Hello everyone from sunny Bury St Edmunds. The 1^st of May arrived, and it was as if the weather remembered what it was supposed to do. The last day of April was cold and windy. I had a friend coming for lunch the next day so I laid a fire in the dining room thinking it would be nice to have a fire going to warm the room whilst we ate. I pootled about the house Wednesday morning preparing lunch, changing my bed, and doing laundry, so didn’t notice what the weather was like outside. My friend arrived, looking very summery, and asked as it was such a nice day, why didn’t we eat lunch outside?

Nice? Was it? I went outside to see for myself. Balmy blue skies and bright sunshine greeted me. Okaaay, so much for the fire. We laid the table outside and ate out there. I’d chopped lots of fresh herbs and mixed them with salted Cornish butter, freshly crushed garlic, and lemon juice which I then assaulted a chicken with. It had it up it, in it, and around it until the chicken felt either violated or satisfied. I pushed it under the skin and smeared it all over it. I roasted the chicken on a bed of thyme and the lemon peel. Add a big tray of herby Italian roast potatoes and fresh tenderstem broccoli, asparagus, baby corn, baby carrots, and peas and it was a delicious lunch. There were tons of leftovers — enough to make five enormous roast dinner pasties for the freezer.

It was so much nicer than going to a restaurant and a lot cheaper, plus I got five more meals out of it. I am finding lately that every time I eat out I’m disappointed. It’s so expensive and not usually that great. I always seem to sit there and think “I could have done this better and cheaper at home.”

What has happened since the last time we chatted? Well, that cough still hasn’t gone. It’s as bad as ever and I now know I have whooping cough. Franki did ask me if it could be that back in March, but I dismissed the idea because I was vaccinated against it when I was a child. But it turns out that the vaccine loses its effectiveness over time and of course, the vaccine was over fifty years ago so it makes sense that it’s not going to do what it’s supposed to. So, that’s me then. Still coughing and fighting to catch my breath. There is a rise in cases in the UK with more people sick with it in the first three months of 2024 than in the whole of last year.

I’m not sure where I got it from. It’s transmissible through droplets in sneezing so I’m not contagious anymore. I don’t remember being near anyone who was ill and sneezing. The only thing I can think of is that the lady I job-share with went down with it before me, so she was at work on a Thursday and Friday sneezing and snotting and breathing all over and touching the phone, the mouse, the keyboard etc. Then I went to work on Monday and touched them all, not thinking anything about it. Keyboards and phones are crusty with germs as it is, so it makes sense. Anyway, however, I caught it I wish it would go away. I’m bored with coughing. It eases off for a day or so, and then the cough comes back with a vengeance and takes me by surprise.

The weather has continued to be gorgeous. It was even sunny on the first May Bank Holiday — which is unheard of — traditionally it pees down with rain every public holiday.

Stupidly, I have decided that the garden is going to be my next project. I want to have it lovely for when the girls come home at the end of June. I get the feeling that this summer will be the last time we are together for any length of time. They both go to Reading at the end of September to take their Masters and once their year there is completed they will be looking for jobs and accommodation. There is no reason to think they will find a job locally so I must prepare myself that Franki could be working anywhere in the country. I’d like to have the garden as nice as possible so we can try to make full use of it. Last year the weather wasn’t very nice, so it didn’t get used much. Hopefully, this year the weather will be warm and sunny.

One piece of lovely, good news about the girls. They have had the results back for their dissertations. I can’t remember if I told you they were writing them whilst they were here over Easter. I proofread them both for them. Anyway, they must have impressed whoever assessed them because they both received a first. This is wonderful news. Their dissertations make up over 20% of their marks so to get a first is a huge boost.

They finished their last exam this week so have officially finished university. Well, this university. Their accommodation is paid for until the end of June, so they are taking a few weeks to rest and relax, although Franki is still working at Sainsbury’s and trying to do some extra shifts to earn as much money as possible.

Anyway, going back to the garden, everything needs painting. And I mean everything. All the fences, of which there are a lot. The back wall, the concrete fenceposts, and the raised bed restraining wall. All the trellis — so hate painting trellis, fiddly fecking job — the two coal bunkers, the gate, shed, bench and table. It all will need painting. It’s a massive job and what with work and everything else on my plate, I don’t have much time between now and the end of June.

I have five days off in a row this week so thought I’d better make a start, what the weather being so ideal. Wednesday, I went to B&Q and bought the paint and some decent paintbrushes. I made a start on the gate, the bench, and the shed. They are all being painted in a charcoal grey which I thought would look stylish and freshen up the garden. I made a start on Wednesday afternoon.

Now, I may not particularly enjoy painting, but I am very good at it. I estimated that I’d need to do three coats for the best finish and set to it with a will. It was still early, the sun was hot, and the wood was so dry that the paint was soaking straight in. I noticed it wasn’t going on very easily, it was sort of smearing around, but it was the first coat so I figured by the second I would be getting a better, more even covering.

I left them to dry for a couple of hours then went out to put the next coat on. This was even worse. It smeared. That’s the only way I can describe it. As I was painting the brush was wiping all the paint back off. It looked terrible. I finished the second coat, not happy with the result, but decided to see how it looked in the morning when it was thoroughly dry.

The next day I inspected. It was not looking good. Thinking that maybe I should have primed things first, I then wasted the whole of Thursday going back to B&Q to buy a good quality universal wood primer which I applied carefully.

Early on Friday morning, I painted on the first coat of grey paint over the primer. It smeared about. The only way I can describe it is it’s like painting olive oil over lard. I’ve never known anything like it, and I’ve painted a lot of things in my life. I persevered and completed the first coat. Left it to dry for several hours, then painted the second coat. The gate, shed, and bench had now had two coats of paint, one of primer, and then another two coats of paint. The coverage and finish were shockingly bad. Drag marks and smears ruined the look and two thick coats of dark grey paint hadn’t covered the pale grey primer which was shining through still in places.

Saturday morning, I painted another thick coat being ultra careful not to overbrush it or drag the brush through the bit I’d just painted. It’s still not right. It’s not covering. I’m not sure if it’s the paint or some other problem. I will have to paint on a seventh layer and see if that makes a difference. This is ridiculous. The tin says two coats should be adequate, yet it’s now had six layers and looks shite. I’ve used two-thirds of a sizeable pot on these three items. I was planning on using the charcoal paint elsewhere in the garden, but now I’m thinking not. I don’t know what to do. Short of removing all the paint, sanding the items down thoroughly and starting again with different paint, there is nothing else I can do but keep going and hope that eventually, if I keep applying layers, the paint will build up and give an even coverage.

As you’ve probably gathered, all work on my new book has halted whilst the sunny weather is here. To be in with a chance of completing the work by the end of June I must be out in the garden painting every day off from work I have — so long as it’s not raining, of course. I can’t do much next week because I’m working a couple of days overtime. I needed the extra days to make up for the two Mondays I lost due to there being two Bank Holiday Mondays in May. So, weather allowing, that will mean I can only paint Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday next week. I am hoping that I can at least finish the shed, bench, and gate this weekend so can make a start on the fences next Wednesday. Of course, I will still have housework, shopping, and social media to fit in around the endless painting.

At least I don’t have any more live events in May. The next one is the Laxfield Community Market on the first Saturday in June. It will be interesting to see how well I do there this time. The two previous times I’ve been it was cold, windy, and wet. I think that must have affected footfall. Hopefully, if it’s a dry sunny day then people will be more inclined to come to the market. After that, I will be at the Leiston Summer Fayre on the second Sunday in June.

It was the Indie Author Fair in Huntingdon last Saturday and that was an incredible day. I took 29 books because it was all I could afford and fit into my stacker boxes on my trolley. There was no parking at the venue, so we had to park at the local multi-storey car park and walk to the venue. I took another author, and we had a few hairy moments on the way when my Google Maps Lady developed laryngitis or something. She went mute and refused to give me any directions. I couldn’t understand it because the volume was up, it wasn’t muted and there was no reason why she shouldn’t be talking to me. In the end, the other author had to get her phone out, find Google Maps and navigate us from there.

The event was a spectacular success. Of the 29 books I took, I sold 27, traded one copy of Eclairs for Tea for a short story collection by the lovely author on the table next to mine, and brought one copy of Lifesong home at the end of the day. I even sold four eBooks with the buyers using the QR codes I had printed out on my stall. I spoke to lots of people and handed out bookmarks. It was busy the whole day. I had to ask one of the organisers to lurk by my stall for the two minutes it took me to dash to the loo, but, other than that, I was on my feet and at my stall the whole day.

The event had been very well advertised and eagerly promoted on local radio and in the local paper. The Mayor opened the event with a nice speech — I sold a copy of Black Ice to the Lady Mayoress, which was great — and because it was a dedicated book fair, everyone who came loved books and reading.

Of course, there were a few oddballs because there always are. Like the strange young lady who told me that she only read books about the Bee Gees. As I gaped at her, trying to process this very specific hobby, she added that she also liked books about wizards, warlocks, and magic. I brightened up at this and started to tell her about Erinsmore when she interrupted me.

“No, I only like non-fiction books about real warlocks and magic.”

Okaaay, I have nothing for you then. Move along, please. But she didn’t. She stood there and talked to me for another ten minutes about some warlock who accidentally summoned a demon and then had to live with said demon for twenty years. Umm, interesting, but I have people trying to get to my stall and talk to me. They do look keen on what I’m selling, and I may even sell a few books to them, but they can’t get to me because you’re in the way and oh look, they’ve given up and gone to the next stall.

This happened a few times. There were a couple of audio narrators doing the rounds and trying to hard sell themselves to the authors. And then I had a lovely man who stopped to tell me all about the book he was writing. He took up a good twenty minutes of my time, blocked all access to my stall because he had a pushchair with him, got lots of free advice from me, and then buggered off without buying a book. Please don’t do that. Yes, we do want to talk to people but if you have no intention of buying one of our books and you can see other people trying to get to us, please don’t keep on talking and blocking access to our stall. It’s not on. Authors will be too polite to ask you to move on and most of us are genuinely nice people. If the event had been quiet with no potential buyers, then yes, we’d be more than happy to chat. But it was busy. The room was heaving with readers looking for authors to connect with and new books to buy. Move along. If you’re not going to buy the author’s book — for whatever reason — then move out of the way, don’t block their stall.

By the time I’d driven home, dropped off the other author, parked, unpacked the car, put my boxes away and changed, I was falling apart with exhaustion. I was also starving hungry and in no mood to cook. I walked to the shop and bought a bottle of wine and then bought steak and onion pie and chips. Normally, I can’t finish a whole portion of chips, but I was so famished I inhaled them. They were soooo good and just what I needed. I had one glass of wine but didn’t even finish that. I was coming down from adrenaline and a headache was spearing me through my right eye. I was in bed and asleep by nine and didn’t wake until almost ten the next day.

The next day I rested, read, and wrote. Even though it meant losing a day’s pay, I was happy that the next day was a Bank Holiday so I could have another gentle day. I needed it. The event had taken more out of me than I thought.

And now here we are. My life has settled into a pattern of painting and coughing and I’m not sure which one annoys me more. I will have a coffee and then investigate the paint and coverage situation. I have a feeling I will have to apply a coat this afternoon and then maybe another one or two coats tomorrow which is totally stupid.

Oh well, at least this evening the new season of Doctor Who begins and there’s also the madness that is the Eurovision Song Contest. The largest music event in the world, I only watch to see the incredible staging and have a laugh. The UK won’t win. Our entry isn’t bad but it’s not Sam Ryder and there’s nothing special about it.

