We wrote our wills yesterday, putting our lives into little packages to give away to friends, relatives and charities.
We last updated our wills in 2002 before we got married. If you get married after you have made a will, your current will becomes null and void. We didn't know this, so effectively neither of us had a will for 14 years!
Sunday morning was spent packaging up our lives into little parcels and hoping that no-one would challenge our wills. Peter our solicitor and dear friend, will sew the legals up as tight as a drum for us.
Recently, the old lady at the end house died, and her relatives came and put everything, and I mean everything in a skip. Her photo albums, her ornaments, personal items, kitchen stuff,
clothes. Her life was in the bin. Thoughtless, uncaring.
I couldn't bear for my life to be thrown away like that.
Over the road, Rose's family carefully emptied the house, took stuff to the recycle bins at the fire station, every one came and took a "treasure" wrapped up and boxed and put in their cars.
I have no relatives who would do that for me & neither does my husband, so we will have to rely on the kindness of friends.
At one point my dear husband had tears in his eyes, he has two brothers and one friend,
Darren. I only have one friend - he said sadly.
Strangely he didn't mention our joint friends, when I asked him why. He said they were my friends I'd known for years, and didn't probably didn't think of him in the same way. So he thought they were not his friends, but put up with him for me. Silly man. He is strangely self effacing and shy for someone who works in the media.
He told me when he was younger he didn't want to live past 30, he was so shy that he was very lonely. He almost thinks he is an imposition on his friends.
Yet he is the man who held his friend Roger in his arms after a hit and run by "joyriders"
and watched him die in his arms. He said he remembers screaming for help, but nothing else. He is the man who after uni visited his seriously ill Uni friend Morissot up until the end
and then kept in touch with his parents afterwards.
He is the man who when we were just friends took me out for a drive when he saw me sad and worn down by living with a bi-polar husband. We used to talk and talk and when I felt
better he'd take me home and I'd say see you tomorrow at work, it was normal.
As for Darren, Andy has been his snooker, bowling, nightclubbing buddy, his rock, his
workmate, his sounding board, and between them there is still Andy and Darren time.
They can't work out women between them even after all these years!
So packaged up, the past, the present, the future. Ghosts faced, horrors discussed,
tears spent, hopefully we won't have to do that for a while. Onwards and upwards.
Monday, 29 February 2016
Tuesday, 23 February 2016
Can anyone help my friend?
My friend Della is in the Radcliffe Hospital after two operations she had to correct oestoperosis in her neck went wrong. She now looks worse than photo 2 as since the last operation part of a vertebrae is now sticking out of the back of her neck. Today a young doctor told her it would be better if she just let herself slip away during the next operation.
Better for him perhaps as he wouldn't have to correct the
mistakes they made.
The lady with the gorgeous red hair on the right is Della before the operation.
This is Della after the "Corrective" Surgery below.
Can anyone help? I wrote to the GMC today perhaps
I'm interfering, but I love my friend and don't want her
to be killed by the NHS.
Better for him perhaps as he wouldn't have to correct the
mistakes they made.
The lady with the gorgeous red hair on the right is Della before the operation.
Can anyone help? I wrote to the GMC today perhaps
I'm interfering, but I love my friend and don't want her
to be killed by the NHS.
Friday, 19 February 2016
Murder at the Manor!
Nearly finished! Been sitting writing for the past few days, forgotten how to walk!
Good news! got a commission - can't say any more at the moment - TOP SECRET - but I am very excited about it, should take about a year to complete and it means a bit of travelling.
Murder at the Manor is the last Hilary I'll write until my commission is completed.
I have more ideas than I can possibly do at the moment. Wish I earned enough to employ a secretary!
Well must get on - should be out next week sometime with any luck, then the Hilary compilations in book form.
Have a good weekend everybody, my dear hubby is doing a set of free-fall jumps and I'm going to watch, it'll be in a windtunnel and he becomes weightless, he's hoping to do a few tricks this time.
With any luck we'll get to see Zoolander 2 - Just love Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson, both about the same age as my dear hubby - obviously they both look better as they don't have me and my shananigans to contend with!
