Posts Tagged ‘child’

The glamorous life of a writer…..or not.

Thursday, October 6th, 2011

My week is not going as planned, *sigh*.  My washing machine is still broken.  Which means that I have spent some ultra-glamorous time hand-washing underwear and school uniform. Well, I think it’s washed anyway – how can you tell? It’s been in some hot water with washing powder and I moved it around a bit. I obviously couldn’t get it as dry as the spin cycle on the washing machine can, no matter how many times I wrung it out, so the smallest girl has gone to school today in an ever-so-slightly-damp blouse. She looked startled as it went on and complained “But Mummy why does it feel wet?” with great big, innocent, four year old eyes. Then the eldest girl whipped around and said knowingly “Oh I remember that. It’s horrible. You have to wear a vest to soak up the worst.” I sincerely hope that doesn’t come out at school. I did iron it. The washing machine is under a ‘repair or replace’ insurance policy, but the engineer has already been out twice but failed to mend it and I’m not sure how many tries he is allowed. And while he was here I also caught him cleaning my floor and mending my kitchen cupboard so I’m not entirely sure what role he thought he was fulfilling. I wait with anticipation to see what he will try today. Gardening, perhaps? Prayer?

Last week I was also in hospital overnight with my smallest daughter. As I have already mentioned she has 22q11 deletion (a genetic abnormality), part of which is something called a sub-glottic stenosis. This is a narrowing of her trachea, which can cause problems when she has a cold or cough, especially croup. Guess what she developed last week? Croup. Her breathing deteriorated beyond what we deemed acceptable and we took her to the hospital one evening to be checked. It was a fascinating experience. Upon entering the out-of-hours clinic I noticed that all of the chairs were super-size, I could have fitted in them twice over easily. Then we went in to the examination room where I noticed that again the bed was enormously wide. As the doctor wrote up some notes after his initial examination, I asked: “Are these chairs and beds deliberately big?”

“Yes,” he replied. “This is an obesity clinic during the day. And over in that room we have scales more normally associated with the zoo.” I was avid with curiosity, but my child couldn’t breathe so I thought I’d better stay put.  (I’d like to stress that this was before the damp blouse incident.)

My husband and I are reasonably intelligent and educated, with a vested interest in 22q, which always leads to the assumption that we are medically qualified as we chatter about T-cells, aberrant subclavian arteries, etc. and therefore to the question: “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a writer,” I told this doctor.

“Really?” he said. “Really, a writer? Wow.”  (Chair swivels round, full attention upon me as my child gasps in the background). He had by this stage decided that she needed to be admitted and was in the process of filling out an admission form for her.




“Wow,” (wonderingly), “Wow. I’ve always wanted to meet a writer.” (Pen dangles from hand, form forgotten).

“Oh – right,” (smiled uneasily).

“Anyway, anyway,” he says hastily. “I suppose I’d better fill this in,” (concentrates on the form momentarily). “But can I just ask – where do you get your ideas from?”

“Lots of places. Usually just human observation, my own experiences – you know.”

“Wow, I just think it’s amazing,” (pen dangles from hand, form forgotten). “I’ve always wanted to write a book.”

“I’m sure you could. You must have lots of interesting stories. Have you – er – finished the-”

“Not sure they’re interesting. Only medical things.”

“Well there you are. Could we possibly have the – er – ” (child gasps in the background).

“At least when you die you know you’ve done something useful with your life,” he announces.

“But you save people’s lives,” I respond incredulously. (At this point I was hoping my daughter would be among the number.)

“Well yes, but no-one’s going to remember me for that.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“What do you write?”

“Fiction. Women’s fiction.”

“Oh, chick-lit, is it?”

“Yes. I’d say it’s in that category. Could we – er – ” (I indicate the form)

“What’s the name of the book?”

Things He Never Knew. Just Google me – Sarah Haynes – the details will come up.”

“Right, right I definitely will. Anyway, I suppose we’d better – here you go – the form. This isn’t the sort of thing you’d write about is it?”

