And, the sun shone as soon as Robb Merchant, proprietor of White Castle Vineyard, opened the wine.
After the launch of my novel, I needed to celebrate. Luckily, my adventures sent me to White Castle Vineyard where I found summer fruits in bottles. Hallelujah, I found the land of wine on my doorstep and heaven in a glass. And, the sun shone as soon as Robb Merchant, proprietor of White Castle Vineyard, opened the wine.
Once I tasted the wine, I forget about books and handbags. The Pinot Noir chorused cherries, berries and a soft, complex vanilla finish. Ripe strawberries leapt from the bottle of rosé, while the Siegerrebe wine dripped with the juices of peaches and nectarines. Divine wine is produced in White Castle Vineyard, South Wales, and French winemakers are talking about it. Robb told the story of his wine from grape to glass: a labour of love inspired by his wife’s dream to own a vineyard.
A labour of love – the vineyard in springtime
Robb and Nicola Merchant bought the farm in 1993. Vines were planted on 1st May 2009 and produced the yield of grapes in 2011. The couple nurtured the vines, while Robb worked for the Post Office. Nowadays, Robb works full-time in the vineyard while Nicola still works part-time as a District Nurse. I wonder if she can recommend a course of wine to her patients ?
A celebration of the quality products on offer
Robb transformed the barn into a retail shop, for Welsh Wine Week, in 2012, and their wine story commenced. Robb’s enthusiasm is an inspiration . He said, ‘A vineyard is a way of life. It’s not physically hard work but is repetitive. But it’s not work because we enjoy it. We love our life. Agriculture in in my blood.’
White Castle located near to the vineyard.
Robb is dedicated to raising the profile of Welsh wine. In 2014, Robb and Nicola were invited to provide seventy bottles of wine for NATO Summit, in Wales. This year, the Wines of Great Britain Trade and Press Tasting event welcomed White Castle Vineyard and other Welsh wine producers for the first time. The Welsh Government supported the wine producers from Wales.
Robb’s current innovation involves collaboration with a vineyard in North Wales to grow Cabernet Franc and Sauvingnon Blanc. They will experiment to see how the slate and gravel soil of North Wales and Clay, Sand and loam impacts on the flavours of the grape varieties. Research into French winemaking methods will be applied to the process. I am impressed with Robb’s dedication to his art: an art he has learned since he planted the vines in 2009. Robb predicts ‘a defining year for Welsh viticulture in 2018’, as he believes the Welsh wine brand will be secured. Dedicated to working with other Welsh vineyards to secure the brand, he knows they can’t go it alone.
A book and wine for my handbag
Robb is a charismatic and passionate ambassador for all Welsh produce. During the summer, White Castle Vineyard offers a plate of Welsh cheeses paired with is wine. Mouldy Mable, Heb Enw and Teifi cheese are presented on the platter with local chutneys. The vineyard is located between the market towns of Abergavenny and Monmouth. You will receive a warm welcome from Rob and Nicola.
Next time you visit the green, green grass of Wales, look for the vineyards nestled in the landscape. Celebrate Wales with a wonderful glass of wine, and if you listen carefully you may hear the wine notes singing to you like one of the glorious Welsh choirs. My next stop will be Parva Vineyard located in Tintern. However, I couldn’t leave without finding a book and wine for my handbag.
The ritual of making tea always punctuates the flow of my day. I meander to the kitchen between words. Making the tea helps my thoughts to flood out. Builder’s tea is my preference, but a friend challenged me to try something more refined. Thus, we went to Bath in search of tea and Jane Austen.
Bath Market has a wonderful array of teas. The selections are stored in jars like a sweetshop, but woe betide you if you venture to pick up the jars. The assistant will guide you through the tea sniffing journey.
Selections are stored in jars like a sweetshop
I noted the different textures of the tea leaves: some leaves are larger and crisp while others are smaller and smoother. It was all rather overwhelming to learn selecting tea can be an art form.
I was forced to make my selection on the scent rather than the taste. I pontificated for some time. It had to be Lapsang Souchong, because I liked the sound of the words. It is a black tea, and the aroma of the tea leaves is beautifully smoky. The assistant said, ‘It is packed full of antioxidants and supports well-being.’ The tea sounded like a medicine delivered by a therapist. Apparently, ‘ this tea strengthens the immune system, prevents cardiovascular diseases and fights inflammation.’ Moreover, the Lapsan Souchong can assist with a hangover. What more could one ask for?
Which tea would you choose?
My selection was carefully wrapped in a parcel, labelled and presented to me. I couldn’t wait to try the tea at home. Initially, the tea was smoky with a hint of disinfectant. However, as the tea reached room temperature, the taste was pleasantly smoky and quite soothing. As I drank the tea, I decided to write this blog post.
According to Lin Yutang, ‘There’s something in the nature of tea that leads us into a world of quiet contemplation of life.’ And this seemed to work for me after the taste of the disinfectant had subsided.
I did meet with Jane Austen on another trip to Bath. On this occasion, I heard whispers as I strolled past the Royal Bath Crescent. A woman’s voice confided:
‘But indeed, I would rather have nothing but tea.’ Mansfield Park by Jane Austen
I prefer builder’s tea
Perhaps, the esteemed Miss Austen visited one of the grand houses to take tea with the lady of the house. However, I suspect tea making was also a glorious, thought-provoking ritual for Jane Austen.
Let me know what you think of speciality teas. Do you prefer a robust builder’s tea or a speciality tea? Is coffee the only fuel for your words?
This coffee shop, in Cardiff Bay, is one of my favourite writing places.
This coffee shop, in Cardiff Bay, is one of my favourite writing places. I like to abandon my laptop for a notebook and pen. There is something reassuring about forming every single letter with my biro. With the onset of autumn, I remembered a blog post I forgot to publish last October, because I had been absorbed in the agony of the editing process. I wrote this post when editing You Can’t Go It Alone.
My imagination roams free in this setting.
Once my coffee cup is empty, I let the pen wander across the page. Hoping to catch some dialogue from the unsuspecting customers, I listen with my best writer’s ear. I am happy here in this café suspended above the water. Alas, the sound of my beeping phone collides head on with my imagination. I stop writing and must look at the email from an insurance company. I wonder if writers had less distractions prior to the digital age, so I google ‘writing quotations’.
Virginia Woolf pops up on my phone, but she doesn’t look happy and she says:
Sitting on the dock in the Bay wasting words
‘Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.’
Obviously, Virginia never had to cope with the disruptive influence of a mobile phone. I decide my imagination has been temporarily locked by my phone: it is a twenty first century condition called ‘beepitis’. Fortunately, I do not need to re-boot my imagination as it starts up again. I am trying to re-work a menacing scene in my book. Hoping to get inspiration, I look at the murky water from the window. Despite the distracting background noise, I make a list of adjectives. The shopping list of words stares at me, defying me to write something coherent. It is useless!
I decide to drive home via Cardiff Docks to gather some words for a scene in my novel. It is a sinister setting.
I decide to drive home via Cardiff Docks to gather some words. I drive off absorbing the atmosphere of the autumn’s day and watch the leaves dance across the road. Almost forgetting to stop at the red light, I look out for the sign to the docks, but realise I am driving over a new road. I hate the massive construction with barriers at each side. Finally, I drive through the docks and stop to pull over to make some notes for finishing touches to a scene. I am considered with suspicion. I ignore the onlookers and write until my car beeps me to tell me there is something wrong with a filter.
Clearly, I need ‘a room of my own’ to write.
Time to go home to my laptop: time to find ‘a room of one’s own’, time to sculpt my manuscript and stop wasting time and listing words. The truth is the book is almost done but I don’t want to let the characters live their lives without me.
My book costs less than the price of a coffee and will last longer.
