Anne Ullah's Blog, page 2

Louisa Toff - The Truth

Today’s blog entry has been written by Louisa Toff herself. She believes it is time to tell the truth so here it is:

People are always asking me how all the trouble at Toff Towers started and why I decided to go public about it in a book. The truth is “Trouble At Toff Towers” didn’t actually start out as a book at all. In the beginning I was writing a column, “Rigid Bones’s Diary”, for a comedy website. The website came to an end long before my traumas, trials and tribulations did (sometimes I think they never actually will) so I simply kept on writing. When it came to deciding on a title for the book I almost stuck with “Rigid Bones’s Diary” but it sounded somehow familiar so I went with “Trouble At Toff Towers” in the end.

In any case it seemed to me that the time was right for a new kind of heroine. A heroine with “experience” and “maturity”, both of which I possess in spades of course. I am at that age when some of us find we have become “The Invisible Woman”. Well, now “The Invisible Woman” has a face – mine! Oh yes. Women of a certain age will certainly identify with me. You see, we’ve reached that time of life where we are finally secure in our insecurities. I was talking to my Analyst, Di Laffin, about it just the other day…

…I was feeling a tad peeved about the recent success of another rather “colourful” book and wondering why so called “erotica” sells so well. “Never mind”, said Di. “You have a genre all of your own: Neurotica”! Ha!

Actually, I believe younger readers can identify with me too. After all they are experiencing exactly the same celebrity culture that I am doing my best to survive. And young people are absolutely mad on social networking, aren’t they? Well, you only have to look at my large, loyal and lovely Twitter following to see that I’m pretty popular with all ages.

Yes, that’s right; I am popular. I make no bones about it. But I don’t believe for one moment it’s because of my beauty, wealth or undeniable celebrity status. Oh no. Readers of “Trouble At Toff Towers” love me because underneath all that I have bravely dug deep and shared some of my painful past with them. It was on the advice of Di Laffin of course. I couldn’t survive without her or my PR Agent, Sue Perdooper.

So, I am continuing to document my daily doings and dishing all the dirt in the Toff Towers trilogy. I plan to publish “Trouble At Toff Towers II – Another Heap” in the autumn and a third book will follow. Of course I know how it all ends because it actually happened to me. No wonder I’m a tad neurotic. Well, wouldn’t you be?

Toffs and Tresses

I was recently in the UK visiting family and enjoying a bit of time on my own at Sovereign Harbour; working on Trouble At Toff Towers II – Another Heap and, due to unforeseen circumstances, I ended up extending my stay. In fact, I stayed so long that my usual six weekly(ish) hair appointment became well overdue. My hair was getting very long and the Cyprus sunshine and chlorine from my (almost) daily dips in the pool had taken their toll. My hair was a mess. I badly needed a good trim. What I actually got was a good and proper bad trim!

Now you might think, when you read about my life in the sunshine, that I am made of money. I am not. I am made of stupidity. That is why I decided to economise and, rather than head into town to a salon that charges town prices, I headed somewhere else and opted for a salon that charges much less. After all, it was just a trim wasn’t it? What could possibly go wrong?

I came out of that salon with a short version of a Farrah Fawcett flick! Oh yes. A very short version. But no matter (I thought) I will wash it and dry it myself and all will be well. It wasn’t. It was completely unbloodymanageable!

The worst of it was that the chief reporter from the local newspaper had recently written an article about me/Trouble At Toff Towers for a smart glossy magazine and, whilst being thrilled about the article, I hadn’t been exactly thrilled about the photo that had been used. The lovely reporter had offered to send a Press photographer to take some shots of me the following week. OK. Shoot me. But not with a camera!

On my return to Cyprus the first thing I did (obviously) was make a hair appointment with my usual stylist; Andrea. She couldn’t believe the butchering my hair had taken. There was much tutting and head shaking as Andrea held up different sections of my hair and rolled her eyes in disbelief. Eventually there was hysterical laughter. On both our parts. Well, I mean, what else can you do? After all, I knew she could put it right and, OK, I now have much shorter hair – but I actually quite like it.

