REVELATIONS AND REVELRY

It has suddenly come to my attention that I haven’t written anything for two weeks! Well on here at any rate, I’ve been writing like mad behind the scenes, which is probably part of the problem. The other part of the problem is that I’ve been spending far too much time worshipping the God of Calpol. Winter bugs have hit anew and hard in our house and my youngest daughter has spent much of the last week lying prone on the sofa, interested only in yoghurts and cBeebies. Which is very peaceful – but for the incessant coughing. However Calpol is a miracle fluid and both she and I feel a lot better for it. There are two things to be thankful for however (life’s eternal optimist and see-er of silver linings in clouds that I am – ha bloody ha) and these are that it’s better that everyone is ill this week than next, and also I’d rather they coughed non-stop than vomited once. And so does my husband I imagine because otherwise he would be manning the fort of illness all by himself. As it is he’s just doing the nightshifts because he has to work during the day.

Also, the ill daughter did manage to participate in the Nursery Nativity play this week as an innkeeper (but of course, she is my daughter) which was very sweet – and hysterically funny. Obviously they didn’t really have ‘lines’ as such, which was good because my innkeeper didn’t much like the idea of Mary and Joseph staying in her stable. They asked to stay in the inn and they were refused (correctly), then they asked to stay in the stable – and they were refused (incorrectly). Repeated and heavy hints were dropped by the nursery teacher (playing God one presumes?):

“Oh please could they stay just one night?” Greeted by a firm shake of the head from the innkeeper.

“Just one night? Please?”

“No way,” was the response (incorrectly).

“Just for a little bit?”

“NO.”

I blame the fact that individual bedrooms are guarded like sacred territories in this house, a practice introduced by my eldest daughter and unfortunately picked up the youngest who has clearly hung grimly onto the tenets of this doctrine in every area of her life. The DVD of the play is likely to be the best comedy I will see this Christmas. Apart from the Benidorm special episode on Boxing Day which may well be a highlight of the whole week.

The new manuscript is progressing apace;  I have completed the purge of the bad writing, I deleted approximately five thousand words in one go which made me take a sharp breath, but if it’s rubbish then it’s rubbish and it has to go. Ruthless I must be. And besides, now the path is clear for me to replace it with far better. I have someone waiting to read it in the New Year so I must crack on over Christmas and try and get some of it done. That will be fun…..for anyone who doesn’t know me, our typical family Christmas is totally hectic involving three different families and four different locations to be visited in the space of a week, accompanied by several vats of wine. My laptop and I will enjoy that. Well, we might if we ever get organised. I have a confession to make – until yesterday I had not written one single Christmas card. Not ONE. This despite the cards that were coming through my front door every day, almost cheerful in their guilt-inducing arrival. I felt so guilty upon opening them that I haven’t even put them up yet. I cringed as I read the kind wishes for a happy Christmas and New Year, and my panic shot up a level or two. However  I have come up with a new policy which makes things slightly easier, and that is that close friends and family apart, I will only give Christmas cards to those that I receive them from – which is polite and time-efficient. Although it does leave me open to that hideous scenario of someone fumbling in their bag for something for you and then that split-second realisation of ‘Oh God, it’s a card and I haven’t written one for them,’ which has, unfortunately, happened twice this year already. And despite the usual availability of my plethora of words they deserted me on both occasions, leaving me vulnerable to the “Er – oh right – thanks – um – I haven’t….” situation. I typed that verbatim by the way.

And in other terrifically exciting news I have finally accepted that my long, sparkly nails and my old touchscreen phone do not mix happily and I have replaced the said old touchscreen phone with a BlackBerry. Not only that, it is a PINK BlackBerry. I have no idea of its capabilities, battery life, camera, whether it works, etc., etc. but that is not the important bit. It is PINK. I did actually go into the shop and choose the model of BlackBerry based on the colour, which I realise makes me look like I have only two brain cells, one of which isn’t currently functioning, but I don’t care. On this occasion it was even worse because I happened (‘happened’! Ha!) to be wearing a pink jumper, pink socks and I have a pink handbag and very pink nails. Even to me I looked ridiculous. But I cared not one whit, they may think what they like – though I did make the effort to drop in the fact that I have a Law degree to try and re-balance the pink scales. I love it anyway, it’s fantastic and doesn’t leave my side. I can’t believe I didn’t get one earlier. My husband hates it of course, “I knew I would,” he grumbled. “You spend far too much time on it already.” I think he’s jealous.

