REVELATIONS AND REVELRY

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! I couldn’t even begin to tell you what day it is as they all segue neatly into one another at the moment, but I do know that we are in a new year. Which is 2011! I love the new year; so shiny and full of promise and untainted by anything. And also the fact that it means my birthday is very, very close! I shall be 29 on 21^st January. This is excellent for two reasons – one because I love my birthday and getting pink, glittery things, handmade cards from my children, drinking champagne and seeing lots of friends and family, but also because it means that I don’t have to spend the whole of January off alcohol like the rest of the population are trying to do. I just have to attempt to get to the 21^st of January and then I can legitimately start drinking again. I have considerate parents you see, who knew that it might be a bit of an unpleasant struggle for me each year so they decided that they kindest thing that they could do would be to ensure that my birth was in January.

So, yes, a whole brand new year spreads in front of me – so exciting! What shall I do in it, I wonder? What will happen? The first thing I shall do is tell you all about my Christmas, which was as lovely as I had predicted. We spent six nights at my mother’s house and survived very well.  Obviously we drank an oceanic amount to help us get through – I dare not add up the number of units – but it was so nice to see my sister and brothers and just spend so much time doing…..nothing. We sat around, talked, watched television, ate and drank. And I shopped; I had to take advantage of Marlow and Windsor while I could. I spent quite a long time in the Jack Wills shop in Eton as well, in the company of my brother Charles, who proved surprisingly patient. But then he needed to be because it was him who had rung the house phone at 2am the night before and woken up 8 adults and 3 children to ask for a lift home from Reading for him and his friends because the trains had been replaced by night buses and they couldn’t work them out. Charles had no sensible explanation as to why he thought this was a good idea when he was questioned the next morning by an irate household.  It was, frankly, a time of excess but this should not surprise you because we were staying in the house of excess. I came downstairs one morning to find my mother wearing a rather nice shirt.

“That’s a nice shirt,” I said to her. And I doubt any of you could correctly predict her reply, which was:

“Thank you. I have fifteen of them.” I don’t know who was more shocked, me or my long-suffering step-father. In fairness to her there did follow a long and vague justification about colours and wearing them frequently but the damage was done.

New Year was equally as lovely; we spent it at my father’s house and had an uproariously fun evening, involving – again – lots of wine and leaping over obstacles in the later part of the night I seem to recall. I cut a dignified figure in my skirt as you can imagine. And also dancing at midnight and singing Auld Lang Syne, only mildly marred by the fact that no-one knew the words.

BUT, the consequence of all this loveliness was that I didn’t get one single word written, which is bad of me. Even when I returned home I didn’t manage to write anything because a) I was recovering and b) my girls are not back at school yet and it’s difficult to be productive with both of them saying “Mummy!” 57 times a day. Once they are back I shall be disciplined and focussed and get this manuscript completed. I have thought about it a lot and I do have a clear idea of where I want to take it, it’s now just a question of getting it written down. And it will serve me well to do so because there’s a lovely agent who I particularly like waiting to read it when I’ve finished it.

I also have a book recommendation for you all, it’s a book called One Moment, One Morning by Sarah Rayner. I read it over New Year and I literally could not put it down. It’s incredibly sad and therefore not the sort of thing that I would normally choose to read, but woven into the sadness is such positivity that it rebalances the whole thing and makes a devastating story a very uplifting read. I honestly can’t recommend it highly enough. I happened to already know Sarah’s agent so I emailed her to tell her how fantastic I thought it was and she very kindly forwarded the email to Sarah who then wrote me a lovely email thanking me for my compliments and she sounds like such a nice person. One Moment, One Morning is her third book so I shall definitely be looking out for her previous ones.

So – belatedly – Happy New Year to everyone! I hope you all have a happy, peaceful and fortuitous year. I intend to, and I think I shall start by duplicating everything in my wardrobe to fifteen.

Well I don’t know that I would like to be in the jungle with the celebrities but I certainly would prefer the temperature over there – it is freeeeeezing in Hampshire! The central heating is on 24 hours a day here (don’t tell my husband) and I’m still having to wear at least two jumpers and my cashmere/angora wrap garment/thing – I don’t know that it has a name, it’s definitely not the most attractive piece of clothing that I own but it’s lovely and warm so fashion be damned. So British of me to talk about the weather but let’s face it – I’m good at queueing, prefer not to display emotion publicly and I wear a lot of Jack Wills – ergo I am British. That’s one of the most depressing things about getting older actually, every time I go into Jack Wills I feel a little further removed from their fashion. It’s very sad. Or it would be if I cared; I’m quite happy to embrace age and float towards the inevitable Windsmoor skirts of my seventies. Gone already are the days when I habitually wore the shortest skirts I could find; this happened because I discovered nice lingerie. Stockings and suspenders, etc. and you cannot wear those with short skirts. Or only in very particular circumstances anyway. Actually, I’m going to London next week and I’m going to visit one of my favourite shops in the world, the What Katie Did London boutique where I shall indulge my love of all things vintage. Well, not all things, bullet bras don’t really do it for me, but there’s an awful lot of lingerie and corsets that do. I doubt I’ll buy anything very much but I love the feel of the place; it’s like going back in time. It’s classy, the underwear is beautifully and artfully arranged and the staff are fantastic. They’re passionate about vintage lingerie, knowledgable and helpful. I really would recommend them if you’re after anything like that.