Oh, and before I forget, this week’s sale is on Eclairs for Tea and other stories. The eBook is down to only £1.99 and there’s money off the paperback and even off the hardback. So, why not treat yourself or buy a copy of the hardback as a gift for someone? Mother’s Day in the States is soon, and this beautiful book would make a lovely gift. The universal link is on the book’s page.

And that’s it for now. Take care of yourselves and I hope wherever you are the weather is being kind to you. Oh, and if the whooping cough epidemic crops up in your country and you’re not sure if you’ve been vaccinated or if it was so long ago it’s no longer viable, then please check with your doctor. This cough is horrible, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

All the best.

Julia Blake

Hello everyone. Isn’t it amazing that we’re almost at the end of April? It’s supposed to be spring here and the days are getting longer and there are pretty flowers and blossoms out, but the weather is not great. It’s like April has an identity crisis and can’t decide whether to be spring, winter, or somewhere in between. It’s cold and wet and windy. Perhaps April is in league with the energy companies and staying bitterly cold to ensure we put the heating on. Mine goes on for an hour and a half in the morning to warm the bathroom up for showers and then goes off until five, then on until nine. That’s okay when I’m at work. When I’m not I’m layered up and trying to keep warm.

As for the lodger, well, he’s out most of the time and I have told him if he’s ever cold in the house he’s to switch the heating on. So far, he’s assured me he’s warm enough and will say if he’s ever not, so that’s good. He went away on Thursday to York for a few days, so I have switched the heating off completely and will light a fire each evening. If there’s just me in the house, then there’s no point heating it all. A nice fire in the evening in the lounge is ample. That and my electric blanket to warm the icy sheets up.

The new lodger has settled in very nicely. He’s quiet, polite, and considerate. He eats at work most days so apart from breakfast leaves no carbon footprint in the house at all. Best of all, he’s completely drama-free so far, which is such a relief after the train wreck that was my last lodger. He talks to me, like a civilised grown-up, instead of insisting all communication be by text. He quietly goes about his business and is not the type to be out drinking until the small hours then wakes me up trying to get into the house. It is all so stress-free and it’s wonderful.

I don’t think I’d realised how mentally and emotionally drained I was by the whole unpleasant situation with the last lodger. She made me feel like an intruder in my own home. She complained if I used the bathroom or cooked dinner in the kitchen. It did seem like she was renting one room in the house and use of the shared facilities but felt this entitled her to the whole house. Creeping about my home for fear of upsetting her and being almost scared to go to the loo in case she chose that exact moment to want a bath was wearing me down and I am so relieved it’s over.

What have I been doing since we last spoke? Writing, writing, and then some more writing. Once I got the girls safely back to university, I sat down the next day and began writing book seventeen. I’m almost 20,000 words in and am pleased with how it’s going. It’s going to be a sci-fi story and it’s one that’s been in my head for ages. I’m quite excited about it because I’ve been wanting to write a proper sci-fi for ages. I know Lifesong is considered sci-fi, but it’s not set in space and there are no spaceships so it’s not proper sci-fi if you know what I mean. This story is shaping up to be a cross between Dune, Star Wars, and Games of Thrones, so it’s going to be an epic space opera read.

Speaking of Lifesong, I am running a sale on it right now. The eBook is only 99p and there’s even £1.50 off the paperback. The link is on my books page. The sale lasts from today until midnight on Friday the 3^rd of May so hurry and get your copy. I will be running one sale a week on all my books in the order in which they were published. Next week there will be a sale on Becoming Lili so if you don’t yet have a copy, then mark it in your diary.

I don’t have a live event this weekend, so it’s earmarked for writing and resting. I’m still trying to shake off that nasty cough and sore throat I had the last time we spoke. It seems to go away for a day or so, then come back. They’re calling it the 100-day cough, but I hope mine doesn’t last that long. Thank heavens I’m not coughing up a lung at night anymore. It annoyed me so it must have annoyed my poor neighbour. My throat would go into spasm, and I would cough and cough and cough. I haven’t coughed this much since I had Covid back in November 2021.

My next live event will be the Indie Author Fair in Huntingdon on Saturday the 4^th of May. It looks set to be an amazing day, so if you’re in the area why not call in and say hello? It would be lovely to see you.

This year is all about trying out lots of different events and seeing which ones are worth doing and which are not worth the time and money. Sometimes, it can feel like I’m doing one live event merely to make enough money to pay for the next. But it is all about getting my books out there and getting my name known to as many readers as possible. The books for Huntingdon were delivered last week so I’m good to go.

The house does seem quiet and empty without the girls, but it’s not long until they are home again for the summer and then we’ll have three whole months to get heartily sick of the sight of each other. While they were home, I don’t think the cat knew quite what to do with herself she got so much fuss and attention. We had a few issues with her getting up on the oven but then had a couple of nights when she slept on the sofa in the dining room, so I hoped she had settled down now that the upsetting presence of the previous lodger and all the tension she had caused were removed.

The girls went back to university on Wednesday. Thursday and Friday nights were fine. There was fluff and dirt on the oven, but not much and it was easily wiped off. I came down on Saturday morning though to find the cat had had some kind of rave on the white porcelain draining board and in the sink. It had rained overnight and there was mud EVERYWHERE. Paw prints and smears of mud, together with black fur and smears of blood where she had scratched herself and then rolled. It was disgusting and took ages to clean up.

I never catch her doing it, you see. I never catch her up on the surfaces, on the oven or in the sink, so I can’t shoo her down or try to discourage her.

At my wit’s end, I even talked about it on an Instagram post and a friend suggested that I smear Vicks Vaporub on the places I didn’t want the cat to go. I wasn’t sure about that — the cat seemed pretty determined — but I was desperate to try anything, so, when I went shopping later that day, I picked up a jar of Vicks and that night before I went to bed, I smeared it liberally over the draining board, the sink, and even on the oven. It smelled horrible and it wasn’t very nice having a white greasy smear everywhere.

Still, when I came down on Sunday morning, apart from a few tufts of black fur on the edges, everywhere was clean and she was asleep on the rocking chair in the dining room. I pointed it out to the lodger, and he said she had been there when he got up. Then he mentioned how every time he sits down in the chair to have a cup of tea, she gets up onto his lap for a cuddle and a nap.

I left the Vicks in place for a couple more days. She continued to sleep in the dining room. No fresh fluff or paw prints appeared, and I dared to hope that we’d cracked it. On Wednesday I cleaned all the rub off and bleached. On Thursday I went downstairs wondering if once the smelly barrier was removed, she had taken the opportunity to get back up there. But no, everywhere was sparkling clean and she was fast asleep in the rocking chair. It looks like her antisocial sleeping behaviour has been cured.

Maybe, who knows, all she needed was someone to sit in the chair and make a fuss of her. Or perhaps the stinky Vicks offended her nose so much that she now avoids the kitchen altogether. Whatever the reason, I am happy she is settled once more into her old sleeping spot, and I am no longer having to bleach down the kitchen several times a day.

She seems more settled as well. Since the last lodger moved out, she has become friendlier and is spending more time in the house. Always up for cuddles and love, if I sit down, she’s in my lap and gets quite offended if I move too soon. It’s nice to have my sweet and well-behaved cat back, although, I could quite cheerfully have turned her into a pair of gloves yesterday!

I was sitting in the lounge drinking my early morning tea and the cat was sitting in a patch of sunlight going about her morning ablutions. Suddenly, she started heaving in the way that strikes terror in the heart of any cat owner. Dumping down my tea, I leapt to my feet, quickly opened the front door, and pushed her towards it. She was almost out when she turned, and, as quick as lightning, shot between my legs and up the stairs. I charged after her crying out “Down, get down, you fecking manky animal.” She ran back downstairs and upchucked all over the final three steps, in the hall, and halfway across the new dining room carpet, before legging it at speed out the cat flap.

Now, cat puke is not something you can leave. You can’t think to yourself — hmm, the cat’s puked, I’ll deal with that later — it is something that must be dealt with there and then. So, I had to find the tin of carpet cleaner, scrape it up and try to clean the stains off before they set, the whole time muttering dire threats against the cat. To add insult to injury, when I finally got back to my cup of tea, it was cold.

Remind me again why we have pets.

To be brutally honest, when this cat goes, I will not be replacing her. I’ve had cats most of my adult life and the time was when I couldn’t imagine my home with a kitty in it. But lately, the sheer expense and fuss of having an animal is beginning to be a bit much. I worked out that I must work one whole day a month to afford the average expense of having a cat. I only work part-time so you can imagine how expensive it is. Adding up the cost of pet insurance, vet bills not covered by the insurance (of which there are many), food, flea, and worm treatment, it’s more than I can afford. Of course, I wouldn’t get rid of her — for a start, my daughter would never forgive me — but when she goes, then I have decided that will be enough.

Life is so expensive now and I don’t think it’s going to get any cheaper. I had to pay a visit to the hygienist and the dentist on Wednesday. My appointment was at 2pm. I was walking home by 2.30pm having parted with a whole day’s wages. Think about that. It’s obscene. A full day of work — and I work long days — just to be able to pay for someone to scrape the plaque off my teeth and spend two minutes peering into my mouth and saying that my teeth are fine.

I used to visit the hygienist regularly, but when I became a single parent and had to make tough choices as to what expenses were necessary or not, having someone scrape my teeth twice a year wasn’t as important as paying for food and clothing for my daughter. The only reason I have started going again is because my dentist put the fear of God into me and said that if I didn’t start seeing the hygienist, my teeth would all fall out. And that really would be expensive.

There isn’t much more to tell you. I’ve had a haircut, more expense, and spent time finding a storage unit locally for all the girls’ belongings to go into over the summer. They have a lot of stuff. I mean, seriously, a lot of stuff. There is nowhere to store it at home, it’s going to be crowded enough as it is having both here all summer, plus me, plus the lodger. That’s four adults in a not-so-large Victorian terraced house with only one bathroom. Certainly, there is nowhere to store a van full of boxes. Being a terraced town house I don’t have a garage. I only have a tiny sentry shed that is full, and there is no access to the loft space. So, it will have to be a storage unit. I phoned around and I think I’ve found a good one on the other side of town. It’s going to cost £240 for the whole summer, but that does include full insurance and VAT and we have no other choice. It will sit there until they go up to Reading University in September. I suppose at least they won’t have to buy anything for their new flat on the campus, they already have everything they could possibly need including a slow cooker, an air fryer, a blender, and a rice cooker.

Being so close, if they find during the summer that there is something they need at least it’s only up the road so can be retrieved. As well, I’m thinking that towards the end of the summer, we will get all their bedding out of storage — including the duvet, pillows, and topper — and take them to the local launderette to launder and then repack them. They will be all fresh and ready for them to take then.

The only thing not going into storage is their mattress. It’s a four-foot wide one so won’t fit the bed in the flat which is a double so is four foot six inches wide. The mattress is going to come here, and we will try and sell it. If you or anyone you know, would like to buy a two-year-old pocket sprung and memory foam small double mattress, please let me know. It has always had a thick mattress topper protector on it so is clean and in very good condition. I’m guessing we’ll want about £50 for it and we’ll even include the topper. It will be available from the 28^th of June onwards.

It’s now almost four o’clock on Saturday. It’s getting very cold so I have given in and lit the fire a little earlier than I normally would. My hands were so cold I could barely type, my nose was running, and the chill was making me cough.

It’s an eating day so there’s a nice dinner planned with a glass, or two, of wine. The diet is still going well if slowly. I put two pounds on when the girls were home but thankfully lost that last week. It’s very slow going, but I keep plodding away. I only have a little more to lose before I reach my target weight. Maybe by the summer then I can buy new summer clothing.

Sorry, this is such a short and rather boring blog but it has been a rather noneventful couple of weeks. Anyway, take care, and we will chat again soon.