“No,” I said sweetly. “Not at all. But it’s going on twitter.”

My husband had remained silent throughout this exchange, but as we walked away from the clinic (husband didn’t allow me to go looking for the zoo-scales), he just smirked and said, “My, my, haven’t you made a new friend.” I think there’s about a 70% chance that the doctor concerned will read this and Dr X – if you do, don’t be offended, I’m not poking fun, you just amused me. It’s quite flattering, really.

Anyway, the really bad thing: my manuscript has not progressed at all this week. I am still stuck in seemingly-eternal conflict about whether to write in the first or third person. I started off in the third, realised that this story lends itself far better to being written in the first so I changed and it all went swimmingly for a few thousand words. Then I got stuck, couldn’t progress the plot, doubted my decision and so began the debate. And you remember in my last blog post when I said I’d decided to be brave and stick with the first person? Well, I wasn’t brave. I umm-ed and ahh-ed about it and decided I’d made a dreadful mistake and I had better change the 11,000 words I’d written back into the third person. But when I started doing it I realised that it would require an entire re-write: I write totally differently in the first and third person. This showed me that if I did go back to the third person I would be ruining the story. So the end result is that I’ve gone round in a great big circle and ended up exactly where I was before – writing in the first person and having to be brave. I think the secret is to write regularly (which I am bad at, my general habit is to write thousands of words in a day and then nothing for a week) so I don’t find it too hard to get inside my character’s mind. If I leave it too long I do struggle and then I start doubting myself….

I have no more publisher news. As far as I am aware, Daisychain is still languishing in the inboxes of editors scattered around London.  It’s not too bad waiting though, with each day that passes I am a day closer to hearing some news; good or bad. It will come eventually.

And speaking of bad news, I was sad to hear about Steve Jobs death today. What an amazing, talented, determined person. What he achieved in his lifetime was just extraordinary and will never be forgotten. I’m not a technological person, but he certainly revolutionised the way that I thought about technology and I can’t be the only one. He can take full credit for my figure in fact, because without my iPod I would never go running. Isn’t it funny how just putting a single, lower-case letter in front of a word can have such a dramatic effect upon its success? Well, no, not funny because all it’s doing is including it in the brand and therefore guaranteeing success, it’s astounding I mean: iPod….. iPhone…..iMac…..iPad…..




Monday, May 23rd, 2011


I am not in the habit of reviewing books on my blog usually; that’s not what this is about. There are thousands of book review sites out there and I’m sure most of them do a better job than I ever could. But it is impossible to comment upon ‘Madeleine’ without reviewing it in some sense or other so in this case I will have to. This is mostly because there are so many threads that run through the McCann’s story which invite judgement and although I will try to refrain from making too many I will point out those elements where it is possible to do so. My intent is to discuss my impression of the book and the opinions I have formed because of it; I think to do anything else is disrespectful to her parents.  I decided to write about the book for two reasons: firstly because I was so moved by reading it that I felt that I had to write about it, and secondly because of something that happened to our family almost twenty-five years ago when I was five and my sister was two. Like the McCanns we had gone abroad on holiday, to Lanzarote in our case, and we were staying in a resort complex much like the one in Praia da Luz. Like the McCanns my parents would put myself and my sister to bed in the apartment and go for dinner in the restaurant, which was quite far away. Like the McCanns they would return at regular intervals to check on us. One night I awoke whilst my parents were still away to see a man leaning over me to reach into the cupboard above my bed; I can still picture him and the room, he was a shadowy, unthreatening presence. I thought nothing of it and went back to sleep. It’s hard to understand even now why I wasn’t more alerted by this, but at that age children are generally very trusting and I must have assumed that it was a staff member or some unknown friend of my parents’. At any rate I took no notice. It later emerged that our apartment had been broken into and our camera and passports stolen whilst I and my then two year old, blonde, sister lay asleep in the room. It is nothing more than good fortune that the intruder was only interested in financial gain that night.