Good news! got a commission - can't say any more at the moment - TOP SECRET - but I am very excited about it, should take about a year to complete and it means a bit of travelling.
Murder at the Manor is the last Hilary I'll write until my commission is completed.
I have more ideas than I can possibly do at the moment. Wish I earned enough to employ a secretary!
Well must get on - should be out next week sometime with any luck, then the Hilary compilations in book form.
Have a good weekend everybody, my dear hubby is doing a set of free-fall jumps and I'm going to watch, it'll be in a windtunnel and he becomes weightless, he's hoping to do a few tricks this time.
With any luck we'll get to see Zoolander 2 - Just love Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson, both about the same age as my dear hubby - obviously they both look better as they don't have me and my shananigans to contend with!
Tuesday, 16 February 2016
GRRRRR
I really can't believe how uneducated people are these days, it beggars belief.
I just had a secure e.mail from my bank apologising for a mistake that was made
saying and I quote;
"I'm sorry I didn't know what I was reading off rest ashore it will be put right."
What? Rest ashore? Am I a bloody boat?
Reading off? I phoned to complain they hadn't taken a direct debit then charged me for not paying it. I check finances all the time so I paid it directly from my account as soon as I noticed.
I have no confidence in my bank any more. It seems to be run by nine year olds!
SO GRRRRRR..... Dennis the menace face - but with actually very lovely hair, I had it done this morning by the talented Emma!
Onwards and upwards and rest ASSURED that my bank will be getting a very strong letter
written in yellow and blue crayon and with stick drawings!
I just had a secure e.mail from my bank apologising for a mistake that was made
saying and I quote;
"I'm sorry I didn't know what I was reading off rest ashore it will be put right."
What? Rest ashore? Am I a bloody boat?
Reading off? I phoned to complain they hadn't taken a direct debit then charged me for not paying it. I check finances all the time so I paid it directly from my account as soon as I noticed.
I have no confidence in my bank any more. It seems to be run by nine year olds!
SO GRRRRRR..... Dennis the menace face - but with actually very lovely hair, I had it done this morning by the talented Emma!
Onwards and upwards and rest ASSURED that my bank will be getting a very strong letter
written in yellow and blue crayon and with stick drawings!
Friday, 12 February 2016
To sleep perchance to dream
I get a lot of inspiration for my stories from my dreams. I sometimes have recurring dreams,
one dream that I had recently was one I had many times as a teenager. I was being chased through Hoxton market by a large ferocious fire breathing dragon. It was a lithe beast with large claws and big sharp pointed teeth.
I had that dream around Christmas time, I was running and running, and as usual he cornered me by the scaffolding near the sweetshop, I couldn't move, there was no where else to run. He reared up to attack - now when I was a teenager I would wake up sweating at this point - but I just looked up at him and said, "God you've put on weight!" and he had, I started laughing and he disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
A lot of my dreams are just weird, when I was in my thirties, I dreamt I was outside the tube station in Knightsbridge, and Spike Milligan rushed by, he looked at me and said,"Tell the guys not to wait - I'm not going to get to the lunch."
"What guys?" I asked as he rushed past Harrods.
Later that day I heard Spike had died.
I often dream I'm back at work in the BBC, I walk across the bridge from the car park, go into Presentation, pick up my scripts, go copy them, and take them to the studios. In my dream I spend the whole day in Studio 2 marking camera cards and working on a pedestal camera, and wake up exhausted, and the worst of it is I don't even get paid for it!
Some dreams are just cruel. I dream quite often that I meet my son by accident, we just run into each other, and he gives me a big smile and a hug, and we talk. I miss my son every day, think about him every day, so I suppose that's just a wish fulfillment dream.
The other recurring dream I have is I'm on a Sealed Knot camp, we're by the seaside and there's a lovely harbour and the sea is coming in fast, and we all rush into town and on the pier to watch it, the town is full of people in 17c Costume, laughing and joking, drinking beers and eating hot food from the traders. It's like a big colourful party.
To sleep perchance to dream - not always thank goodness!
ans watch it
one dream that I had recently was one I had many times as a teenager. I was being chased through Hoxton market by a large ferocious fire breathing dragon. It was a lithe beast with large claws and big sharp pointed teeth.
