Hello everyone! Goodness, hasn’t two weeks flown by? I’m trying to think about what has happened and the answer is, not a lot. My Dad came as arranged and we gave the cherry tree a short back and sides and then spent most of the day cutting up the branches to shove them in bags ready to dispose of. Just in time, as hurricane Eunice descended on the British Isles a day later and made a bit of a mess of things. My road was covered with broken branches and rubbish that had been blown up from goodness knows where. There were also several roof slates lying in pieces and I only hope they weren’t from my roof.

I got off lightly, apart from debris in my garden and the outdoor sofa being blown out of place, I didn’t suffer any damage from the hurricane, but I know others weren’t so lucky. Many lost power for days and images were shown on TV of great trees lying across roads with their roots in the air. The weather seems to have calmed down now and unless we have a late cold snap we seem to be creeping into spring. I’m hopeful that it will be nice and warm when Miss F and her girlfriend come to stay over Easter. They have a lot of outings and trips planned and although bad weather won’t stop them, everything is so much nicer if the sun is shining.

There is a small local museum in the centre of town, and I happened to notice there was to be an exhibition of costumes from the Marvel film the Black Panther whilst they were visiting, so I sent to link to Miss F and she has already booked their tickets. She has also requested that we go to Kentwell Hall whilst her girlfriend, Miss C, is visiting. This is a gorgeous Tudor manor house about thirty minutes away which has been preserved in keeping with the period. There are extensive grounds with lots to look at. Sometimes, they have wonderful history days where volunteers dress up in Tudor costumes and enact activities in the house and gardens.

I’ve been to quite a few of these days, both when I was at school and as an adult, and they are fantastic fun. The actors stay totally in character and even when you try to talk to them with 21^st-century lingo, they will only reply with Tudor expressions and language. The big kitchens are open with women baking and cooking with traditional ingredients in the style of the period. Out in the gardens, people are working the land and various craftsmen making objects relevant to the period.

The last time I went to Kentwell Hall was back in 2014. I went with Miss F and our then lodger. Keen to see everything, we attended a display of Tudor firearms which was all going well, until there was a mishap with an old musket and the poor man handling it was hurt. Not sure how bad it was, but they bundled him away sharpish, and the purity of the Tudor enactment was ruined by the presence of a modern ambulance tearing through the gates and up the driveway.

We also had a run-in with a rather large and angry peacock whom we came face-to-face with on a path. He was determined that it was his path, and we could not pass. As I said, he was a very big angry bird, so we fled the other way.

There’s a nice restaurant there where we had lunch. They grow all their fruit, salad, and veg so everything on the menu was the freshest it could be. I think I had a pea and ham quiche which was delicious.

We’re planning to go to the restaurant again, although instead of it being just me, Miss F, and Miss C, a close friend of mine is also coming. I felt four was a better number than three. If Miss F and Miss C want to wander off on their own they can, without me either being abandoned or having to trail after them like a big gooseberry. It also works well having a large lunch because Miss F’s godmother is coming over in the evening for drinks and nibbles. Having already eaten during the day I won’t have the worry of trying to get a big meal cooked, eaten, and cleared away before she arrives.

It’s not an enactment day when we’re going, unfortunately, but there’s still enough there to make it a very pleasant day out – especially if the weather is nice. If you’re interested, Google Kentwell Hall, Suffolk, UK, and look at it yourself.

With the restrictions caused by Covid now lifted, the two book events I originally intended to attend back in 2020, and which have been postponed for the past two years, are now going ahead so plans need to be made for those. The first one is at St Alban’s on the 17^th of July and is a Sci-Fi and Fantasy book sale. My local authors’ group have a couple of tables booked for it and hopefully, it will be going ahead this year. It’s a one-day event so will entail driving up to St Alban’s and back in one day. Not sure how far that is, but certainly not as far as driving to collect Miss F from university and back in one day.

I have no idea what it will be like or how large an event it is. But it will be nice to be able to do something bookish again. The last time I attempted anything like this was way back in November 2019 when we had a stall in the Bury St Edmunds Christmas Fayre. At least being in July it should be a great deal warmer than that was.

The second event is the Norwich Sci-Fi and Fantasy Convention in the last weekend of September – which is a much bigger deal. When we booked our tables back in 2020 I also booked the week off work. Then it was postponed until 2021 but things were still very uncertain so most of us felt it was too soon to be in such a crowded public venue. Then this year rolled around, the convention is definitely on, and our postponed tables were offered to us again.

However, I had a problem. When I tried to book the week off work I couldn’t. Despite the fact it was still only January, and I wanted the last week of September off, somebody else had beaten me to it. I was in despair. The convention is on for the whole weekend and there is no point spending all that money on a table just for one of the days. But I work in retail, it is in my contract that I must work at least one day at the weekend.

I spoke to my boss about, throwing himself on his mercy and begging him to let me have the weekend off. I’m very sorry, he said, but it’s the other part-timer who has booked that week off. So, not only can I not let you have the whole weekend off, but I may have to ask you to work both days instead of just the one.

I fumed and fretted, desperately wanting to do the convention but not seeing how I would be able to. Then I went to work a couple of Mondays ago and had this conversation with my boss.

HIM: Just to keep you informed, Mrs J, the other part-timer has handed in her notice.

ME:  Oh, really? Why?

HIM: Not sure, fed up with working weekends and bank holidays, I think.

ME: Okay.

Thirty seconds later.

ME:  Does that mean I can have that week in September off then?

HIM: Bloody hell! Talk about dead man’s boots.

ME:  Sorry.

HIM: ……

ME:  But does it though?

HIM: I suppose so.

So, yippee! That week is now officially booked as annual leave so I’m going to the Norwich convention. As for St Albans, well it’s on the 17^{th of} July which is a Sunday and is also coincidentally my birthday. When booking my annual leave I wanted a week off over my birthday – I have never worked on my birthday and don’t intend to start now – and was in a dilemma whether to (a) book the week of my birthday off, but then have to go to work the day after it (not a good plan), or (b) book the week after it off and request that Sunday the 17^th be one of my days off the week before.

I decided to go with plan (b) and requested the week commencing the 18^th off. Nope. Again, somebody else had beaten me to it so I had to revert to plan (a). But, yep, you’ve guessed it, the person who’d beaten me to it was the other part-timer and as she’s leaving in two weeks it meant that week was up for grabs again. So, I grabbed it. That means I have the whole glorious two weeks off with my birthday slap bang in the middle. Course, I will be at St Alban’s at a book fair on my birthday but have thirteen other days to celebrate it on, so that’s fine.

As they are both Fantasy and Sci-Fi conventions I’m limited to which books I can take. Obviously Black Ice, Erinsmore, and The Forest, but I’m also going to take some copies of Lifesong with me. Depending on how much KDP charge me for author copies of them, I’m going to sell them for £1 with any other book bought.

I had to buy myself a new pair of shoes last Sunday. I had an old pair of flat, black, patent leather loafers which I wore exclusively for work. The leather had so shaped to my feet that they were very comfortable, and I’d been putting off buying a new pair. But then the soles on both shoes cracked in half, the heel on one crumbled, and the patent leather was badly scuffed. There was nothing for it. I was going to have to go shoe shopping.

I hate shopping for clothes. I get so frustrated and angry at how expensive everything is and how nothing fits me. Shoe shopping is marginally better than clothes but still annoying. Sunday was my day off, so I popped uptown mid-morning. The winds had died down slightly, but the sky was the colour of an old bruise and heavy rain was forecast for the afternoon.

I was looking for a pair of flat, comfortable shoes. I’m on my feet all day and running up and down stairs, so heels aren’t practicable. Not a big ask for a pair of shoes. Except, they had to be blue. During the four years I’ve worked there, our uniform has gone from black trousers/skirt with a blue and white striped blouse, to blue from head to toe. Even my socks are blue, so my old black shoes stood out and I’d decided to replace them with a pair of blue ones. And that was where the problems began.

No blue shoes at all in the first shop I tried. Well, none except trainers and I can’t wear them for work. This put a crimp in my plan. This shop is cheap and cheerful, and I’d thought I’d be able to simply walk in, pick up a pair, and that would be it.

Try Mark’s and Spencer, the helpful assistant advised. I tried Mark’s and Spencer, and yes, they had a perfect pair. They were also £45. Yes, they were proper soft suede leather and were comfortable. Yes, they looked smart. And yes, they would last years. But they were £45, and they would only ever be worn for work, and I died a little inside at the thought of spending a week’s grocery money on a pair of shoes.

I went to another shop. No blue shoes. I went to another. They had some, but they had six-inch heels. Umm, I don’t think so. I trailed around town getting more and more frustrated as the sky grew darker above me and the wind gusted me along the road.

Eventually, I crept back to Mark’s and Spencer and bought the £45 pair I’d first seen. Going back down to the food hall, I decided to pick up some milk and celery from there. I was tired and fed up and couldn’t face the crush I knew there’d be in Tesco Express. Reaching up to get down a pint of skimmed milk there was a ping, and I felt something drop past my hand down into the fridge. I looked. Lying there at the bottom of the fridge, just out of my reach, was one of the fancy buttons from my coat. Bugger.

I stretched my hand down. Nope. Not going to be able to reach it no matter how far down I groped. I looked helplessly about. People bustled past me with baskets and trolleys, tutting in annoyance at this stupid woman standing in front of the milk. I was too afraid to move, I thought if I took my eye off where I could just about see the edge of the button sticking out I’d never find it again.

I waited. Eventually, an assistant bustled past the end of the aisle.

ME:  Excuse me.

HER: Yes?

She stopped and waited where she was, clearly expecting me to go to her.

ME: Umm, could you help me, please?

HER: Of course.

Again, she waited. When it became apparent I wasn’t going to move she raised her eyebrows then came over to me.