My copy of ‘Madeleine’ by Kate McCann arrived at 3pm last Wednesday. By 10pm on Thursday night I had finished all 383 pages of it. It was an engrossing, intelligent and moving read. It was very difficult to read in parts, as you would expect, and the overall story is very shocking for lots of reasons, but I recommend it wholeheartedly nonetheless. I first became aware that there was going to be a book about Madeleine McCann at the London Book Fair where there was a huge – and I do mean enormous – advertisement for it. I knew instantly that I wanted to read it. Like many others I imagine I was consumed with interest about one of the most shocking stories of recent years. A beautiful, innocent three year old girl being snatched whilst on holiday with her loving parents is just so unimaginably awful and I was keen to try and understand exactly what had happened – as far as anyone knows.  Was it as straightforward as it seems? Were there any elements that point to something other than the obvious conclusion? It is testimony to Kate McCann’s honest and well-written account of Madeleine’s abduction that I feel that I do now know exactly what happened. It’s a tremendous achievement for Kate to have written the book, it would have been a difficult task – both practically and emotionally – and she makes it clear that it was not a decision that she took lightly. For a long time she writes that she felt incapable of undertaking such a task and more than that, she was unwilling to share such personal details with the public at large. As is natural. Writing that book was tantamount to putting her entire life on a plate, handing it to the man on the street and saying “Here, judge me. As a wife, mother and individual. Draw your own conclusions about me and my decisions, including some about the most sensitive areas of my life.”

The book charts some background to Kate and Gerry so we understand them as people, their road to becoming parents which as most might know had to be done via IVF, and then swiftly moves on to the events of May 2007 and the subsequent years. The book manages not to be defensive or aggressive in explaining decisions which is an achievement because I think the temptation to do so must have been strong. As we all know, Madeleine was abducted when Kate and Gerry left their children unattended in their holiday apartment to eat dinner with friends a few hundred yards away. This is not why she was abducted, but this is the reason it was possible. From Kate’s recollections along with those of others it seems likely now that the family were deliberately targeted. Kate makes no statements of fact about anything that is not proven, instead she is careful to make suggestions and raise possibilities. However it is clear that the McCanns believe that they were watched for a period of days leading up to the night of the 3rd May, that their movements were assessed and monitored and that Madeleine was chosen. Kate recalls watching her daughter on that holiday and now realises that she wasn’t the only one. It appears to have been a carefully planned abduction; Kate believes that the children were drugged in some form and that the abductor was in their bedroom the night before Madeleine was taken. She records the seemingly unimportant choices and decisions that were actually crushingly significant, such as where to eat on the night of 3rd May for example. Kate and Gerry almost decided to eat in their apartment that night and not go out but thought that wasn’t fair on their friends. It must be an appalling thought to know that if they had made that decision to stay in then Madeleine would not have been taken. Kate’s account is littered with examples like this. She believes that their ordered, structured routine on holiday – characteristic of both of them as people – gave the abductor/s the chance to monitor and understand their movements and that is perhaps one of the reasons why Madeleine was chosen. It’s clear that their habits were noted, perhaps through sheer observation or perhaps because of things like the fact that the resort staff had written their unusual block dinner booking in the reservations book along with the reason why they were allowed to block book – because they were leaving children unattended in the apartment. It’s important to note that they weren’t the only parents doing this, their friends were behaving identically.

The McCanns have come under some criticism for leaving their children alone and there are so many facets to this point that it merits a lot of discussion. I personally believe that blame can only be attached to them for this decision if they were reckless in making it. That is to say if they had given no thought to the children’s safety while they were away. And they were certainly not reckless. They did not take the children with them because they believed that it was too late for them to stay up – with which I personally agree. They were very young children and altering the routines they were used to so suddenly and dramatically would have made them tired and grumpy at the time and then also the following day. It would severely have impacted on their holiday and the children would not have enjoyed or understood it. Far better that they were bathed, cuddled, read to and then tucked up in bed. The next point we come to was that the apartment was left unlocked. I personally don’t understand the reasons for this, but I do trust in the McCann’s judgement. I don’t believe they were reckless, I don’t believe that they just didn’t bother to lock the door.  And then there was a babysitting service which they didn’t take up, the reason being that all it consisted of was a resort staff member going around the apartments and listening to see if there was any noise. The McCanns and their friends devised a system between them that saw a member of their group going to check on all the children at half-hourly intervals; clearly a better option.