I had that dream around Christmas time, I was running and running, and as usual he cornered me by the scaffolding near the sweetshop, I couldn't move, there was no where else to run. He reared up to attack - now when I was a teenager I would wake up sweating at this point - but I just looked up at him and said, "God you've put on weight!" and he had, I started laughing and he disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
A lot of my dreams are just weird, when I was in my thirties, I dreamt I was outside the tube station in Knightsbridge, and Spike Milligan rushed by, he looked at me and said,"Tell the guys not to wait - I'm not going to get to the lunch."
"What guys?" I asked as he rushed past Harrods.
Later that day I heard Spike had died.
I often dream I'm back at work in the BBC, I walk across the bridge from the car park, go into Presentation, pick up my scripts, go copy them, and take them to the studios. In my dream I spend the whole day in Studio 2 marking camera cards and working on a pedestal camera, and wake up exhausted, and the worst of it is I don't even get paid for it!
Some dreams are just cruel. I dream quite often that I meet my son by accident, we just run into each other, and he gives me a big smile and a hug, and we talk. I miss my son every day, think about him every day, so I suppose that's just a wish fulfillment dream.
The other recurring dream I have is I'm on a Sealed Knot camp, we're by the seaside and there's a lovely harbour and the sea is coming in fast, and we all rush into town and on the pier to watch it, the town is full of people in 17c Costume, laughing and joking, drinking beers and eating hot food from the traders. It's like a big colourful party.
To sleep perchance to dream - not always thank goodness!
ans watch it
Thursday, 11 February 2016
Marilyn Monroe and Ruth Jones and ME !
Swimsuits
Since I was ill a couple of years ago now I have lost over five stone, so my current swimsuits as pretty as they are, are now baggy, indecent, and would fit a baby whale.
I'm not that thin now as I've started eating again. Eating is still a trial - used to be a minute in the mouth a month on the hips. Since my terrible virus 18 months ago, it's now a minute in the mouth, high possibility of 5 hours in A&E with anaphalaxic shock.
Trying new food is dangerous, and my dear hubby says I have to try more than whiskey, Baileys, and Guinness. I also eat potatoes, and yes I am half Irish!
Anyway back to the swimsuits, I want to go to the Minerva Bath Spa - my happy place - so I was looking at swimsuits. Well, young skeletons with emaciated well made up faces in swimsuits.
70 odd years ago women not far off that size were being rescued from concentration camps.
WTF?
Marilyn Monroe the worlds biggest sex symbol was 5'5'' and 36 26 36.
Ruth Jones MBE lost 4 and a half stone in 2011 and is now about the
same size as me size 14.
She did it by calorie counting. I did it by being allergic to everything I ate.
UK Size 14 is rated at 38 30 3/4 40 1/4
Me I'm 37, 32, 38. I'm 5'6''
Today's size 0 is 30 22 32.
So Marilyn, Ruth and myself are all deemed to be OUTSIZE.
No we're not, we're woman sized, we have wonderful curves, we have as Jonathan Ross
described his own curvy wife, more cushion for the pushin' !!
The designers seem to only want weak fragile skeletal women - if they want just
a coat hanger - for God sake buy a coathanger!
We can't all look like little skinny 12 year old girls and nor should we aspire to be. We should be deemed healthy, fit, attractive and lose weight because we want to. We want to feel good, move better, flaunt our brilliant stuff!
As for Victoria Beckham, now 34 23 33 is just a squeeze off size 0. As a Spice Girl she was about a size 12. I'm no psychologist, but why doesn't she ever smile? Why does she stand sideways on with one leg in front of the other to look even slimmer?
I guess she's self conscious. Why?
She has all she wants, the 0 size body, a lovely husband and children, a good business head. Was she bullied at school? Bullied by the fashion industry?
I would love to see her smile.
So being a size 0 doesn't always make you happy it seems. It really doesn't matter what size you are - as long as YOU are happy with who you are - that's all that matters.
At my lovely hubby's 1940s Birthday Party last year, I'm buxom and proud of it - and he's not complaining!
Since I was ill a couple of years ago now I have lost over five stone, so my current swimsuits as pretty as they are, are now baggy, indecent, and would fit a baby whale.