HER: Is everything all right?

ME: No, one of the buttons on my coat came off when I was reaching for the milk, and it’s gone right down into the fridge. Look, there, you can just about see it.

HER: Oh no, has it. Where?

She peered doubtfully into the fridge. Being even shorter than me it was harder for her to get the sight angle just right.

HER: You sure it went into the fridge? Maybe it fell on the floor.

ME: No, it’s definitely in there. Look, tip your head sidewise, down by that grill thing. Follow it along…

HER: Oh yes! (In excitement) I see it. Ooh, not sure how we’re going to get that out.

ME:  Well, I need it. I can’t do my coat up without it.

HER: Do you have a spare button?

ME:  That was the spare button.

HER: Oh dear. Right, I’ll fetch help. You stay here.

Off she bustled full of importance at her mission. I waited. Minutes ticked by. Eventually, she returned with a stool and a very gangly youth with long arms. Freakishly long arms, seriously Mr Tickle in a uniform. Carefully, he climbed onto the stool, reached way way down into the fridge. By now, we had attracted an interested crowd with people calling out encouragement.

Down he stretched, his fingers groping for the errant button, until bingo! With a grunt of triumph, he grabbed it and managed to pull himself back up. Handing me the button, I thanked them both profusely, paid for the milk and celery (remember that) then hurried from the shop. It was spitting cold raindrops by now and the gale pushed me down the street until I turned the corner and then it was full blast in my face stinging tears from my eyes and nipping at my cheeks.

And that was my exciting Sunday.

The next day I went to work to discover my boss was off with Covid. His daughter had brought it home from school and infected the entire family, bless her. Luckily, it had been a week since I’d been on shift with him, but I still did a flow test and I’m fine. Bloody NHS track and trace though keeps pinging me three or four times a day telling me I must now self-isolate. No, I bloody mustn’t. I haven’t got it, so I don’t have to do anything, and anyway, are you going to pay my wages? No, I thought not.

Monday and Tuesday were two nice days at work. It was just me and my favourite colleague and we were busy with nice customers who bought from us, which is always a bonus. Then I had four days off, during which I worked on the final amendments to Rambling Rose, held a three-day sale on Becoming Lili and Chaining Daisy, and premiered the beautiful video trailer for the Perennials Trilogy made as usual by Platform House Publishing. It’s really lovely. If you haven’t seen it yet and would like to, then it can be viewed on my YouTube channel or my website.

Finally, Rambling Rose was uploaded to Amazon on Saturday afternoon, and I’ve ordered a proof copy of the paperback. This is essential because it’s not until you read it as an actual book that any final tweaks can be found. I don’t think there will be too many. It’s been edited and proofread to the nth degree, but I know from bitter experience there will always be something!

If you would like the eBook version of Rambling Rose, then it’s available now to pre-order and the link to it can be found on my website, my Instagram bio, or simply go to Amazon and search for Rambling Rose by Julia Blake. The special-pre-order price is just £2.99 for this beautiful big book and the launch date is the 25^th of March. On this day the price will go up and your copy will automatically appear on your kindle at the stroke of midnight – Rose is like Cinderella in reverse.

And that’s it. My fun-packed fortnight in a nutshell. As I said, I’m on holiday next week and for once don’t have too much planned. Lunch with a friend. Maybe a haircut. If the proof copy of Rose turns up I will spend some time going over it with a fine-tooth comb. Other than that, I have no plans so you never know, I might start writing book fourteen! Imagine that – book fourteen.

So, take care, everyone, I hope wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, that you stay safe and stay happy.

Julia Blake

Good morning everyone and happy Sunday. Again, apologies for no proper blog last week but, as I explained, new shifts make it almost impossible to continue blogging weekly so I will be chatting to you every two weeks instead.

What has happened over the last fortnight? To be honest, not a great deal. Work has jogged along, and the only thing of note is that the other part-timer has handed in her notice. I’m not too sure why as I don’t work with her very often, but I know she has become increasingly unhappy with always having to work bank holidays – especially Boxing Day – and at the weekend, plus the high targets we are now expected to achieve, so maybe it was that. Anyway, I have a suspicion I will be asked to work a lot of overtime until they find someone new.

I have very mixed feelings about overtime. On the one hand, it’s extra money at a time when I really need it, but, on the other hand, I find it hard working the extra hours. I get very tired and fed up with always working and not having the time at home to do all the other stuff I need to do.

Still, it’s not like I have a lot of choices, so, I’ll just think of the money and grin and bear it.

The diet is going well and since we last spoke I’ve lost another two pounds, although I think I may have lost more than I originally thought. I assumed that each little marker between the big marker for the stones was a single pound. But, when I counted them there were only seven markers, not the fourteen there should be, so each marker stands for two pounds. That means I’ve lost over ten pounds in the first four weeks of the diet, which is not bad.

I’m still faithfully sticking to it, and I’ll keep you posted as to my progress.

As I said in the last proper blog, I was going to make a meal planner for the month and try to do one big shop at the start of each month, then just pick up fresh stuff weekly from my local shop. I did this – boy I eat a lot of soup each month on this diet – and the Tesco assistant did give me a strange look when she wheeled out my shopping and one whole crate comprised of tins of soup! So far, the meal planner is working well. I have it pinned up on the board and know at a glance exactly what I’m having for dinner that night and what needs to be taken out of the freezer. Hopefully, it will help save a few pennies by cutting down on my grocery bill. If I’m only buying exactly what I need for meals for the month then I’m not wasting money on buying unnecessary stuff.

What else has happened? Well, my Dad came round this week to trim my trees. I have a silver birch and a morello cherry tree in the garden which need to be kept in check, otherwise, they will grow out of control and not be safe in such a small garden, plus block out my own and the neighbour’s light. Normally, they are trimmed every year in February but due to Covid and lockdown, the last two years were missed. Consequently, the trees are way too tall, and a drastic haircut was vital.

Dad arrived cheerfully of the opinion it would take a couple of hours max to do both. I thought he was being a bit optimistic. I remembered how long it had taken when they were last done in 2019 – and there was three years growth to trim instead of the usual one, so it was bound to take longer. The trimming of the trees is not the part that takes the time, no, it’s the clearing up of all the fallen branches that is the time-consuming bit. All the branches must be trimmed down to manageable size and bagged up. Usually, we take the trimmings to the local recycling centre, but this time Dad said he had the use of three empty compost dustbins so would take them home and put them out for the compost recycling truck.

They arrived at 10:30am and we set to work straight away. By 3pm we’d had enough, and we’d only done the silver birch. The poor thing has had such a severe haircut it looks ready to join the marines and I hope we haven’t cut it back too hard. But we’ve scalped it equally as hard in previous years and it’s thrived, so it should be fine. This year more than ever I will rely on the cover the tree provides. It will shield us from being spied on by the men working on the crane on the building site at the bottom of the garden. Without the tree canopy, they can peer right down into our garden. Not that I’m ever doing anything unsociable out there, but it’s still not a nice thought.

Dad is returning next Tuesday to tackle the cherry tree. That will probably take just as long as the silver birch did. I want to get out in the garden this week and have a seriously good tidy out there. Plants need moving or even be taken out completely. Reluctantly, I have decided the ancient peony needs to go. Yes, it is beautiful, and it was in the garden when I moved in, but my garden is too tiny to give houseroom to a plant that hogs almost a whole bed and only blooms for three days of the year. So, it’s going to a new home. A friend of mine has a wonderful big garden and has offered to adopt it. I think it will be much happier there and I know she’ll look after it.

The poor wisteria needs moving as it’s desperately unhappy where it is. Wisteria needs sunshine and where it is right now is deep shade, so it’s gone all spindly and lanky as it desperately tries to scramble to the top of the pergola in search of sun. It’s never flowered. If left where it is, I suspect it never will. So, it’s being moved to the large bed at the bottom of the garden when it will at least get some sun. The feral rambling rose currently there will take the place the wisteria is vacating. That rose is such a survivor that I honestly think when the end of the world happens, cockroaches and that rose will be the only things left alive. It’s a vigorous climber so will be able to scramble all over the pergola and do whatever it pleases up there.

A large fern and a Solomon’s Seal plant were somehow planted right on top of one another so need to be dug up and separated. Then they are being moved further up the garden. Both woodland plants happy in shade, their current place in partial sunlight will be taken by a fuchsia plant that will appreciate the sunshine more than they did. I have several fuchsia plants, so need to google how and when it’s best to prune them as they are looking very leggy.

I want to cram all my flower beds with perennials that will look after themselves, come back every year, and bloom pretty much the whole summer. I want colour in my garden and mixed heights, and some scent would be nice. Not that I can smell anything other than cigarette smoke and mouldy mushrooms right now – thanks Covid – you really are the gift that keeps on giving.

The hood on the outdoor wicker sofa needs to be taken off and disposed of. The sofa is under the cherry tree so doesn’t need shading and because the hood cover can’t be removed to be washed, several years of exposure to the elements has left it in a disgusting state. It’s green and covered with bird poop and cherry juice from falling fruit. It’s also full of spiders and other unpleasant bugs which you don’t want on your head when you sit on the sofa. So, it’s coming off and going to the dump.

Lots of plans hopefully to finally get the garden to the beautiful haven I imagined it could be all those years ago. I will take pictures and share them with you.

What else have I been up to? Working on book thirteen of course. I always forget how long this part of producing a book takes. All the various stages of beta reading, formatting, and preparation that must be gone through. It’s currently with its final beta reader who is about halfway through reading it. The cover is now being made and the video. I’ve prepared the page for the book to go onto my website and spoken to the Adorable Andrew about when he needs to receive it to ensure the website is good to go before publication day.

