Well blimey. If any of you out there can remember who I am, and don’t feel utterly spurned and neglected beyond all reasonable tolerance, I am here, I am astonishingly in my right mind and I am writing again.
I won’t bore you with the details of what’s been going on for me since last summer, suffice it to say that it was enough to make me think very hard about where my life was going and what the future held for me. I felt a great need to sort out some personal difficulties before I could tackle anything else and for my brain to be sufficiently clear to have any creative thoughts beyond darning my socks and sorting my house out.
A shining light in a world of darkness, however, has been the arrival of a certain Sir Garrold Mellors (formerly of Seasnale Parva in Suffolk) who, because of one random comment, has changed my life, but more of that anon.
I have been writing and performing short stories, mainly nasty horror stories involving cotton mills in Lancashire (available for purchase very soon) and, any time now, I shall be returning to my novel which will inevitably become a best-seller and a mini-series on BBC2. Oh yes, it will be so…
I have also been giving lots of talks to delightful Women’s Institutes around the country, mainly about The Wartime Housewife, but also about the History of Ladybird Books, Up-cycling in a Groovy Way, and Creative Writing. I love the WI. They are an incredible bunch of women who represent an absolute powerhouse of skill, knowledge and self-reliance and, as I constantly remind them, when the Zombie Apocalypse is upon us, we will be Queens among the Useless and the Useless will be glad of us.
Unfortunately, I have been banned from driving until 25th August (NOT for drunk driving as a ‘friend’ assumed this morning but for an inadvertent IN10) which has somewhat confined me to barracks other than for local events. The upside of this is that I have learned how to use buses and walk to the shops. I am keeping all my bus tickets from now until the ban is lifted and I shall make them into an artwork called ‘My Driving Ban Hell’ or something similarly melodramatic. I have bought an old lady shopping trolley and ‘pimped’ it to be beautiful and exotic and I am getting to grips with the microcosm of small market town life. I’m sure it will do me good. Won’t it?