It is chilling to read the sequence of events leading up to that night and absolutely appalling in retrospect that such trivial things as family habits an decisions about dinner would give rise to the end result. Kate often comments that it is easy to be wise after the event, and that is so true. A child being stalked for abduction while on holiday is the stuff of nightmares and certainly not something you ever expect. Being on holiday, being in the happy, sunny environs of a resort, being relaxed and entertained would all give rise to what transpired to be a false sense of safety. It is easy to see how the McCanns gave no thought to the possibility that evil might trespass across their holiday. It simply wouldn’t have occurred to them. I had always imagined that abductions were opportunistic, momentary decisions, but this doesn’t appear to be the case in this instance. Details that emerged after 3rd May make sense of the horrible situation. A child being watched and tracked and potentially drugged seems like such an outlandish, improbable idea, but put it in the context of known paedophile activity in the area and it makes sense. There had been reports of men getting into bed with children made to police over the preceding months and years, yet very little notice was taken of it. One mother commented that action should be taken “….before it happens again, or worse,” which is horribly prophetic.  But nothing seems to have been done. And Kate’s description of the police operation to find Madeleine sounds like a total disaster. Basic policies that we would consider automatic in this country just weren’t done in Portugal. People were allowed to wander in and out of what was a crime scene, the children weren’t tested for drugs despite medically-qualified Kate’s immediate concerns that night, staff were allowed to leave the resort without being interviewed, road blocks weren’t set up for hours – and all of this undoubtedly hindered the search for Madeleine. One of the most galling things for me was reading how a member of their group actually saw a man carrying a small child wearing pyjamas very similar or the same as Madeleine’s away from the resort. This is now believed to be Madeleine’s abduction. If it were me I would be tortured by the idea that if I had been alerted, if I had looked a bit harder, if I had gone over, if I had challenged the man then she would have been saved. But, as Kate writes, it is easy to be wise after the event.

It seems likely to me that the abductor must have had help within the resort. If Kate is right and they were targeted because of details revealed in the reservation book, and there was someone in the room the night before and the children were drugged, it seems so unlikely that all this could be achieved without inside help. And also why that area? Why that resort? These are questions you hope a police investigation would answer but not in this case. I am literally unable to imagine the fear and panic that would come along with discovering that your child is missing and I think not having confidence that absolutely everything is being done to find them would make this a hundred times worse. I find it incomprehensible why the Portugese authorities did not, and do not, do more for Madeleine.

Despite the sadness, the obvious devastation of family and friends and the occasional sense of futility, ‘Madeleine’ is in general a very positive book. The McCanns are firmly focussed on finding Madeleine. They are not delusional, they are aware of every possible scenario and in fact Kate writes of appalling images running through her mind, such as any parent would never want to picture. They are not stupid, they are very well aware that she could be dead. But they choose to believe otherwise, they choose to fight their hardest every hour of every day to find her. They cling to the positive stories that emerge occasionally of long-ago abducted children being found and returned to their families, as is quite natural for them to do. Kate often suffixes descriptions of her last cuddle with Madeleine, or last photo or last story with the words “….to date.” There is an utter refusal to admit that anything might literally be the last. And for this strength she must be admired. I would urge everyone who reads this and has not done so to buy ‘Madeleine’ – as all the royalties are going towards Madeleine’s Fund. I believe the British police are now involved in the search for her but for a long time there was no official body anywhere in the world investigating her disappearance, it was left to her parents to fund the search which must have been financially crippling.

Is Madeleine alive? Is she well? Is she cared for? Will she ever be found? These are unanswerable questions but for her parents sake as well as hers we must not give up on her. We must not let this turn into an unsolved mystery of our lifetime.