrilled as always to see it finally “out there.”
I particularly love my cover – not just because the very-talented illustrator Robyn Neild has totally “got” all four of the characters and they are just as I imagined, but for the little glimpse of Bleak House (where Charles Dickens wrote part of David Copperfield, don’t you know?) through the window behind them.
[image error]It is always a joy to set a book in my hometown. Some novels take longer to write than others whatever you do, but I discovered some years ago that you can save a great deal of time if you set the action in a place you know.
In the early days I made up my locations – and soon found that you can spend an inordinate number of hours working out how long it might take a heroine to walk to the station or drive to London, and what direction the shops are in, while making sure this fits in with where the doctor’s surgery is, since you’ve already declared that’s opposite Tesco. Then you have to remember it all!
If your backdrop, on the other hand, is an area you know intimately, then geography (never a strong point!) and logistics become easy.
The Big Five O is the story of four women who are all about to be – surprisingly enough – fifty years old. They live in the seaside town of Broadstairs and I had great fun with real place names and some real people too!
The joint party the four are planning is to be held in the Pavilion, Broadstairs – where I have attended many a fine event – and the manager Dan, of course, gets a name check. Roz works at Turner Contemporary in Margate and goes for a drink in The 39 Steps – a bar I go to for the odd gin; Fay runs her removal business from Pysons Road Industrial Estate and likes a drink in The White Swan in Reading Street, a pub which is my absolute favourite. Charlotte sells high-end properties on the North Foreland Estate, our local posh bit, and Sherie has beauty treatments in Bodilight where I get my nails done.
All four have something to be secretive about, but whether I was plotting the route for the car chase, picking a venue for the mysterious meet-up, or choosing a restaurant where the first spark of passion could ignite across the pasta (it had to be the fab Italian, Posillipo, on the seafront!), I simply had to visualise all that my lovely corner of Kent has to offer.
When it comes to characters however, things are a bit different. Do you base them on people you know? is a favourite question for writers, and my answer is quite often: Yes!
But aside from the walk-on parts for those playing themselves, I always mix up the details and blur the edges (I know my laws on libel, thank you) and use my friends and acquaintances as a source of inspiration rather than a blueprint. (While giving my enemies halitosis and a vinyl fetish.) 