You Can’t Go It Alone has been available since May. I have been delighted with the reviews. Reviewers have enjoyed visiting Delfryn and getting to know the inhabitants. The agony of the editing process was worth it, as it helped readers to connect. In celebration of my thirteenth review, I am reducing the cost of the kindle format next week. Of course, I would be delighted to receive more reviews. My book is less than half the price of a coffee and will last longer. Indeed, one reviewer wrote:
‘An intricate, thoughtful story of real people whose life will continue long after the author has typed the end’ Perdisma, Amazon reviewer
Here is a snapshot of my most recent reviews:
Reviewers have enjoyed visiting Delfryn and getting to know the inhabitants.
‘It’s a roller-coaster of a novel in which the beautiful Welsh countryside and weather take a leading role. I was gripped by these characters, and by Cahalin’s fascinating touches.’ Professor Maggie Humm
‘The author has a real feeling for character and place… Her ideas around plot and how a story unfolds are original, and well executed, with a good balance of lightness and shade.’ Welsh Annie, top 500 Amazon Reviewer
You Can’t Go It Alone is available on Amazon.
‘The author is not afraid to face life’s most challenging problems head on. What appeals about the novel is that she does not ‘go on crusade’ but underpins these problems with a deep, rich humanity …’ John Broughton, author
‘Complex and vivid tapestry of a story’ Jena. C. Henry, USA author, blogger and reviewer
‘As a debut novel, You Can’t Go It Alone is an accomplished read. Eloquent, moving and packed with vivid imagery…’ Audrey Davis
We traversed the huge reception area to explore the warren of walkways, all undercover.
The Hay Festival tent welcomed us in all its fabulous, festive glamour. Camping could be an option for holidays, if tents were presented like this bookish village. We traversed the huge reception area to explore the warren of walkways, all undercover. Uninhibited by an event schedule, I took in: the shops, food hall, cafes, bars, live music and restaurants.
An overwhelming sense of calm dominated the entire experience so far removed from loud music and food festivals. Bookworms snuggled in every nook and cranny digging into their latest treasure. If people looked up, they smiled at fellow readers.
One bookworm carried a bag with the logo: ‘imagine the world’.
I wonder how many book destinations were spinning around in the atmosphere as people relaxed into their imaginations? As bookworms travelled around the tent, there was no pushing and shoving or frayed tempers. Everyone queued with grace while using the time to read. One bookworm carried a bag with the logo: ‘imagine the world’. Instantly, I inquired where to purchase the bag, she explained a route through the warren to the Hay Bookshop.
On route to the Hay Bookshop, I spotted glorious illustrated menus of bookish events.
On route to the Hay Bookshop, I spotted glorious illustrated menus of bookish events
I long to attend Benjamin Zephaniah’s poetry reading but knew I couldn’t stay until 10pm. His ‘Dance hall style, big mouth chanting’ hooked me when I listened to his performance at university. Instead, I searched for a book of Benjamin’s poems in the bookshop. Distracted by the authors signing books, I took photos of the marvellous queues waiting. How wonderful to meet the readers personally and realise your writing has connected. For me, the queues of readers inspired a little envy. ‘One day’, I whispered to myself before making a purchase.
‘You Can’t Go It Alone’ sat in a deckchair, sheltered by my umbrella, and soaked up the atmosphere.
Welsh rain poured mischievously in the open areas but no one worried. Readers sat with the umbrellas sheltering their books as they sipped coffee and wine. Deckchairs waited patiently for the sun to arrive. My book attended the festival and demanded a look around. ‘You Can’t Go It Alone’ sat in a deckchair, sheltered by my umbrella, and soaked up the atmosphere. A delightful woman, from California, came over to meet my book. She also had a selfie with my book and said she would look up Books in my Handbag Blog. I do hope she reads this post, as the impromptu meeting was a highlight of my day – she was so kind and enthusiastic. I wanted to tell her more about Sophie, Rosa, Olivia and Pearl but stumbled on my words.
A delightful woman, from California, came over to meet my book.
Following the visit to the bookworms’ tent, we strolled into the village of Hay. On the road to the village front gardens were teeming with flowers, coffee, cakes, books, journals, bric-a-brac, home-made jams and clothes. We bought freshly baked Welsh cakes from an improvised stall on a gate post. The Poetry and Prosecco experience captured my curiosity.
A Prosecco shack was under construction, as I looked at a stall with poetry and handprinted cards and messages. Francesca Kay, a performance poet, presented her poems in hand designed seed packets.
Francesca Kay
She wants her poems to present a seed of an idea and had no intention of presenting the poems in a book. Poems are presented on cards, in matchboxes and anything that inspires her. Francesca’s first printing press lived in her kitchen and now she has an entire studio. For Francesca, the printing ink is a language, and she waxed lyrical how the ink makes different impressions on various surfaces and in various conditions. Indeed, she explained ‘making an impression’ originated from the printing process. Her stall of tactile tweets was so much to take in, I couldn’t decide what to buy. The creative challenge to the conventional printed book forced me to reflect on my determination to see my book in print.
Her stall of tactile tweets was so much to take in, I couldn’t decide what to buy.
Perhaps, I need explore the spoken word. Maybe, I could commission Francesca to print some quotations from the book. Who knows?
I will return to Francesca’s website, and I will return to the Hay Festival. The whole experience made an impression on my creative appetite. People encountered made the adventure unique. I may not have met with Benjamin Zephaniah, but I did meet a performance poet who was printing her work using her own language.
How wonderful to meet the readers personally and realise your writing has connected. Cressida Cowell greets her readers.
While writing this blog post I received reply to a tweet from one of the festival marshals. Ironically, he met with Benjamin Zephaniah and said, ‘He brought poetry to life for me as a young teen, some time ago, it was so great to meet him. And he was so friendly and lovely too!’ I am satisfied to have received this insight, as it reinforced my impression of the poet.
I took in: the shops, food hall, cafes, bars, live music and restaurants
I wonder what impression I would gain of the festival if I spent a couple of days there and experienced the atmosphere in the evening. I would like to attend some of the formal events, in the future, but have realised the festival is so much more than a bookish wonderland I expected to find. The Hay Festival is a festival of creative minds and the logo ‘imagine the world’ has captured the magic.
On arrival at the log cabin, we were charmed by the interior and greeted by a sparkling blue winter sea view.
Winter became spring, as I completed the final edits of my novel: You Can’t Go It Alone. A holiday in February is now a romantic memory, but I must share a secret I discovered in Cornwall.
As a Valentine’s Day gift, my husband planned a winter holiday to Cornwall. Severe weather warnings via every form of communication heralded the beginning of our adventure. Why worry about Siberia when you live in the UK, and Cornwall is always warmer?
On arrival at the log cabin, the interior charmed us then distracted us with sparkling sea view. Fairy lights adorned the archway above luxurious leather sofas. The pine interior filled with rugs, cushions and rocking chairs reminded me of Norwegian interiors in style magazines. A cute, bespoke kitchen contained everything required to cook grilled Dover Sole in a butter sauce. Cosy and warm in the cabin, we ignored the weather warnings broadcast on the television.
On the first day, we went to look at St Michael’s Mount, but it was closed. No worries, I wanted to visit the Barbara Hepworth Museum and Sculpture Garden, as I adore The Hepworth in Wakefield – well she was a Yorkshire lass. Alas, you guessed it, the museum was closed. Off next to Trengwainton Gardens but it was closed until Sunday. The bitter cold drove us back to the log cabin for the evening.
Glorious cliffs sculpted by time and nature: Land’s End
No one can close Land’s End, so we travelled to the famous landmark and planned to grab lunch there. Land’s End is accessed through an entrance you would find at a theme park – so it could be closed. We walked past the souvenir shops before we reached Land’s End. Glorious cliffs chiselled by the elements and reminiscent of Hepworth’s sculptures greeted us. Lunch in The First and Last Inn was not possible as it was closed. I wore two coats, two hats and a hood teamed with my waterproof trousers to keep out the arctic temperatures.
Mousehole is the ‘loveliest village in England’ according to DylanThomas.