So what’s the answer…

…the Hair Police? Andrea and I discussed this at length. Should hairdressers be “mystery shopped”? Not a bad idea we thought at first. However, the key to being a mystery shopper is being incognito isn’t it? The very nature of the job would mean regular visits to salons good and bad. Just one visit to a bad salon and their cover would be blown. No, there would be no point in having Hair Police. They would be instantly recognisable by their frighteningly short fringes, Farrah Fawcett flicks and other decidedly dodgy dos

Toffs, Torties and (Terrific) Timing

I have just witnessed my cat’s first encounter with a snake. Or, to be more realistic, I should probably say that this was the first time I have witnessed my cat’s encounter with a snake. Timing was of the essence…

…I was completely engrossed, tapping away at my laptop and making good progress with Trouble At Toff Towers II – Another Heap, when my partner, Mike, phoned from the golf course to say he had just finished playing but would be home later than expected. As I listened to what he had to say I stood up and was gazing absent mindedly through the window when I saw my cat, Bonnie, carrying in her mouth what could only be a snake and I knew instantly by its colouring that it was a poisonous one. I won’t repeat what I said at this point but my Mike, fully comprehending my horror, said he would come home instantly. He’d be about fifteen minutes.

In the meantime I watched in horror as Bonnie dropped the snake and began to play with it. It attempted to wriggle away – she dragged it back by the tail. The first thing I did was shut down the house in case she decided to bring the snake in. Then, unbelievably, I tweeted about it (analyse that)! I then ran outside to see if I could encourage her to leave the thing alone. No chance! I had a brainwave, ran indoors and quickly opened a tin of tuna. Normally the smell of tuna would bring Bonnie running from wherever she might be. I approached her (and the snake) mashing away noisily at the tuna in her metal bowl; trying to distract her. She wasn’t interested. I put some tuna down on the path near where she was toying with the snake and hoped she’d make a beeline for it, giving the snake a chance to slither away. She ignored the tuna and carried on teasing the snake. I was terrified that it would turn around and bite her at any moment. I felt very alone.

I decided to run to a neighbour’s house for help but there was nobody home. We live on a golf complex here in Cyprus and many of the houses are used as holiday homes. There was nobody else around. I made my way back home, dreading what I might find. As soon as I got back to the house I grabbed the bowl of tuna again and headed outside.

The tuna on the path was gone. I called Bonnie. She was still in the same part of the garden but now happily came walking towards me. I grabbed her clumsily, carried her indoors and quickly shut the fly screen behind me. I left Bonnie in the living room, went into the kitchen and put her bowl down expecting her to follow me. However, she made no attempt to go into the kitchen and eat the tuna. Was she already full up having eaten the snake? If so then what was going to happen next? I was just asking myself these questions when Mike walked through the door. I pointed him in the direction of where I had last seen the snake. It was still there; still very much alive. He went to find a spade.

Bonnie sat on the floor for a little while, had a bit of a wash then went to look out of the patio doors; clearly wondering where her playmate had gone. Eventually she scoffed the tuna and went upstairs for a nap. Mike has gone back to the golf club. I am sitting here with a glass of wine nursing two new “named injuries” - Snake Shoulder and Snake Spine (please see earlier blog entitled Toffs, Twitter and Trips). I wonder what @mishcousin will make of this.

Toffs and Terrible Timing

As an indie author I am obviously responsible for all the publicity relating to my book. You might have already heard the Toff Towers theme tune on Youtube (lyrics by me and original music and performance by @MontrachetMusic). If you have read my earlier blog entitled Toffs and Twangs you will be well aware of my level of musical “talent”. Anyway, it was whilst I was thinking about the theme tune that I remembered another little musical masterpiece I was involved with.

A (very) long time ago my sister had a boyfriend, Tim, who was lead guitarist and singer in a band. He had all sorts of instruments and recording equipment at home including (oh joy!) an electronic keyboard. Now, as you have probably worked out, I am no musical genius. However, having owned an electric organ when I was a little girl, I can just about pick out a tune once I have located the appropriate G key.