I’ve booked a special promotion with The Fussy Librarian to promote a 99p/99 cents sale I will be running on the eBook version of Becoming Lili on the 23^rd, 24^th, and 25^th of February. Book two of the trilogy, Chaining Daisy, will also be reduced from £4.99 for the eBook down to £2.99 (or local currency equivalent), and book three of the trilogy will be up for pre-order by then also with a buck off the normal retail price. It will be a wonderful chance to grab all three books at a low price, so, if you don’t already have the books keep an eye out for that.

One of my Christmas presents from Miss F was a voucher for the local Theatre Royal, so once the new schedule for the year was released online, I looked to see what I fancied going to. My friend whom I normally go to the theatre with had mentioned a play coming up in March that looked quite good, so I booked us seats for that. With the remainder of the voucher booked for us to go and see the comedian Reginald P. Hunter who is coming to Bury St Edmunds for one night only in April. There were hardly any seats left at all for him! Not surprising as he’s a well-known and popular comedian who often appears on TV. There were only odd seats dotted about in the stalls, so we had to get tickets for the back row of the gallery right at the very top of the theatre. We won’t be able to see much but so long as we can hear him, that’s all that matters. The theatre is tiny, so wherever you sit you’re not far from the stage. Two theatre trips to look forward to!

Miss F isn’t coming home for the February half term but is going to visit her girlfriend’s home in Wales instead. She is coming home for Easter though for a nice long visit, which will be lovely. Miss F is catching the train down on her own on the last day of March and staying until the 19^th of April. Twenty days in all. The train fare is not bad, what with her student railcard and booking so far in advance, it only cost her £64 return. Which, when you consider how much it cost me in petrol and tolls is an absolute bargain!

Her girlfriend, Miss C, will be travelling from Wales to Bury on the 12^th to stay until the 19^th and then both will travel back to university together. I’m not sure how long a journey it will be from Wales to Bury – pretty long, I expect!

It will be lovely to see them both, apart from video chats I won’t have seen them since Christmas, and we have booked a table for a big family meal on Good Friday in a local pub which does wonderful food. It will be the first time the family has gone out for dinner together in years. What with Covid and lockdowns and social distancing, there was never the time or opportunity to gather so it’s something to look forward to. There will be nine of us, all being well, and Covid allowing. My parents, me, Miss F and Miss C, then my brother and his girlfriend, my niece, and her boyfriend.

There is a lot planned for that week, I think Miss F wants to show Miss C the town and all the local sights, as well as meet as many friends and family as possible. Hopefully, the weather will be nice by then. But this is Britain, so it might be snowing.

Anyway, it’s now Saturday lunchtime and I need to make my salad for lunch, then get out in the garden for an hour or two.

Hope you all have a great couple of weeks and look forward to chatting with you next time.

Julia Blake

Hello Everyone, I hope you’re having a great Sunday. Firstly, apologies for the lateness of this blog, and secondly, apologies for it not being a blog – more a notice of change to the frequency of A Little Bit of Blake.

I have been blogging almost every single week for over three years but it’s getting too much for me to manage. My shift pattern has changed again and every other week I end up working three long shifts Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Not only does this not leave me enough time to write a blog ready to post Sunday morning, but it means I’m trying to write it on Wednesday after only blogging three days earlier – and often nothing has happened in those three days to talk to you about.

So, I’ve had a long hard think about it and reluctantly decided that my blog will be changing to every fortnight – for all American readers that is every two weeks (fourteen nights – fortnight).

This will take an enormous amount of pressure off me and mean that I can save up two weeks’ worth of news and chat to share with you.

I hope you understand and who knows, if my shift patterns change again and my life suddenly becomes a giddy whirl of activity, I may go back to every week. But, in the meantime, look out for A Little Bit of Blake dropping into your inbox every other Sunday.

Thank you and have a good week.

Julia Blake

Good Morning, and welcome to another A Little Bit of Blake. I’m actually in a reasonable mood this week as the past seven days have not been bad – with only patchy occurrences of the usual crappiness that has dogged my life the past year.

Firstly, big thanks to everyone who has contacted me about the Amazon Ad course. Yes, it was complicated, but I’m sure it would be less so to anyone who isn’t me. I’ve shelved it for now, but I’ve kept the four ads running and will be keeping an eye on them. I’m also planning on running ads for most of my books here in the UK. I’ve been advised that the US is a tough nut to crack for British authors so it’s a good idea to run ads in the UK as well. If nothing else, it will be useful to see how identical ads perform on the different sites.

Now, the diet. That has been the other thing people have been contacting me about and thank you for all your words of encouragement. Yes, I am still sticking to it and haven’t missed a single dieting day, nor cheated on one. As you may remember, I had to write my blog on Wednesday last time because I would be working from Thursday morning to Saturday evening so wouldn’t have the time. As I weigh myself every Thursday morning, that meant I couldn’t share the results of my first week of dieting.

Climbing onto the scales, my heart was in my mouth. Had I lost any weight? Had a solid week of dieting every other day made any difference? The answer was, yes, it had. I’d gained a pound. At first disappointed, I then thought back to when I did this diet all those years ago and remembered that the same thing happened.

Your body can take a while to catch up with what you are trying to do. Plus, as a woman, there are so many other factors to take into consideration when assessing if you’ve gained or lost weight. What knickers are you wearing? Thong or granny pants? How heavy are your earrings? Are you having a big hair day? Stuff like that needs to be thought about. So, I didn’t lose heart. I wrote the weight down in my diary with (+1) written beside it and continued with the diet.

Last Thursday I was even more nervous as I stepped on the scales. A small gain the first week I could deal with, but if I put on anymore after two weeks of serious dieting I knew I would be disheartened. The needle spun and settled on the dial. I’d lost four pounds. Yay. A good solid start. Very happy with that, and it’s given me the necessary boost to continue.

I worked Monday and Tuesday this week, and the shop was very quiet. I think the company has overestimated how long sales mania would last because despite there still being a few bargains to be had, no one is buying anything. Being the very last week of January perhaps the money has run out. Credit card bills for Christmas are now coming in. Energy prices look set to rise again and food continues to rocket in price. Hard times are coming for us all.

Wednesday I walked to the doctor to collect my hayfever medication. Normally, I would take the car, but as I am determined to try and be more active where I can be, I decided to walk. It was a nice day, bright, crisp, and breezy. After the doctor, I wandered back through town and went into Marks & Spencer. I had been given a £15 gift card for them from my favourite niece for Christmas and as I’m desperate for bras – mine had all fallen apart in the washing machine – I decided to treat myself to one, or two, depending on the price.

The end of the sales was on, so it was like a glorified jumble sale in the lingerie department. Mismatched underwear sets were crammed higgledy-piggledy on the racks, and you took your chances trying to find the size bra you wanted in a style you were comfortable in. Picking out a few likely looking candidates, I slunk into the changing room. Assuring the very nice assistant that no, I did not need any help trying on a bra, I listened as she advised the lady in the cubicle next door.

Tactfully and gently, she told her that she might need to consider going up to a 44GG to get a better fit and would the lady like the assistant to go and see if she could find her one.

I thought my job was bad, I would not want to have to tell ladies that their boobs were squishing out the sides of their bra because they’ve been deluding themselves as to how large they really are.

Anyway, discovering a couple of nice bras that fit comfortably, I was happy to find they were in the sale at £16 each down from £30. So, with my £15 voucher, it meant I only paid £17 for two nice bras. Result! For any guys reading this blog, you have no idea how expensive it is being a woman.

After that, I wandered into Tesco Express to stock up on fruit and salad for the week, then went home. I had a friend calling around that afternoon for coffee and whilst I was in Marks & Spencer I had picked up a delicious looking coffee and walnut cake. It was an eating day so I thought it would be a nice treat for us.

I had time before she arrived to clean out, lay and light a fire in the lounge and vacuum the ground floor. I’ve been trying to save money by not putting the heating on when I’m alone in the house. Previously, when we didn’t have a lodger, we would save money by lighting a fire in the evening as we were spending it in the lounge so didn’t need to heat the whole house. But my current lodger works a 9-5 job, so I must ensure the house is warm by the time he gets home. After all, he doesn’t pay to freeze to death.

This has meant no saving money by lighting a fire. I’m normally fine not having the heating on during the day and, if I’m busy doing housework, that warms me up. But, if I’m sitting at my laptop writing, editing, or working on social media, I get very cold. The temperature has dropped in the UK since the New Year, and I end up frozen to the bone.

Then it occurred to me that rather than putting the heating on during the day, why didn’t I light the fire? If I was sitting in the lounge for most of the day the fire would be more than enough to keep me warm. I could simply let it die out late in the afternoon as the heating came on to heat the house for the evening.

I must say, it does feel deliciously decadent having a fire alight during the day, and there’s something about working with the crackling of the fire in the background.

Anyway, my friend turned up and was thrilled to find the lounge toasty with a real fire blazing away to beat the chill of the day. I offered the cake, but she was too full of lunch to want any, so I cut one small slice for myself. We chatted, and the hours flew by. We hadn’t seen each other since the beginning of December so there was a lot to catch up on.

After she had left, I looked at the cake. I knew if I left it out I would want it. So, I sliced it all up into small pieces, wrapped them individually, and froze them. On an eating day, I can pull a single piece out to have with my lunch as a treat, without feeling tempted to scoff the lot.

I have noticed since being on the diet that my shopping bill has decreased significantly, so that’s another benefit. I usually shop weekly and spend about £40, but other than £11 spent on dairy, fruit, and salad in Tesco Express, I didn’t need to shop at all this week. I’m thinking if I organise myself, go through the freezer, and write a monthly menu – I can maybe do one big shop at the beginning of the month for all the non-perishable groceries I need which I will collect by car. Weekly, I will only need to walk to my local store to buy fresh things. Saving money and getting a little exercise. It’s those small changes that add up.