Amused by the name ‘Mousehole’, we called at the village for a very late lunch. Quaint stone houses welcomed us in the sheltered harbour. We ate cheese sandwiches in a friendly coffee shop tucked away at the end of the village. Apparently, Dylan Thomas described Mousehole as ‘the loveliest village in England. And, there was an ice cream parlour called Jessie’s, so we ordered vanilla ice cream.
We stood in the amongst the silhouettes of people found in a Lowry painting.
Rejuvenated by our rest in Mousehole, we braved the cold to visit beaches. Golden white sand marked with endless footsteps greeted us at Sennen Cove. We rambled along the beach. Light showcased the beach in all its glory, and we stood in the amongst the silhouettes of people who had escaped from a Lowry painting. The next day we hiked around the coast in St Ives and marvelled at the magical beauty of the golden light. Sadly, our camera could not capture the texture of an artist’s brush.
We marvelled at the magical beauty of the light in St Ives
Winter is the best time to view the beaches of Cornwall. Forget the art galleries and tourist traps and enjoy nature’s treasures. Step onto the beaches and walk inside a painting to enjoy nature’s pallet. Snow fell as we drove home. Thankfully, the Severn Bridge remained open until we got home. Visiting Cornwall, in winter, felt like having the world to ourselves – an idyllic romantic winter paradise. Shh, don’t tell anyone…
The accidental viticulturists: Judith and Colin Dudley at Parva Farm Vineyard
People who follow their dreams make my heart sing: people who find their dreams accidentally make my heart sing and dance.
On moving in to Parva Farm, Judith and Colin discovered vines on the neglected, bracken infested land. The vines planted in 1979 survived, so they decided to cultivate them, without any prior knowledge of viticulture. The first yield, in 1998, produced fifty six bottles, then in 2006 they went on to produce eleven thousand bottles. We have marvelled as an abandoned vineyard has been brought to life to produce award winning wines.
They adapted their farmhouse to include a shop and wine tasting room.
Colin and Judith grow a variety of grapes including: Bacchus, Seyval Blanc, Muller Thurgan, Pinot Noir and Regent. They adapted their farmhouse to include a shop and wine tasting room. Tours of the vineyard, with excellent views of the abbey, are available for the more adventurous. There is always a warm welcome! We have visited Parva Farm Vineyard for two decades because we like to hear about the latest developments in their narrative. Their achievements seem like a dream, but behind the scenes, I am sure there is a great many ups and downs. Judith and Colin’s story has attracted visits from Countryfile and the Hairy Bikers. This delightful, industrious couple battled on quietly to become the first vineyard in the area. The vineyard, on the hillside, can be seen for miles and is testimony to their determination.
We have marvelled as an abandoned vineyard has been brought to life to produce award winning wines.
Nowadays, Judith and Colin tend the vines and keep sheep on their land – they have exceeded their dreams. These accidental viticulturists have become experts at nurturing the vines, but they accept that some years one will have bad years: they cannot control the Welsh weather
Authors can take inspiration from vine growers. The story is nurtured, pruned and cultivated.
Award winning sparkling wines at Parva Farm Vineyard
Sometimes the narrative flourishes like the healthy vine, but on other days there are too many off shoots to the narrative. On other occasions there is a drought of ideas. It is essential to keep working and chasing the dream, as there may be a dream waiting around the corner.
If one is struggling, then you could take a break and visit some people who can infect you with their enthusiasm. As a reward for your labour, you could reach for a bottle of the Regent wine. It tastes of cherry pie and vanilla and will warm your heart.
I confess, a visit to Tintern and the vineyards did contribute to the inspiration of my fictional Welsh village of Delfryn
I confess, a visit to Tintern and the vineyards did contribute to the inspiration of my fictional Welsh village of Delfryn. In my novel You Can’t Go It Alone, Olivia and Marcus walk to a vineyard and taste some wine.
‘As Olivia and Marcus trekked along the river, they searched for a sight of the vineyard. Sunlight danced on the river and caressed the trees. Signs of moss and water damage clung to the row of houses on the opposite side of the road. The spring sun glowed on Olivia’s skin, as she stopped to glance towards the proud Delfryn Abbey. Olivia turned around to point out the vineyard on the hill. Neat rows of naked vines yearned for the heat of the summer sun. The steep hill leading up to the vineyard distracted from her favourite view of the village. Buoyed by the promise of wine tasting, Marcus rushed ahead while Olivia struggled to breathe. The gravel crunched as an old pickup truck climbed up the hill in front of them; a cloud of dust made Olivia cough until she almost fell over.’
The young Marcus, in my novel tastes the wine and his observations remind me of the Tintern wine.
As a reward for your labour, you could reach for a bottle of the Regent wine. It tastes of cherry pie and vanilla and will warm your heart.
‘The Seyval Blanc is citrusy, light and refreshing. I prefer the Pinot Noir and the flavours of red berries. Oh, and the hint of vanilla.’
Cheers, Judith and Colin and thank you for the inspiration!
I urge you to visit Parva Farm to sample Welsh wines, sparkling wines and cider – you won’t be disappointed.
Meet Bruce and Rebecca and let them welcome you to Elsworth kitchen.
Though I’m a Yorkshire lass, it never ceases to amaze me how friendly the folk are and how natural it is to have a good old natter with strangers. When I met Rebecca, one of the proprietors of Elsworth Kitchen, it was like stepping into a friend’s new home. She gestured for us to grab a seat in the café and was very patient when we wandered around the place searching for the best spot.
Cosy interior of Elsworth Kitchen upstairs (photo from Elsworth Kitchen FB page)
In truth, there wasn’t a ‘best spot’ to grab as the entire café restaurant is well designed and every nook and cranny is welcoming. I wasn’t surprised to discover Rebecca has a degree in Art and Design. I couldn’t resist sitting in the Naughty Corner and loved the way Rebecca engages in her design as a talking point. On this occasion we were only ordering hot drinks. I suffer from allergies and sometimes it is simply too much hassle to eat out. However, I am delighted to report that Rebecca was keen to make provisions for dietary requirement in a friendly manner that did not make me feel like a foodie allergy freak. Nothing was too much trouble!
Rebecca’s husband, Bruce, is the chef and has wealth of experience, including working with working under acclaimed Michelin-star chef Nigel Haworth. Indeed, Bruce came out of the kitchen to explain that the menu is constantly evolving, and he shapes the menu according to feedback. Rebecca and Bruce’s approach appears to be a dynamic approach to dining where they will not churn out the same menu each year. I think I have just discovered the latest trend in dining and it’s about time. At Elsworth Kitchen, food and folk matter, and you’re invited to have a good natter with friends, family and the Elsworth team.
The kitchen at work
Thursday lunchtime was buzzing and was filled with the sound of happy customers savouring the food. Is there a better accolade than the chorus of ‘mmm’ as people tuck into their great grub? And I have to say it was also wonderful to watch the chefs in action. Some of them listened into the conversation and one chef came to engage in discussion. For me, the philosophy was ‘we care about you and we can tempt you with food’.
The lunch menu is well considered and not over brimming with too many choices: always a good sign. Seasonality sings throughout the menu. But what impressed me is that there was a confident and relaxed approach to the food and flavours in the language of the menu.
This dessert is calling me back to Skipton.
I will revisit Elsworth Kitchen because I know it is real food, served by real folk with a real attention to detail and hospitality. I am not surprised that they have received two awards in less than a year. Wishing Rebecca and Bruce the very best of luck. It certainly receives a Books in Handbag Award for hospitality, and I can’t wait to return.
What do you want for breakfast? I’ll have everything on the menu.
In the meantime, I could not resist finding out more about Rebecca and Bruce’s story. After their lunchtime service, they took the time to have a good old chinwag. As a writer of romance fiction, I was bursting to ask my first question.
Jessie: Where did you meet and was it love across a crowded kitchen?