I'm not that thin now as I've started eating again. Eating is still a trial - used to be a minute in the mouth a month on the hips. Since my terrible virus 18 months ago, it's now a minute in the mouth, high possibility of 5 hours in A&E with anaphalaxic shock.
Trying new food is dangerous, and my dear hubby says I have to try more than whiskey, Baileys, and Guinness. I also eat potatoes, and yes I am half Irish!
Anyway back to the swimsuits, I want to go to the Minerva Bath Spa - my happy place - so I was looking at swimsuits. Well, young skeletons with emaciated well made up faces in swimsuits.
70 odd years ago women not far off that size were being rescued from concentration camps.
WTF?
Marilyn Monroe the worlds biggest sex symbol was 5'5'' and 36 26 36.
Ruth Jones MBE lost 4 and a half stone in 2011 and is now about the
same size as me size 14.
She did it by calorie counting. I did it by being allergic to everything I ate.
UK Size 14 is rated at 38 30 3/4 40 1/4
Me I'm 37, 32, 38. I'm 5'6''
Today's size 0 is 30 22 32.
So Marilyn, Ruth and myself are all deemed to be OUTSIZE.
No we're not, we're woman sized, we have wonderful curves, we have as Jonathan Ross
described his own curvy wife, more cushion for the pushin' !!
The designers seem to only want weak fragile skeletal women - if they want just
a coat hanger - for God sake buy a coathanger!
We can't all look like little skinny 12 year old girls and nor should we aspire to be. We should be deemed healthy, fit, attractive and lose weight because we want to. We want to feel good, move better, flaunt our brilliant stuff!
As for Victoria Beckham, now 34 23 33 is just a squeeze off size 0. As a Spice Girl she was about a size 12. I'm no psychologist, but why doesn't she ever smile? Why does she stand sideways on with one leg in front of the other to look even slimmer?
I guess she's self conscious. Why?
She has all she wants, the 0 size body, a lovely husband and children, a good business head. Was she bullied at school? Bullied by the fashion industry?
I would love to see her smile.
So being a size 0 doesn't always make you happy it seems. It really doesn't matter what size you are - as long as YOU are happy with who you are - that's all that matters.
At my lovely hubby's 1940s Birthday Party last year, I'm buxom and proud of it - and he's not complaining!
Wednesday, 10 February 2016
PAH CHEWI BANG!
Yeap that's a strange one. As a writer I've always played with words. Sometimes for a joke when I worked at the BBC I would start using a word that I'd invented and see how long it took to catch on. Mental floss is one of mine - I am proud to say.
When we lived together as a family we had our own language, most families have their own words for things, but we had our very own secret language called Valeto.
Valeto grew over the years from a few words into a full blown language used at home. Sometimes at school or at work Valeto would be spoken by accident causing embarrassment and surprise.
Hence PAH CHEWI BANG! The element of surprise in Valeto. I won't say any more after all it wouldn't be a secret language would it?
I thought about this today asI have been on the ChipLit site. I was reading the Blogs and looking at the speakers, and it might as well have been in Chinese, a language I don't speak!
Why?
I have been writing for years, painting for years. It is said the two go together, most artists write, most writers paint. I have had articles and short stories published.
What has that to do with the price of fish you ask?
I can write and illustrate my own work. I have loads of stuff under my belt. At the BBC I have worked with the rich and famous. (Don't know why I put that in!) I have at the moment seven murder mysteries and one history book and one romance out.
But....
I don't communicate with other writers - so I thought ChipLit would be a place to start.
I went to the website and read the biogs and looked at the speakers. No-one writes like I do. Is that wrong? Came as a bit of a shock that. Can't be, as my books are selling.
I look at the genres, none of them are even mildly like the work I produce.
Yet my books are being bought, and even now being sold on by other traders on Amazon.
So I am totally confused, am I ahead of my time or behind it?
I read a lot. When I was fourteen and a child in Shoreditch. (No it was horrible then, not at all trendy.) I made up my mind to read all the classics before I was eighteen. Almost did it!
I took a writing course and the lecturer said "Read read read." So I did.
