After I mentioned a fairy for the New House of Stories, I thought again. Perhaps I should just stick with books and bears. We could end up with another one like Mavis. Bless her. Her heart was in the right place, but her wings were more than a little skew-whiff by the time we met her.
Mavis was the Tooth Fairy when our children were small, and was getting on. She should have retired but she insisted on staying in spite of getting into such a stooshie with every Pick-Up she did. She couldn't find a tooth without help, even with her glasses on. "Can't find it anywhere, Missus'. 'That's the dog's bed, Mavis.' It was worse after we moved and she'd be so relieved to find the house that she forgot it wasn't the same layout as the old one. She'd fly in through the landing window, turn right, thud into the wall and wake everyone up. By that stage she always wore a crash helmet, which limited the damage but amplified the clang. Then I'd sit her down on the stairs and calm her down - she was getting deaf, too, so I'd be bellowing 'Don't try to get up Mavis. Deep breaths, now, deep breaths - shall I find the tooth for you?' while Tony got her a cup of tea, or a G and T, which always went down well. By that time the whole house was awake. Then we had to check that she'd got the tooth and left the money, and stand back so she had room for a running take off. I often wonder what happened to Mavis.
MUCH
I was thinking today, it's been quiet since 'er went. I got me snail and there's a couple more old gnomes in the garden, but they ain't got personality like what I've got. Now and again I 'ave a chat with them birds or the ducks, and I get on very well with Stephen, but 'e don't come that often now the growing season's over. The 'olly looks very grand with its berries on, but 'ers not 'ere to go all excited about it. I was sitting 'ere watching them leaves dropping off the sycamore, and then I thought - that's not leaves - that's blooming fairies! Fairies with blooming parachutes!
Turns out that The Silver Wings Home for Mature Fairies was 'aving an outing, and they'd dropped by, as yer might say, in my garden. Blimey, they might have asked first. Still, it were nice to 'ave a chat. I got talking to one and it turned out 'er name were Mavis, and she used to be Tooth Fairy to the old missus's family. She should 'ave retired, she said, but she wanted to stay until LYS had got all his grown up teeth. Now she lives with all these old fairies and they 'ave a high old time, they still fly about but they need 'alf a stone of fairy dust to get going. All them will-o-the-wisps, they light the way with Glimmer Zimmers these days. Well, I never. Wonder where old gnomes go?
Thursday, 31 October 2013
Tuesday, 29 October 2013
swoosh
The curtains arrived today. Just two pairs,one for the landing and one for our bedroom, but it means so much to us. It's part of making this house the way we want it. They're a light William Morris pattern of leaves and berries with 'Love is Enough' printed across, green on white for the landing, blue on white for the bedroom. The old grey shiny curtains from the landing will go to a charity shop, or maybe a drama group could use them for costumes. The old ones from our room are past hope, I'm afraid. So then we got all of a whatnot hunting for curtain hooks and finding we hadn't got the right size, and Tony going out for more, and a lot of climbing on chairs, and finally, we have beautiful curtains.
Bedroom curtains are very important. When you wake up in the morning, what do you see? Probably it's your bedroom curtains. Then again it might be a teddy bear. In my case it's frequently a cup of tea, because Tony gets sorted out in the morning before I do. And many years ago it was our dog who woke us all up in turn, escorted me to the bathroom, and then took me for a walk. But what I mean is, bedroom curtains are an important part of the beginning and end of your day. I look forward to swooshing them shut tonight and open in the morning.
I'm thinking of inventing something else that goes swoosh - a fairy to live in the garden. It would give Dodger something to chase. Perhaps two fairies would be good, to keep each other company. But they'd better behave or they'll be uninvented, sharpish.
Just to keep you up to date - Kenton Archer and Jolene are getting married and his unbearable daughter is a bridesmaid. Ed's cows are dropping dead and David's sheep have been worried by dogs. I'm worried by Jill Archer, the wholesome and reliable matriarch, who has been driving so dangerously that Joe Grundy nearly had another injury. Put your glasses on, pet.
Bedroom curtains are very important. When you wake up in the morning, what do you see? Probably it's your bedroom curtains. Then again it might be a teddy bear. In my case it's frequently a cup of tea, because Tony gets sorted out in the morning before I do. And many years ago it was our dog who woke us all up in turn, escorted me to the bathroom, and then took me for a walk. But what I mean is, bedroom curtains are an important part of the beginning and end of your day. I look forward to swooshing them shut tonight and open in the morning.