Rebecca and Bruce: We are both from Skipton, so we have known each other a long time. Owing to our dedication to running different restaurants, our paths didn’t really cross until much later in a local pub. Having similar interests, especially both being big foodies, we would spend our time exploring different European cities and their culinary specialities.
Jessie: Great to hear that food brought you together. This means that Elsworth Kitchen was meant to be, so what should customers expect to find at Elsworth Kitchen?
Rebecca and Bruce: A warm Yorkshire welcome is the first thing that will greet you at Elsworth Kitchen. We offer casual dining in a relaxed environment. In terms of the décor, we spent days trawling through auctions, fairs and reclaim yards to find unique pieces for the restaurant. We have also designed the layout so the kitchen area is open enabling guests to see the team at work. Plus, as we are new parents ourselves, so we have made a special effort to make children feel welcome; there is even a mini kitchen to keep the budding mini chefs busy.
At this stage they politely broke off to greet guests and ensure they had a hearty welcome. And then Rebecca helped some parents with pushchairs find a suitable place. I was impressed.
Jessie: You have been open one year and I see you already have two awards. Share one review that made your heart sing.
Joy as Bruce and Rebecca and their team receive an award. In the first year of business, Elsworth Kitchen received the Yorkshire Evening Post Oliver Award and the Skipton Business Award 2019.
Rebecca: Bruce’s cooking style is local, seasonal, hearty and full of taste. I know it’s great food and we have a loyal customer base. Though it’s always wonderful to receive independent feedback. A review that stands out is:
‘Now I’m a real foodie and I love to be wooed by food!! And this place it’s a food lovers heaven!! My friend and I came after having heard great reviews in just the short time it’d being open. The reviews met the expectations and it’s now a firm favourite of mine and a great addition to Skipton’
Jessie: Wow! That is praise indeed and I imagine this restaurant will become an institution in the town. Having a new family and new restaurant must be exhausting for you both. What do you cook at home?
Rebecca: A good old Chicken Dinner with, of course, Yorkshire pudding
Jessie: If invited, what would you cook on Saturday Kitchen?
Bruce: Our signature black pudding dish, the black pudding is made in the traditional farmhouse way and I serve it with homemade smoked beans, slowly cooked ham hock, poached free range egg and finished with our bourbon glace.
Jessie: Who would be your dream dinner guests?
Rebecca and Bruce: Marco Pierre White and Tommy Cooper, now wouldn’t that be a fun night.
Which restaurant do you dream of visiting one day and why?
Bruce: It would have to the famous restaurant Jules Verre, which happens to be in Paris and located halfway up the Eiffel Tower. Say no more!!
Who is your favourite author?
Rebecca: We collect many cook books, old and new, from Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly by Anthony Bourdain to Nose to Tail Eating: A Kind of British Cooking by Fergus Henderson.
If you are in Yorkshire, then I recommend you visit Elsworth Kitchen. Rebecca and Bruce explained, ‘We are an independent restaurant situated in the beautiful canal quarter of Skipton.’ You will receive a hearty welcome and great food. Take a peek at the website for more photographs of the stunning food.
For me, the thrill of chasing ideas is the most exciting element of the writing process.
Words can take us to any place and any time. I was delighted to discover words I wrote in my notebook during a summer holiday in Devon. My thoughts were scattered on the page, so I picked them up, revisited my photo album and returned to a time when I suffered a creative drought.
Words let us travel to any place, any time and any season.
The heat stifled ideas and frazzled my creativity. I complained the holiday cottage was too dark for me to write. After a few days, I worried my ideas had taken leave. I blamed the environment because small windows trapped the darkness in the room, and I seemed to have reached a dead end with the story.
I found the ideal house for an author.
Entering A la Ronde, created by Jane and Mary Parminter, confirmed that the correct environment is essential. My creativity opened again as soon as I wandered around the eighteenth century house. I found the ideal house for an author. Imagine a sixteen-sided house that allows you to follow the light around the house. Perfect!
In this house, I would be able to chase my ideas around and around in circles until I found the correct room to write. Ideas travel around like the wheels of a windmill until I get them on paper and stop them circling. Sometimes, I release ideas too early and they must be abandoned. For me, the thrill of chasing ideas is the most exciting element of the writing process.
At Greenway House, Agatha Christie’s holiday home, I found out that she also enjoyed chasing ideas for her stories.
At Greenway House, Agatha Christie’s holiday home, I found out that she also enjoyed chasing ideas for her stories. She spent time listening to conversations in hotels, researching and plotting. She delighted in the process of developing her narratives but didn’t look forward to ‘sitting down and writing the darn thing’. Exploration of the garden of Greenway House did give my ideas more room to develop. Sitting in Agatha Christie’s room, I met the anti-hero in my novel.
Since confessing my frustrations to my notebook, I have completed my second novel, Loving You (working title). I am using feedback from the RNA New Writers’ Scheme to control the ideas I chased across the page during a heatwave in Devon. My RNA reader is currently sitting on my shoulder, shaking her head occasionally and pushing me to challenge my characters.
I have learned to move around the house in search of inspiration because working in one room inhibited my ideas. Moreover, I just need to get on and ‘write the darn thing’ and accept there will be times of frustration and many, many drafts of the novel.
There is a beauty in the towering mills of the town, and I am ‘chuffed t’bits’ Yorkshire is still welcoming newcomers that will enrich the town’s future.
There’s ‘nowt’ like going home to Yorkshire. Because I haven’t lived in Yorkshire for over twenty years, I love to identify what is the same and how it is changing. However, I can always rely on the warmth of the people and a hearty welcome.
The signature Yorkshire warmth was commented on in a programme of Hairy Bikers recently when Si and Dave visited Yorkshire Dama Cheese shop in Sowerby Bridge. Razan Alsous, a pharmacist, came to the UK from Syria with her husband and family and set up the cheese factory where she makes Haloumi cheese and other products. Razan explained how welcome she and her family had been made to feel in Yorkshire. After hearing Razan’s story, we stopped off the visit the shop. We were greeted by a very enthusiastic employee who loved the products and convinced us to buy a selection of cheeses.
The squeaky cheese selection
On returning home to Cardiff, we sampled the halloumi cheese which is labelled a squeaky cheese. Little did we know that a taste sensation awaited us. We fried the cheese in a drizzle of olive oil, sprinkled the cheese with smoked paprika and served on some banana bread I made earlier in the day. The combination of sweet and savoury really worked, and the cheese did squeak. Perfect comfort food! We also bough ricotta and have frozen it so we can use it during the festive season.
The combination of sweet and savoury really worked, and the cheese did squeak.
The shop is tucked away in the mill town of Sowerby Bridge. There is a beauty in the towering mills of the town, and I am ‘chuffed t’bits’ Yorkshire is still welcoming folk that will enrich the town’s future.
My version of Sue’s banana bread is delicious.
Recipe for banana bread provided by author Sue Bentley
It’s super easy.
Here goes.
Mash five very ripe bananas then add one beaten egg and I teasp. Vanilla.
In another bowl combine one and a half cups of any plain flour, 1 teasp. Bicarbonate of Soda, half a teasp. Cinnamon, Half a cup of chopped walnuts, dash of salt.
Mix dry ingredients into banana mixture. Stir to combine don’t over mix.
Pour into lined loaf tin.
Bake for 40 to 60 mins on Gas mark 4.
Let cool and enjoy! When using cups as a measure just choose a medium sized one and use the same cup to measure everything.
Jena and Jessie and the great escape of their characters
Did you ever wonder if your favourite book characters would like to take a break from the control of their authors, escape from their own book worlds and create their own adventures? Do you suppose they would like to meet new friends and have fresh experiences? Let’s listen in as Sophie, from You Can’t Go It Alone and Charli from The Golden Age of Charli series, meet and take a vacation from their book lives.
Sophie: Thank for you opening your home and your heart to me. I’ve had a splendid time here in Ohio.