It’s the end of the month this weekend and the end of Dry January. Once again, I’ve easily stuck to it, although there have been one or two occasions when I found myself longing for a glass of wine with my dinner. Not desperate, just missing having a glass of wine.

Thursday the boiler man came to service my thirty-year-old boiler and check out the pressure gauge. I’d noticed the needle had crept into the red and was worried it might be an issue. He took the boiler apart, cleaned, adjusted, and did various mysterious things to its inners, before saying it was all fine – just old – I know how you feel, boiler. I’m hoping to replace it this summer. What with the recent 50% increase in energy bills and another increase threatened of yet another 50%, getting the most energy efficient boiler I can seems like a smart plan.

It is very worrying, the way the cost of living has jumped up, yet our wages haven’t. How much more can people take? When it boils down to a choice between eating and keeping warm, what are we supposed to do? If things continue the way they are, then it won’t even be a choice because we won’t be able to afford either.

After lunch on Thursday, and in line with my determination to move about a bit more than I usually do, I went out into the garden, swept up all the fallen leaves, and sawed up my old wooden bench ready to burn on the fire. I felt fine in the evening but when I woke up on Friday my arms were so sore I couldn’t lift them above my head!

Friday afternoon I had my usual fortnightly zoom chat with my local authors’ group, which was as entertaining as ever. It’s so nice to have this group of like-minded writers to chat to – not just about books, but everything that’s happening in our lives – the good, the bad, and the ugly! After the meeting, I made a big pot of chilli beef and a tray of spicy paprika potato wedges. I had a portion for my dinner, which was delicious, and the rest I parcelled up into individual servings and put in the freezer.

And now it’s Saturday. After my three easy days, I do feel wonderfully rested. As if I could take on the world. I don’t know if it’s purely because I’ve had some downtime, or the extra exercise I’ve taken, or my new healthy eating plan, or all three combined, but I feel the best I’ve felt in a very long time.

A shorter blog this week. I need to make my monthly meal planner and write a shopping list of everything non-perishable I will need to see me through the month. I also want to make a few posts ready for social media for those days I’m working.

Hope your week has been as good and I look forward to chatting with you next Sunday.

Julia Blake

Firstly, so sorry there was no blog last week. I signed up to do the five-day Amazon Ad Course and it turned out to be more time consuming than I thought. As to how it’s going, well it’s very intense and there is a lot to try and absorb and understand. Learning new things is not my strongest point, and I’m not very good with technology either, so it’s taken me a while to pluck up the nerve to even attempt the course.

The course is free, although, of course, you must pay for any ads you place that a potential buyer clicks on. How it works is they email you a 45-minute video each of the five days. It’s a good idea to take plenty of notes when you’re watching the video because there is a lot to take in. Then they set you homework which is estimated to take 30-60 minutes a day.

The first two days were relatively straightforward, and I even managed to make my first ever two Amazon ads. They’re for Lost & Found, book one of the Blackwood Family Saga because the consensus was that the first book of a series is a good idea to promote because then it might lead to read-throughs. So far, I haven’t seen any activity on the ads, but it is early days.

So far, so good, I thought. Then Friday came around. I knew I was going to have trouble fitting in the video on Friday because I had a busy morning of essential life stuff and my local authors zoom meeting in the afternoon and, in the end, I didn’t have the time. The videos can be watched any time though, so I wasn’t too worried.

Saturday simply got away from me. I had housework I couldn’t leave any longer. I was running out of clothes, so laundry and ironing was now a priority, and there was the final read-through of book thirteen that has been consuming my time this last week.

So, the upshot is, I didn’t get around to Friday’s video on Saturday and then Sunday I was at work. No problem, I thought, I’ll watch Friday’s video on Monday morning and do the homework, then I’d do Monday’s video in the afternoon – they had given us the weekend off.

All fired up, I watched the video first thing. A lot more involved than the first two, I frantically scribbled notes and tried to keep up. In the end, I sat and stared at the homework assignment and my brain simply froze. We had to research keywords to use in a complex targeted ad for our book.

For those unsure what a keyword is, it is a word that makes you think of something else. For example, if you’re British and I say the word Tardis, you will probably think of Dr Who. Same if I said the word Dalek. Tardis and Dalek are therefore keywords for Dr Who, as are Time Lord, bigger on the inside, Cybermen etc.

Our assignment was to go through the kindle category on Amazon and find 100 keywords for our book. My mind imploded. It’s not that I didn’t understand the task or think I couldn’t do it, I just didn’t want to. It was like my brain took one look and went – nope. So, I did other things for the rest of Monday. I didn’t even watch Monday’s video because I didn’t want to fog my mind with yet more information when it was having issues digesting what it had.

I’m cross with myself for being so feeble but understand how my brain works. Sometimes, things daunt me with their impossibility, and I freeze. Like a computer with too many tabs open at once, I glitch, and the only way to get me going again is to switch everything off and start again.

So, I took the rest of Monday off the course and worked on the editing.

Now it’s Tuesday morning and this thing must be faced, but first I must write my blog. Due to the wonderful randomness of my shift pattern, this week I am working Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, which will give me no time to blog at all – and I don’t want to miss two weeks in a row. So, I will try to write a big chunk of the blog today and finish it tomorrow so I can then relax and not have to worry about it. I also have a book review to write ready for Friday – the day I always try to post a review for an indie book I have read and can honestly award four or five stars to.

Hopefully, later in this blog, I will be able to report that my brain glitch sorted itself out and the homework was done, along with the video for at least Monday.

Now then, what other news is there? Well, I’m sticking to Dry January and nary a drop has passed my lips since New Year’s Eve. Why am I doing it for the second year in a row? Several reasons really. One is it saves me money. Buying even the paltry two bottles of wine a week that I do is still £10 a week which is over £40 a month. Right now, that’s £40 I can’t afford – money that can be spent on ads instead. Two, it gives my body a chance to recover from the alcoholic excesses of Christmas. Three, as I’ve started a diet this month it gives it a bit of a kick start. As we all know, alcohol contains lots of delicious calories. And four, it proves to my mother that I’m not an alcoholic!

I planned to start the diet two weeks ago today (Sunday) and had even bought smart new scales to chart my progress. They were the first scales I’d owned in over ten years so I assumed they would work the same way scales used to – you know, you step on, the scales shriek “no coach parties please”, then a needle goes around a dial of numbers and shows you a weight that makes you want to cry – and that’s it. Easy.

But no, technology has moved on for scales as well because when I unboxed my new scales on Sunday morning it was to find some fancy arse things that were analyser scales. They needed batteries. I put the batteries in and stepped on them. They told me I weighed 74lbs. Now, being British and old-school, that meant nothing to me, so I Googled it. 74lbs is approximately 5 stone. I don’t think so. I looked at the scales in disbelief.

Mate, I told them, I hate to break it to you, but I haven’t weighed five stone since I was five years old!

The scales sat there. I tried again. Same result. With a sigh, I retrieved the instructions from the bin and read the bit in English. If you would like your weight in stones and ounces instead of pounds, it said, press the converter button on the bottom of the scales. I flipped the scales over. No button. I put my glasses on and minutely examined every inch of the blasted things. No button. There were three buttons on the side of the scales, none of which were labelled.

I returned to the instructions, surely there would be a handy little diagram with arrows pointing to various bits of the scales telling you what each thing was. There was no diagram. You had to guess what the buttons did. I read all the instructions that were in English. They were in teeny-tiny print that even with my glasses on I struggled to make out.

I had to set the scales up first, it said. Tell them my sex, age, and height. Okay, fair enough. How do I do that? The instructions were supremely unhelpful and assumed you already knew that, I mean, duh, what kind of dummy was I that didn’t know how to do that? I mean, come on!

I fiddled and farted about with the scales for twenty minutes, my impatience growing, and my frustration reaching boiling.

Oh, for f**ks sake, I just want to weigh myself! Why is it so bloody complicated!

Anyway, to cut a long story short, I managed to set them up. Unfortunately, my expensive new scales are now convinced I am a 30-year-old man who weighs five stone and therefore needs urgent medical attention.

I boxed the damn things up and slung them in a cupboard, then went onto Amazon and ordered myself a cheap set of basic scales that do not require batteries or setting up, or a degree in IT to use. They couldn’t come until Wednesday because I was at work Monday and Tuesday, but they were delivered Wednesday afternoon. I took them out of the box, set them to zero and left them in the bathroom.

Thursday morning, I stepped on them with some trepidation. It’s been a very long time since I last weighed myself, at least ten years, and I was fully aware that weight had crept on quite considerably over the last five years. So, I got on and looked down. The numbers swam in a faraway blur. I got off, put my glasses on and tried again. And no, I’m not going to tell you what the numbers were. Let’s just say at only five feet tall I have some work to do.

But I’ve been on the diet for two weeks now and I’m sticking to it. I had forgotten how easy this diet is and it’s surprised me how readily I’ve slipped back into the dieting every other day habit. I thought dieting on the days I’m at work would prove difficult, but it’s easier than when I’m at home. The yoghurt and fruit I have for breakfast see me through quite nicely until lunch, then I eat the large salad I’ve packed for myself, and it is nice knowing when I’m coming home after a long shift that all I must do for dinner is heat up a tin of soup. I will let you know next week if the diet is working.

In writing news, work on book thirteen is going well. I am in the final stages of the editing process when I read the whole book right the way through, out loud. Yep, I basically read my book to myself. It may sound silly, but it’s an invaluable editing tool. By reading out loud I can hear which bits work and which bits don’t. If dialogue flows or gets stuck. If I’ve put an “as” instead of an “at” then reading it out loud will find it. I tend to love my long sentences, believing things like commas and full stops are for the weak. Wheezing to a stop because I’ve run out of breath reading aloud that mile-long sentence, will make me look at it and apply punctuation.