I'm thinking of inventing something else that goes swoosh - a fairy to live in the garden. It would give Dodger something to chase. Perhaps two fairies would be good, to keep each other company. But they'd better behave or they'll be uninvented, sharpish.
Just to keep you up to date - Kenton Archer and Jolene are getting married and his unbearable daughter is a bridesmaid. Ed's cows are dropping dead and David's sheep have been worried by dogs. I'm worried by Jill Archer, the wholesome and reliable matriarch, who has been driving so dangerously that Joe Grundy nearly had another injury. Put your glasses on, pet.
Sunday, 27 October 2013
Wild
A wild, wet and blowy day today. There are warnings of storms from the South of England to the southern edge of Yorkshire. All of you in the south, nail down the garden furniture, call the cat in, lock the windows and bar the doors. Then go to bed. Trains are being cancelled tomorrow morning, so don't even attempt to go to work first thing. Most of the schools are on half term anyway.
On my first teaching practice I found that the teachers hated windy days, and I soon discovered why. It gets into the children. If you're a child, you know how it is. When there's a gale blowing you can either struggle against it or run with it, and you, like a leaf, would rather be swept along. You come back into the classroom like Atlantic breakers, full of whoosh, and you know you can fly.
It gets into animals, too, especially cats. You can tell there's a storm brewing long before you see any sign of it because the cat's on top of the wardrobe, in the sink, under your feet, or chasing invisible imps up and down the hall. Here is a wild thing, thinks the cat. I will catch it. This time,this time, I will catch it.
As a small person, I have occasionally had to grab a handrail, a lamppost or somebody's arm to keep from being blown away. On the north-east coast sometimes it was all I could do to keep the baby buggy from flying off into orbit with my youngest child in it. At any second, I thought, poor little LYS will be waving down at me as he soars above the North Sea on a big baby adventure.
Last time there were storms in the Calder Valley, a vicar friend of ours forgot to bring in his daughter's trampoline. next morning, it turned up in the churchyard.
So snuggle down. Sleep tight. May all your storms blow over.
On my first teaching practice I found that the teachers hated windy days, and I soon discovered why. It gets into the children. If you're a child, you know how it is. When there's a gale blowing you can either struggle against it or run with it, and you, like a leaf, would rather be swept along. You come back into the classroom like Atlantic breakers, full of whoosh, and you know you can fly.
It gets into animals, too, especially cats. You can tell there's a storm brewing long before you see any sign of it because the cat's on top of the wardrobe, in the sink, under your feet, or chasing invisible imps up and down the hall. Here is a wild thing, thinks the cat. I will catch it. This time,this time, I will catch it.
As a small person, I have occasionally had to grab a handrail, a lamppost or somebody's arm to keep from being blown away. On the north-east coast sometimes it was all I could do to keep the baby buggy from flying off into orbit with my youngest child in it. At any second, I thought, poor little LYS will be waving down at me as he soars above the North Sea on a big baby adventure.
Last time there were storms in the Calder Valley, a vicar friend of ours forgot to bring in his daughter's trampoline. next morning, it turned up in the churchyard.
So snuggle down. Sleep tight. May all your storms blow over.
Friday, 25 October 2013
Sunshine
Wednesday turned out quite busy. After the Premier radio slot, we whizzed back home through rain as if the angels had left the sluice gates open. We were out again at about twelve because we were having lunch with our friend Brenda.
Brenda, like me, is vegetarian. Unlike me she is such a great cook I want to kidnap her and lock her in my kitchen. She is also one of the kindest and - I'm going to make up a word here - sensiblest people I know. She is also warm and charming, and has the gift of making everything around her beautiful and everyone around her at home. It got even better, because she'd invited another friend from way back, a warm and funny woman whose physical health is flaky and whose spirit is indomitable. We should put those two in charge of the world. Brenda served up a scrummy lunch and we talked for hours. Wow, we have some wonderful friends! Tony and I just had time to turn ourselves round and get out again for...
do you know about The Proclaimers? Two Scotsmen with a sound that goes straight to where you need it. We saw them live at Greenbelt 2012 and their signature barnstormer '500 miles' was possibly the high point of a great festival. There's a new film out called 'Sunshine on Leith' based on their music and set in Edinburgh. Sunshine on Leith is one of my favourite songs in all the world, so I only hoped that the film did it justice. (Leith, by the way, refers to a district of Edinburgh and the Water of Leith, the river that runs through it.)