"God Jesus, you're devouring that book." My lovely Irish mother used to say, closely followed by "Are you ever going to take your head out of that book?"
My current husband knows that if he gives me a new book he won't see me until I've finished it. Apparently I'm a speed reader. It takes me a couple of hours to read a book cover to cover, and my darling hubby is still reading The Silver Spitfire that I bought him for Christmas!
Histories, autobiographies, classics, books on art, cookery, women's lives. Even "The theory of almost Everything and Jonathan Livingston Seagull, strange books like the 1970s illustrated "The Book of Men." and the Bible, from cover to cover - more scary than any horror story.
So I'm going to try and go and see if I have anything in common with any of these writers.
Another interesting journey to take.
When we lived together as a family we had our own language, most families have their own words for things, but we had our very own secret language called Valeto.
Valeto grew over the years from a few words into a full blown language used at home. Sometimes at school or at work Valeto would be spoken by accident causing embarrassment and surprise.
Hence PAH CHEWI BANG! The element of surprise in Valeto. I won't say any more after all it wouldn't be a secret language would it?
I thought about this today asI have been on the ChipLit site. I was reading the Blogs and looking at the speakers, and it might as well have been in Chinese, a language I don't speak!
Why?
I have been writing for years, painting for years. It is said the two go together, most artists write, most writers paint. I have had articles and short stories published.
What has that to do with the price of fish you ask?
I can write and illustrate my own work. I have loads of stuff under my belt. At the BBC I have worked with the rich and famous. (Don't know why I put that in!) I have at the moment seven murder mysteries and one history book and one romance out.
But....
I don't communicate with other writers - so I thought ChipLit would be a place to start.
I went to the website and read the biogs and looked at the speakers. No-one writes like I do. Is that wrong? Came as a bit of a shock that. Can't be, as my books are selling.
I look at the genres, none of them are even mildly like the work I produce.
Yet my books are being bought, and even now being sold on by other traders on Amazon.
So I am totally confused, am I ahead of my time or behind it?
I read a lot. When I was fourteen and a child in Shoreditch. (No it was horrible then, not at all trendy.) I made up my mind to read all the classics before I was eighteen. Almost did it!
I took a writing course and the lecturer said "Read read read." So I did.
"God Jesus, you're devouring that book." My lovely Irish mother used to say, closely followed by "Are you ever going to take your head out of that book?"
My current husband knows that if he gives me a new book he won't see me until I've finished it. Apparently I'm a speed reader. It takes me a couple of hours to read a book cover to cover, and my darling hubby is still reading The Silver Spitfire that I bought him for Christmas!
Histories, autobiographies, classics, books on art, cookery, women's lives. Even "The theory of almost Everything and Jonathan Livingston Seagull, strange books like the 1970s illustrated "The Book of Men." and the Bible, from cover to cover - more scary than any horror story.
So I'm going to try and go and see if I have anything in common with any of these writers.
Another interesting journey to take.
Tuesday, 9 February 2016
CAKES!!
Here are a few pictures of my cakes
Carrot Birthday Cake
OH REALLY???
Good News!
My books are in the top 100,000 sold on Amazon in January this year!
My latest and last for a while, Hilary Long Mystery, Shock Horror Murder at the Manor, will be out before Easter. A Hilary Long compendium, which will include two new extra short stories called "Before Long" and a map of Overdown, will come shortly afterwards.
My next project is going to be an illustrated book on Clothing of the English Civil War. I'm hoping to be able to research and draw or photograph actual civil war clothing and accessories so that my book will be the "go to" for re-enactors of the period.
I also want to try and make some of the clothing if I can.
Talking of which:
Sir Ralph Verney's wedding suit.
Another project I'm working on is "The Goodwyfe's kitchen", which should show the life of a typical 17c woman, through her food, medicines, and household duties. There will be recipes for make up, perfumes, food, salves, possets,and favourite dishes.
A spring feast, local cheese, home made farmhouse bread, heavy cake, small beer. Oranges from his Lordships orangery, last years apples from the orchard, various herbs
to add to stews over the open fire. For a treat Orange drops, a very sweet sweetmeat,
and cream for the apple pies. - All my own work!