I’m over halfway through, and then the book will go to its final beta reader. A rather wonderful fellow indie author, she is eagle-eyed and tends to spot any bits that have managed to elude rigorous editing, two other beta readers, and a read through.

And then the book will be ready for publication. Well, the paperback contents will be. There is still the cover to be made. The paperback version will need to be converted into an eBook – and that will have to be checked, checked, and checked again that the formatting is correct. There is a short promotional video to think about and liaise with the wonderful James at Platform House Publishing about. And there is the dreaded blurb to write.

A novel of 180,500 words – no problem. Try to condense into 150 words the salient points of that novel and make it entice but give no spoilers – nightmare. I don’t know one author who enjoys writing the blurb.

Once the eBook version is ready that can be uploaded to KDP in draft form with the cover and it will be available for people to pre-order at a slightly reduced price. I do this not only because it’s a way to ensure a few sales on launch day, but it means I will have the Amazon link for the book’s listing to go onto Goodreads and my website before publication, which makes life so much easier.

I wonder it took me several books to realise this, but then in this business, you are constantly learning and evolving as a writer.

Finally, before I go and tackle the homework, I thought I’d share with you this wonderful picture Miss F sent me of her in one of her university classes handling a snake – apparently, it’s called Candy and is very cuddly. Hmm, not sure about that, but it was lovely to see how happy my daughter looks with her eyes beaming over the top of her mask.

Sorry, it’s a shorter blog this week, but as you can appreciate I have lots to do. Take care, and I will fill you in next time on how the course, and the diet, have gone.

UPDATE** I threw myself upon the mercies of a fellow local author who has done to Amazon Ad Challenge before, to see if how I thought the homework should be done was correct. She confirmed I was heading in the right direction and helped me brainstorm my keywords until I had enough. On Wednesday, I set up another two ads – one for Black Ice and another for Lost & Found – and watched the video for Monday.

It was truly terrifying, all about data scraping and downloading various apps and plug-ins and none of it really made any sense at all. Feeling very overwhelmed and a big bit stupid, I have had to remind myself that getting as far as I did is a huge achievement for me. That I fully expected not to understand everything the first time around, and that this is okay. I can do the course again in March and again In June if I want. It’s free and easy to sign up to.

In the meantime, I have a basic understanding of how ads work now, I even have five ads up and running which, I can monitor for performance and try to analyse why they work or don’t, and learn from for next time. Because there will be a next time.

It’s all good. I will watch the last two videos on Sunday and make notes, then over the next couple of months, I can try to pick my way through the phraseology and learn what it all means. Next time the course comes around I will be better prepared for it.

Julia Blake

Thursday night I had the strangest dream. Now usually I don’t dream, or, if I do, I don’t remember them. But this dream was so vivid I can still recall every detail. It went like this. I was on stage and appearing in a play. It seemed to be set in a restaurant and I was sitting at a small table by myself towards the back of the stage. All around me were small tables with groups of two or four people, all miming eating dinner. I was the only one sitting alone and had nothing on my table but a menu.

A gauze drape was down between us and the audience and at the front of the stage before this drape was a table with a couple who were acting out a scene – I assume they were the main characters. I couldn’t make out what they were saying as their voices were muffled and I couldn’t see the audience, but I was aware they were there. Now and then, the couple would fall silent and someone at one of the tables around me would loudly say something that seemed to fit into the couple’s dialogue in a funny way because it would cause a ripple of laughter in the audience.

I remember that I had no idea why I was there or what I was supposed to do. I looked around at the people on the other tables, but they all ignored me, and no one would catch my eye. Suddenly, the couple fell silent again but nobody else spoke. The silence stretched on and on and I became horribly aware that it was my turn to say something, but I had no idea what. Desperately I searched the menu for a clue, but it was blank. I tried to ask the others for help, but they all ignored me.

The audience began to boo and frantically I tried to think of something appropriate to say but my mind was empty. The others on the stage stood up and began shouting at me that I’d ruined everything, that it was all my fault, that it was always my fault. I think I began to cry and tried to explain that I didn’t know what my line was, that I’d never seen a script, but they shouted that it was no excuse, and all crowded angrily towards me. Then I woke up.

What the heck was that all about? If any of you know anything about dreams, I would appreciate an explanation because it has me stumped.

Anyway, what has been happening to me since Christmas Day? The day itself was nice, my parents came over for dinner, we played games afterwards and that was it. I was so exhausted from all the preparation that I was in bed and asleep by 9:30 – on Christmas Day, living the high life I am – but then I woke up at 2am and stayed awake until 4:30am, drifted back to sleep and then woke at 6am ready to get up and go to work. I’d left quite a bit of clearing up so did that, put on my uniform and was at work by 10:30am.

It was not as busy as I think the company hoped it would be and was far from being the busiest day of the year for us. Perhaps the past two years have taught people that being with their family the day after Christmas is more important than shopping, and with several big-name stores now remaining closed on Boxing Day maybe we are seeing a move away from avarice, greed, and consumerism. It would be nice to think so.

I worked five straight days after Christmas which left me drained and utterly exhausted. I did have New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day off, but both Miss F and I were too tired to do anything other than eat a nice meal, watch Dune and the new Disney film, then see the New Year in with some Prosecco.

Monday I worked again and that was very busy, being a bank holiday and the last day before most people went back to work. Tuesday we were up and taking lateral flow tests at 5am then packing up the car and getting ready to go. We hit the petrol station to top up with petrol, briefly stopped at my parent’s house to collect the bag of Miss F’s food from their freezer and were on the motorway by 6:30am.

The three driving conditions I am not keen on are motorway driving, driving in the dark, and driving in the rain, well, on Tuesday I had all three. It was pitch black and hammering down with heavy torrential rain. The motorway was busy and in parts was down to one lane only due to roadworks. Big lorries threw muddy puddles over my car and by the time we reached our destination it looked like I’d been rally driving my poor little car was so muddy.

Still, we made very good timing and reached the town nearest her university by 9:30am where we stopped off at the local Sainsburys to refill with petrol, go shopping for Miss F, and pick up lunch. Expecting someone to stop us as we drove onto campus to check our flow tests results, we were surprised to find it practically deserted and parked in an empty car park outside her townhouse.

Deciding to get as much put away as possible before we ate, Miss F unpacked all her food and kitchen bits and pieces, whilst I lugged all her luggage up three flights of stairs – I get all the fun jobs. You may remember I bought her a new mattress for Christmas and took it up with me when I collected her before Christmas. We had opened it before coming home so it had sat for two weeks growing to its final size and shape. It was higher than I thought it would be and we realised our original plan to leave the university supplied mattress underneath wasn’t practical, so we lugged the old mattress out onto the wide landing and propped it up against the wall, then made up the bed.

Then we ate, said our goodbyes, and I was on the road by 12:30. It was a much nicer journey back, the sun was shining, and the rain had stopped, and I even thought I might be able to wash my car when I got back. But, but the time I got home even though it was only 3pm, the skies had darkened again, it had begun to rain and, to be honest, I was exhausted.

I unpacked the car of the things I’d brought back that Miss F had decided she wasn’t using so could send them home, put on a load of laundry, took the clothes I’d bought her for Christmas which she didn’t like back to the shop for a refund, and made dinner, I was so exhausted all I wanted was an hour of mindless TV and an early night.

Back to work Wednesday and Thursday for two very quiet but long days at work, and now it’s Friday – my one day off before I’m back to work tomorrow for another long day. Am I relaxing today? Not bloody likely.

There is laundry – of course, there is – laundry is the one thing that is always there for you. I must collect shopping because I have no proper food in the house and I’m tired of eating cheese and biscuits, dried fruits, and Christmas cake! There is a book review and my blog to write.

And then there are the Christmas decorations. They need to all be taken down and I am not looking forward to it. The decorations on the mantlepieces and sides aren’t so bad. Sure, they’ll drop a bit of tinsel and sparkly stuff will glitter on the carpet for a few weeks until I manage to get it all, but they are easy to take down and put away. It’s the tree that causes the biggest problems. I always have a real tree, I know, making a rod for my own back, and because I bought a cheap, not so freshly cut one this year, it is already dropping needles like no one’s business. Every time the door is shut, or I cough in its general vicinity there is the gentle sound of needles falling. Not to mention the steady thud of ornaments slipping off drooping branches and landing on the carpet. I dread to think how many needles it will shed when I start undecorating it. Then I must cut all the branches off and store them in my kindling box to use next year and the trunk must be heaved out into the garden to store for next winter ready to be chopped up into little logs for the fire.

I know the vacuum cleaner will clog if I try and use it on the mammoth pile of needles, so that will be me on my hands and knees like a Victorian scullery maid sweeping them up with a brush and dustpan. As I said, I get all the fun jobs.

I have a massive pile of ironing I need to do this evening, plus dinner, and I’d like to paint my nails because one of my New Year resolutions is to try and take better care of myself. To that end, I have bought a pair of scales – and I don’t mean the ones you use to weigh out ingredients for a cake, I mean the ones you use to assess how much damage you’ve done to your body after eating said cake.

Because I am going on a diet.

Yes, I know you gulped then, but it’s true and so long overdue. It’s been at least ten years since I last weighed myself, I’ve always gone by whether my clothes fitted or not, but over the years the size jeans I can wiggle into has increased and now I’ve reached the point where I know something must be done. Either I accept that my fate is to be a barrage balloon, or I seriously change my eating habits.

Ten years ago, I went on a simply amazing diet called the “Every Other Day” diet. Now, I can’t diet, it is physically impossible for me to diet owing to my complete lack of willpower and the fact I am always hungry. And believe me, I have tried them all – the Cabbage Soup diet which you lose a lot of weight on but the minute you start normally eating again it all piles back on – Weightwatchers which did work but it’s expensive and a time commitment and once you can no longer afford to buy all the special Weightwatcher meals the weight creeps back on – the juice diet (seriously? Who comes up with these?) – the Atkins diet (bad breath and constipation) – and so many others I have forgotten the name of. None of them worked, at least none of them worked long term or were sustainable.