Julia Blake

Apologies that this blog was published a little later than usual. It has been so madly busy around here that I didn’t have time to finish writing it and am finishing it early Sunday morning. So, hello everyone, it feels like ages since we last chatted and so much has happened.

Firstly, the journey to collect the girls from university, how did that go? When I arranged things with Franki, she assumed I would collect them mid-morning. No, I said, I want to avoid rush hour traffic, I will be there by eight. No, you won’t, they retorted. That would mean being on the road by five and I can’t see you doing that.

Reader, guess what, I was on the fecking road by five. I got everything ready the day before, was up at 4.30 for a quick pee, a gulp of tea and a blueberry breakfast bar, and then I hit the road. It was just me and the lorry drivers at that hour in the morning. They all sat in the inside lane, and I bombed past them. It was a wonderful, clear run and I was pulling up outside the girl’s university accommodation at a couple of minutes past eight. I phoned them. I’m here, I announced. There was a disbelieving silence, then — bugger, umm, okay, we just have to put our shoes on — hmm, methinks they didn’t believe I’d actually arrive this early.

Anyway, they let me in so I could pee and help them pack up food items they were bringing back to use during their stay. Twenty-five minutes later we were on the road and heading south. I wanted to get the fiddly bits of the A500 behind us and be on the M6 before stopping for coffee and breakfast, so we pulled over at Keeles Welcome Break Services at about nine. After a much-needed coffee, and bacon and sausage bap, we climbed back into the car and off we went. By now, it was nine-thirty and as we headed south on the M6 we drove past a twenty-mile tailback of traffic stationary on the M6 heading north.

Just think, I said, gesturing at the bumper-to-bumper traffic jam. If I was going to pick you up at ten as you wanted, I’d be sitting in that lot.

As it was, I’d timed the journey perfectly and we reached home at midday. By now, I was stiff from sitting behind the wheel for six hours and desperately needed to move about. I had a cup of tea while they unpacked and settled in and then we went for a walk about town. There were a couple of things they wanted to pick up and I needed to get keys cut for them for the new lock. It was a chilly day and spitting with rain, but it was good to be walking and out in the fresh air. I treated us all to hot chocolate in the Abbey Gardens and then we wandered home for dinner. I had a lasagne all prepared and ready to slide in the oven, with peas and garlic bread, and Ben & Jerry’s ice cream for afters.

It was Good Friday the next day so we rested and to be honest, I can’t remember what we did. I know I must have prepared for the Stonham Barns Easter Craft Fair because I was going to be up and off early on Saturday morning. The weather wasn’t great again. It was bitterly cold with a nasty spitting rain that I think kept some people away. We were in the big barn right at the end of the showground and there was inadequate signage letting people know we were there. There was live music with a young lad singing popular songs. Don’t get me wrong, he was very good, but he was also very loud. People struggled to hear what we traders were saying. Sometimes they gave up and simply walked away. Footfall was low. A fellow author spoke to one of the organisers and pointed out that without signs no one realised there was trading in the barn, and they agreed to have signs up for the next day.

The weather the next day was even worse. It was bitterly cold and pouring with rain. Typical British Easter weather. A few of the traders who had been there on Saturday failed to arrive on Sunday and I can’t say I blame them. I had noticed that they didn’t seem to sell anything. I did sell a few books though. By the time I added it all up at the end of the weekend, I had sold enough books to just about cover my expenses with a small profit and I guess it’s all about exposure and getting my name and my books out there. Plus, it was the first time this craft fair had been held. I think lessons could be learnt from the experience. If I do the event next year, I think being in the marquee would potentially be more beneficial. It’s the first thing the public comes to after leaving the car park, instead of being at the end of a long muddy field when people are tired, and all shopped out.

But then this year was all about trying every event we could and seeing what sticks.

Monday was a bank holiday, so I was able to rest and spend some time with the girls. They had been busy the whole weekend I was at the craft fair. Their dissertations for their bachelor’s had to be submitted on Wednesday, so they were finishing them off. I did what I could to help on Monday and spent three hours proofreading them to check spelling, grammar, and punctuation.

It was weird going back to work for only one day on Tuesday and I kept thinking that it was Monday. I was very tired though and it was a relief to go home at six knowing that I had the next five days off.

Wednesday dawned clear and sunny, which was a nice change from the wet, cold, windy days we had been experiencing. Desperate for fresh air and exercise, we piled into the car and drove to West Stow Country Park. Only a few miles from town, it’s a site of archaeological importance as the remains of an Anglo-Saxon village were discovered there in the seventies. I remember going there on a school field trip in 1977 and still have photos of the few houses they had reconstructed.

We have visited periodically over the years and when Franki was young it was a popular destination because of the rather awesome play area for children. Set in thick sand, there are climbing frames, swings and slides and other fun things to do. There’s a café with a large wooden balcony to sit on that always sells very nice cakes. There’s a long walk along the river and lake. They hold fun activity days such as archery, Anglo-Saxon re-enactment days, and a Lord of the Rings Quest Day. The reconstructed village itself is always being added to as more houses are discovered.

We had a great walk and went bug hunting. There was much excitement when an unusual species of ant was discovered. Before coming home, we sat at a table in the sunshine and had coffee and snacks.

Wednesday is also market day in Bury St Edmunds so when we got home, we went for a long wander about town and did some charity and vintage shop rummaging. Interesting books and unique rings were bought. All in all, we must have walked miles, and we weren’t finished yet. We were meeting friends at a local pub for dinner and to take part in the quiz they hold every Wednesday evening. I’ve done the quiz before and know how hard it is. Now, I’ve done a lot of pub quizzes in my time and usually, I’m pretty good at them but this quiz is weird. I can’t explain what it is, but the questions are not split into general knowledge or sport or literature categories, they are all random and mixed up and I am rubbish at them. I very much relied on the skills of my teammates, but we still came third, despite me not being much help.

After all that walking on Wednesday, we were exhausted the next day so didn’t do too much, or that much the next, to be honest. It was nice spending time together as I haven’t seen them since Christmas. On Friday, I prepared for another market the next day and went to meet my fellow local authors for a drink in the afternoon.

Saturday morning, I was up and off early to the Laxfield Community Market. Again, it was a slow start book sale wise and I’m still undecided whether these markets are worth the hour-long drive each way. Yes, the pitch fee is low, and I did sell eight books which was enough to cover my costs, but it is a long way and quite a bit of wear and tear on the car as the roads are terrible with gaping potholes along the edges. Remember, it was a pothole that did my car in and was the reason it failed its MOT last month.

On Sunday we were meeting the rest of the family for lunch to celebrate my parent’s 60^th wedding anniversary. The plan was that I would drive out to the village where my parents and my brother and his partner live, pick them up so everyone could relax and have a drink, and then they would all share a taxi home.

I jumped in my car at 11.30. Turned the key. The car started but I noticed that the radio didn’t come on. I tried to drive to the end of my road. It was like trying to drive a tank. The steering wheel was cumbersome, and it was a struggle to turn it. I indicated to turn onto the main road. The indicator didn’t work. Every single error light was lit up on the dashboard — including some I never knew existed. By now, I was horribly aware that something was very wrong indeed. There was no way I could drive the car the way it was. I turned into the large car park of the retirement flats behind my road. Luckily, it was empty as I fought with the heavy steering wheel and did about a fifteen-point turn. I thought the power-assisted steering must be broken. I managed to get back onto my road and into a parking space at the end of the row of parked cars, thinking that parallel parking was probably beyond my capabilities. I noticed that the speedometer wasn’t working either. I tested the lights, wipers, and washers. Nope, nope, and nope. Bugger! I needed this like I needed a hole in the head. Having just paid out to get the car through its MOT I did not need yet more expense.

I phoned my parents to let them know what had happened. Don’t worry, said my mum, I’ll drive us in. She did. We went for lunch then afterwards sat in the garden with a cheeseboard and wine. It was windy but not too bad under shelter. The whole time I was worrying about the car. I had zero pennies to pay for major repairs and if I had to buy a new car … well, that wasn’t going to happen … and then how was I going to attend all the events I was booked in for? More importantly, how was I going to get the girls back to uni the following week?

Various theories were floated across the table as to what might be wrong with the car including the alternator, electrics, and a computer chip … they all sounded expensive, so I silently fretted. It was Sunday, so I couldn’t even phone my mechanic.

Monday morning, at work, as soon as I knew my garage would be open, I called them. Drop it off when you can, they told me, and we’ll try to look at it. We are busy right now though, so it might take a few days. To add to my misery, I’d gone down with the sore throat and bad cough lurgy that was doing the rounds and was feeling rough. Leaving work at six, the last thing I felt like doing was trying to drive a car with no power-assisted steering or speedometer across town and then walking home. Briefly, I wondered about trying to do it in the morning. But I must be at work by 8.30 and there wouldn’t be time. I needed to get it to the garage ASAP. I had no choice, I had to do it. I was dreading trying to drive the damn thing. The worst part was trying to turn it around in my road, it was like trying to turn a dumpster. My arms were aching by the time I made it onto the main road. Given the time of day, there wasn’t too much traffic about and once the car got going, I found taking corners a lot easier than I thought it was going to be. Still, I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I made it to the garage in one piece and without annoying anyone with my lack of signalling and clumsy turning. There was a nice big space for me to drive straight into, so I did. I dumped the keys in the overnight key box and walked home.

As they had said they’d be too busy to look at the car straight away, I was alarmed to see a missed call and a voicemail from the garage mid-morning on Tuesday. I listened to the message.

Hi Julia, your car is fixed and ready to be collected.

Wait. What?

I phoned them back.

It was a fuse, they told me. A fuse had blown so we’ve replaced it and now everything is fine.

I couldn’t believe it. A blown fuse had caused all that car catastrophe. But I took the win and told them I’d collect the car on Wednesday.

By now, the tickly cough and mildly sore throat had changed into a hacking and persistent cough which annoyed everyone, including me, and every time I swallowed it felt like I had razorblades in my throat. After two long days at work, I dragged myself home Tuesday evening to find the girls busy making us all homemade Chinese for dinner. There was wine in the fridge and a beautiful bunch of flowers in a vase for me. They knew I wasn’t well and that I was worried about the car, so had decided to pamper me. Of course, once I told them the good news about the car it turned into a celebration. We watched one of my favourite films, Sense and Sensibility (the Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman version) and all had early nights.

Wednesday, I walked across town to collect the car. I need to apply for a passport. Not because I’m going abroad for a holiday — the chance would be a fine thing — but because I need it to prove I am a UK citizen. Being born here, paying National Insurance and tax for forty years, and owning property is apparently not enough. My new job means I subcontract to the company so must register for a tax code and will need to do a tax return. When I tried to apply, I needed two forms of ID, but I only had one, my driving licence, and it was going to be impossible for me to get any of the other accepted forms of ID, so I had to bear the expense of having a passport photo taken and paying for a passport which I don’t need. I called into a photography shop that is registered to take passport photos and had one done. I looked at it and cringed. I looked exhausted and ill in it, probably because I was. Oh well, no one is ever going to see it.

I originally had a grocery collection slot of 10am but when it looked like I would not have a car I changed it to a home delivery slot of 5pm. Wednesday is the day I always strip beds and do laundry, but I’d noticed when I put the first load in that morning that I was running low on laundry tabs so bought a box on my walk across town to collect the car as I’d forgotten to put them on the list.

The relief when I got into the car, turned the key, and everything in the car worked, was indescribable. I drove home. It was like driving a cloud compared to driving it there. I’d never realised what a difference power-assisted steering made.