One day Tim and I decided to have a bit of fun. I taught myself to play Jealous Guy and Bye Bye Love on the keyboard. Tim switched on his drum machine and I played along. He recorded my efforts and then added in recordings of himself playing guitar and singing the songs. Do you call it “laying down tracks”? Well, I thought you did and felt very cool indeed having “laid down a couple of tracks” and couldn’t wait to hear the final recordings.

Let’s just say they were “entertaining”. Everything Tim had done was, of course, spot on. My bit? I was about half a beat behind for the duration of both pieces. It was hilarious. I decided our “band” should have a name and there was really only one option: Pracatan!

Toffs, Twitter and Trips

Since publishing Trouble At Toff Towers I’ve been on Twitter an awful lot and I have read some very interesting tweets; some of which I have responded to. One such tweet was from @mishcousin. She was asking whether anyone had any “named injuries”. I was more than happy to let her know that I do indeed; I have an M & S toe and a Morrisons knee.

The M & S toe doesn’t bother me too much; just every now and then if I wear very high heels. I sustained this particular injury during a bout of Christmas shopping. I was browsing for gifts when a member of staff tripped backwards, put a foot out to steady himself and landed with all his weight square on my left big toe. He wobbled whilst I screamed and down came his weight again whilst he regained his balance. It all happened in an agonising flash and I have to say the staff member concerned couldn’t apologise enough. He made absolutely sure I was OK before allowing me to hobble off and continue my shopping.

My Morrisons knee doesn’t bother me at all these days but I must admit to being rather fond of it. Reason being it was the inspiration behind a bit of my book. Well, they say, “Write about what you know”, don’t they? Here’s the extract:

I headed off to the supermarket. Didn’t need much really, just a couple of bottles of wine to go with tonight’s dinner (thought I would get Jack’s favourite as a little treat). I must admit I was a bit preoccupied, thinking about the forthcoming trip to Antigua when, suddenly, I found myself inexplicably up in the air, my arms and legs flailing in a sort of doggy paddle fashion and then I was descending towards the hard tiled floor in what seemed like slow motion. Eventually I landed with a loud crunch (my knee). I had in fact walked right into one of those yellow “safety” cones which (are supposed to) warn one about wet floors etc.

I looked up helplessly only to find I had landed right by the Rioja. Why oh why oh why could this unfortunate incident not have happened by the baked beans? No, wait. Maybe not. One’s image is of the utmost importance after all and Rioja does smack slightly more of sophistication than baked beans.

Managed to struggle to my feet and stole a glance around. There was just one other person around. Male. Back to me. Shoulders shaking. Honestly...no sign of concern or offer of help whatsoever. Unbloodybelievable!

I quickly stood the yellow cone back up, grabbed a couple of bottles of the Rioja, limped along to the checkout and departed with as much dignity as I could muster. Managed to drive home (although I was in absolute agony), and immediately raided the freezer for something cold to apply to my knee (went for the petit pois option).

Yes, this actually happened, yes it was in the wine aisle and yes there really was someone there, with his back to me, unable to disguise the laughter evident by his shaking shoulders!

Before I go must just mention that I also have Banker’s neck. Banker’s neck was something which came in very handy when (in another life) I was actually a Banker (I needed an awful lot of neck in those days). However, years and years of sitting in the same position at a computer have taken their toll and now Banker’s neck means something completely different. I try not to sit at the computer for long periods now. This has resulted in another injury altogether – I call it iPad wrist.

So, why did @mishcousin want to know all this in the first place? I have absolutely no idea. You could always ask her yourself.

Trouble At Toff Towers

Toffs And "Talkings To"

I’ve never actually met my partner’s cousin (who shall remain nameless). He lives on the other side of the world and I have only ever communicated with him via Skype and, more recently, Facetime. That is to say, I usually poke my head into shot, wave to him and say a few words over my partner’s shoulder. I did, however, (having imbibed quite a few glasses of Pinot one night) “encourage” him to download Trouble At Toff Towers; he very kindly obliged and we haven’t spoken to him since…

…but he has spoken to me. Oh yes. He left me a Skype video message. And, credit where credit is due, he made every effort to look nice for the occasion. During the first few minutes of the message he made a great show of flattening down his hair and making sure it was tidy. In fact he carefully examined it from every conceivable angle. And then he began to talk about the book. “That book!” he said. He shook his head. He tutted. “Yes, that book! It is a book, isn’t it”! This wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A statement expressed with a mixture of outrage, horror, bewilderment, disbelief and yes – anger!