Anyway, the primary reason that I shall be in London is to attend Ali McNamara’s launch of her book “From Notting Hill with Love…..actually” which I’ve seen described as the cheekiest book title of all time.  I haven’t read it yet, I’m hoping to get a signed copy at the launch party, and I am tremendously excited! It’s the first launch that I’ve been to, other than my own. I shall write a full report about it next week. Watch this space!

I’ve just finished reading an absolutely brilliant book called “The Last Letter From Your Lover” by Jojo Moyes. I’d seen it in a bookshop and loved the description, I nearly bought it but at the time I had a stack of books to read so I didn’t. Which actually worked out to my advantage because a few days later Jojo’s Babyliss Big Hair appliance died right before a big event that she was going to. Cue potential hair disaster, she had my sympathy. So  because I’d just bought one and hated it (I should have known that NOTHING can beat my ghds) I offered to send her mine and I received three signed books in return, which was very lovely of her. And I have adored Last Letter, it’s truly one of the best books that I have read for a very long time. The subject matter is slightly delicate, it covers extra-marital relationships in an almost defensive way, but it’s sad, emotive, funny in places (look out for the real love ‘letters’) and absolutely gripping. I thoroughly recommend it. I can’t wait to read the other two books that she sent me.

And speaking of books, I made a rather big decision over the last week. I’ve gone back to working on a manuscript which I had all but forgotten about. I started looking at it again for a variety of reasons and I found myself feeling very positive about it. It’s no good in its current state, I’ve already cut huge swathes of prose from it, in fact the current word count is 91,000 words and I don’t expect that to change much for a while, even though I am continually working on it. I’m easily erasing as much as I write. But I’m excited about it. My characters are very real and vivid, some of the events in the book make compelling reading and I’m loving the opportunity to re-work it and make into the best manuscript that I can. So we shall see. It’s very similar in tone and content to Things He Never Knew; I obviously have a subconciously preferred area of fiction and writing style. Which is a shame because my mother doesn’t like it. Pretty much only positive thing that she has actually said about Things He Never Knew was that she was impressed by my ability to knit the plot together so neatly. To me, that’s like complimenting someone on being able to eat with a knife and fork. At my daughter’s birthday party she told me that she’d like to see me write “…something more literary…”. And that is a verbatim quote. I replied that I wouldn’t necessarily confine myself to my genre, but that I was quite happy with the area that I have settled into. I suppose it’s a natural thing – she would like to see me write to the best of my ability, but as far as I’m concerned, ‘best’ doesn’t mean literary. But then we’re back to harbouring grudges against chick-lit and not buying books with pink covers. ……my mother is nothing if not entertaining. Actually, in our last conversation she mentioned that she was going to start writing a blog. My mind can’t even begin to imagine what that would be like, I shall simply have to wait for the reality, but I promise you it will be linked on my blog if she ever does actually do it. It will probably be tales of herds of cats and her Aga woes and how the skip from the building work hasn’t been removed from the driveway yet so they can’t fit all of their cars in. She leads a hard life, you see.

I’ve just remembered that a VERY exciting thing happened to me yesterday!! I can’t believe that I didn’t mention it before. Boris Johnson, the Mayor of London, has started following me on Twitter! This sent me stratospheric with excitement, as my husband, children, friends, neighbours and people that I met in the street will testify. I don’t know why he is (I say ‘he’, I’m sure it’s probably not) all I did was tweet about a signed photograph that I was given and the fact that it’s on my desk, making me very, very happy. I was even open about the fact that I adore him because he is so gorgeous and his political views are a secondary thing. Though I am broadly speaking in support of those as well. Yesterday went down as one of the best days of my life.

But now I must go back to proper writing and trying to prevent my fingers from becoming frozen with cold. If it wasn’t such a cliché I might try typing in fingerless gloves, but I’m too afraid of looking like something from Withnail and I. If you see me with Deep Heat you’ll know it’s time to worry. But as it is I shall settle for turning the heating up (don’t tell my husband) and wearing my staggeringly unsexy cashmere/angora wrap/garment thing, and look forward to the hour tonight when I can let the alcohol warm me instead.

