Lucy Robinson's Blog, page 5

Wot I loved today: Babies

I’m not pregnant, before you ask. I’m thirty four and as yet showing no interest in children, which makes me wonder if I’m one of those people who just doesn’t want them. I tend not to write about this much, as everyone who’s had a baby then spends hours telling me about how wonderful it is. Which I know – I can see their joy. And I’m sure that if I had one, I’d be overwhelmed with love too. Generally I prefer puppies but I’m not an emotionless monster, you know. No, really, I’m very warm and nice and . . .

Ah, feck.

Anyway, my only other friend who’s always felt the same told me a few months back that she was pregnant. ‘Oh shit,’ I said, knowing how she felt about it. Then we both laughed til we cried because that’s not the kind of response you’re meant to make when someone tells you they’re pregnant. But I knew the exact mental turmoil that she must be having because her and I have always been on the same page when it comes to this sort of thing.

Anyway, she’s had the baby. And she is so smitten, so happy, so delirious with love that every time I hear from her I burst into tears. (In a good way.) I can’t stop staring at the pictures on facebook and text her about five hundred times a day telling her how happy I am, which must be really annoying because she’s probably exhausted to the point of madness.

The night I found out, I also happened to watch One Born Every Minute for the first time and literally every time a baby popped out, I started bawling.

That sort of crying is the best, isn’t it?

Welcome to the world, baby with no name yet. I can’t wait to meet you. X

Wot I loved today: Plastic penises

There is something about a hen do that necessitates the abandonment of good taste and the introduction of penises. Plastic penises, pen-and-ink penises; even diminutive penises attached to strippers. ALL ARE WELCOME.

What is with this? I’m not complaining at all; anyone who’s read my books will know that I’m fond of a good bum joke or knob gag. But why? Why only on a hen? What happens in our brain chemistry when one of our number is soon to get married?

This weekend I was at the hen of a dear friend who has the best taste in everything. In clothes, in interiors, in cocktail bars, in – did you not hear me? EVERYTHING. Every time I see her I take a mental inventory of what she is wearing so I can go and replicate it. Every time I go to her house I whip out my camera and start taking pictures of her possessions, ready to commence fruitless internet searches for the very same. She is beautiful and lovely and feminine and tasteful and yummy. And yet, even though there were no sashes or veils or games of pin the cock on the bumhole (hang on. That’s not quite right, is it…?) planned for her hen weekend, there was still a very large supply of plastic penises through which we could drink our cocktails. (I had a lovely cup of mint tea through mine.) We photographed them, we used them as microphones, we studied their balls and we even stowed them in a handbag (my handbag) so that we would not have to be parted from them when we went out for the evening.

I love this about women. If we’re honest, we mostly struggle to love penises, because they are not wildly attractive and they tend to want to have sex with us all of the time. And yet, call us hens and – KERPOW! We can’t live without them! We sneak them into expensive venues in our handbags! We scream at them, we drink cocktails through them, we take endless pictures of them!

It is a strange thing. A good thing. And one of the many things I love about women.

Wot I loved today: my agent

Every writer loses their nerve when they’re in the early stages of a new book. It happens at about 20,000-25,000 words for me. My characters aren’t yet in my bloodstream, the plot’s still pretty ropey and I can’t help but compare it to my last book, which is the best it will ever be because I’ve been working on it for a year and it has undergone weeks of edits. This one is TOTALLY SHIT compared to the last one, I mutter to myself, looking feverish and mental. It is not working. I’VE LOST IT.

I’m so much better at dealing with these thoughts these days and can mostly reverse them quite quickly. Nonetheless, it’s crucial to send the book to someone just to check I’m on track. I am represented by the best literary agent in the world who acts not only as my business representative but also my editor and so I call her and beg her to read it.

Yesterday I left my phone at home all day and got back to this message from her:

‘Hi, Robinson, how are you. Give me a call at some point to talk about your fourth novel. But I’ll tell you now that I’m calling to do a big rave about it. It’s absolutely brilliant, and you should carry on exactly as you are. Really, it’s fantastic. Well done.’