Wednesday night my cough peaked. The back of my throat kept going into spasms and I would cough and cough and cough until I imagined my next-door neighbour was sick to death of me. I was sick to death of me as well and it was a very tired and bleary-eyed Julia who staggered downstairs the next morning.

Incapable of doing much, I went for a brief walk with the girls to a patch of natural woodland behind the college in town. They wanted to search for bugs, and I just needed the fresh air and gentle exercise. It was a lovely day, mild and sunny. The woodland was carpeted with beautiful spring flowers and the trees were pretty. After an hour though, I was spent and needed to go home to rest until dinner.

I don’t usually work on a Friday, but my co-worker was on holiday, so I was covering for her. It was a very long day. Still not well, I struggled to keep going and was very pleased to go home, heat a bowl of soup for myself and then flake out on the sofa. The girls had gone out for dinner, so I had the place to myself and read quietly with the latest David Attenborough documentary on the TV until they came home.

Yesterday, Saturday, I struggled to get going. Although I had ordered the repeat prescription of my thyroid medication in plenty of time, I didn’t get the text telling me it was ready for collection until Friday evening, so I hadn’t taken any since Thursday morning and I was beginning to really feel it now. Without the medication, I experience chronic fatigue, joint pain, headaches, sleep issues and vagueness. I tried to write as much of this blog as I could, but there was housework to do, a book review to write, and a potato gratin to make ready for dinner.

By late afternoon, I was shaky on my feet, but we all walked down to the pharmacy to collect my meds. It was closed. The times on the door and the website both claimed it would re-open at five, it was now just gone four, so we went to visit Franki’s grandmother who is in a care home a five-minute walk away. We walked back to the pharmacy at five. It was still closed. We waited and waited. No sign of it opening. We were calling into a fellow author’s book launch party at a local pub and didn’t want to be late so had to leave without my medication. I hope they’re open sometime today so I can drive around and get my meds. It’s so annoying. If you’re not going to be open at the times the website and your opening times door poster state, then stick a note on the door saying when you will be open, so people know if it’s worth waiting.

As Saturday was our last evening together with no work the next day, we had a lovely big dinner with posh ice cream for dessert, all washed down with a bottle of pink prosecco. I can’t believe how quickly the holiday has flown by. We had so much planned to do, but between me having to work, the three days of events I was already booked to do, and my illness, we haven’t done as much as we planned.

And now it’s Sunday. Our last day together as I must work on Monday and Tuesday and then I’m driving them back to university. Not looking forward to that journey. The journey up won’t be so bad because they will be with me, but I don’t like driving long distances alone so will be pleased when I get home safely.

I will miss them when they’re gone, but I am looking forward to the peace of an empty house so I can start writing my next book. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, yes, the lodger has now fully moved in but he’s out a lot and is so quiet when he is here that we barely know there is anyone else living in the house. The perfect lodger, in other words.

Anyway, this is now a simply mahoosive blog and it’s almost nine so I need to get it published and distributed to you, otherwise you might think there is no blog this week and go off and read something else.

Take care of yourself and I look forward to chatting with you next time.

Julia Blake

Good morning, everyone. I am writing this on Thursday because I will be away at the Gt Yarmouth Sci-Fi and Fantasy Weekender for two long days on Friday and Saturday, and then, as if that wasn’t enough, I will be at the Leiston Community Market all day Sunday. Yep, the event year has begun with a bang. As you will remember, last time we spoke I was off to do the Laxfield Community Market for the first time on the first Saturday in March.

So, how did it go? Well, the weather was against us for a start. It was cold. I mean, bitterly cold, with a nasty sharp wind blowing in from what felt like Siberia. I found the venue okay, even though Satnav took me to the back of beyond and through villages that looked like time had stopped still. I’m sure at one point I heard banjos. Anyway, I got there, and, despite the dire warnings by the organisers, I managed to find a parking space right outside the church.

Two kind men helped me carry all my things inside and guided me to my pitch. The stall had been created by laying a board across two pew ends. Points for creative thinking, but it was a little awkward because I had an ornate wooden pew end bisecting the front of the middle of my stall. I had to work around it, but I think I managed okay. I also couldn’t stand behind my stall — well, not unless I did a limbo underneath it or straddled one of the pews — neither option being attractive, I settled for lurking to one side.

It was cold. Oh, my, was it cold! A 14th-century church is not the warmest place at the best of times. Factor in no heating, the doors being wide open, and that gale-force wind I talked about whipping through, it was so cold that I lost all feeling in my feet and hands, and my nose was so cold it wouldn’t stop running. Not a good look.

It was a little sluggish to begin with. Regular traders assured me that the dreadful weather had impacted footfall. I felt sorry for the stallholders outside the church. It must have been perishing out there, and that wind was threatening to blow them away. The stallholder next to me complained a bit and requested that the heating be switched on. She was ever so politely told no. I could understand the reasoning. The doors had to be left open to encourage people to come in and quite honestly, given the size of the church and the height of the ceiling, the heating would have to have been on for hours before we got there to make any impact at all. The Market is run to raise funds for the church, having the heating on full blast with the ruinous cost of electricity nowadays, would eat up any profit so the church would probably end up out of pocket.

I spoke to a lot of people and handed out quite a few cards, so you never know. One elderly chap did make me laugh though. I saw him work his way up the opposite side of the aisle, spend time looking at the stalls at the top, and then work his way down my side. He stopped by my stall and looked at my books. He clearly wanted to say something, so I smiled encouragingly.

HIM: I’m not a pervert, you know.

ME: Umm, okay. Good to know.

HIM: But I can always tell when a woman is in the family way.

ME: (Looking down wildly at my stomach) Umm. Right?

HIM: They always touch their stomach.

ME: (Quickly removing my hand from my stomach). Okay.

HIM: I sometimes know even before they do.

He then proceeded to tell me a long rambling tale about a lady who served him in the bank many years ago. He told her she was pregnant, and she didn’t even know herself. By this time, I’d pegged him as lonely, desperate to talk to someone, possibly slightly deranged.

HIM: It reminded me when I saw the cover of the book back there.

He gestured vaguely towards the back of the church and the penny dropped. A fellow author who had a stall there has a silhouette of a pregnant woman on one of her book’s covers. It had triggered a memory in him which had fermented in his brain until he reached my stall of books when it burst forth.

The market ran from 10am to 12.30pm, but by midday, the others were beginning to pack up. I sold eight books, which is not bad, and was certainly enough to cover my expenses and time. I am booked to do another one on the 6^th of April, so, if you’re passing, why not call in and say hi? Hopefully, it will be a warmer day.

Last week was a week of little wins and freebies. It started when a patient unexpectedly gave me a voucher to have my nails filed and painted at a local beauty salon, which was a lovely surprise. I hadn’t done anything to warrant it, other than compliment her on her nails. I went to the salon on my way home for lunch and booked an appointment for Friday morning. I was going to friends for dinner so thought it would be nice to have my nails done beforehand.

On Wednesday, I set out on a mission to find some new clothes. The diet has gone so well that I’ve lost two stone (28lbs for my American friends) and have dropped a dress size. Whilst I didn’t want to spend a lot of money on clothes which would hopefully soon be too big for me, I did need a few interim bits to see me through. I needed a pair of black work trousers as mine were bagging off my hips. I walked into the first charity shop and looked at the trouser rack. The first pair I picked up were classic, black, tailored Marks & Spencer trousers — still with the tags on stating that they originally cost £25 — I got them for £8. I also got a pair of DKNY jeans for £4.50 and a pair of blue canvas trousers for £3. The next charity shop yielded a beautiful black roll-neck sweater and a good quality charcoal grey long-sleeved t-shirt.

I needed flat black boots. As I’ve mentioned before, I have problems with my ankles giving way so have reluctantly decided heels of any kind are a no-no. I did look around the charity shops but as my needs were so specific, I wasn’t hopeful of success. I went to the shoe shop. They had a sale on, and I picked up a pair of long black biker-style boots with barely-there heels and solid ankle supports. It was the last pair like that I could see, my size, in the sale for £25 down from £70. Fitted a treat and were instantly comfortable. I walked about the shop and felt very safe in them, so I bought them.

I needed more foundation as I was squeezing the dregs from my current tube. I never used to buy expensive foundation but, as I’ve aged, my skin’s needs have become more demanding, and I found the cheaper stuff wasn’t going on very well or doing its job of covering and concealing. I spoke to the lady on the Estee Laude stand two years ago who gave me a free sample to try. It was a game-changer for me. Yes, at almost £50 a tube it’s a lot of money. But the tube lasts me a year because the coverage is astonishing, so it works out more economical than buying lots of the cheaper products. I called into Boots the Chemist and to my joy, not only was it down in the sale to £40 but I got a free tube of foaming cleanser with it. Bargain.

I toddled off to Waitrose to pick up a few bits and pieces. My energy company were giving me free electricity between 1-3.30pm and I planned to cook a lot of meals for the freezer. Whilst in Waitrose, I got a free coffee. I love that they do that and always make sure I take my thermal mug with me to use.

After a very successful cooking session, I ended up with two lasagnas, two portions of spaghetti bolognaise, two portions of chilli, three portions of cauliflower cheese, eight portions of braised red cabbage, two boxes of part-cooked roast potatoes, and eight jacket potatoes. Lots of yummy food that just needs to be reheated or finished cooking.

Friday morning, I had a long lazy shower and styled my hair, then went to have my nails done. In the afternoon, it was the Zoom meeting with my local author group which finished at 5.30pm. That left just enough time to change and freshen my make-up before I was collected to go to dinner.

The lovely Becky Wright who makes my covers, and promo images and checks my formatting had sent through the covers and formatted paperback version of Hide & Seek. I spent most of the day on Saturday uploading it to Amazon, ordering a proof copy, and placing the eBook on pre-order for a publication date of the 27^th of March. I also listed the book on Goodreads and prepared the page for the website. It is amazing how much needs to be done before a book is published. Anyway, Hide & Seek is now available to pre-order from Amazon at a special sale price of only £1.99 or local currency equivalent. I will put the universal link below which should work if I manage to figure out the tech correctly. If you prefer a paperback, then that will be out probably a week before the eBook.

https://mybook.to/HideANDSeek

As a bonus for my readers, Lost & Found — book one of the Blackwood Family Saga — is on sale for only 99p or local currency equivalent until launch day. The other books in the series are all also on sale for only £1.99. Again, all prices will return to normal on the 27^th of March.

http://mybook.to/LostANDFound

http://getbook.at/FixturesANDFittings

http://getbook.at/SugarANDSpice

http://getbook.at/KissandTell

http://getbook.at/PitchandPace

After my lovely week of little wins, freebies, and smooth-sailing book dealings, I hoped life had finally settled down. But this week has not been so kind. It started on Monday when I couldn’t find one of my gloves. I know in the grand scheme of things, losing a glove is not a big deal, but I’ve had them for almost twenty years. They are lovely soft leather gloves in an off-black, sludgy green colour. Over the years, the leather has softened and moulded itself to my hands, so they fit me like a … well, like a glove.

It’s so annoying. I can’t think where I could have lost them. The last time I remember wearing them was when I walked home after dinner late last Friday evening. Since then, the only places I have been to are Waitrose and work. I know they’re not at work. I’ve searched home, my handbag, coat pockets and behind the shoe rack. It’s not here. I’ve even gone to Waitrose, and we searched the lost property box. Plenty of gloves, none of them mine. Bit bummed out about this. Like I said, I’ve had the gloves for a very long time, and I liked them. Oh well. There is not a lot I can do about it, other than buy a new pair.