Charli: I’m so glad your author sent you here! I don’t know if Ohio was on your list of top ten places in the world to see, but I’ve tried to show you my favorite places.
Sophie: Yes, we’ve done so much, and we’ve laughed and smiled even more. Aside from some minor differences, you say “yard”…
Charli: You say “garden”. You write the dates wrong…
Sophie: Ha! I jolly well do not! You eat dinner too early…
What happens when British and American characters meet for a Happy Hour
Charli: Really? But you have that lovely accent, so you win!
Sophie: Ah, you Americans like to win!
*Charli sings Anything You can Do, I can Do Better!*
Charli: Ok, enough…should we tell our secret…
Sophie: Our secret? Oh, you mean that secret…of course …
Charli: Do you think Readers know that book characters can really do anything they want? That’s our big secret- we can have lives outside our books and go places and do things anytime we want!
Sophie: I love our secret! As long as we can get Jessie and Jena, our authors, to write it…we can do it! We can go from your house near Cleveland to you other house by the lake and then be back in time for tea!
A Happy Hour rather than tea in America
Charli: I call it Happy Hour- I like adult beverages better than tea…but we can also have any type of food or drink we want- if we give our writers a nudge, they can create any kind of meal we want!
Sophie: Indeed. So, let’s enjoy! TO YOUR HEALTH. Tea for me, please.
Charli: Ha! This morning my husband Pud asked what we had planned for today and I told him you were helping me with a tea this afternoon. And he said, “No, my tee time is this morning at 10 am.”
He must have heard me choking on my hydration water. “What’s so funny?” he said.
Charli and Sophie’s happy hour
I said, “Not ‘golf tee”, Sophie and I are having a ‘tea’ time. You know, cups, yummy tidbits.”
I didn’t know if Pud heard me because he was heading to the garage. He called back to me, “That reminds me. I should make sure I have tees in my bag. Have fun today. You must really like Sophie, because you never golf.”
Sophie: We’re getting in to the Swing of things, aren’t we? It’s FORE o’clock so we’d better get started.
Step inside Sophie’s world in Wales
Charli: We have many tempting treats. I told my writer we want sushi, snacks, desserts, all my favorites. Please take more! So after all our fun, do you miss Delfryn?
Sophie: Travel is great, but I do miss home. Vine Cottage is the first home Jack and I have bought together. The cottage needs lots of work but will look great. Delfryn is so peaceful that it calms me down after a hard day’s teaching. The school in a busy town so it’s great to drive back home. Trees arching over the road to Delfryn take me back into my haven.
I am often greeted with the delicious aroma of Italian food when I pass the gorgeous Olive Tree café. Just thinking about Delfryn makes me homesick. I miss walks in the countryside and the peaceful presence of Delfryn Abbey.
*Sophie pauses then stifles a laugh. *
How I love to sit in the abbey grounds and watch the ‘birdies’. Oh, I’m getting into the swing of this.
* Charli throws back her head, laughs and sips her tea *
Charli: Wow! I hope you use some large binoculars to see those eagles and albatrosses on the local golf course.
I’m sure you miss your family, too. I know family is important to you. What else is important to you at this point in your life?
Jessie Cahalin’s You Can’t Go It Alone
Sophie: …yes…I love how you have cultivated relationships with not only your kids, but your extended family, too. Since we’ve been in Delfryn I’ve been getting to know Jack’s family. Jack’s mother used to terrify me, but she has been fiercely supportive of us going through the fertility treatment. I wish I’d told her earlier. Max, Jack’s father, is ill and Delfryn is good for him.
*Sophie sighs*
I wish Max and Jeanie lived closer, so we could keep an eye on them. Oh, and there’s my brother-in-law, Marcus. He’s irresponsible yet lovable at the same time. He knows when to listen and support. I wish he knew what he wanted in life. He likes Olivia, but he has a girlfriend back home. Trouble is, he’s a bit lost and needs a job that uses his creativity and love of music. Marcus is young and hasn’t figured out what he wants to do with his life – too much time on his hands. And what I like about you Charli, is that you still have goals. Wait, that didn’t sound quite right.
Charli- Tee hee- yes, I’m always buzzing around with ideas. We’ve chatted about this before, you know, you are so easy to talk to, but when my husband retired, it took us a few years to get our relationship back on track; we really didn’t have anything in common after his work and travel stopped. But now…
Sophie: You two are so cute together. You remind me of my dear in-laws, Jeannie and Max. They’ve been travelling around in a camper van and enjoying life. It’s great to see them together. I think they are treating their camper van adventure as a second honeymoon. Jeanie embarrassed Jack when she pointed out the bed in the van and said there was ‘plenty of room for manoeuvre’.
*Placing hand over her mouth, Sophie giggles*
Jeanie and Max’s new found hippy freedom scares the hell out of Jack but they make me laugh. He’s worried about their sudden lack of planning and need to travel. I can understand them wanting to enjoy their retirement.
I guess I thought that all retirees liked to travel? Do you and Pud have travel plans?
Charli: After Pud retired, we spent several years zooming around the country, having fun with our nieces and nephews. We don’t have any plans right now. We’ve talked about driving through Europe or going to Japan. I’d like to take my kids on a cruise.
I know you had quite the time in Paris. Kinda like Pud and me in Cancun!
Sophie: We had a splendid time in Paris.
*Sophie nudges Charli*
Paris is the city of love, but Paris in January is absolutely freezing. Although I wore layers and layers the cold seeped through to my bones. Thankfully, Jack kept me warm in the evenings.
*Sophie pauses then laughs*
Wow. I can’t believe you get me to confess this stuff. I’ve found out that it helps to talk about how you’re feeling. It was as I was stuck in a bunker unable to carry on with my life.
You see, I want children but have realized I’ve got so much to be grateful for. Jack and I love each other and have a good life. I also get so much pleasure out of helping others.
Charli: Oh, I need some more of this. Thanks for sharing some of your special recipes with me. Do you need more tea?
Sophie: Don’t mind if I do, Charli. I’ve exhausted my golfing puns and do prefer a tea caddy to a golf caddy – unless he’s handsome.
Confession time! My ability in sport is seriously below par. In the early days of our relationship, Jack constantly organised for us to meet with his tennis buddies. What a disaster! I bought all the right tennis gear but genuinely couldn’t hit the ball. He was furious because he thought I was trying to destroy the game. The more I tried to hit the tennis ball, the more I stumbled on the grass. My perfect white outfit was covered in grass stains and my hair looked like a bird’s nest. Following the game, we saw Jack’s ex. I pretended we’d had such a difficult game, but he won in the end. Later I found out that she’d been watching the game. Oh well, at least my outfit was better than hers, and I bought a matching handbag.
Charli: Nothing like a darling purse and a snappy pair of shoes. Sophie, I know I’m going to sound old saying this, but the years do go by so fast! When I was about your age, the saying was “Don’t trust anyone over thirty!” It was the dawning of the Age of Aquarius…
*Sophie and Charli break into song and a few moves*
Oh, my poor knees! Thirty seemed old, but 50 or even 60…yikes! Turns out, I having even more fun now! Pud and I were always so Type A, lots of goals and lists, budgets and plans. Now, we take time to smell the chocolate and drink the vodka! Did I tell you about the time last year Pud and I were in Chicago, and I was soaking in the swanky marble garden tub in our suite (thank you hotel points!) and I cooed to Pud, “Oh, Cabana Boy…I need you… come here my darling boy…” My visions of splashin’ and passion had a soggy ending. We still laugh though! And then there was that time in Cancun, when Pud massaged me with samples of a new body oil…can you imagine all green? How sexy!
Sophie:
Let’s tell Jessie and Jena that you must come over to the UK. I’d like to show you around Delfryn. We could go for an afternoon’s wine tasting in the local vineyard to continue our chat. I’d ask Rosa, from the Olive Tree, to make us an Italian picnic feast. I’m sure Jeanie and Max would lend us the vintage camper van to tour around the area.