Oh god, the happiness! The relief! And I’ll be fine now. I can go ahead and write the fucker without any lingering doubts. YESSSSSS!

Wot I loved today: The Man

The Man’s been away a lot in London. I miss him. Although it’s nice of course to have an occasional break from the trumps and the mess. But I miss him most when I wake up and he’s not there next to me, curled up like a little shrimp. A six foot shrimp. You know what I mean.

So you can imagine my joy this morning when I found The Man asleep in the bed next to me. He got back crazy late so I didn’t even notice him coming in. But there he was! A big handsome sleeping prawn!

I was very happy. I love The Man.

Wot I loved today: Plain English

I was working at the co-op earlier. I write there a couple of days a week so I don’t go mad and feral working on my own. This co-op is also the place I recently did a Spanish cookery course; some of you will have seen my surprisingly impressive creations on my FB page. However, while I was pretty bueno in the cooking department, I was unforgivably shite at speaking Spanish. Which is embarrassing, because I lived and travelled in South America for a VERY long time. At the end of the final class, I said to Eli, our teacher, ‘I don’t think my Spanish has improved at all since taking this course. That’s dreadful!’ Eli had a little think and then said, ‘Well, it hasn’t got any worse.’

The shame! Oh, how I laughed.

Anyway, I bumped into a girl from the course earlier, while I was skiving off writing in the kitchen, and almost threw myself on her because I realised that I could – at last – talk to her in ENGLISH! Which meant having an ACTUAL CONVERSATION! And a PERSONALITY! I’d forgotten what it’s like to speak a foreign language you’re crap at. If you allow it to be, it can be a very frustrating and infantilising experience. So much to say and yet insufficient words to do so. Often, I’d sit in the corner trying to string a sentence together and I’d want to yell, ‘Please let me tell you that I’m FUNNY in English. I’ve got a personality! I’ve got good jokes! I’m a grownup with a vocubulary! HONESTLY!’ But I couldn’t even say that without checking a bloody dictionary. Gah.

So, today, my smily moment has been speaking English. Basic, and unconscious, but cracking nonetheless.

Er, and about that picture. I was just scrolling for something to use and saw that and thought, phwoar. I’ll probably never look that good again. Not without several hours in hair and make up at least. Let’s bloody unleash it on my readers.

Wot I loved today: The Cottage

Our house move is still ongoing (don’t even ask) (oh, you weren’t going to anyway) but I was just reflecting on the place we’ve moved out of and how very, very much I loved it. We rented it in May when we first arrived in Bristol and never planned to leave so soon. But the house of our dreams came on the market, so blah blah blah.

Here is what we’ve just left behind. Isn’t it absolutely beautiful? Aren’t we lucky?

This house is where I was very, very ill for a very long time, and yet my memories of it are very happy. I’d lie there in bed feeling unspeakably cack but being in such a lovely room, with the sound of a big tree rustling outside with birds warbling aimlessly and bees buzzing busily in the lavender, and the sight of the sun slanting in through the shutters, was often enough to stop me losing hope.

And then that house is where I got better again, and was able to run up and down the stairs, and decorate a Christmas tree, and make my first ever ginger cake, and cry with relief and happiness that my life was on track again. I loved this place and will miss it. Farewell, lovely cottage! X

Wot I Loved Today: Rowan Coleman’s The Memory Book

It’s very rare that a book makes it into my blog, because books bring me joy every day and it’s hard to single them out. Plus, as time has passed, I’ve made more and more writer friends and I don’t want them to think I’m being favouritist, like.

But then again it’s very rare that I read a book that simultaneously enthrals me, devastates me and somehow lifts me up beyond my quotidian existence quite like Rowan Coleman’s beautiful novel The Memory Book.

Spoilers aren’t an issue here, because it’s clear from the outset that the heroine is on a very serious downward trajectory with her health that has only one possible outcome. And I’ll admit that when I began it, I felt bleak. I wondered what Rowan could possibly do to deliver the redemptive ending that other reviews promised, and how I was going to cope spending three hundred and eighty pages watching a brilliant and deeply loveable woman gradually lose a life into which she’d poured so much energy and warmth.