Last week, I noticed a slight trace of water around the base of the sink vanity unit in the bathroom. I mopped it up, assuming I’d been a bit overzealous when washing my hands or something. A few days later, the water was back. I mopped it up again. A day later it was back. Now I began to wonder and keep an eye on it. Yep, there was water seeping from under the unit. I took everything out and tried to look. It’s a fixed unit with a solid bottom shelf which I couldn’t remove to get to the pipes underneath. The leak — if that’s what it is — got worse. Even more worrying, the water had a brown tinge to it. When I wipe it up, the cloth is stained brown. Where is it coming from? Why is it brown?

I made a video of the leak and sent it to my plumber on WhatsApp. I could see he had read it when two ticks appeared beside it. Three days later, he hadn’t responded. The leak was getting worse. Now there was water permanently oozing from under the cabinet. I was worried about it rotting the wood of the cabinet. I tried to see if using the sink made it worse. It didn’t seem to. Then I worried it was water from the toilet system. Which was even more worrying. I made another video showing how bad it had got. Sent it to my plumber. Again, he watched the video but still hasn’t responded. Not even a “Oh dear, sucks to be you, I’m sorry, I’m too busy, find someone else”.

It’s rude and annoying. Okay, I get how busy plumbers are, but a simple text takes seconds to send. At least he could let me know that he is too busy to bother and then I could attempt to find another plumber. God knows where though. Plumbers are rarer than unicorns. I’ve mopped it up again today and washed the floor. I’m out at events for the next three days and then at work for two, so I’m hoping it doesn’t get any worse before next Wednesday because I’m not going to be here to do anything about it. I will need to try and get something done before the next lodger moves in because it doesn’t look very good, having brown water seeping out from under the sink.

And that leads me to the new lodger. He has paid his deposit and the first month’s rent, but because he still had two weeks left on his current lodgings and was going away for a few days, he has delayed moving in until next week, when he will move in gradually. I have a good feeling about this one and it will be nice sharing my home with a grown-up again.

Then late Monday evening, I had a video call from Franki. She and Rys are coming to stay for Easter and were supposed to travel down by train on the 28^th of March, returning on the 13^th of April. We were aware that train prices were increasing slightly by 4.9% but as it cost £100 to get them both home to Suffolk for Christmas and then back to university, by my reckoning, a rise of almost 5% would only add £5 to the cost. Wrong. They tried to buy their tickets and found that the cheapest return fares would be £300 — and that was with student rail cards.

WTF!!

Now, I was never very good at maths at school, but going from £100 to £300 is not a rise of 5% it’s more like 200%. How can they justify such a hike in prices? I Googled it and read an article where the train companies were stating that an increase was necessary to meet rising costs — yeah, probably increased wages for the drivers. In the same article, it stated that the Government was keen to get people off the roads and onto public transport. I’m sorry. How does a ticket price increase of 200% achieve that?!

Franki and Rys are both students living on student finance and the little amount Franki earns from her part-time job at Sainsbury. There is no way they can afford to pay that — I can’t afford to pay it either and, even if I could, I wouldn’t. This is appalling. It’s once again holding the poorest members of the community to ransom. Students and people who can’t afford cars are the ones this will have the hardest impact on.

It has left me with no other option but to drive up there myself on the 28^th and collect them. A round trip of almost eight hours — so much for getting people off the roads — and another round trip of eight hours to take them back on the 17^th of April. They are staying a few days longer than originally planned.

I don’t want to do this, but what other choice do I have? We need to get them home and with the train out of the question it only leaves the bus, hitching a lift, or me going to pick them up. The bus is not an option. Too long and complicated a journey which would involve them being dumped on the wrong side of London and a two-hour journey by tube to get to the right side and then another train journey to Suffolk. Hitching, obviously, nope. Not going to happen. So, that leaves me driving up there to collect them.

My car is going for its MOT next Tuesday so I will ask my mechanic to check my oil, water, windscreen wash, and tyre pressure whilst it’s in. At least I will know the car is okay to drive all that way. Fingers crossed that nothing major needs to be done to the car and that the final bill isn’t too eye-wateringly high.

I can’t wait until they go to Reading University. At least that is only a couple of hours away and has much better public transport connections.

It will be lovely to have them home though. They’re here for almost three weeks over the Easter break. We have a lot planned, including a big family lunch at a local restaurant to celebrate my parent’s 60^th wedding anniversary. Sixty years with the same person. That’s three life sentences.

I’m doing two live events during that time. The Stonham Barns Craft Market on the 30^th of March and then the Laxfield Community Market on the 6^th of April. If you’re going to either of those events, again, come and say hello.

Right. I think that is all my news and I need to go and get everything sorted for a very early start tomorrow. We must be there by 9am for a 10am opening and it’s a good hour and thirty-minute drive, depending on traffic. As I took all my contemporary books to the last event and Gt Yarmouth is a sci-fi and fantasy event, I need to swap all my books over and make sure I have all the right bookmarks and promo material.

Take care, my friends, I will let you know how things go next time we chat.

Regards

Julia Blake

Hello everyone. Today I want to ask what you think about morals and doing the right thing. And now, I haven’t been born again, I’m just curious. Yesterday, I needed a couple of things from the shop so walked up my road and into the car park at the top — Waitrose is only a hop, skip, and jump from my house so it’s my go-to place if I only need a few items. Anyway, a neighbour was walking in the same direction, and we were exchanging small talk when we saw a car reverse at speed out of a space that wasn’t a car parking space and ram into a car parked in a disabled space opposite.

Shocked, we expected him to stop. But it quickly became apparent that the driver had no intention of stopping. We shouted. Lots of other people crossing the car park shouted and waved him down. The car stopped, and the driver got out. All tattooed and angry-looking six-foot-plus of him. He swore at us that he had had every intention of stopping, so we hadn’t had to yell at him to do so. Hmm. Really? I think not.

He then stalked over to the car he had hit and looked at it. Declaring angrily that he hadn’t done any damage at all, so there was no point leaving a note, he turned to go back to his car. An equally tattooed and angry-looking woman also got out of the car and added her two-pence worth at the top of her voice. My neighbour and I looked at the car he’d hit. Several long scrapes were in the shiny new-looking paintwork. We pointed them out to him.

Whilst this was going on, I took out my phone and photographed the registration plate on Mr Shouty’s car.

Yelling that it was none of our business and that he would leave a note, he stalked back to his car, got in, revved up, and drove away at speed.

Okaaay, so that was him driving away from someone’s very nice new car that he’d just hit without leaving his details. Also, bear in mind, that the car was in a disabled space meaning that either the driver or the person they were driving was disabled.

Everyone who witnessed the incident congregated to discuss it in outraged tones. A piece of paper was found. I was the only one who had witnessed the whole thing (my neighbour had disappeared at this point) and had the presence of mind to take a photo of the car, so I wrote on the paper what had happened and left my number. It was raining heavily, so someone found a plastic bag from somewhere to put the note in. It was left under the windscreen wiper, and we all went our separate ways.

So far, the owner of the damaged car hasn’t called, so maybe the damage was only superficial, and they have decided not to pursue the matter.

I have been thinking about it ever since. That man knew what he had done, but instead of owning up to the accident — after all, we all make mistakes — a lapse in concentration, a bit too much pressure on the pedal, it’s easy to see how it can happen and it could have happened to anyone. But, because he thought he could get away with it, he decided not to do the right thing and simply drove away.

Would I ever do that? No, I don’t think I would. For all my faults, and lord knows they are legion, I like to think at my core I am a person who will always try to do what is right. I think mostly because it is right, but also because I wouldn’t like it done to me. And I think that is what guides most of us. Would we like it done to us? No. Then don’t do it to someone else.

But I am aware there are some — like the nasty shouty driver yesterday — who seem incapable of imagining themselves in someone else’s shoes.

That leads me to ask the question — how do live with themselves? I try very hard not to behave in a way that will hurt someone else. Maybe I don’t always succeed. Blunt talk and having no filter runs in my family, and I am just as capable as the next person of saying something that unintentionally wounds. But I would never deliberately set out to hurt or upset someone. And if I thought I had caused injury, I would try to make amends.

So how can people like Mr Shouty yesterday justify their behaviour?

I imagine that poor car owner coming back and finding their lovely car all scratched up. It was a nice-looking vehicle. I am no expert on makes and models, but it was in pristine condition with shiny metallic cherry-red paintwork. I would have been very upset if it was my car.

There have been moments in the past when I have been tempted to try and get away with something I knew was wrong. I went to the ATM outside a bank once and found £10 in the cash dispenser tray. Did I keep it? No, I handed it into the bank knowing that they would be able to look at their records and see who had used the machine before me and credit it back to their account. Another time, I found a £20 note blowing about the car park. Did I keep it? Yes, because honestly, there was no way of finding out who had dropped it. Even if I had taken it to the police, it’s unlikely that the original owner would bother going all the way to the station to report a dropped bank note.

I have never stolen anything in my life. I just couldn’t. I am the kind of person who if I find something in my shopping that I know I forgot to scan in the shop so therefore didn’t pay for it, the next shopping trip I would scan and pay for it. Maybe I am too honest for my own good. And I’m not some kind of saint, I can lie to get out of doing something I don’t want to do, or tell a white lie to save someone’s feelings, or keep a secret. But out and out malicious lying simply to manipulate or hurt someone, no, I could never do that.

I firmly believe the default position for most people is honesty. I used to know a farmer’s wife who would put a table out on the roadside with jars of honey and homemade jam, cartons of eggs, and punnets of plums and apples. They were all clearly priced and she would leave an honesty box on the table. At the end of each day, she would go down and most of the time the money in the box exactly matched the value of the items taken. Oh, occasionally, she would be short by a few pennies — as if the person who took an item didn’t quite have enough change on them — but overall, it was spot on.

It was a sleepy county lane. There was never anyone manning the table. There were no cameras or anything to monitor the transactions. There was nothing to stop someone from helping themselves to whatever they wanted and not paying a penny. But that rarely happened. Why? Because the default position of most people is honesty. And in a world where terrible things can and do happen, that is quite reassuring.

As I told you last time, the lodger has gone much to my vast relief. She did have one last childish comeback and threatened again to take me to court, but she doesn’t have a leg to stand on and I have fully documented proof of the damage sustained to my property and how much it cost to replace the items. Even if she does pay the exorbitant costs of consulting a solicitor, they will tell her that there is no case to answer. I have now blocked her everywhere it is possible to block someone and hope never to hear from her again. I pray this is an end to a very unpleasant episode and that I can now move on.

As I said last time, I put the room up for rent at 9.30am on Saturday, and by 3pm that afternoon I had found someone I liked enormously and felt would be easy to live with. He is an older gentleman, and, in the interview, he came across as a very calm, agreeable, mild-mannered and, most of all, drama-free person. I am done with drama. No, I think someone who likes tea, books, and history sounds like the perfect fit. He has paid his deposit to secure the room and will be moving in next Wednesday.

What else have I been doing?

Well, not a lot to be honest. I worked most of last week. On my days off I went through the feedback from my proofreaders and polished my latest book until it shone. It is now with the cover designer, and I am anticipating putting it up for pre-order in the next week or so.

The name of the book is Hide & Seek. It is book six in the Blackwood Family Sage and will tell the story of young Liam Blackwood. A war photographer, he always knew his career was a risky one, but suddenly there is a gun pointing at his head and it’s clear that Liam has seen or photographed something that someone wants kept quiet.

It’s an exciting, rollercoaster of a read that will keep you on the edge of your seat. The eBook will be available for pre-order soon at a special pre-launch price, plus all the other books in the series will be on sale at special low prices.