Charli and Sophie escape to Jena’s lake house, Ohio.
When I spotted Jena’s Forever Young boat online, I laughed at the beautiful message – there was an instant connection. Jena’s character, Charli, and my character, Sophie are a generation apart but share a love of life. The characters are fun, friendly and content with the simple things in life. I hope you enjoyed listening in to their meeting. I’d like to introduce you to my new and brilliant American friend, Jena. C Henry. Every interaction I have with Jena makes me smile, and I feel as if I have known her forever!
Jena C Henry’s Golden Age of Charli books
Meet Jena C. Henry
Jena C. Henry is an active, high-energy gal who is a wife, mother, non-profit volunteer and bon vivant. She created the fiction book series, The Golden Age of Charli, to encourage, entertain and share her joy of living and laughing.
Jena is a book lover. She is passionate about connecting with authors and readers. Jena is delighted to read, and review books and she features many reviews and book promotions on her website. Jena also presents writing workshops to help creatives achieve their dreams of writing a book and publishing it.
Jena C. Henry holds a Juris Doctor degree from the University of Akron School of Law. Now retired, she and her husband live in tropical Ohio where they enjoy their two adult children and extended family, friends and darling dog.
When she is finished tidying her house, Jena likes to relax on her front porch and read and write. She enjoys fine dining, traveling to visit family, and lounging by lovely bodies…of water.
I can’t wait to read Jena’s books and indulge in positivity!
An ancient solitary tree beckoned me to attempt a footpath through a wheatfield
Walking has been a gift throughout this year. I feel fitter and healthier because we have walked over twenty miles a week. During the jaunts, we have discovered new destinations in our local area and opened our eyes to the natural world; ever-changing light also worked its magic.
I had no idea how many local lanes we ignored during twenty years of living in beautiful South Wales. Adventures were confined to the familiar tourist destinations, yet there were places on the doorstep. We discovered a lane in Michaelstone that leads to a footpath across farmland. An ancient solitary tree beckoned us to attempt a footpath through a wheatfield, and we were rewarded with a view of the Somerset coast. Once we reached the tree, we encountered a man following the same route. He made us aware of the original road ancient travellers used to reach London, and we considered how landmarks such as trees would have been landmarks in ancient times. As the man talked, he looked out to sea because his ancestors used to live in Somerset in the eighteenth century, and said he felt connected to them. Was he waiting for them to return? He seemed to disappear very suddenly into the distance.
It felt as if nature had conspired to present us with a glimpse of a Monet painting.
Though we have walked the same routes many times now, seasons and sightings of wildlife have rewarded us with different perspectives. Previously, we may not have had time to see the dragonfly waiting on a tree or spot bees on flowers. We never really paid attention to the livestock in the fields close to the house, or the progress of crops in the farmer’s fields. During the dark days of lockdown, we searched for colour and found it in our garden. Bluebells stood proud at the back of our garden and enhanced the character of the tiny shed. Furthermore, alliums planted in autumn 2019 presented vibrant displays throughout the spring and summer, attracting bees, insects and birds.
When Lockdown eased, we were able to visit Dryham Park in South Gloucestershire and could not believe our luck when we were able to get close enough to photograph deer in the park.
When Lockdown eased, we were able to visit Dryham Park in South Gloucestershire and could not believe our luck when we were able to get close enough to photograph deer in the park. The presence of these magnificent creatures had a calming effect. Dyffryn House, closer to home, tested us with torrential rain when we visited but we endured it and captured images of the rain sparkling on lily pads. It felt as if nature had conspired to present us with a glimpse of a Monet painting.
Our lives have been fraught with challenges, but seasons have remained constant and soothed us. Wildlife continue to keep themselves busy with their daily lives and remain calm until they sense a predator. There is so much to see in your local area if you look closely.
Bluebells adorned the back of our garden and enhanced the character of the tiny shed
All the best for 2021!
Have you discovered hidden treasure in your local area during lockdown?
Nobody followed me to the No Sign Bar, Swansea – a regular haunt of Dylan Thomas. Seated next to the window, I searched inside of my handbag for Collected Stories by Dylan Thomas. I found ‘The Followers’, a ghost story, hidden inside the anthology.
A ping from my phone confirmed a signal, but I ignored the emails. I sat in the bar Thomas renamed the Wine Vaults. I read the opening lines of the story, but there was no sign of the beer I had just ordered. Without anything to quench my thirst, there was nothing I could do apart from read on. Between words, I felt compelled to search for two pairs of eyes outside of the window, but there was no sign of anyone.
Seated next to the window, I searched inside my handbag for Collected Stories by Dylan Thomas.
Outside the window, ‘the rain spat and drizzled past the street lamps’. No one wore ‘squeaking galoshes, with mackintosh collars up and bowlers and trilbies’. Alas, the ‘rattle of bony trams’ was silenced long ago. Only the swish of car tyres, hum of engines and slamming of car doors filled the silence on the streets. Gazing at the decaying red window frames, I did not see ‘a young man with his arm around a girl’. Instead, I glimpsed a young couple hand in hand dashing across the road while there was a break in the traffic. Outside, there was a mass of coloured jackets and everyone wore jeans, leggings or trousers. No one looked inside the tatty building. They didn’t seem to care that Dylan Thomas had once frequented this watering hole.
Dylan Thomas (1914-1953). This famous Welshman wrote poems, short stories and scripts for film and radio, which he often performed himself.
Reading the short story, I pursued the followers, as they scurried through the alley. Inside, No Sign Bar, I could smell the old musty wine cellar. No one was responsible for the spontaneous spark of colour in the open fire. The pitted floorboards had been battered by tired and drunken feet for centuries. Words echoed around cavernous room. Perhaps, these were the words that inspired Dylan Thomas’s story ‘The Followers’: his only ghost story. And I heard the rise and fall of the Welsh accent that probably escaped into the pages of Thomas’s mind, as he imagined the story. I read the final sentence, ‘And we went our separate ways.’ I departed.
Artist’s impression of the ancient Salubrious Passage. Thomas renamed it Paradise Alley in The Followers
Near to Paradise Alley, I heard a voice echo. ‘Spare some change, madam?’ The homeless soul was clutching a synthetic, fleece blanket. His watery, bloodshot eyes regarded me as he rolled himself a cigarette. I spared him fifty pence, but this wouldn’t even buy him a beer. He caught the meagre offering with a grateful nod that punched my conscience.
‘Have you seen Leslie?’ mumbled the man. He looked at my handbag as I retrieved more change.
I nodded. ‘Only bread and jam in my handbag,’ I declared.
I heard the distance tapping of footsteps and turned around
I ran to the car park. The rain drizzled until diluted my memory of the bar. I heard the distance tapping of footsteps and turned around. Thankfully, there was no sign of anyone following me. Checking Twitter, I did note I had two more followers.
No Sign Bar and The Followers
No Sign Bar is believed to be Swansea’s oldest pub and dates to 1690. The wine cellars date back to the 15th century. The name ‘No Sign’ originates from legislation of licencing when public bars had to have a recognisable sign. This building was not public house and did not require a sign, hence was later given the name ‘No Sign’ to announce its presence!
Dylan Thomas Collected Stories
Dylan Thomas frequented No Sign Bar, as a young man. No Sign Bar is featured as the Wine Vaults in Dylan Thomas’s story, ‘The Followers’. Salubrious Passage, next to the bar, is referred to as Paradise Alley in the short story. I recommend you read The Followers, Dylan Thomas’s only ghost story. I first encountered this story at the age of fourteen and enjoyed revisiting the prose while seated in Thomas’s old haunt.
Here are useful links if you wish to visit Swansea and find out more about the writer, poet and playwright.
Meet the members of RNA South Wales and West Chapter meeting.