What a beautiful, true, happy and sad, moving, funny film, and the set pieces make you want to get up and dance. I've been going round singing Proclaimers songs ever since, and this is still in my head -
While I'm worth my room on this earth
I will be with you
As long as the Chief puts sunshine on Leith
I'll thank him for his work, for your birth and my birth
Please, find it, listen, watch.
Brenda, like me, is vegetarian. Unlike me she is such a great cook I want to kidnap her and lock her in my kitchen. She is also one of the kindest and - I'm going to make up a word here - sensiblest people I know. She is also warm and charming, and has the gift of making everything around her beautiful and everyone around her at home. It got even better, because she'd invited another friend from way back, a warm and funny woman whose physical health is flaky and whose spirit is indomitable. We should put those two in charge of the world. Brenda served up a scrummy lunch and we talked for hours. Wow, we have some wonderful friends! Tony and I just had time to turn ourselves round and get out again for...
do you know about The Proclaimers? Two Scotsmen with a sound that goes straight to where you need it. We saw them live at Greenbelt 2012 and their signature barnstormer '500 miles' was possibly the high point of a great festival. There's a new film out called 'Sunshine on Leith' based on their music and set in Edinburgh. Sunshine on Leith is one of my favourite songs in all the world, so I only hoped that the film did it justice. (Leith, by the way, refers to a district of Edinburgh and the Water of Leith, the river that runs through it.)
What a beautiful, true, happy and sad, moving, funny film, and the set pieces make you want to get up and dance. I've been going round singing Proclaimers songs ever since, and this is still in my head -
While I'm worth my room on this earth
I will be with you
As long as the Chief puts sunshine on Leith
I'll thank him for his work, for your birth and my birth
Please, find it, listen, watch.
Wednesday, 23 October 2013
Morning!
Firstly, thank you so much to Clara for that lovely blog spot. I feel most honoured, and all of a whatnot.
I don't do mornings. I'm not made that way. When I had to get to work or had children to get ready in the morning, I got on with it. It's amazing what you can do if you have to. But six in the morning doesn't like me and I don't like it. Midnight is fine! Bring it on! But today I was being interviewed on the breakfast show for Premier Radio, which meant getting out at seven and being at the studio for eight. (Yes, I know, lots of you do it every day, but my brain doesn't understand the concept of falling asleep before at least one in the morning.) I'd intended to go by train and taxi, which would have made it even earlier, but Tony offered to take me into town. Hero.
I was awake at six. I think I was probably awake at ten past and half past as well, but I've no idea what happened in between. At seven, we left the house. By 7.15 we were behind a big vehicle with caterpillar wheels and so big you could have transported a six bedroom house on the back and the garden and garage as well. Square wheels, my father would have said. It sort of lumbered, like a dinosaur on the prowl for small unwary animals. That stayed ahead of us all the way to Newcastle by which I didn't want to look at the clock any more. We got lost on the Quayside, Tony did a spectacular job of negotiating the one way system, we went to the wrong car park first, and stumbled into the studio gabbling apologies.
What followed was a stimulating and very enjoyable morning with John Pantry, the host. We talked about the importance of reading to children, and about bringing Bible stories to life, and all sorts of things. I hope I made sense. Tony, who was in the studio, said afterwards that I came over very well. I hope so. If I said anything really stupid, I'm going to blame sleep deprivation.
I don't do mornings. I'm not made that way. When I had to get to work or had children to get ready in the morning, I got on with it. It's amazing what you can do if you have to. But six in the morning doesn't like me and I don't like it. Midnight is fine! Bring it on! But today I was being interviewed on the breakfast show for Premier Radio, which meant getting out at seven and being at the studio for eight. (Yes, I know, lots of you do it every day, but my brain doesn't understand the concept of falling asleep before at least one in the morning.) I'd intended to go by train and taxi, which would have made it even earlier, but Tony offered to take me into town. Hero.
I was awake at six. I think I was probably awake at ten past and half past as well, but I've no idea what happened in between. At seven, we left the house. By 7.15 we were behind a big vehicle with caterpillar wheels and so big you could have transported a six bedroom house on the back and the garden and garage as well. Square wheels, my father would have said. It sort of lumbered, like a dinosaur on the prowl for small unwary animals. That stayed ahead of us all the way to Newcastle by which I didn't want to look at the clock any more. We got lost on the Quayside, Tony did a spectacular job of negotiating the one way system, we went to the wrong car park first, and stumbled into the studio gabbling apologies.