Then I hit upon the EOD diet, and the simpleness of it appealed right away. You diet for one day, every other day, and that’s it. Yes, it really is that simple. One day you eat normally, the next you brutally restrict your calorie intake by only eating fresh fruit, salad, veggies, and plain yoghurt, with a big bowl of soup for dinner. Then the next day you eat normally, then the next you diet, and so on and so on.

This diet was perfect for me because it didn’t feel like I was dieting, I was just having one day of not eating much and the weird thing was on those days I didn’t even feel hungry. If I did have a craving for something naughty on my diet day, I knew I only had to wait until tomorrow and I could have it, although usually, the craving had gone by then. Great for people with no willpower who are no good at denying themselves food. There is no weighing of food, no calculating of calories, no expensive diet foods or shakes – you save money because let’s face it, soup is cheap – and it is very healthy for you because it gives your digestive system every other day to detox and unclog itself which is a good thing.

What I loved about this diet though was its flexibility. Say for example Thursday is an eating day and I had planned to diet on Friday, but Thursday evening I receive an invite to a friend’s birthday dinner Friday evening. No problem, simply make Friday another eating day then pick up the diet day on Saturday.

Once you reach the weight or size you want, go from dieting every other day to maybe two days a week knowing that should the weight start to creep back on simply switch to every other day again. And that’s it. Seriously easy. Honestly, if you can’t manage this diet then there really is no hope for you.

The diet starts Sunday. Then I will weigh myself for the first time in a decade, probably cry hysterically, then pull myself together and prepare myself a big breakfast of Greek yoghurt, fresh fruit, a drop of honey, and an unsweetened cup of tea to start my day right.

It was easy before and the weight fell from me, but I’m older now, pre-menopausal, and don’t walk as much as I used to. I am aware all these factors will make dieting harder and slower, but that’s okay. I have time and so long as I’m heading in the right direction it doesn’t matter how small my steps are. I have a new diary and am planning to weigh myself once a week on a Sunday and note down my weight. I am experienced enough with diets to know it could take a week or two to start to see results because it takes a while for your body to catch up with what you are doing, so weekly is the best way to track your progress. How many times have you dieted for a day, not lost weight overnight, so given up? It’s important to be gentle with yourself and not expect a quick fix solution because this diet is more a lifestyle change than a fad diet which is unsustainable.

It may not work this time around, but unlike many faddy diets, it can’t do me any harm and won’t cost me anything. I know when I did it ten years ago I felt the healthiest I ever have, so even if it only does that for me at least that’s something.

I will keep you posted and if any of you are embarking on a diet and need some encouragement or even a stern talking to when you’re standing in front of the fridge, message me.

And now I must go, my shopping must be collected before midday and it’s now 11:15am. Can’t miss my slot, I need the food – especially the soup.

I hope the first week of 2022 has been kind to you and look forward to chatting with you next week.

Lots of love

Julia Blake

Afraid it will probably be a shortish blog this week. Not because I have nothing to tell you about, but simply because I’ve got a full-on day ahead of me so don’t physically have the time to write much. As I told you last week, I’ve had a week off work but sadly that didn’t mean seven days of lazing about, watching Christmas films and eating mince pies.

Last Sunday was my final day at work before my holiday and, as expected, it was reasonably quiet. The only things I sold were several ready to take away mattresses and bedding. We can’t deliver anything now this side of Christmas and people are waiting for the sales so instant mattresses for guests and new bedding was all customers wanted.

Monday was a busy day comprising of finishing my Christmas present shopping, delivering cards, and waiting for the auto glass man to come and replace the shattered rear windscreen in my car. I must admit, I was very impressed with the service. He came exactly when he said he would and the whole operation took under thirty minutes. He even vacuumed up all the broken glass in the car that he could find, although every time I open and close the boot now I still hear the tinkle tinkle of glass falling inside the car. He showed me a tiny chip on one side of the windscreen and how the fracture marks in the glass all radiated out from that point. It was a small stone thrown up and hitting the glass at just the right angle and speed which caused total devastation. He also said that because my car is so old and the glass was the original, that it was probably quite brittle and ready to go at any moment.

Tuesday I did have a nice relaxing day. First thing in the morning, I assembled everything I was going to need to take with me on Wednesday – the day I was driving oop North to collect Miss F – then at 11:30 I collected my friend ready for our lunch. Back at mine, we had some time to spare as our table wasn’t booked until 12:30 and we fancied a drink, but I didn’t want to open a whole bottle of prosecco. Luckily, in the advent calendar, Miss F had given me there was a mini bottle of prosecco that I was supposed to wait and drink on Christmas Day. Weeelll, there will be plenty of drink around on Christmas Day, so I mutilated the box Monday evening, got the bottle out and put it in the fridge ready. It was perfect, yielding just enough bubbly for a glass each.

Lunch was also lovely. We claimed our free bottle of prosecco when we arrived so that was our drinks paid for, then we both had the handmade burgers with fries and trimmings which was delicious. Afterwards, we ambled back to mine for coffee and a chat, before my friend headed off for home before it got dark. After she left, I sat down at the laptop and completed my online Tesco shopping order ready to collect in the morning, finished packing, then tried to have a restful evening and an early night.

Wednesday morning was organised chaos as I got ready for my long trip and overnight stay, dashed to Tesco to pick up my shopping order and fill up the car with petrol. Not so long ago, it cost me £45 to fill an empty tank. Now it costs £35 to fill half a tank! Back home, I just about managed to squeeze all my freezer stuff into our tiny freezer, then it was a final check that I had everything, and I was off, detouring via my parents’ house to load the new mattress for Miss F into the back of the car and then I was off.

It was an uneventful trip and I made good timing. The only hairy moments were when twice big lorries attempted to change into the lane I was in and almost crushed me against the concrete safety barrier. I’m so small they don’t see me – or don’t bother to look – and I had to lean on my horn hard to alert them to the fact a little green Nissan was sandwiched in beside them and if they continued to lane change they would squash me like a bug.

Other than that, it was a good trip with clear roads so I could pick up speed and I made it in three hours. I went to the university first and unloaded the mattress and the suitcase and various bags and boxes I’d taken up for Miss F to pack all her belongings in, then I set off to find my hotel.

Google route finder had said it was a seven-minute journey and that it was easy to find. Google route finder lied. In the gathering gloom of an early dusk, on roads I was unfamiliar with and navigating my way over dozens of roundabouts, with a stream of cars up my backside so couldn’t slow down and peer at every turning, I couldn’t find the blasted place. On and on I drove, beginning to panic somewhat. Before I knew it, I was back at the M6 and knew if I got onto the motorway then I’d be halfway home again before I could get off and come back. Now seriously concerned I went all the way around the roundabout and started back the way I’d come.

This time I found it, but with no thanks to Google route finder as the road number they claimed I needed didn’t appear to exist and the only reason I found it was because I knew the restaurant next to the hotel that we had a table booked at that evening was called Peacocks, so when a sign announced I was approaching the Peacocks roundabout I put two and two together, prayed it added up to four and turned left at the roundabout and there was my hotel!

A 7-minute journey had taken 47 minutes and caused me to stress mightily and turn the air in the car blue with my swearing. Still, at least I was there with plenty of time to spare. I checked in and went to my room. It was my first time in a Premier Inn and when the check-in clerk gave me my room card he failed to mention that I would need to insert it into a slot beside the door in the room to make the lights work. Because it would have been handy if he had. Several long, puzzling, frustrating minutes later I finally figured it out through a process of elimination and then I could relax on the bed for an hour or so before having to get ready for dinner and drive back to the university to pick up Miss F and go to dinner. A taxi was planned for the return journey to the university so at least I was able to relax and have a drink, safe in the knowledge I didn’t have to get back into that wretched car until the next day. As you can imagine, I was heartily sick of driving.

The restaurant was all decorated for Christmas with a tree and twinkling lights and was beautiful. The meal was nice, and it was a relief to be able to take a deep breath and relax. Not wanting too late a night, I was in bed by 10:30 where I read for a bit then attempted to go to sleep. Now, regular readers will know I haven’t had a lot of luck with hotels but the bed in the Premier Inn was amazing. However, there was a generator or an air conditioning unit or something of that sort running somewhere so all I could hear was a low, monotonous droning noise that went on all night. Used to a quiet room, I couldn’t blank it out, so despite the super comfy bed I tossed and turned and had a restless night of fitful, unsatisfying sleep which left me heavy-eyed and with a headache early next morning.

Thursday, we packed up everything Miss F was bringing home with her – which seemed an awful lot for two weeks and included her PlayStation AND a Wi. Not sure when she’s going to have time to play with either, but oh well. There had been a bit of a panic because a message had gone out from Student Support that all fridges and freezers would be turned off over the Christmas break. The fact fridges were going off wasn’t news and the students had eaten down their fridges, thrown away food that wouldn’t last or couldn’t be taken home, and were generally prepared for that. The news that the freezers were going off as well had caused widespread panic though.

When I arrived back at the university it was to find frozen food being thrown away by students who simply couldn’t take it home for the holidays – either due to lack of space in their parents’ freezer or being unable to carry it home, or even because they were going abroad. I knew we had no room in our freezer at home, but we packed it all into the cool bag I’d brought to put Miss F’s fridge stuff in and hoped there’d be room in my parents’ big chest freezer. No way was I letting Miss F throw away a freezer drawer full of food!

Anyway, we had a big brunch and then we were on the road by midday-ish. Not such a quick trip this time as there’d been a big accident on the M6 which we got caught in the tailback off and the three lanes had been reduced to one, so it meant slow-moving traffic and queues for thirty minutes or so, but eventually we were through and heading for home.