I think my brain may explode. I’ve had to retreat away from the rest of my family to write this because I cannot cope with dinner being prepared (husband), Grease being watched (eldest daughter) and Bob the Builder being ‘read’ to me (youngest daughter, who can’t read) whilst I write this, I NEED to concentrate, I’m too easily distracted today. Plus my house is a mess and I don’t want to look at it any more. I’m hoping by the time I go back out there my husband will have cleared up, sorted the washing out, tidied, vacuumed, done my ironing, bathed the girls, checked their uniform is available for tomorrow and made dinner. Ha bloody ha.

There’s just three more sleeps to go until my launch party and I am so fiendishly excited that it’s perfectly possible I won’t sleep a wink between now and then. And if I didn’t then I stand a chance of completing all the things that I need to before Launch Party Day. Unbelievably, I still lack a complete list of everyone who is coming. This is only important so that I know numbers. And this is only important so that there’s enough wine available. I also need a two hour long playlist full of suitable background music. This will be frustrating because I don’t really do background music, if I’m playing music it’s so that I can listen to it. I’m currently thinking that I might be playing a lot of the Lucinda Belle Orchestra; she is my newest favourite artist. Happily though, my outfit is sorted. I have fears that my dress is too short, but if it is then it’s just going to have to be. My heels are acceptably high without being vertiginous and that’s really all there is to it. My youngest daughter has decided upon a pink dress and cardboard crown for the party, and my eldest daughter has declared that she will wear jeans. I have declared that she will not. I’m so looking forward to seeing everyone there! As I wrote on Facebook, it does feel a lot like preparing for my wedding day in terms of logistics/preparations/guests. But I hope it isn’t like my wedding day because a) I was very drunk that day and b) I didn’t get to talk to everyone who came, which is my aim for Wednesday.

I’ve changed my name on Twitter by the way. If you follow me already you’ll have seen, but for those who don’t/haven’t, I have gone from @SH_Writes to @SoVerySarah. It isn’t an ideal time to change my name but I was getting uncomfortable about broadcasting the fact that I’m a writer. There’s a lot of negativity on Twitter towards people who ruthlessly self-promote and I was worried that I would fall into that category simply by virtue of advertising the fact that I write. I don’t want people to think I’m tweeting at them just because they are fellow authors or agents or publishers. If I do ‘talk’ to someone it’s because I find them interesting or funny. There’s a girl on there for example, @emilyniawatson, who nearly makes me cry with laughter sometimes. Her sense of humour is so dry. But anyway, I thought being SoVerySarah suited me better because I am SoVerySarah, and so I shall keep that name.

After I posted my blog on Friday a couple of exciting things happened. The first was that my book got a mention on one of our local but big-ish radio stations, Wave 105, courtesy of the very lovely Simon Clark. Unfortunately he managed to time his mention as I was out doing a school run so I missed it. Bad Sarah. Then later that evening as I was approx. one bottle of champagne down he messaged me to say that I was also in the Hampshire Chronicle Arts Supplement, which again, I had managed to miss. Bad Sarah. Luckily Simon said he would keep a copy for me – goodness only knows what he thinks of me and my appalling disorganisation…..I’ll find out on Wednesday because he’s coming to the launch party.

Speaking of Launch Party Day, I have inadvertently made the day a whole lot more stressful for myself by agreeing to give a talk in assembly at the girls’ school on genetic abnormalities, ahead of Jeans for Genes Day. It is something that I’ve done before and something that I think is very important in terms of making genetic abnormalities less of a remote concept for children and helping them understand why it’s so important to raise money on Jeans for Genes Day. However – I think I may have been a bit hasty in agreeing to do it on the morning of my book launch when I will be bouncing off the walls with excitement and nerves and general anticipation. Mind you, I suppose if I’m going to bounce off walls an assembly hall is possibly the best place to do it. So do think of me at 8:30am on Wednesday 29^th, I will have to be dressed, focussed and thoroughly prepared to give a talk to a hall full of 8-13 year olds. Tricky. Although, thanks  – as ever –  to Steph (who I must mention on at least a weekly basis) for her assistance in finding ways to explain genes and their function to children. She’s coming to the launch party by the way, if anyone is interested in seeing exactly who it is I’m always talking about.

And last, but not least, I’m not an Independent reader, but Julia Budworth’s words about Rachel Johnson (sister of the gorgeous Boris) in today’s edition had me literally howling with laughter. HOWLING. Her line “….All she thinks of is sex. You can’t get her away from a penis….” was one of the funniest things I’ve read this year, hence the title of my blog. Brutal in her honesty, Mrs Budworth made it very clear exactly what she thinks about the editor of The Lady. And that is that she is not one. See here for the full article: https://www.independent.co.uk/news/people/news/julia-budworth-tea-with-the-lady-2089890.html Well worth a read.

My husband’s just come in by the way, looking peculiarly stressed, but he has informed me that he’s cleared up, sorted the washing out, tidied, vacuumed, done my ironing, bathed the girls, checked their uniform is available for tomorrow and made dinner. Result.

Rachel&Boris