Now I must get on and write some Christmas cards. And post some Christmas cards. And wrap some presents. And come to that, buy some presents. And start packing. And administer Calpol..….where in all this will I find the time to admire my new PINK BlackBerry??

Sarah Haynes LLB Hons (don’t know why I thought it necessary to repeat that….)

This will be a short post because I am writing it from my sickbed. Well, not literally, as a few of you will know a bed with sick on it is possibly the LAST place on earth you would find me due to my emetophobia. I don’t much enjoy this time of year actually because it seems like every other day someone becomes ill with a D&V bug. About 40% of the status updates on Facebook read “So and so has been up all night vomiting” which sends a shiver of fear through me. And make me do things which I consider totally normal but when mentioned to a psychiatrist are not, apparently. Things like going out less in case we pick up any germs; being totally paranoid about my children touching any surfaces whilst we’re out – and don’t get me started on public toilets. If I need to take the girls to one the first thing I say is “DON’T. TOUCH. ANYTHING.” And I mean it. Literally. My grandmother refused to use them and we all thought she was being overly fussy at the time, but I completely see her point now. I also become obsessive about hand-washing, in the highest temperature water that can be tolerated. And this general paranoia spills over into checking and re-checking that food has been properly cooked…..all this because of a few winter bugs floating about – do you see why I need treatment?! I can’t even watch the bit on “I’m A Celebrity…..” where they have to eat ghastly things. I’m filled with unbearable nerves and tension from the moment the trial starts and I have to mute it. My husband gets very fed up with watching the television in silence. And just quickly – Nigel Havers – what a star!!!! Unexpectedly, he has just made the whole programme for me. I probably wouldn’t even have started watching it had I not been ill, but I have now and I’m hooked. He just makes me laugh so much, he’s a good sport and brillant fun. Who else would admit that they were “Yearning for female company…..yearning I tell you.” How candid. I hope he wins, I think it will be either him or Shaun Ryder.

Anyway, back to what is actually wrong with me – I have a kidney infection. Which isn’t too bad apart from the pain, which is atrocious. It’s like being in labour. On the plus side I do get to spend whole days in bed, reading, which I wouldn’t be able to justify otherwise. It was my eldest daughters ninth birthday at the weekend and I think the celebrations took their toll on me. It would have helped if she hadn’t got up at 5:15am, of course, but it felt a bit mean to send her back to bed on her birthday. It’s only one day a year after all and hey – who needs sleep?? Not my daughter, certainly. So we were up unwrapping presents, playing with balloons, drinking tea, eating croissants and pancakes at some ungodly hour on Sunday morning. Whilst my husband muttered obscenities to himself in the corner because we’d given him the task of constructing the Build-a-Bear wardrobe that she’d received as a gift. It was only because no-one would do it as well as him, of course, I said. It is not as easy as it looks, I was told. In not the nicest way, I must say. From there we went to the Build-A-Bear shop in Southampton for her party, which she enjoyed and I did not. So I went round the corner to Waterstones where I found this poster:

Waterstones Christmas Event Poster

As it says, myself and a few other authors are participating in a Local Author event to kick-start Christmas shopping. I love signing books anyway and the fact that I get to do it with other authors is even better. 5:30-7:30pm at Waterstones in West Quay in Southampton on Thursday 18^th November. It was touch and go whether I’d make it at the beginning of the week, but thanks to my lorry-load of antibiotics and excessive consumption of orange squash I shall be fine. I tell you, I don’t even dare drink tea or coffee at the moment,  never mind my beloved wine. That’s how bad it is.

I intend to spend the rest of today making the most of being ill and reading all possible coverage of the Royal engagement announcement. It’s so exciting! Though I do feel a bit sorry for anyone else having their wedding in 2011 or – horrors! – the same day …..you really can’t compete with a Prince.