In other news, not only have Franki and her partner been accepted at the University of Reading to do their Masters in Entomology, but they have also been successful in their application for a small apartment on the campus, which they are thrilled about. It’s not a massive flat, just a bedroom with a living/dining/kitchen area and a small bathroom, but it is their own space that they won’t be sharing with anyone. So, no more working around somebody else’s messy kitchen habits or dealing with piles of dirty plates that aren’t theirs. I am happy for them as I know it’s what they both wanted more than anything.

They will both be coming to stay for the Easter break, which I am looking forward to and then I won’t see them again until we move them out of their current university at the end of June, when we will bring all their belongings down south to go into storage here ready to be moved to their apartment at Reading University in September.

They are both living here for the whole of the summer break — three months in all — and are planning to get summer jobs so they can help me out with living expenses.

It looks like being a busy year for all of us. I am booked to do at least one live event a month, sometimes two or three. During March, I have the first Laxfield Community Market of the year tomorrow, then the Gt Yarmouth Sci-Fi and Fantasy Weekender Friday and Saturday the 15^th and 16^th, and then immediately after that, the Leiston Craft Market on Sunday the 17^th of March. As I said, busy.

It will be the first time doing any of these events so it’s very much a “suck it and see situation”. I am a little nervous about tomorrow. Not about doing the actual event. I’ve done enough live events now to be very confident doing them. No, it’s the journey there by myself, finding the venue, and then managing to find a parking space. The organisers admitted in their email that parking can be “tricky” which hasn’t filled me with confidence. I am going to try to get there as early as possible to allow plenty of time to suss out the situation and nab a space.

At least I now have a special holder on my dashboard for my phone and know how to programme Google Maps to plan the route and tell me directions as I drive, so at least I won’t get lost. I spent this morning sorting and packing up everything and it’s all standing in the lounge ready to go in the car. Because the Gt Yarmouth event two weeks later is Sci-Fi and Fantasy only and I couldn’t afford to buy too many new books, I have decided to only take my contemporary books tomorrow. So, that means The Book of Eve, The Perennials Trilogy, The Blackwood Family Saga, and Eclairs for Tea and other stories. My pitch is six feet wide, and I will have the whole table to myself, which I am not used to. Usually, I am sharing with another author so only have three feet to display all my books in. I am taking a jug of artificial flowers to brighten my stall, plus a laminated page for each of the books with images and a brief synopsis. Normally, I don’t have the space to display them so it will be nice to have the room for a change.

Hopefully, the market will be a success. It’s about an hour’s drive and the market only lasts from 9.30 to 12.00 so it’s a gamble on whether I sell enough books to cover my costs and make it worth doing in the future.

As I said, it’s all about trying new events this year to see what works and what doesn’t. If it is successful, then I am booked to do another five markets at Laxfield during the year, so, fingers crossed.

Last time I told you about my fall which resulted in a nasty bruised face and a black eye, The bruising over the head spread quite considerably until the whole eye socket and top of my cheekbone was a rather fetching shade of purple and magenta. It is fading now, but there is still a nasty dark purple bruise under my eye which I am hoping will go away. Even though I cover it with make-up it still shines through.

It’s getting late and I’m hungry. There is steak for dinner, with crunchy herby potatoes, onion rings, and peas, and I may put a fried egg on top of my steak for no other reason than I want to.

Take care everyone. I’ll let you know next time how the new lodger is settling in and how Laxfield Market went.

All the best.

Julia Blake

Hello there. It’s been a bit of a rollercoaster two weeks. Firstly, I am happy to say that the lodger has gone. It was a very unpleasant leaving. Some of my property was damaged beyond repair so I had to retain part of the deposit to replace the items. She was not happy. The text messages from her were frankly disgusting. They were offensive, threatening, and harassing. I did not respond to most of them but have them on my phone if I need to go to the police about her. I think the situation has been sorted but who knows?

Anyway, onwards, and upwards.

The room has been thoroughly cleaned and put back to viewing standards. It is such a nice room and I find it very distressing when lodgers don’t take care of it. As you can see from the photos below it is spacious, clean, and tastefully furnished. There is a working area, an armchair and a space to put a TV. Two sets of bedding and towels come with the room. There is a new mattress on the bed that has never been slept in.

The ad went up this morning and I have three people already coming to view the room this afternoon. I anticipate many more. I looked at how many people had registered needing a room in this area. There were 68 — and this does not count all the people looking on the site but not making a profile for themselves. I then looked at how many rooms like mine were available. There were three. It’s a landlord’s market it seems, and I will take my time carefully choosing this time.

It will be nice to get the whole situation sorted as soon as possible, especially as I am working overtime next week. The practice is not usually open on a Wednesday or a Saturday, but due to circumstances beyond our control, we had to move a day and a half worth of appointments so must open Wednesday and Saturday morning as a one-off to move the appointments to. I don’t mind, it’s only this once and the extra money will be handy at the end of the month.

I am also happy to report that I finished writing book sixteen. Coming in at 53,889 words it is book six in the Blackwood Family Saga. It took me exactly a month to write, format, and edit it. It then went to my formatter and proofreader to go through and fiddled with a couple of bits of formatting I couldn’t do myself. Her feedback is in. She loves it and couldn’t find anything wrong with it so the next step will be sending it to my beta readers to go through. The cover is being made and I’m looking at a launch date sometime in March. It’s been a year since my last book was published so I need to get another one out there.

In the meantime, I am booking more live events. My first one is at Laxfield Market on the 2^nd of March. If you’re in the area, why not come and say hello?

Speaking of events, my mum called me a couple of weeks ago and I asked if I would like to do a tabletop sale with her in her local village hall. She had a few things to try and sell but didn’t want to do it alone.

You can bring your books to sell on your half of the stall.

Yes, but I won’t sell any.

You might.

No, I won’t. It’ll be like that sale we did in Risby last Christmas. Full of grim-faced old people in dreary clothing, who looked at me as if I was speaking gibberish when I asked what they liked to read. Snapped I don’t read at me, then stomped off.

But it was only £2.50 for my share of the stall, and I could tell Mum wanted to do it, so I agreed.

I was late setting off due to misreading Mum’s text, but we were still able to park right outside the hall and it didn’t take us long to set up. Mum was right, she didn’t have much, and I’m so used to setting up a stall by now that I can do it in my sleep.

All around us were tables of other people’s tut. Big heaps of clothing, old pictures, knickknacks, books, glassware, you name it. The sale started at 10 and we were packing up by 11.30. Much to my surprise, I’d sold nine books in an hour. I was not expecting that. I think it’s because, in a sea of second-hand and used items, I was offering something brand new and shiny. I gift-wrapped a couple of books — one as a Valentine’s Day gift and one for a birthday. I was born in this village. People know me and they know my parents, so I think a couple bought to support me, which was lovely.

I took Mum home and had a quick coffee with my parents, then drove home and unloaded. I had offered to help set up the Love Your Local Author sale so barely had time to scoff down an apple and rush across to the hall where it was being held.

I heaved tables about, set up chairs, made helpful suggestions about layout and who should go where, did a bit of handholding, and then went for a brisk walk about town putting up posters and making sure all the promo was in the right locations. I walked home and found the lodger had moved most of her stuff out and had texted that she wasn’t coming back that night but would pop in Sunday to finish the cleaning. I went down to the room, thinking as it was such a nice afternoon, I’d open the window to start airing the room. I noticed all the dirty bedding and decided to put a load in to help speed up the process. And that’s when I discovered the damaged mattress and all hell let loose.

I won’t talk about it. It was horrible, as I have said.

Sunday, I cleaned the room myself. It needed taking apart, scrubbing, and putting back together again. I also gave the kitchen and bathroom a deep clean. I had offered to go and help clear away after the sale so wandered down at four. Helped finish packing up and assisted my friend back home with her trolley of books, collecting posters on the way.

We then went for a celebratory drink at the pub. After the weekend I’d had I felt I needed it. A drink turned into a takeaway back at theirs and it was there that my accident happened. We were sitting at the table outside, I stood up, my ankle collapsed underneath me, and I hit the patio. I went down like a ton of bricks. I landed on my head. Hard. The sound my skull made as it connected with the solid brick ground is something I will never forget. I lay there, stunned, convinced I had cracked my skull like a boiled egg. My friends helped me up. Weirdly, it didn’t hurt. My temple and brow bone were swollen and tender to the touch, but I thought I was fine. I finished dinner and then went home. I was cold and tired and sore, so I went straight to bed.

Monday morning, I awoke to a world of pain. My face was sore and very tender. I ached all over. My knuckle was bruised as was my shoulder, elbow, knee, and ankle. I dragged my sorry bag of bones out of bed and looked in the mirror. There was a massive bruise on my temple, my eyebrow was puffy and grazed, and a beautiful black eye beamed back at me from the mirror.

Now, a lot of people have told me that I should have gone to the hospital when it happened and maybe they’re right, I should have, but I thought I was okay Sunday evening and then I had to go to work on Monday and Tuesday. My word, they were two long days. I put on thick makeup and fixed my hair, so it fell over my eye. By the time I walked home on Tuesday, I was wobbly and exhausted, but I still had to get in the car and drive to the doctor to collect my prescription and then to the supermarket to collect my shopping. It was the last thing I felt like doing. But I needed food, so I did it and it was okay. I was home by 6.30 and at least it was done.

On Wednesday morning I ironed all the bedding belonging to the room which had been freshly laundered. I had a friend coming for lunch which I was looking forward to. We hadn’t seen each other since before Christmas as they had gone down with Covid so couldn’t come to our New Year party. We had settled on the 14^th of February as it was the first date, we were both free, then realised it was Valentine’s Day so decided to eat at mine instead of going out. Did not want to be sitting in a restaurant on Valentine’s Day. Someone might think we were a couple and try to sell us a rose. I had a pack of very posh Italian meatballs in a tomato and basil sauce in the freezer so had got those out. I’d bought a nice mixed salad and found a recipe for Italian potatoes roasted in breadcrumbs and parmesan that looked fabulous. We are all about the potatoes, my friend and I, so I knew she would appreciate them more than pasta.

Anyway, she arrived, we opened the prosecco and caught up on all the news. The potatoes were in the oven and smelled amazing. I went to slide the meatballs in and found a tray of black and charred lumps that had been a whole bag of potatoes. I had followed the recipe exactly. Were they salvageable? No, they weren’t. They were only fit to carbon-date rather than eat. I rummaged in the cupboard and found a pack of rigatoni pasta to cook instead, and lunch was delicious. My friend had bought a gorgeous passionfruit tiramisu for dessert.

On Friday I had the lock changed … I am not going to say any more about that. Friends called round to do it and then we sat in the garden for a couple of hours drinking wine and coffee and chatting. It was a lovely Spring-like day. After they’d gone, I decided to treat myself to fish and chips for dinner.

And now it’s Saturday. I put up the ad for the room this morning and so far, have had a lot of responses. Two people have already been to view the room, one of which I liked very much, and there are more viewings lined up for this afternoon and over the next few days.

I am heartened by how good the response has been so far. I don’t think it will take very long to find another lodger.

It’s a short blog this time. There is so much I could say, but it’s probably best I don’t. This whole experience has left me sick to the stomach and shocked at how badly people can behave. I want it to be over. I’m tired of it now. Tired of being made to feel like the villain when I have done absolutely nothing wrong. Tired that the irresponsible actions of one person are being twisted to make her claim to be the victim. Oh well, onwards and upwards.

Hopefully, next time we talk I will be in a better place emotionally. Right now, I’m feeling a bit vulnerable and emotionally drained — not to mention looking like I’ve taken up cage fighting as a hobby.

Take care of yourselves.