What followed was a stimulating and very enjoyable morning with John Pantry, the host. We talked about the importance of reading to children, and about bringing Bible stories to life, and all sorts of things. I hope I made sense. Tony, who was in the studio, said afterwards that I came over very well. I hope so. If I said anything really stupid, I'm going to blame sleep deprivation.
Sunday, 20 October 2013
Titles
Years ago, I wrote a book for the Oxford Treetops Series called 'My Guinea-Pig is Innocent'. It went down very well with children, teachers and reviewers and I found that people warmed to the title before they'd even started the book. Perhaps if I'd called it 'The Escaping Guinea-Pig', 'Guinea-Pig in Danger' or 'Guinea-Pig Adventure' they wouldn't even have opened it. Titles are very important. Just now I'm working on a book about a dog. The plot's all there, I have no problems with the characters, I'd love to adopt that dog and I'm enjoying the writing, but my editor and I are scratching our heads about the title. When we know, I'll tell you.
One of the books on my to-read pile is When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit, by that Grand Old Lady of Literature, Judith Kerr. Now, there's a title, and from all I hear it's a powerful story, too. She was a little girl from a Jewish family in Germany in the 1930s, and they only just got out of Germany in time.
On a lighter note, there is a prize awarded every year, the Diagram Prize, for the oddest book title of the year. Some previous winners are -
How to Avoid Huge Ships
Greek Rural Postmen and Their Cancellation Numbers
Highlights in the History of Concrete, and my favourite
Goblin-Proofing your Chicken Coop.
Goodnight from the New House of Stories, and don't let the goblins into your chicken coop.
One of the books on my to-read pile is When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit, by that Grand Old Lady of Literature, Judith Kerr. Now, there's a title, and from all I hear it's a powerful story, too. She was a little girl from a Jewish family in Germany in the 1930s, and they only just got out of Germany in time.
On a lighter note, there is a prize awarded every year, the Diagram Prize, for the oddest book title of the year. Some previous winners are -
How to Avoid Huge Ships
Greek Rural Postmen and Their Cancellation Numbers
Highlights in the History of Concrete, and my favourite
Goblin-Proofing your Chicken Coop.
Goodnight from the New House of Stories, and don't let the goblins into your chicken coop.
Thursday, 17 October 2013
glorious
What glorious days! A big family get-together on a day that started off cold and drizzly and turned into a warm autumn afternoon, and we took Mum and Dad to one of their favourite hidden valleys. Then a whole day at Seven Stories in Newcastle, the utterly wonderful National Centre for Children's Books, with over twenty other children's authors. If you love books for children and you're ever anywhere Newcastle, it's a must. Perhaps I'll tell you more about it another time, but it's getting late and I have to be up in the morning.
Today was another of those afternoons, a golden day. I'd written all morning, so I went out and planted bulbs, and Tony cut the grass. Everything smelt of cut grass and freshly turned earth. Then we brought out the stepladder so that I could get to the top of the apple tree and pick the last of the fruit, turning my head because the late sun was so strong that it dazzled through the leaves and branches. And I thought - can this really be me? Here, doing this? How enchanted, how story book, is this?
Speaking of Apples -
Ooh, and then this evening 'er sister rang up and said, you know when you were at my house, well you left yer hat, shall I put it in the post? No, she says, I'll pick it up next time I'm there, say hello to it for me. Now, I happen to know that hat, it's a green one and dead plain, if you ask me it needs a bit of decorating. It's good squirrel country round where her sister lives, I'm sure we could spare a few nuts and elderberries, and plenty of feathers, ooh, feathers, them pheasants is everywhere Plenty of sheep wool, too, looks very nice when you've got the mucky bits out. I'll get to work.
Today was another of those afternoons, a golden day. I'd written all morning, so I went out and planted bulbs, and Tony cut the grass. Everything smelt of cut grass and freshly turned earth. Then we brought out the stepladder so that I could get to the top of the apple tree and pick the last of the fruit, turning my head because the late sun was so strong that it dazzled through the leaves and branches. And I thought - can this really be me? Here, doing this? How enchanted, how story book, is this?
Speaking of Apples -
Ooh, and then this evening 'er sister rang up and said, you know when you were at my house, well you left yer hat, shall I put it in the post? No, she says, I'll pick it up next time I'm there, say hello to it for me. Now, I happen to know that hat, it's a green one and dead plain, if you ask me it needs a bit of decorating. It's good squirrel country round where her sister lives, I'm sure we could spare a few nuts and elderberries, and plenty of feathers, ooh, feathers, them pheasants is everywhere Plenty of sheep wool, too, looks very nice when you've got the mucky bits out. I'll get to work.
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