Monday, February 23, 2015

The Right to Rant

Now I don't want to blow my own trumpet but I am no ordinary writer. This means a number of things but probably not what you are thinking I think it means. What it means is:

One: I have absolutely no desire to talk about writing on my blog unless it's in my usual disparaging way because, let's face it, some writers are so up their own backsides they probably haven't seen daylight for twenty years and I'd rather not get caught up in those long debates about commas, adjectives or self-publishing v trad publishing. If I feel the need to vent I can go onto another writer's blog or, alternatively. I can make up a pseudonym and comment on culture articles over at The Guardian.

Two: Having thought about the terms "author" and "writer", I think it is stretching it to call myself either. I prefer "entertainer." This means I may yet subject you all to a video of me pole dancing in a Hawaiian skirt whilst reciting Ode to a Grecian Pasta Dish.

Three: It means I can use this blog to rant about any subject I please.

Which today is...

People Who Invade My Personal Space.

Okay, so here comes some examples:

1. The Good Mr T.

Oh wait a minute - I signed that marriage contract. It's legal.

2. Those really irritating people in the swimming pool who, even when the rest of the pool is empty, will come and swim right next to you so you are either:

a) Forced to inhale their surf up your nose and end up having a respiratory attack.

b) Forced to inhale the vast amount of the perfume/deodorant they have sprayed over their head and neck. (For what purpose I don't know - maybe to ward off evil spirits or marauding sharks.)

I have yet to question one of these perfumed swimmers on their motives for spraying a whole bottle of cologne or hairspray over themselves prior to submerging themselves in water but I fully intend to one day - when I stop gagging.

There's always someone where you least expect them...

3. Those even more irritating people who, even though the car park is empty, will squeeze their car so close to your's so that you can't get back into the driving position without climbing over the passenger seat and hauling your ass over the handbrake.

4. Charity collectors who harangue me in the street. Look, I am no meanie. I given to lots of charities.  And I've adopted six stray cats. That proves I am sucker for a sob story. But please do NOT wave your bucket at me when I am weighed down with bags and only have two minutes left before my car parking ticket runs out - I need all of my two minutes to climb in the passenger seat and over the handbrake.

5. People who nudge their knees up to me in the cinema. Please just keep your knees to yourself. Unless you're a seven foot tall basketball player I ain't gonna believe you can't keep your legs together unless you have a very, very large third leg.

So there you have it. Another rant from Mrs T which concludes with the thought that personal space-invaders should probably be shot on sight.

(Not Mr T obviously- that would be counterproductive as he pays the household bills which allow me to indulge in this wanton waste of time.)

I know that was a somewhat dramatic statement. However, if you have ever encountered all four of these space-invader specimens (especially on the same day) you will probably feel the same way.

I really should be in politics.




Monday, February 16, 2015

Bad Parenting and The Beginning of a New Journey


Last night, Mr T, the boys and I were all watching Expendables 3 when we got to this scene:




When new recruit, Luna, finished kicking ass this was the conversation:

Master Jacob; She's just like Mum

Mr T: Yep, that's just what your mother was like when I met her.

Huh? I am not tall, blonde or leggy. I don't even do karate!

Later there was a scene where Antonio Banderas, as another new crazed Expendable recruit, says something to the effect of "I just like killing people". Master Jacob piped up again;

Oh that's just like Mum too.

What? I've never even hurt a fly!

Well maybe a couple. But nobody, nobody, touches my chocolate without my permission.

Okay, so there might possibly have been a few wasps as well. But they deserved it.

And there might have been a few of those slugs that keep invading my kitchen. But that was really my salt pot. It fell over by its own accord.

And I had absolutely nothing to do with the dead rat in the compost bin. My conscience is clear. Almost.

Yeah, so there we were watching The Expendables 3 and there was yet another scene where Stallone was kicking some ass and blasting off his gun and... apparently I am like that too.

Yep, so Mr T, Master Jacob and Master Ben all thought it was very funny indeed to make jokes at my expense. Poor Mrs T was deeply wounded.

I should have had daughters who would help me do the cleaning and ironing. But no, I get three sons and a husband who have no idea what the words "toilet brush" means. Life is so unfair.

You see, Dear Readers, once you get a reputation for not putting up with drivers who cut you up on roundabouts and who drive too close to your bumper you can never get rid of it.

Once you get a reputation for not putting up with cheating tennis players and their sycophantic parents you can never get rid off it.

Once you get a reputation for not putting up with slothful teachers and giving the headmistress a piece of your mind you can never get rid of it.

So my advice is - if you have potential "incidents" on the road, on the sports pitch or at school keep your cursing and name-calling to yourself. Do NOT use hand gestures.

So other than that very sound advice ( I always give quality parenting advice on this blog) the news is I am writing a sequel to The Changing Room which I hope to publish next year. In the meantime, the ebook of The Changing Room is on sale for 99p/99c this week on all ebooks sites including Amazon, ibooks, Barnes and Noble, Kobo and Smashwords.  It will never be this cheap again so if you haven't grabbed a copy yet now's the time as, in the spring, my novel is being relaunched with a new cover by one the UK's leading publicists. As a self-published author it has been a very hard slog to get any sort of visibility. In fact, it has pretty much been zero. So I'm very pleased indeed that a publicist who represents some of the foremost contemporary writers has enough belief in my book to offer to represent it. I've been warned it will still be very tough-going as many people in publishing still have no regard for self-published books. However, after weighing up all the pros and cons, I decided that you get very few chances in life and this was one I was going to take.

"This book is by far one of the funniest books I have ever read. " A Goodson. Amazon.com.
Check out more reviews HERE


So next month I turn fifty and I begin a new journey. A big Thank You to all my friends and blog readers who have supported my writing endeavours for the past eight years or more and who have helped to make my writing journey so far a really enjoyable one. Thanks, folks!