My books are in the top 100,000 sold on Amazon in January this year!
My latest and last for a while, Hilary Long Mystery, Shock Horror Murder at the Manor, will be out before Easter. A Hilary Long compendium, which will include two new extra short stories called "Before Long" and a map of Overdown, will come shortly afterwards.
My next project is going to be an illustrated book on Clothing of the English Civil War. I'm hoping to be able to research and draw or photograph actual civil war clothing and accessories so that my book will be the "go to" for re-enactors of the period.
I also want to try and make some of the clothing if I can.
Talking of which:
Another project I'm working on is "The Goodwyfe's kitchen", which should show the life of a typical 17c woman, through her food, medicines, and household duties. There will be recipes for make up, perfumes, food, salves, possets,and favourite dishes.
to add to stews over the open fire. For a treat Orange drops, a very sweet sweetmeat,
and cream for the apple pies. - All my own work!
Thursday, 4 February 2016
Pirates
Today I woke up in a Piratey kind of mood. Well, I woke up feeling like I'd been on a ship all night! Kinda queasy. Legs wobbly. Even have bloodshot eyes as if I'd been drinking rum all last night. No I hadn't.
My darling hubby was talking in his sleep and snoring as if he'd been gargling rocks. So I just I lay on the edge of the bed a bit scared - I've seen Little Nicky.
So anyway, I am eventually up, dressed in my Pirate tee shirt, it's quite scary, big skull with a red bandana and crossbones. My hair tied back in a queue.Face as white as a sheet, and wearing my Thor's hammer neclace - just because I thought it goes.
I'm no Mary Read or Anne Bonnie, though I do have a sword and musket I use when I re-enact 17thC. civil war. Just remembered I do have a cutlass but it's a small one!
My fights at the moment are invisible, intangible, impossible. I have been sending my history book to many people.
The National Trust - as they now part own a lot of the houses my Civil War women lived loved and fought for.
NO ANSWER.
Dr Lucy Worsley as I thought she had an interest in how women were represented in History.
NO ANSWERt
English Heritage - Couldn't actually be bothered to read it, but if I marked out the
pages with a yellow sticker that were relevant to them they'll read those bits.
DUHH It has an INDEX!!
Oh just found my parrot
Me in Summer Pirate wear! and a little bit worse for wear due to the rum cocktail in the tea cup. This I might add is crossover Pirate wear, I look a little more scary and authentic at Chatham Docks, I definately leave off the stuffed parrot!
My darling hubby was talking in his sleep and snoring as if he'd been gargling rocks. So I just I lay on the edge of the bed a bit scared - I've seen Little Nicky.
So anyway, I am eventually up, dressed in my Pirate tee shirt, it's quite scary, big skull with a red bandana and crossbones. My hair tied back in a queue.Face as white as a sheet, and wearing my Thor's hammer neclace - just because I thought it goes.
I'm no Mary Read or Anne Bonnie, though I do have a sword and musket I use when I re-enact 17thC. civil war. Just remembered I do have a cutlass but it's a small one!
My fights at the moment are invisible, intangible, impossible. I have been sending my history book to many people.
The National Trust - as they now part own a lot of the houses my Civil War women lived loved and fought for.
NO ANSWER.
Dr Lucy Worsley as I thought she had an interest in how women were represented in History.
NO ANSWERt
English Heritage - Couldn't actually be bothered to read it, but if I marked out the
pages with a yellow sticker that were relevant to them they'll read those bits.
DUHH It has an INDEX!!
Oh just found my parrot
Wednesday, 3 February 2016
And what have you done to my beautiful self?
Diablo the crow in Malificent, quite loved himself as he was, it's one of my favourite quotes from a movie.
My other favorite is "Never give in, never surrender." From Galaxy Quest.
Both of them are difficult to do, how many of us really think we're beautiful ? Diablo as a human, has skin scarred from his life as crow. But he knows he is beautiful. He loves who he is.
Never give in, never surrender, is I think the most difficult to do. Many times in my life I have felt like giving up. The worst time of all was after my first husband and I split up. I was left with my little boy to care for.