We reached my parents’ house at four, and yes, there was plenty of room in their chest freezer, so we took Miss F’s fridge stuff out and dumped the whole bag of freezer food in there ready to take back to university on the 4^th of January.

Finally getting home, we still had to unpack the car and sort out dinner. By now I was beyond exhausted and too tired to cook but didn’t fancy a takeaway. Instead, I walked to Waitrose and bought some pate, crusty bread, anchovies, and a selection of Italian meats, and made an antipasto board for us to nibble on which was delicious.

Friday and Miss F slept in till gone eleven, but I didn’t sleep at all – think I was still too churned up from the journey. When she emerged we just had time to go and select our tree before I had my author zoom chat in the afternoon. We’ve gone for a much smaller tree this year, neither of us is feeling the Christmas vibe yet and it all seemed too much effort to have to move my desk up to my bedroom and struggle with a massive seven-foot tree as usual. So, this year we went for a small four-footer instead and it’s standing on a side table, so it still looks quite impressive. The star is on the top and the lights are on, but that was as far as we got.

Saturday, the penultimate day of my holiday and there was a lot to do. We had to pay a visit to one set of grandparents to drop off cards and presents for the extended family. I had one last present to buy, and I wanted to finish wrapping. We have a tree to decorate and my last grocery shopping order before Christmas to place. I managed to get the last collection slot before the New Year for tomorrow between 1-2pm so will need to take my time this afternoon making sure everything I want is on that order. Last-minute fresh items I will buy on foot from Waitrose – it’s handy living in the middle of town.

And that has been my week, super busy and stressful as usual. Tomorrow apart from collecting shopping I’m hoping to have some downtime. What I’d like is to veg out with Miss F, eating, drinking, and watching corny Christmas movies. Maybe that would put us in the festive spirit.

Next week the store is open on Monday, but I am only working from 10:30am to 3:30pm. Tuesday I’m working the same hours, but the shop is closed. All five members of staff will be in though as we must prepare the shop ready for Boxing Day and the sales. Then I am off for four days, which I am so looking forward to. I think I need a break before the madness of working overtime and the hell of sales shoppers.

I will post a blog next week but I’m not sure yet how long it will be, so I would like to take the opportunity to wish everyone who reads this blog – all eight of you – a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Lots of love

Julia Blake

I’m having to write my blog early this week because I’m working all weekend. It’s a busy week, so I’m going to try and write it like a diary and chat to you daily about what is happening in the usual craziness that the run-up to Christmas always descends into.

Sunday: As readers of last week’s blog will know, I had my Covid booster jab last Saturday afternoon. As I hadn’t had any side effects from my second jab – other than a weird taste in my mouth – I was hopeful the booster would not cause any issues either. By the time I went to bed Saturday evening, it all seemed fine. Apart from a sore arm which I thought a good night’s sleep would cure, I felt okay. Sunday morning, however, was a very different story.

I awoke to a world of pain. A dry hacking cough, a splitting headache, aching limbs, nausea, an arm that felt like painful lead, plus I couldn’t get warm. Yep. I had Covid again. Struggling to get ready for work, I thought about phoning in sick but simply didn’t dare. I had three weeks off in November and my pay packet at the end of the month reflected this – I couldn’t afford to lose any more pay. Plus, I knew my boss was off so if I called in sick there would only be two members of staff on which isn’t ideal at the weekend.

I dragged my sorry carcass into the shop, where my colleagues were thrilled to see me and hear the wonderful cough I brought with me. We were dead. The nature of our business means that no one is rushing in to buy before Christmas – what with us being unable to deliver many things before Christmas and people deciding to wait until the after Christmas sales – unlike many retail outlets before Christmas is the quietest time of year for us.

The day crept by, I felt more and more ill. The cough grew worse, and I couldn’t stop shaking with cold. Eventually, at about two, a colleague texted my boss that he was concerned about how unwell I was and that if I didn’t go home now he was unsure I’d be fit to drive by the time it was the end of my shift at 4:30. Back came the bosses reply – tell her to go home now.

I went home, secretly very relieved the decision had been made for me. Reaching home, I got into my warm PJ’s, lit the fire, made a cup of tea, and broke into the mini-Christmas cake I’d bought. Lying in a semi-coma on the sofa, I switched on Netflix and let it choose something for me. It came up with possibly the worst Christmas movie I have ever seen. Called A Castle for Christmas, it was so truly dreadful I couldn’t stop watching it.

Starring Brooke Shields and Cary Elwes (who really should have known better), the plot was a predictable one of a burnt-out bestselling American romance novelist escaping to Scotland to explore her family’s roots and falling in love with a castle and its gruff and broke Duke – yes, you’ve guessed it, Cary Elwes attempting a dire Scottish accent. Now, I remember Brooke from the film the Blue Lagoon, that beautiful child star with impressive eyebrows. Well, now those eyebrows are scary, and Brooke was plastered with so much make-up she looked like a drag queen. As for Elwes, let’s just say Mr Time has not been too kind to him either.

The film was the worst possible pastiche of everything America believes to be true about Scotland and contained some of the hammiest acting ever. Too ill to move or change channels, I was sucked into the vortex of its cheesiness and felt my brains leaking out of my ears. What is it about Christmas that brings out the worst in American film producers?

Monday: Woke up feeling worse, my arm was like concrete and worrying painful lumps had developed in my armpit. I assumed they were something to do with my lymph nodes but honestly wasn’t too sure what they were. I rested all day, doing only a little light editing and social media work. In the late afternoon, I decided I needed to at least get all my Christmas cards written – I tend to receive quite a few so must reciprocate, plus I wasn’t sure when the last posting dates were abroad so needed to get those cards written and addressed if nothing else. Attempting to get myself in the mood, I put on another Christmas film – The Christmas Chronicles with Kurt Russell – and started writing.

The film finished, I was still writing cards, so I let Netflix choose another film. Bizarrely it went from a family-friendly feel-good film to a potty-mouthed, 18+, Jennifer Aniston film called The Christmas Party, which was entertaining enough to provide company, but not so engrossing that I’d lose the plot attempting to write cards. So, I guess, well played Netflix. By the time I went to bed, nearly all my cards were written, addressed, and sorted into piles.

Tuesday: I felt much better about things. True, my arm still hurt but all the other symptoms seemed to have gone away. Eating breakfast, I wondered what to do with the day and got my calendar completely up to date with all my work shifts, appointments, and other shenanigans happening over the festive season. To my horror, I realised that today was the only day I had clear to put up Christmas decorations before Miss F came home from university. There was nothing for it, I was going to have to sparkle and twinkle up!

I used to love decorating the house, now it feels like a chore. Is that a sign of getting older, I wonder? When things that weren’t hard work at all become energy-sapping, time sucks. The lodger had gone to work, so at least he was out of the way, so I pulled out all the decorations from their various hiding places, turned on the radio in the lounge and the dining room and got to work.

With a few slight variations each year I tend to put the decorations in the same place so at least I knew what I was doing, and I was surprised how quickly I got things up. By three I was vacuuming up all the sparkly bits from the carpets. Slipping across the road to Wilkes, I realised that it was pouring down with cold miserable rain, and judging by how much water there was everywhere, had been doing so all day.

I only needed a few bits from Wilkes – some special cards, batteries, crackers, some toiletries – so it was a shock when it came to £40. And that right there is the problem with Christmas. The expense sort of creeps up on you. It’s only a few bits, you think, and individually those few bits don’t cost much. But add them all together, and bam, £40 gone. Looking at the pile of cards to post it’s probably going to cost me another £40 in stamps – especially for America! I needed to buy a 2022 calendar before they all disappeared and was thrilled to find a gin one with a different gin cocktail recipe each month. It’s the little things that make you happy and keep you sane.

Dashing about Wilkes – trying to avoid the idiots not wearing masks – the store radio was claiming that it was The Most Wonderful Time of the Year – is it? Is it really? Looking around at all the wet, exhausted, miserable-looking people I would seriously question that claim.

Quiet evening, simple dinner in front of the TV, then I finished writing my cards with four cards to spare. Only hope I haven’t forgotten anyone – well, it’s okay so long as it’s only four people, any more than that and I’m stuffed. Then I had an early night because I knew Wednesday would be uber busy.

Wednesday: Up early and beat the lodger to the shower. Ha-ha, too slow sucker, you snooze you lose. Then put on a load of laundry and posted on social media. I’m waiting for one last present to be delivered from Amazon this morning, but they’ve promised it will be here before ten so that’s all right. Going to have a decent brunch because I won’t have time to stop and eat at lunchtime.

It’s 10:30, still no sign of Amazon. Typical. Now about to have brunch and I need to go out at 12:30 so hope they deliver before then.

Trying to keep the momentum up, I put away the laundry as soon as it came out of the drier, wrote a book review, made some social media posts ready for the busy days ahead, then had an email from Amazon rescinding the promised 10pm delivery and changing it to 3:30pm onwards. Great, thanks for that Amazon, still at least there’s a chance I will be home by 3:30 so I suppose it’s better than it could have been.

At 12:30 I jumped in the car and drove to work to pay for and collect the mattress I’m buying Miss F for Christmas to go on top of the wooden board the university have provided for her to sleep on. They loaded it into my car, and I zoomed off to Tesco to collect my shopping order and go to the bottle bank to destroy the evidence … ahem, help the planet by recycling all my jars and bottles … There were quite a few bits and pieces for Christmas in this week’s shop, including another Christmas cake because I ate all the last one already. #sorrynotsorry The assistant brought the crates out to my car, and I must confess, it didn’t look very much. It seems £80 buys you very little grocery wise nowadays.