Julia Blake

Okay, blog time. Yeah, well, the thing is I’m not feeling it this week. Not sure how much I’ll be able to write, because, honestly, I don’t have that much to tell you. Stuff has happened, of course, I mean I’ve breathed, eaten, gone to work, etc. but in terms of major life events, there’s not much to report. I’m over the kidney infection that plagued me at the beginning of the year, and I feel good health-wise. My new tumble dryer was delivered, although I had to plead and bribe the delivery guys to lift it into place. Whenever I’ve had to buy a new large appliance from Argos in the past, I’ve always chosen the recycle and install option. Yes, it costs an extra £50 BUT it meant the delivery guys took the old appliance away, unpacked the new one, installed it, checked it was working, and took all the packaging so, in my mind, it was worth it. And anyway, it’s not like I had much choice. Appliances are heavy and there was no way I could lift one — or even fit it — into the back of my little car or lift it out and chuck it into the skip at the recycling yard.

I went onto the Argos website and looked at all the tumble dryers within my price range. There were thirty listed but twenty-eight of them were out of stock. What the heck! Why bother listing them, Argos, and … here’s a mad suggestion … get more stock in. Finally, I found one that looked okay and put it in my basket. It could be delivered on Thursday the 4^th of January, which was good.  I couldn’t find the recycle and install option to add. I searched all over the page, but nope, no sign of it.

Eventually, I went ahead and ordered because I know from experience that the only way to talk to Argos customer service is if you have already placed an order. It’s no good phoning the helpline number if you haven’t yet placed an order, because the first thing the automated switchboard will tell you to do is key in your order number. No order number, you are stuck and can’t progress any further.

I waited for someone to talk to me, listening to the awful elevator music and being told how important my call was to them. Is it? Is it really? Well, answer it then. I put my glasses on and pulled up the order confirmation email I’d been sent and then noticed that the delivery date wasn’t the 4^th of January, but the 24^th, nearly a month away. A month? I couldn’t go without a tumble dryer for the whole of January. How on earth was I supposed to get my clothes dry? When it’s freezing, pouring with rain, and dark and damp for most of the day there’s no point hanging washing out because it’s not going to dry. And for all those people shouting at me to put it on radiators, I only have one radiator that’s not behind one of those fancy cover things. It would take me over a day of constantly taking washing on and off to get a load dry. I would also have to leave the heating on all day. Now, I may not be good at maths but even I know that eight hours of gas-fired central heating is worse than an hour’s worth of electricity using the tumble dryer. Besides, it’s not a good idea to have wet washing drying on radiators. It puts dampness into the atmosphere which can cause mould, it’s bad for wallpaper and it’s very bad for electrical devices such as TVs etc.

I digress, there was no way I was prepared to wait until the 24^th to get a new tumble dryer and when someone finally answered my call, I led with that. She agreed it was a very long time to wait this time of year. I then asked about the recycle and install option which appeared to be missing. She told me it wasn’t something Argos offered anymore. I asked what I was supposed to do with the old dryer. She had no answer to that — at least, not one she was prepared to say out loud.

She searched their range of tumble dryers and even she had to admit that there wasn’t a lot of choice, what with them all being out of stock. I asked why they were so low on stock, and she couldn’t answer that either. Finally, she gave a crow of triumph and directed me to a model I had missed. It was within my price range, could be delivered on Friday, and had a recycle option — why none of the others did was something neither of us could fathom out — after all, it’s not like it matters what model they’re delivering, surely, it’s the model they’re taking away that matters?

So, they would take my old appliance away, at least that was something. What about installing it? My tumble dryer sits on a shelf above the washing machine, and it would be impossible for me to lift it out, much less lift the new one in. That’s no longer something we do, she told me, but this once, I’ll put a note on the delivery and ask the team to do it.

Hmm. I wasn’t sure about this but didn’t have a lot of options. I placed the order and cancelled the order for the other dryer.

The day of delivery came. Your item will be delivered between 8am and 6pm. Will it? Oh, gee, thanks Argos. Best I stay home all day then and make sure I don’t linger long in the bathroom. In the morning, a text arrived saying it would be delivered between 11.14am and 1.29pm. Very specific. Couldn’t they just have said 11-1.30? They didn’t arrive until almost three, so …

Anyway, before they unloaded the new dryer off the van I asked if there was a “special note” on their delivery details.

No, should there be?

Umm, yes.

I told them to come and have a look at where the current dryer was and where the new one would have to go. Like I said, it’s on a shelf … in a cupboard … in a very narrow passageway. It’s … tricky.

They looked at it.

No, they said. We’re not allowed to install anymore. In fact, we can’t even lift the old one down.

But I’ve paid for recycling. It’s the reason why I chose this model because it came with recycling.

Doesn’t matter, we’re legally no longer allowed to lift things down. You were supposed to have it ready to take away.

I looked at the pair of them — burly, six feet tall, young, fit and strong.

They looked at me — five foot nothing, wimpy and middle-aged.

We all looked at the tumble dryer. Now, dryers are nowhere near as heavy as say a washing machine or an oven, but they still weigh a considerable amount, and it was obvious that there was no way in hell I’d be able to lift it down on my own.

Okay. I will have to refuse delivery then, I’m afraid.

Look, love, if we take the old one away and leave the new one in the middle of the floor, could your old man not lift it up there when he gets home?

I don’t have an old man, I’m all alone, I told them, trying to look all brave yet sad at the same time.

I saw them fight a war between their chivalry and company policy.

I sighed.

They sighed.

Right, the older one said — he was clearly the leader — we’ll do it, but for heaven’s sake don’t tell anyone and I don’t know what we’re going to do about the packaging. The vans are examined every evening when we get back to the depot and we’re not passing anywhere we can get rid of it.

Don’t worry about the packaging, leave it here. That I can get in the back of my Yaris and take to the skip.

They lifted the old one out, unwrapped the new one and pushed it into place, making sure the plug was in and on before they pushed it back. They checked it was working. They took the old one out to the van. It took all of three minutes and didn’t cause them to even break a sweat. I did slip them a tenner though to buy some coffee and sandwiches on the road. They didn’t want to take it, but I insisted because they had got me out of a spot, and they could have been completely “jobsworth” about it and refused to help me. If they’d not helped, I honestly don’t know what I would have done.

So that was that. Honestly, 2023 was not a good year for me, appliance and device-wise. New fridge/freezer, new tumble dryer, new printer, new battery in my car, new computer — speaking of which, my new computer is a dream to use. It is so wonderful to not have to wait twenty minutes for it to switch on and trust it to save when it says it has. I have been writing a lot and am now up to over 25,000 words. As the Blackwood books are only 50,000 words or so long, that means I’m halfway through writing the book. I’m not doing any overtime in January and don’t have anything else going on, so I’m confident of finishing the book by the end of the month, if not sooner.

It’s wonderful to be writing again. Every time I have a break of any length, when I go back to it, I have forgotten how much I love it. I am massively grateful to my lovely child for buying such a thoughtful gift.

Speaking of my child, I have wonderful news. She has been offered a place at Reading University next year. She is beyond excited because it’s the university she was desperate to attend and to be offered a place is very exciting. It is a conditional offer, of course, she must pass her exam and get a merit which is a 2:1 or above, but she is on track to achieve at least that, so that should not be a problem. Reading is a fabulous university and is a lot closer to home. Instead of an eight-hour train journey, it’s only two, and instead of being almost four hours away by car, it’s only two. I’m thrilled for her, but not surprised. I knew she would be offered a place, even if she had doubts. Everything Franki has set her heart on she has achieved through sheer hard work and commitment.

I will see her again at Easter, which isn’t that far away, and then she will be coming home for the summer at the end of June. I think the plan is to try and get a part-time job for the holiday to help boost her savings. A new Primark store is opening at the top of our job so there may be summer vacancies there, which will be very handy. It’s only a two-minute walk away so her wages won’t be going on bus fares and nor will I have to ferry her around in the car.

In other news, my current lodger and I have come to a parting of the ways. I don’t want to say too much, other than after a very promising start it’s all gone rather horrible, and I no longer want this woman in my home. She no longer wants to live here either — apparently, I have too many rules! Yeah, once a fortnight give the bathroom and kitchen a quick clean, and don’t come home so drunk you wake the entire household up. Right, such draconian rules, must be like living in a communist state. So, that’s that. I will be looking for a new lodger soon and will hopefully find someone lovely to share my home with.

What else is there to tell you? Not a lot. Work is going well, and I still love it. After December when I worked practically every day, January is a lot easier going as I’m not doing any overtime. At least, I didn’t think I was. Thursday was a day off as usual, and I had a haircut booked for ten o’clock. After going three years with my hair not growing at all, since I’ve started taking medication for my underactive thyroid gland it’s started growing again. It needed cutting even though it’s only been eight weeks since it was last done.

Normally, even on my days off, I am up, showered, dressed, and drinking a cup of tea by eight at the latest. I just can’t lay in bed anymore. I get cold and bored and then my back starts hurting, and my bladder is insistent and once I’m up, well, I might as well stay up. But, on Thursday when I woke up at six, I thought, no, go to the loo and then go back to bed and try to get some more sleep. I did and was quite surprised not to wake up again until eight. I stumbled downstairs and made a cup of tea. There was no point washing my hair because it would be washed again at ten by the hairdresser. So, I sat there, blissfully chilled out, drinking my tea in my PJs and thinking about the day to come.

At 8:40 my phone rang. It was my boss. In a panic. The lady I job-share with couldn’t come in so could I cover her shift and go to work? ASAP. Please!!! I was there by a few minutes past nine. It’s amazing how fast I can hustle when I need to. My hair was a haystack, but I put some mousse in it and managed to tame the worst of the frizz.

And what about my haircut? Well, I texted my hairdresser as I was walking to work and explained the situation. She was okay and offered me another appointment for next Wednesday. At least as my workplace is shut that day, I know I’ll be able to make it. I think in future I will book all my appointments for Wednesdays, just in case.

And that is it, for now, that’s all my news. I didn’t think this would be a very long blog but ho hum, look at that — 2400 words. It’s Saturday evening and I have a spaghetti bolognaise for dinner which I have already made and just needs heating through. Below me I can hear the lodger’s TV blasting out — so loud I don’t know if I’ll be able to hear my own — but there’s no point asking her to turn it down. I’m afraid she left “reasonable behaviour” behind several weeks ago.

Take care, my friends, and I hope the new year is so far treating you well.

Julia Blake

Hello everyone. Welcome to 2024. How has the new year been treating you so far? Me? Not so well. I began 2024 with a kidney infection, my tumble dryer was condemned, and there is another ongoing matter that I can’t discuss yet. But there’s nothing that can’t be fixed. By the time you read this my new tumble dryer has been delivered — thank heavens for store cards with twelve-month interest-free credit options — and a hefty dose of antibiotics has cleared up the infection. As for the other matter, only time will sort that out.

Anyway, how was Christmas for you? Exhausting, expensive, and over in a flash? Yep, same for me. It was lovely having Franki and Rys home and it was even more wonderful not having to work whilst they were here. We had some lazy days of chilling out together which were great. We went to the pantomime which was fun, visited friends and family, had a little party on the 30^th of December, and had my parents over for a quiet Christmas day.

Big news! I got a new computer for Christmas! Was so not expecting that. My incredible child and her partner saved her wages for months and bought me a fabulous fancy pants new computer which they set up for me on Boxing Day. As I may have mentioned, my old laptop was on its last legs. Slow, unreliable, and with a liking for the blue spinning doughnut of death, it was so unusable that I haven’t been able to even think about writing another book on it. At least that was my excuse. After they had safely returned to university on Tuesday, I spent Wednesday packing away Christmas and cleaning the house, and then on Thursday I sat down and began to write book six of the Blackwood Family Saga. So far, I’ve written 10,000 words which is incredible. It feels so good to be writing again after all these months.