I'd had a hard day at work, I'd been working as a camera operator all day with a giggling actress in a bonnet, not the main lead I might add. Getting two lines wrong until midnight.
I'd also taken tape typing - transcription from radio programmes - home to do to earn extra
money to pay the mortgage. I was going to start that early next day.
I was in the bath, with candles burning and perfumed bubbles, my son was sleeping. His father had left after an argument. He'd called the police to search for me as I was so late home from work. You have to understand this was the 1980s - nobody really had mobile phones - except people who worked in the City.
So as I left work I ran into my current husband, who was there to pick up his girlfriend, she was a trainee producer, also working late, two policeman and an angry confused security guard.
I drove home in tears, not because the police were horrible, they weren't they were lovely, glad to find me safe. Not because Stan the security guard was confused and angry, he was
okay when I explained everything. Not even because the baby seat in my battered old car
was loaded with radio tapes to transcribe by 10 am the next day.
It was because I felt worthless. That morning I had grabbed the first jumper off the top of the laundry that morning in a hurry, the studio gallery was always cold because of the air conditioning. So I was wearing a padded shouldered burgundy leopard skin jumper on top of a summery white and red flowered dress.
I was always doing everything for everybody else except me. Paying the mortgage and the nursery fees,all the other bills left me at break even point. There was no spare money at all. So I worked and worked to give my son little luxuries and outings.
That day I felt I looked like I'd just jumped out of a skip. Then I saw myself with the black rings under my eyes, and the unbrushed hair. Not only that I had CSO blue ankles. I had painted my worn out scuffed white stillettos with CSO blue paint to make myself look a bit smarter. The paint came off.
So "What had I done to my beautiful self?"
As I lay in the bath, I went under the water, I used to have a thing about being able to hold my breath under water, see how long I could do it. Then I suddenly thought - what if I didn't bother holding my breath, what if I just lay there and let go. So I did.
Didn't last long, as soon as the water started to do it's work, I suddenly thought about my son. I couldn't leave him on his own, I sat up coughing and spluttering.
So "Never give up never surrender."
Shouldn't look back, people tell me. But it's history. MY history and it's made me who I am today. I look back, forward and to the present.
I now appreciate my beautiful self, scars and all, like Diablo the Crow. I will not give up and never surrender, after all I am on another amazing adventure. That of being an author.
I've been reading various autobiographies recently, they are amazing. I won't write mine yet. Too busy with writing Hilary Long's adventures and promoting my Women of the English Civil War book, I've only just started.
.
My other favorite is "Never give in, never surrender." From Galaxy Quest.
Both of them are difficult to do, how many of us really think we're beautiful ? Diablo as a human, has skin scarred from his life as crow. But he knows he is beautiful. He loves who he is.
Never give in, never surrender, is I think the most difficult to do. Many times in my life I have felt like giving up. The worst time of all was after my first husband and I split up. I was left with my little boy to care for.
I'd had a hard day at work, I'd been working as a camera operator all day with a giggling actress in a bonnet, not the main lead I might add. Getting two lines wrong until midnight.
I'd also taken tape typing - transcription from radio programmes - home to do to earn extra
money to pay the mortgage. I was going to start that early next day.
I was in the bath, with candles burning and perfumed bubbles, my son was sleeping. His father had left after an argument. He'd called the police to search for me as I was so late home from work. You have to understand this was the 1980s - nobody really had mobile phones - except people who worked in the City.
So as I left work I ran into my current husband, who was there to pick up his girlfriend, she was a trainee producer, also working late, two policeman and an angry confused security guard.
I drove home in tears, not because the police were horrible, they weren't they were lovely, glad to find me safe. Not because Stan the security guard was confused and angry, he was
okay when I explained everything. Not even because the baby seat in my battered old car
was loaded with radio tapes to transcribe by 10 am the next day.
It was because I felt worthless. That morning I had grabbed the first jumper off the top of the laundry that morning in a hurry, the studio gallery was always cold because of the air conditioning. So I was wearing a padded shouldered burgundy leopard skin jumper on top of a summery white and red flowered dress.
I was always doing everything for everybody else except me. Paying the mortgage and the nursery fees,all the other bills left me at break even point. There was no spare money at all. So I worked and worked to give my son little luxuries and outings.