I’m loading it into my car and suddenly think – hang on, where’s my fricking gin? As my Christmas treat I’d ordered myself a bottle of pink cherry gin and some tonic water. The tonic water was there, but no sign of the gin. I beckoned the assistant back, showed him the gin on my shopping list which means I will be charged for it, then gestured to my gin-less shopping.

Oh, he said, would you like me to go and see if I can get some from the shop for you?

Umm, let me think about that … yes, please!

So off he lopes whilst I finish loading my shopping then sit in the car to wait for him, thinking how I didn’t have time for this, but sympathising because I know it’s not his fault. As usual, it’s because someone else hasn’t done their job properly, also how shit it is to work in retail. Anyway, five minutes later back he comes with my gin and I’m away.

I roar home, grab the shopping from the boot and quickly put it away, grab the cards I need to take to my parents and the big pile that need to be posted, jump back in the car and head out of town with the mattress bumping about in the back. And before anyone asks, it was a rolled-up one which had been vacuum packed to within an inch of its life and I’d put down one of the back seats, so it just fitted in.

On route to my parents’ village, I made a very brief stop at the discount supermarket Audi, ran in, found the freezers, and bagged myself one of their turkey crowns. Already prepared with stuffing and bacon and in a cooking container, it serves eight and cost £18. Bargain! No point in spending £30+ on a whole turkey just for four or five of us when this will do nicely and has already been prepped for me. It also saves buying stuffing – although I may buy some extra anyway because we’re all pigs over stuffing.

Back in the car, I jump on the motorway and zoom to my parents’ village and enter from the other end so I can hit their local post office. After the hour-long wait, I experienced in the post office in town the last time I had to post something it made sense to use the rather wonderful little village post office whilst I was out there anyway.

It was empty apart from one lady sending a couple of things to the States and another very frail old dear who tottered in with a walking frame after me. Eyeing the single small parcel, she was clutching I asked if she’d like to go before me because I had quite a lot to do and I was very afraid she might fall over if had to stand for too long. Shakily she wobbled past me – seriously unsteady on her pins – and upon being told it was going to be over £6 to send her parcel to the States she nearly expired on the spot. It’s more expensive than what’s inside, she complained. Yep, no surprise there, grandma, postage prices have skyrocketed as well.

Then it was my turn – I was sending off cards – one to Germany, one to Australia, two to Canada, five to America, one first-class to the UK, and eleven second class UK – £21. Not as bad as I was expecting, to be honest.

Done in the post office in super quick time – in your face, town centre post office – I then went to my parents where Dad helped me heave the mattress out of the car. He was surprised how heavy it was despite it only being a four-foot mattress, but it is a proper mattress with springs and everything and will certainly be a lot more comfortable than what she’s currently sleeping on. The plan is for it to sit at my parent’s house until the morning of the fifteenth when I will swing around on my way up north to collect Miss F and Dad will help me load it back into the car. I only hope I don’t forget and merrily bomb off up the motorway and only remember when I hit Birmingham!

There was just time for a very quick coffee with my folks before it was back in the car and head back to town to miss the school run traffic and be home before the 3:30 deadline. I knew Amazon probably wouldn’t turn up bang on 3:30 if I was there. But also knew if I wasn’t there they definitely would. Reaching home at 3:20, I put the car seats back to rights, dragged the bin out ready for the morning – heavy rain is forecast again and there’s nothing worse than fighting a dirty great bin in the rain when you’re dressed ready for work.

I’d written cards for many of my neighbours so ran around and popped those through letterboxes, then swept up all the dead leaves from my front steps before the rain started and they all got wet and soggy again.

Still trying to keep the momentum going – I know if I stop and sit down then it’s hard to get going again – I stood and did a whole basketful of ironing and put it away. And now I’m sitting here writing this and Amazon have finally delivered the parcel – it’s 5:45 – so at least I can wrap that last present and think about dinner. It’s been a good day; everything has gone like clockwork. I’m suspicious, nothing usually goes that smoothly, so what’s going to go wrong? Am I an old cynic? Probably.

Thursday: It was a workday, so there’s not much to say about it other than it was a very quiet day – well, apart from the bloody lodger making as much noise as he possibly could trying to get out of the house at 5:45 this morning! He must have forgotten something because he left the house slamming the front door behind him, then a second later was letting himself back in, stomping down the hallway and slamming a few more doors just in case the first round hadn’t woken me up!

 Unlike many retailers, before Christmas is not our busy period. After all, we have very few things we can still deliver this side of Christmas and people are waiting until the Boxing Day and January sales to buy. I did manage to pop to Dunelm next door in my lunch break and pick up another Christmas present though. Getting home, I was tired, hungry, and cold so treated myself to fish and chips for dinner, which were lovely and exactly what I needed.

Friday: I was woken early again this morning by the lodger trying to get out of the house at silly o’clock. Seriously, dude, it’s not that complicated! Close the doors quietly, don’t slam them. Don’t stomp down the hallway in your big boots. Don’t make so much noise unlocking the front door. Don’t slam it. Don’t decide to have a major coughing fit on the front doorstep because that’s right under my bedroom window. And finally, please please please, do not shut the cat in the hallway so she slinks upstairs and jumps on my head!

After lying there muttering obscenities about him for ten minutes, I decided I might as well get up and get ready. I’m off to my dear friend and fellow author Becky Wright for lunch today. It was so wonderful to see her for real again after so long of relying on messages and the odd video chat. We had coffee and cake, then a lovely lunch, and we sat in her conservatory and chatted away for hours about all things bookish.

Becky lives in a very quiet little village, and I had parked my car on the private, no through lane at the back of her house. The only vehicle we saw at all the whole time I was there was a large Amazon delivery van that dropped off a parcel at her neighbours. So, you can imagine my shock and horror when I went to leave at 3pm and discovered my back windscreen was shattered with a huge hole in one side of it and glass everywhere!

I couldn’t believe it! The only explanation is that the Amazon van must have thrown up a stone when he roared off down the lane which struck my windscreen and shattered it. I phoned my insurance company who registered the claim and told me the auto glass repair people would be in touch about replacing the windscreen. That was all well and good, but it didn’t solve the problem of how I was going to get home.

Very gingerly, Becky and I taped copious amounts of bin bags over the whole back end of the car to try and stabilise it a little and ensure that when the glass fell – which, first bump in the road, it was going to – it wouldn’t fall out onto the road behind. Then I got in the car, tried to shut the door gently, cringed at the sound of falling glass behind me, then carefully set off for home.

I will never forget that journey, it was an absolute nightmare. Almost completely dark by now, it was that weird greyish black that makes vision difficult and blurs ongoing headlights in your eyes. Not daring to go very fast, I crept along at 30 miles an hour and in my wing mirror, I could see the headlights of the long tailback I was causing strung out on the road behind me stretching back for miles. I felt guilty because although the car immediately behind would be able to see the taped-up windscreen and realise that was the problem, everyone else in the queue must have just thought I was an arse.

The road is a busy one but is only single lane and there is nowhere for anyone to overtake. Big lorries thunder along the road and every time one of those giants roared past me the bin bags would snap and rustle like mad and I was terrified they would be ripped off. Even going slowly and doing my best to avoid any potholes I saw; my whole journey home was accompanied by the sound of great chunks of glass dropping down into the car. It sounded like when you are defrosting the freezer and big chunks of ice drop down.

It felt like the drive home lasted forever and I have never been so relieved in all my life to reach home and park the car outside my house.

Saturday: I must work all weekend because a colleague is on holiday, so I was up early and preparing for work when all I wanted to do was stay in bed. Making my packed lunch in the kitchen, I heard my mobile phone ringing in the lounge so ran to grab it, thinking it might be the auto glass repair people. My stupid cat, who was crouched munching up her breakfast biscuits in the corner of the kitchen, got all excited at my sudden movement and decided she wanted in on the action. Racing me down the hall, she charged into the lounge in front of me, doubled back between my feet and sent me flying onto the sofa. Grabbing at the phone that was on the arm, I flipped it open and gasped out a hello – forgetting the phone was still plugged into the charger – so it was ripped out of my hands and fell on the floor. Picking it up, I could hear a woman’s voice going hello, hello down the line. It was the glass people.

Sadly, because of the age of the car, they’d had to order the glass specially and it wouldn’t be arriving until Sunday evening. Great, so that meant I’d have to drive to work two days with the car in that state and park it in a busy public car park. They were wondering, she continued, would I be able to drive the car to my nearest repair shop which was in Cambridge? Cambridge?! A good forty-minute drive away on a fast and busy motorway. Absolutely no bloody way!

Explaining to the woman what a dangerous and stupid idea that was, she said she thought given the severity of the incident that it seemed a bit off, so she’d put me down for a home repair. Umm, yes, I should think so. So, they’re coming Monday which is the best day for them to come as I’m out Tuesday and going to get Miss F on Wednesday, so at least it will be fixed by then. The lady couldn’t give me a time but told me the repair team would text me early Monday morning with a time slot so at least I can plan my day around it. Monday is my last chance to shop for presents for Miss F and collect a few more things from town, so I didn’t want to be stuck in the house all day waiting for them.

Work was quiet – as I expected it to be – and all we seemed to be selling were rolled up mattresses which people could take away with them, bedding, and pillows. The day did drag a bit, especially as I was on a long shift until six. Typically, we had people walk into the shop five minutes before closing time. But they only wanted a mattress to take away, so it wasn’t too bad, and I only did twenty-five minutes of unpaid overtime and at least got a sale out of it – even if it was only a small one.

And now it’s early Sunday morning and I’m writing these last few words before posting the blog for you to read with your Sunday coffee (or tea). As the madness of Christmas descends, I hope you all stay safe, well, and calm. Remember, it’s only a day and most of what you think is important really isn’t. So long as you are with your loved ones, are warm, and have enough to eat and drink, then that’s all that matters.

Speak to you next week.

Julia Blake