I should have known better. Rowan is a truly outstanding writer and this book, against all odds, manages to be gloriously uplifting, funny and absolutely compelling. By the end I was reading at one a.m., in the middle of an epic house move; so exhausted I could barely hold the bloody thing and yet completely unable to put it down. Only the most gifted of writers could handle a story of such unbearable sadness and produce a novel so joyous. Rowan’s depiction of the mother/daughter relationship is quite simply beautiful and it’s this – this messy, heartfelt and ferociously unbreakable bond that has stayed with me since I finished it late last night, and will stay with me for some time to come.

A stunning book that everyone who cares about being alive should read.

Wot I loved today: this wonderful FB update

Whingey facebook statuses are dull and life-sapping. They’ve all but put me off logging in!

But then I read status updates like this, from my friend who’s out in Costa Rica getting married (and doing some other rather wonderful things too) and my faith is completely restored.

This is what she had to say:

Dreams can come true. When I was 11 years old, my mum told me about a forest in Costa Rica that needed saving. My mum believed that children can change the world. Together with close friends we formed a dedicated group of young campaigners – The Jungle Crew- and managed to save over 1 million square metres in the space of 2 years. The area we saved forms part of what is now known as The Children’s Eternal Rainforest in Monteverdi. The forest has transformed the region and there are now hundreds of researchers, volunteers and visitors from all over the world gathered here. Today we were given a private tour of one of the reserves as a wedding gift! People we meet keep thanking me and telling me how they always wanted to meet one of the ‘original children’ who helped… Feeling humbled, blessed and very very happy.

Wot I loved today – hardcore laser jewellery

I’m working at my friend Kate’s house today. Look what she made me for my birthday! With a bloody LASER! Isn’t this amazing? I am smitten.

Wot I loved today: Birthday time!

I turned thirty-four yesterday. As you will see from this blog’s predecessor, I am now resigned to being old so there’s no need for commiserations.

I had SUCH a lovely day. My birthday last year was nice but I was going downhill fast with M.E. and was very nervous that I wouldn’t be able to cope with the plans I’d made. This year – I was FIRING ON ALL CYLINDERS. Shit damn, I was alive!

The Man brought me breakfast in bed. A perfectly-proportioned breakfast with free range bacon and vivid orange eggs. Oh and some mango lassi (isn’t he ace?) and a cup of steamed milk that tastes vaguely of coffee which is how I take my decaf. He gave me lots of hugs and then gave my bottom a very hard massage.

(That is not a euphemism for back door sex, by the way. As some of you know I have a very poorly coccyx at the moment and one of the many things I have to do to get well is give some spasming muscles a good hard massage each day… Honestly…)

Then we went for a lovely posh lunch at a restaurant which had decided not to open for the day. So we went to somewhere less posh but probably nicer. It was delicious. We had lemon meringue mess for dessert. Can you imagine the glory?

I got beautiful cards, presents, messages, calls and facebook posts and other forms of love throughout the day, including a delivery of all the sweets that we used to buy from Phil the ice cream van man at lunchtime when I was at school. Wham bars! Drumsticks! Fruit Salads! Amazing! (My fave was the humble fruit salad. What was yours?)

And then, thinking that I’d had all I was going to get, I only got a skype call from my best friend Marge in America saying that between her and The Man they had somehow got me a flight to New York to stay with her! How unbelievably lucky am I?! I’M GOING TO NEW YORK!

I burst into tears, of course.

Then we had a lovely evening with friends and I had a HAPPY BIRTHDAY chocolate lollipop and was given flowers and it was all just lovely. I’m going to have a party soon when we move into our new house (which is soooooon! THE EXCITEMENT!) and I will dance like a bastard even if everyone else is standing around being grownup. I am so happy to be alive and well. I’m so happy to be so happy. I could just have turned seventy-four and I’d still be happy. YEAH! Happy is so much better than all other options!