Desperate to fall in love, my characters have been demanding my attention for months. They tease me with the knowledge I am writing a manuscript for the RNA New Writers’ Scheme. I’ve been travelling back to the seventies with my book folk, Pearl and Jim et al, and we’ve had fun, tears and tantrums. Pressing pause on the lives of Jim and Pearl, I attended the RNA South Wales and West Chapter meeting.
I discarded my writing clothes and magic slippers. Resisting the temptation to visit Narnia in my wardrobe, I hunted down a skirt, lamb’s wool jumper and shoes. Pearl was a little concerned about the choice of footwear and wanted me to wear suede knee length boots. I shrugged at her concern because I felt the writer should be in charge for once.
It was a joy to meet a group of writers who had also emerged from their writing caves. I discovered that there was a Norwegian writer, a writer of erotic fiction, a family saga author and romantic suspense author in our midst. I didn’t ask which characters they’d locked in their caves back home, or if they’d left their companions in a good place.
Sue, an employee of House of Fraser, took us on a journey through the decades of the store that started life as Howells
The writers adjusted to daylight and ordered drinks before the speaker arrived. Sue, an employee of House of Fraser, took us on a journey through the decades of the store that started life as Howells. We learned of the Howells family and the changing face of the store. The stories led us behind the scenes of the store to meet with the resident ghosts of Howells’ past. As our imaginations travelled down the hidden subterranean corridors of the attic rooms, we were introduced to a woman dressed in grey and a man in a top hat. The woman in grey chiffon danced in Jan Baynham’s imagination and will no doubt arrive in one of her stories.
My characters continued to knock on my imagination throughout the meeting. I have since discovered that Evonne Wareham has a very effective way of dealing with petulant characters. This is the kind of advice I need to keep me on track. I am sure I saw the man in a top hat sitting at our table during discussions. He wandered through my imagination and into the café where he barged Pearl and Jim out of the way.
It was fascinating to observe the way a wall of the old chapel is embedded into the store.
After the meeting, the man in the top hat led me to the site of the former chapel where the shoe department is now located. It was fascinating to observe the way a wall of the old chapel is embedded into the store. New stories and new characters created a fog in my mind.
As the handbag lady writer, I couldn’t help wishing I could nip back in time one hundred and fifty years to grab a vintage bag for the Handbag Gallery. I would like to chat with Mrs Howells to discover which book she would like to place in the gallery. I am sure I could also persuade Mr Howells to sell books in handbags.
The RNA Chapter marked a new chapter in my writing career. I learned that I need to press pause on a chapter of my book occasionally. Leaving the writing cave gives my imagination a boost, and I am excited at the prospect of getting to know this group of local authors and hope to find out more about their characters.
Take a look at Jan Baynham’s experience of the meeting at:
It is almost 2020 and I have discovered I do not have twenty twenty vision. I can see clearly now the blurring has gone. It turns out that my Kindle companion was a way of coping with my less than perfect sight, and I have astigmatism. Joy of reading a physical book has been revived for me. To look at the front cover, blurb and mark my favourite pages is a luxury I had forgotten.
I will take a step at a time and negotiate the paths no matter how difficult they are.
I am currently drinking in the stories of the books but without picking up my review notebook. Maybe this is because I can see the words now and don’t need to break from the strain of reading. It is wonderful not to suffer the terrible migraines that previously impacted on my day. And I know why I was constantly complaining about the way the light reflected on my book or keyboard.
Now I have clearer vision, I intend to reread a printed version of my work in progress. I will read it without a review pen in hand and think about weaving in some secrets. I am attempting to consume my work in progress as a reader viewing the novel for the first time. Whilst on handbag leave ideas have been popping and bubbling, and I hope they come into focus.
For the time being, I am abandoning the kindle for the book so will need a considerably bigger bag.
I must admit I also rather like my glasses as a new accessory. Books in Handbag with Glasses could be a new direction for me. I’ve also spied an opportunity to shop for snazzy glasses cases. For the time being, I am abandoning the kindle for the book so will need a considerably bigger bag. However, I must confess I am not getting along very well with the varifocals as they make me a little dizzy. I need to focus on one thing at a time.
I will take a step at a time and look forward to the destination.
My vision for 2020 is to write, write, write and to look ahead. I have no specific resolutions. Adventures will come into focus as the year unfolds. I will take a step at a time and negotiate the paths no matter how difficult they are. I look forward to you all joining me on my adventures and feel privileged to have your company.
“The horizon leans forward, Offering you space to place new steps of change.” -Maya Angelou
Wishing you all a Happy New Year, and the strength to let your dreams unfold and surprise you. I will leave you with Maya Angelou’s advice:
“The horizon leans forward, Offering you space to place new steps of change.”
‘As a woman my country is the whole world.’ Three Guineas, Woolf
My country is the world. There are no borders, no passports and no countries in the world of social media; only portals to other people’s imagination and musings.
In Three Guineas, Virginia Wolf wrote, “As a woman I have no country. As a woman I want no country. As a woman, my country is the whole world.” And via social media, I have connected with writers from all over the world. My endless stream of consciousness travels around the world through: tweets, my blog and Facebook posts. People of the world open the virtual door to peek at a representation of my world, and I can walk over the threshold to visit their thoughts.
“A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.”
I weave in and out of articles, thoughts, pictures and moments of others. Everyone is documenting stories from their own viewpoint with unique and shared images. I have the liberty to hop aboard someone’s narrative then return home to my own world. Social media allows me to explore the texture of other people’s lives to search for inspiration.
A writing room of my own, connected to the world.
Like Virginia Woolf, I have a room of my own, but I have the company of a computer connected to the world.
While contemplating this brave new world, I wondered if Virginia Woolf would have engaged in social media.
Owing to the power of social media, I could knock on the virtual door of an internationally acclaimed Woolf scholar. Professor Maggie Humm wrote this in her email:
Waiting for Snapshots of Bloomsbury
“I think Virginia might well have used social media. She did write for Vogue with a photo of herself; did photograph from the age of 15 (I included over a hundred of these in my Snapshots of Bloomsbury); spoke on the BBC several times and enjoyed seeing a range of films from The Bengal Lancer to newsreels.”
Maggie Humm’s eloquent response made me feel as it I was speaking to Virginia Woolf, in cyberspace.
Snapshots of Bloomsbury
Snapshots of Bloomsbury showcases the photographs of Virginia Woolf and her sister, Vanessa Bell. Humm’s commentary provides a critical insight into Woolf’s world and ‘the culture and artistry of the period’. Virginia Woolf represented her intimate world in photographs, decades before we became attached to our mobile phones. Now, this is a book I would be proud to own, but I will place it in my battered briefcase. Snapshots of Bloomsbury needs to be enjoyed in the physical rather than digital form. However, I can’t help wondering what images and words Woolf would have chosen to share via social media. If only, I could invite Virginia Woolf to my Chat Room.
The Tryo must have spent a lifetime perfecting their art and teasing out every single note.
Enchanted by a musical trio, we joined a crowd as they danced, swayed and tapped their feet to the beat. The international language of joy spread across everyone’s face.
Situated next to the Roman Forum, musical notes suspended us in a moment. The entertainers beamed at their audience’s response. As I tapped my feet, I realised how few people placed money in the guitar case, and no one would part with ten euros to buy the compilation. Many people expected the impromptu entertainment to be free.
The Tryo must have spent a lifetime perfecting their art and teasing out every single note. I tried to imagine their stories. Who were the loves of their lives? How did they manage perform the music with such soul? As a gesture of kindness from a writer to musicians, I decided to pay the ten euros for the CD. The trio smiled again but looked a little surprised. My action prompted a few others to buy the music. I do believe that people had forgotten that we can’t always expect to be entertained for free. Alas, other people continued to record the music on their phones and never looked up. However, I did hear the happy clang of coins hitting the guitar as I walked away.
Here I am feeling happy in Delfryn Abbey (inspired by Tintern Abbey).