I was completely stunned at this point and started to laugh in a sort of hysterical way. He went on. “That woman. The woman in the book. She’s not…”, he was struggling now, unable to get the words out. There followed more tutting and head shaking before he managed to splutter, “She’s not…she’s not…she’s not YOU is she”?

I thought I would never stop laughing. As the book is written in diary format I suppose I can forgive him for thinking it might have been autobiographical. Imagine thinking you’d found out your cousin was living with Louisa Toff - it must have come as quite a shock!

I did remark on Twitter recently that having created her sometimes makes me feel like Dr Frankenstein. But is she really such a monster?

Toffs And Twelve Year Olds

I won't allow my niece to read Trouble At Toff Towers as she's only twelve and it contains a couple of "grown up" references which I don't think are appropriate at her age. She does love to read though. And write. In fact we've been working on something together for quite a while now...

...three and a half years to be exact. It's a children's story. The thing is, choosing names for our four main characters has involved endless discussion. We have agreed on three. Deciding on their age group was much easier:

Me: How old do you think the characters should be?

Niece: (Without a moment's hesitation) Nine.

Me: Blimey, you sound very sure of that. Any particular reason you think they should be nine?

Niece: (Knowledgeably) Because most characters in books are nine.

Me: (Impressed) And how do you know that? Did someone tell you or is it simply something you have observed?

Niece: I just noticed it myself. Most of the characters in the books I read are nine.

Me: (After careful thought) When you were two how old were the characters in your books? And how old do you think the characters are in grown-ups' books?

Niece: Oh yeah! (Pause for laughter followed by careful consideration followed by a very serious question) Isn't it a bit boring reading about grown-ups?

We agreed our main characters will be nine. We have also recently agreed there will only be three of them as we never could agree on a name for the fourth. This year we're hoping to start actually start writing the story.

Toffs And Tastings

I really feel I am getting into full flow now writing Trouble At Toff Towers II - Another Heap (working title) and if there is one thing I need every now and then to keep me going it's a good hot chilli washed down with (copious amounts of) red wine. We grow our own chillies and, due to last year's bumper crop, still have half a freezer full. However, on checking said freezer yesterday, it seemed we had run out of minced beef. So, we headed into Pafos and entered one of our favourite shops: Butcher Boy.

A visit to Butcher Boy, especially early evening on a Friday or Saturday, is like attending a little party. We were greeted warmly at the meat counter by Bogdan who proceeded to weigh out the required amount of minced beef whilst insisting we helped ourselves to a selection of savoury snacks. These included chicken wings with a choice of sauces (spicy Caribbean or barbecue), small spare ribs and a selection of savoury sausage slices. Our starters!

I drifted across to the deli counter where I intended to pick up some cole slaw but got rather distracted by a selection of creamy dips (four different kinds) and biscuits. OH was being responsible (at this point) and had headed over to the chiller cabinet to pick up the chicken joints which were also on our shopping list. However, it wasn't long before he joined me at the deli counter. He wanted pate. But which one? After tasting several (thank you Bogdan) we settled on the wild boar. Delicious with the sample of white wine we were "forced" to try (Bogdan can be very persuasive).

We also decided we should get some cheese. I can't quite remember who actually decided this. Could have been me. Could have been OH. More than likely it was Bogdan. Bogdan is very generous with his cheese samples. We tried goat's cheese with cranberries (two kinds), Stilton and Manchego which, according to Bogdan, is perfect with red wine. He's right. We know this because he gave us each a large sample to prove it! We duly decided to purchase a (large) piece of the Stilton and a (few) bottle(s) of the red.