So, looking back on 2023 what kind of a year has it been? Changeable, I think is a very good word for it. So many things have happened, my life has completely altered course and I barely know where to start, so I’ll begin at the beginning — January 2023 — with a look back at the good, the bad, and the downright ugly events of last year.

January saw me still working for the major bed retailer where I had been for over six years. I remember standing in the empty shop on Boxing Day, looking at the peed-off faces of my colleagues who’d all been forced to give up being with their families to come to work for minimum wages. I remember vividly thinking — I will not be here next year. I don’t care what I must do, I will not be here next year.

In January I had a five-day visit from Franki and three of her friends. They were using me as a base to visit two zoos and a sea life centre nearby. Duly I made up beds and it was lovely to have the house full of young people. I had to go for lots of blood tests as diabetes runs in my family, so they were checking for that. They also wanted to see how my anaemia was progressing and generally gave me an over 50 Well-Woman check-up. I also started writing my new book, Mage Quest, the sequel to Erinsmore and was enjoying being immersed in writing.

February the results from all the blood tests were back. There was good news and bad. The good news was my anaemia was gone, my levels were fine everywhere else, and I did not have any signs of diabetes. Good. But I had an underactive thyroid gland which explained so much. The fatigue and trouble sleeping, the inexplicable weight gain, hair loss, weird stomach pains, aching joints, and so many other things I had attributed to my age, stress, etc. Nope, they were all the result of my thyroid not producing enough of whatever it is it produces. They placed me on medication which I will be on for the rest of my life.

I had a week’s annual leave in February and used it as an “at-home” writing retreat, during which I did nothing but write achieving a whopping 42,000 words on Mage Quest. It was great, but being at home made me understand how much I disliked my job. I was beginning to realise this was a major issue in my life.

In March we had the first Makers Market of the year. This was the artisan and craft market held once a month in a lovely coffee shop and venue in the town centre. These events were great for us authors. The pitch fees were low so despite only selling £50 or so each time I always made a little bit of profit. I could walk to the event, and it was wonderful chatting with local people and selling my books. Little did we know that this would be the last such market because the coffee shop would be forced to close due to rising energy prices and increased local business rates. It was such a shame and a real blow for my writing group.

Work went from bad to worse. Retail was a terrible industry to be in with the cost-of-living crisis biting hard. Long days without a single customer led to a drop in sales and therefore a drop in commission. Yet our targets were raised, and pressure was applied to make us perform. I was growing increasingly unhappy there and knew I needed to make good on my Boxing Day promise to myself.

April brought the shocking news of my boss’s resignation. To say I was speechless would be an understatement. In that instant, sitting there as he told me was leaving soon a little voice inside my head said — so am I. In that environment of toxic masculinity, he was the only voice of reason and stood between me and my male colleagues, very often sticking up for me. With him gone working there would no longer be possible. I knew that. Something had to be done. So, I brushed up my CV and started looking on Indeed for another job.

I went down with a rather nasty tooth infection this month and had to take massive doses of antibiotics to bring the infection down. The tooth must come out, the dentist told me. Gulp, umm, okay. I also attended the Indie Authors Book Fair at the end of April, and it was a howling success. I sold a lot of books and met a lot of lovely people. I’ve already signed up to do it again next year.

In May, I finally published Mage Quest and launch day was reasonably successful and the book has received lovely reviews since then. I had planned to release at least two books during 2023 but life and my aged laptop had other ideas and Mage Quest was the only book I wrote during the year. As you know, I was job hunting and had several interviews, but nothing was quite right. I was so desperate to leave my current employment that I was prepared to accept almost anything else. Finally, I was offered a part-time job at a tile retailer. There would be a lot less pressure and the all-girl team seemed lovely. The manager promised me weekends off whenever I needed them so long as I gave enough warning and it all looked good, but I would be taking a drop in pay, quite a big drop in pay. Regretfully I turned the job down. The numbers simply didn’t stack up.

Fate has a funny way of working out though. Thinking and thinking about it, I ran the numbers again of what I could realistically make if I let out the basement room through Airbnb. Allowing for non-occupancy and only being able to let the room at the most three days a week and adding in things like constant cleaning, bed changing, and laundry, I would be earning less than if I simply took in another lodger. I searched Spare Room for anyone looking for a room in my town. I found three women who seemed to fit the bill so messaged them. One responded, came to view the room, liked it, and planned to move in the following week. I went into the tile shop, accepted the job, and once I’d received my formal offer of employment handed my notice in at the bed store. The relief was unbelievable.

At the end of May and the beginning of June, Franki came to stay for a lovely surprise visit. It was wonderful to see her, especially as I had two weeks off between finishing at the bed store and beginning my new job. The weather was gorgeous, and we decided to invite everyone around for a barbecue. It was a lovely event, although an expensive and exhausting one. Barbecues are such hard work. Much more hard work than a buffet or even a dinner party. The work is so ongoing. I didn’t sit down for the first hour because I was constantly on the go ferrying out meat, and sorting drinks and food out, it was non-stop. Whilst Franki was home we also had a good clear out of old books, toys, and other stuff, taking a carload to the skip, donating some to charity, and doing a couple of car boot sales.

My toothache came back, and I had to bite the bullet and book an appointment for it to be extracted. Not fun. A whole lot of not fun. But it healed okay and at least it won’t get infected again. I started my new job at the tile retailer. At first, I thought it would be okay. My new colleagues were wonderful — fun and kind and laid back and not as toxic as my previous ones — but I soon realised that the work was going to be too physically demanding for me. Lugging 28kg bags of grout is no fun. Shifting great pallets of tiles about is also no fun. Doing it in 30+ degrees heat is miserable. I was coming home from work hot, sweaty, and exhausted. It also looked like there was going to be an issue with weekends. I had been promised weekends off whenever I needed them so long as I made up my hours during the week, this turned out not to be the case. I was going to have to work most weekends, and bank holidays. The only things my job change had brought about were nicer colleagues and a calmer working environment, no working Boxing Day, and a large drop in pay. Hmm.

For the rest of June and all of July, I was busy completely decorating both the spare bedrooms. The back one was to make a nice bedroom for Franki, and the middle room was to become a cosy single bedroom/sitting room/library. Because I was doing the work on days off and in between all my other chores, this was an ongoing job that took about six weeks to complete. July was also my birthday — and the wettest July since records began.

I had been thinking about looking for another job when Indeed sent me details of a part-time receptionist job in the town centre that looked perfect. I applied for it and to my delight, had a telephone interview, then went for a formal interview, followed by a trial run on the morning of my birthday. Delighted when they offered me the job, I handed in my notice at the tile store and had seventeen days off between jobs, which was great. I was not sorry to be leaving retail. It is hard and thankless. The idea of no more weekends, no more bank holidays, no more Boxing Day, a five-minute walk to work, coming home for lunch, being able to wear nice clothes, no sales targets, no rude customers, no pressure from head office to sell, made me dizzy with delight. At the end of the month, Franki and Rys arrived to spend the rest of the summer with me.

August was mostly a wet and gloomy month. I had two weeks of intensive training at my new job before being left to get on with it by myself. It was fine. I loved the job and like to think I’m very good at it. It was great having the girls home and being able to spend time with them. It was Franki’s 20^th birthday. I can’t believe I have a twenty-year-old, where did that time go? When I began writing this blog, she was still fifteen.

My author’s life was not going so well. Apart from blogging, I had not written a word since the release of Mage Quest. There never seemed to be any time plus my old laptop made writing hard work.

At the beginning of the month, I attended the Legends Comic-Con at Stonham Barns. Despite the rain of almost biblical proportions, it was a great weekend, and I sold a lot of books. We had a major scare when our cat disappeared for three days. We worried she was lying under a bush dead somewhere and it was a huge relief when she reappeared thin, dusty, hungry, and thirsty. To avoid this happening again we fitted her with a GPS tracking device. Well, that didn’t go to plan. She lost it twice and the second time we couldn’t find it and then the batteries died on it, and it was lost forever. I still think she did it on purpose. My fridge/freezer died and there was a panic buying a new one and getting it delivered. Kind neighbours divided our frozen food between them so it wouldn’t spoil.

September came along. Longtime friends came to visit for five days which was wonderful. We spent a day in Cambridge visiting museums and another at a local stately home. We cooked big meals, went out for dinner, did a pub quiz, and drank lots of wine. The weather was glorious, so we ate almost every meal in the garden. All too soon though, summer was over, and I was driving the girls back to university for the new academic year. It’s surreal that it’s Franki’s last year. It feels like only yesterday I was driving a nervous eighteen-year-old up north for the first time. The last weekend in September it was Norwich Comic-Con again which was fantastic and even more successful than 2022.

October. Freakishly warm weather, which was lovely. The first-ever literary fringe festival took place in my town during the first weekend. It wasn’t as well attended as we’d all hoped, but it was a lot of fun, and I did sell a few books and met several wonderful authors. I continued to work hard and enjoy my new job. And my printer gave up the ghost entirely.

At the beginning of November, I drove my parents up north to attend Franki’s graduation. As it’s quite a distance, we booked an Airbnb cottage for three nights. I don’t think it stopped raining the whole time we were there, but the graduation was lovely. Although I didn’t manage to write anything new during November, I wasn’t completely idle. I reformatted and republished Eclairs for Tea and other stories with a gorgeous new cover and released it as a beautiful hardback edition containing two bonus stories. They proved to be very popular at the Stonham Barns Christmas Fair I did during the last weekend of November, and I sold every copy I took.

During November I had the unexpected expenses of a new battery for the car and a £155 vet bill for the cat, which I needed like a hole in the head. I also had to give in and buy a new printer. I did as much overtime as I could at work to try and replenish funds for Christmas which was creeping ever closer.

December rolled in. I don’t trust December; it does this weird time thing where it’s the first day of the month and there’s still plenty of time before Christmas and then suddenly it’s Christmas Eve. The girls were arriving on the 22^nd of December so that acted as a cut-off point for me. Everything had to be ready by then. I tried to cut down on spending, I really did. I didn’t buy a real tree, instead used a little artificial one I had in the cupboard. I did not spend anywhere near as much as I would normally on presents. Yes, the girls got a lot of gifts but most of them were small and inexpensive things. I spoke to a couple of friends, and we agreed not to do gifts for each other this year. And I did try to cut down on food. But everything is expensive and seems to be twice the price at Christmas. I didn’t go overdrawn though, so at least there’s that.

And that brings us up to now. It’s the first weekend of the new year and so far, 2024 has not impressed me. I wonder if it’s too late to send it back and ask for a refund. Ending a year during which, I’ve changed jobs twice, taken on a lodger again, and had to replace my fridge/freezer, printer, computer, and tumble dryer, and have redecorated two rooms, it has felt like a very changeable year.

There have been a lot of ups and downs, my health has been a cause for concern although that seems to be under control now. I only published one book, which was disappointing, but I did find more local live events to attend and next year am planning to do as many as possible.

I think the most important thing though is that I am here, still fighting, still struggling on and yes, it has been a year that has tested me in many ways, but I came through. Am I better off than I was this time last year? Financially, probably not. In terms of being happy with my work, definitely. I am also richer timewise than I was at the end of 2022. My health issues have hopefully been resolved for now, and I have a new computer thanks to my generous and hardworking child. So, I am taking that as a win.

If you have made it to the end of this impressively long blog, then all that’s left is for me to say thank you to anyone who continues to read my ramblings and rants about the hot mess that is my life. For once, it would be lovely to know if there is anybody out there and I would be so grateful if you could simply drop me a message or even just comment with your name.

Happy New Year, my friends and I hope 2024 is a good one for us all.

Julia Blake