That day I felt I looked like I'd just jumped out of a skip. Then I saw myself with the black rings under my eyes, and the unbrushed hair. Not only that I had CSO blue ankles. I had painted my worn out scuffed white stillettos with CSO blue paint to make myself look a bit smarter. The paint came off.
So "What had I done to my beautiful self?"
As I lay in the bath, I went under the water, I used to have a thing about being able to hold my breath under water, see how long I could do it. Then I suddenly thought - what if I didn't bother holding my breath, what if I just lay there and let go. So I did.
Didn't last long, as soon as the water started to do it's work, I suddenly thought about my son. I couldn't leave him on his own, I sat up coughing and spluttering.
So "Never give up never surrender."
Shouldn't look back, people tell me. But it's history. MY history and it's made me who I am today. I look back, forward and to the present.
I now appreciate my beautiful self, scars and all, like Diablo the Crow. I will not give up and never surrender, after all I am on another amazing adventure. That of being an author.
I've been reading various autobiographies recently, they are amazing. I won't write mine yet. Too busy with writing Hilary Long's adventures and promoting my Women of the English Civil War book, I've only just started.
.
Monday, 1 February 2016
Terry Wogan and Frank Finlay
When I worked at Television Centre, I had the pleasure of meeting Sir Terry. I always volunteered to do the captions and answer the phones for Children in Need. He would blow in to the studio or the green room smiling and genial and chat to everyone, helping himself to glasses of the good stuff. By the end of the evening he was full of the good stuff, a little whirly and swirly God bless him,forgetful of his script but always the gentleman, always affable, always the lovable Sir Terry. He'd thank us all and wave goodbye to go back home to the current Mrs Wogan - his little joke - they had been married for many years. The following morning as if nothing had happened, he would be back at work Fighting the Flab on his early morning radio show.
As I drove to work I'd listen every day, he always made me laugh, especially when TOGs
(Terry's Old Gits- his fan club) got on to speak to him.
This January has been a cruel January in many ways to many people. A January that other January's will be measured by, my dear husband said this morning.
My memories of Frank Finlay are a lot calmer, a lovely quiet professional man. I was doing my meet and greet job at Television Centre the time he was making Casanova. I used to walk through the sets to pick up my visitors. I didn't have to. I just wanted to.
Every set had a security guard sitting in it, as the furniture and antiques were for real, the other thing I remember was it was the first time that scenery design provided ceilings for a set. As poor Frank spent most of his time in bed looking up! So there were ornate half and quarter ceilings stacked in the corners of the studios.
I was surprised that his efforts were never taken more seriously, Bouquet of Barbed Wire
was an amazingly brave series for him to star in. I wish he had won many awards for his work. Even recently as a jobbing actor, he did an amazing portrayal of an altzeimers victim in Caroline Quentin and Alexander Armstrong's little series, Life Begins.
I have been priviledge in my life to meet and work with some amazing people. I am so very lucky to have had that opportunity.
As I drove to work I'd listen every day, he always made me laugh, especially when TOGs
(Terry's Old Gits- his fan club) got on to speak to him.
This January has been a cruel January in many ways to many people. A January that other January's will be measured by, my dear husband said this morning.
My memories of Frank Finlay are a lot calmer, a lovely quiet professional man. I was doing my meet and greet job at Television Centre the time he was making Casanova. I used to walk through the sets to pick up my visitors. I didn't have to. I just wanted to.
Every set had a security guard sitting in it, as the furniture and antiques were for real, the other thing I remember was it was the first time that scenery design provided ceilings for a set. As poor Frank spent most of his time in bed looking up! So there were ornate half and quarter ceilings stacked in the corners of the studios.
I was surprised that his efforts were never taken more seriously, Bouquet of Barbed Wire
was an amazingly brave series for him to star in. I wish he had won many awards for his work. Even recently as a jobbing actor, he did an amazing portrayal of an altzeimers victim in Caroline Quentin and Alexander Armstrong's little series, Life Begins.
I have been priviledge in my life to meet and work with some amazing people. I am so very lucky to have had that opportunity.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)