We headed to the till, stopping on the way for a warm and friendly hug from the lady owner of the shop, paid for our purchases and headed home. On the way we were having a giggle about the time we bought some casserole beef from Butcher Boy. The electronic scale can only print out a limited number of characters on the label so it looked like we were in possession of a bag of "extra lean diced bee" (readers of Trouble At Toff Towers will be familiar with my character, Dee Luded, and understand why this amuses me so much).

At home we began to unpack our shopping and discovered we'd left the mince behind. Not that it mattered. Hardly surprisingly we were no longer hungry. Plus it means we can go back to Butcher Boy later today. Can't wait!

Toffs And Twangs

Writing Trouble At Toff Towers was an all-consuming task and, since I am now working on Trouble At Toff Towers II – Another Heap (working title), it seems I have time for little else. This is a shame actually because one thing I was determined to do when I gave up (proper) work and moved to Cyprus was pick up my guitar and continue teaching myself to play; despite the fact that my first attempt at this didn’t go all that well…

…I decided I would like a guitar for my birthday and my partner very kindly bought one for me, complete with helpful “Teach Yourself Guitar” and electronic guitar tuner. I was over the moon with myself when I was actually able to tune the guitar. So far so good. However…

…it turned out that the helpful “Teach Yourself Guitar” DVD wasn’t actually very “helpful”. I was not deterred. I simply purchased another “Teach Yourself Guitar” DVD in the hope that this one would be more “helpful”. It wasn’t.

Wandering around Waterstones one lunch break I stumbled upon an interesting book entitled “Teach Yourself To Play All The Songs In This Book Using Only Three Chords” (or something like that). I duly purchased the book and set about learning the three chords at the earliest opportunity. I also purchased and consumed numerous packets of painkillers to deal with pain in pads of fingers and headaches as I practiced the three essential chords.

Feeling quite proud of having mastered the three chords I mentioned to a colleague that I was teaching myself to play the guitar and she offered some advice from her teenage son, “The best way to learn to play the guitar is to practice a song you really like over and over”. This was obviously sound advice so I instantly trawled the internet looking for the music to songs that I liked (containing only the three chords, obviously). Found the music for The Gambler by Kenny Rogers and printed it out with a feeling of growing excitement…

…I had decided I would do a duet with Kenny Rogers! Went into Youtube and selected a suitable clip of Kenny singing The Gambler, picked up my guitar, clicked play and commenced duet. Have to admit that Kenny finished his part around twenty minutes before I finished mine and I only played the Gs.

Went back into Youtube and selected Samba Pa Ti by Santana. Clicked play but did not pick up guitar. After a minute or so my partner called out from another room, “Bloody hell, you’ve improved suddenly”!

The guitar is currently in solitary confinement in the spare bedroom.

Toffs and Tunes

You may remember, if you read my previous blog entry, Toffs Twitter and Tango, that I had Tweeted for help with a little publicity project I was planning. Well, the help came in the shape of @MontrachetMusic and what a fantastic job he did!

My plan was to put together a slideshow showing images of some of the characters from Trouble At Toff Towers and set it to music. I asked @MontrachetMusic to read my book blurb and see if he could come up with something “simple, jaunty and comedic”. I also sent him a few verses I had jotted down, just to give him a feel of the thing really. The very next day an MP3 file arrived in my email – I was stunned! Literally stunned. Not only had he composed an incredibly catchy tune, his performance is brilliant and he had actually used my words. You will see (or should I say “hear”?) exactly what I mean if you click onto the video I have uploaded to Goodreads.

Oh, and just in case you feel like singing along here are the words:

You don’t have to be stuck up
Anyone can pull it off
Trouble At Toff Towers
With Louisa and Jack Toff
Hugh Jass is cracking up
Edna Bucket can’t take no more
She’s had enough of listening
To Stu Pendous and The What On Earth Four
Toff Towers oh oh
Toff Towers oh oh
Dee Luded gets it so wrong
Toothless Tina looks quite scary
Join us at Coconut Shelly’s
For dinner and Bloody Marys
Don’t worry if you smell fish
For it’s the one and only
Head of Finned-Us Frozen
Sardino Codleone
Oh Toff Towers
Toff Towers oh oh…