Listening to the CD at home takes me back to Rome and a moment that bonded a diverse group of people in the city of Romance. This weekend, I was suspended in another moment of joy when readers, across the world, paid ninety nine pence for ‘You Can’t Go It Alone’. My book climbed the charts, and I performed my happy dance. I imagined the coins falling into my handbag ready for me to buy a coffee and another book.
Olivia, Rosa and Matteo’s Olive Tree Café and music venue.
I do wish I could gather the readers of my novel together, smile at them and say thank you to them for buying my words. I would love to be able to invite the readers to the Olive Tree Café, in You Can’t Go It Alone, and ask Rosa, Olivia and Matteo to perform music for them.
As a Yorkshire lass visiting Lancaster, I entered the city with trepidation. Would I be safe? Would I be welcome? With my white rose hidden in my handbag, I approached Lancaster University and entered the magical world of the Romantic Novelists’ Association.
I exchanged my white rose for a pink lanyard, grabbed a black bag of bookish goodies and planned my battle for the day. A wave of nerves washed over me when I saw my name listed on the one-to-one timetables.
Romantic Novelists’ Association is a shield protecting writers
With the ‘Sound the drums and trumpets’, the day commenced with a meeting of authors on the New Writers’ Scheme led by the wonderful Immi Howson. Listening to the success stories of the NWS authors made me realise the Romantic Novelists’ Association is a shield protecting writers and giving us to tell our stories. Writing can be a battleground and as many said, ‘we all have downs’, but with the support of the RNA one can survive ‘the slings and arrows’ of the process.
Encouraging smiles and greetings from fellow authors lifted my heart throughout the day. Lynda Stacey, my fairy godmother, prepared me for the first meeting. Members of the South and West Wales Chapter offered constant support. Surrounded by the warmth of the writers, I calmed down and looked around for familiar faces.
When Jessie met Angela
But the ‘sound of drums and trumpets’ heralded again and a knight from the House of York pushed me towards a writing heroine, Angela Petch. Her presence glowed in the room and I knew I would be safe from the ‘slings and arrows’ of my writing doubts. She handed me a notebook with ‘Dream big because dreams do happen’ written on the cover; these words started to ring in my ears for the rest of the day. It was overwhelming to meet this lovely lady in person and snatch chat time between meetings. Her kind words armed me with confidence, and I mused on how I felt as if I have always known Angela.
She handed me a notebook with ‘Dream big because dreams do happen’ written on the cover; these words started to ring in my ears for the rest of the day.
The one-to-one meeting with the industry professionals were enjoyable but too short. My writing was praised, and I began to smile again. It was a pleasure to introduce Pearl and Jim to new people, and I was delighted everyone loved naughty Doreen.
Being involved in the RNA is ‘a kinda magic’ that enables authors to slay the self-doubts and carve out a pathway towards achieving one’s dream. All I can do now is wish on a star, edit, write and ‘dream big’.
I hoped thoughts of my characters wouldn’t disturb my enjoyment of the performance.
The orchestra tuned up prior to the Russian State Ballet’s performance of Cinderella. The discordant notes reminded me of the collection of ideas for my work in progress and blog posts. I hoped thoughts of my characters wouldn’t disturb my enjoyment of the performance.
The ballet opened with a clock projected on the screen and dancers represented the mechanism. Time ticking reminded me it was already the end of another year and it was almost time to press the button on my New Writers’ Scheme application.
My work in progress is still a pumpkin waiting for the final transformation.
A forlorn Cinderella appeared on stage, like the character of Sophie I have left behind in my second novel. The erratic movements of the stepmother and ugly sisters reminded me of the clunky sentences I have abandoned. But these characters distracted me with their humour. The man playing the wicked stepmother was expressive in both physical and facial movements. He had planned every single movement to correspond with the music. I feel as if I choreograph every single movement of the characters in my book and sometimes it appears forced, until the characters take on a life of their own. Doreen, in my work in progress, possess the same sort of pantomime dame presence as the stepmother but she isn’t wicked.
Cheers to Lizzie Lamb and Lynda Stacey
A malevolent force dominated the ballet: good wrestled with evil. The evil dissolved when the fairies appeared and then they distracted me from my writing. During my blogging year, I have also encountered my very own fairies who have added magic and to my year. Lynda Stacey invited me to the RNA York tea and encouraged me to apply for their New Writer’s Scheme, while Lizzie Lamb, an RNA member, is always on hand to provide me with indie author expertise. Angela Petch and Jena Henry are my fairy godmothers. They have become twinkling stars on my Books in Handbag Blog. As I write, I know exactly what Angela and Jena will ask.
Jena Henry and Angela Petch are my fairy godmothers
‘Who are the ugly sisters and wicked stepmothers?’ I hear my fairy godmothers ask.
Well, I am like the wicked stepmother trying to force my characters to fall in love or get back home before it’s too late. Male and female characters can get ugly when they don’t want to behave.
Transfixed, I watched the transformation of Cinderella and marvelled at the re-telling of a classic. Good, beauty and the truth prevailed when the story ended. This confirmed I must pursue a love story in my second novel.
After the bows for the ballet, the curtain dropped, lights went on and the spell was broken. My neighbours rattled their sweet packets and settled down as the dusty, blue curtain closed. Having been transported into a dreamlike state, I knew I would pursue Pearl and Jim’s romance further but with a backdrop of humour and the seventies.
With a letter from the RNA, my new year has a happy beginning.
My work in progress is still a pumpkin waiting for the final transformation. Happily, I have just discovered I have been accepted on the RNA New Writers’ Scheme. With a letter from the RNA, my new year has a happy beginning. I can’t wait for the RNA reader to add some magic. The RNA Conference and RNA York Tea will also be significant events in my year.
‘I leave you with a sense of humour and memories. Think of me when funny things happen.’ That’s what my late father told us when we discovered he had only got weeks to live. He insisted that we didn’t sit around the hospital bed and weep but laugh at memories. He started a conversation with, ‘Do you remember when…’, and then engaged us in funny stories of past events. Everyone in the ward laughed along at the stories – it was magic. I can still remember my dad holding his belly as he laughed out loud. What a great way to distract us all from the sadness! That was thirteen years ago.
Dad’s philosophy helped us through this year. As we haven’t been able to get together with extended family, we have treasured memories of past events and shared photos of past get togethers. We aimed to find photos that capture laughter!
I found a photo of me when I was about nine years old.
I found a photo of me when I was about nine years old. I urged Mum to take a photo of Dad reading the newspaper, so we could record the progress of his bald head and present the photo as evidence. He loved this and said, ‘Hair today, gone tomorrow.’
Photos that capture a moment are a gift. For example, in Northumberland, I decided to take a closer look at the sea and when I jumped off the wall, I was rewarded with a splash from a freak wave. I was the only walker who did not escape the water, and my husband was able to snap the moment as he was taking photos of the sea at the time.
I decided to take a closer look at the sea and when I jumped off the wall, I was rewarded with a splash from a freak wave.
‘Please tell me that wasn’t planned,’ said an elderly gentleman, crying with laughter.
‘No, it was especially for you,’ I replied.
He held his stomach as he waited for the laughter to subside. It felt as if Dad was there with us in that moment, instigating his usual mischief.
Of course, sharing stories and old photos is not the same as the face-to-face contact, but it cheered us up. For us, Dad is an absent present in those moments of hilarity and it’s comforting. My heart goes out to those people who have lost their loved ones, and I am thinking of you and wishing you comfort in those memories captured in your heart.
Which photos capture your fondest memories and make you smile?
‘The Millennium Centre looked bold in its bronze armour…’ You Can’t Go It Alone by Jessie Cahalin
Storm Dennis raged in Wales, and I sought sanctuary in the Millennium Centre for an experience on my bucket list – my first opera.
The space age reception area of the theatre prepared me to be transported to the alien world of opera. ‘Beam me up, Mozart,’ I muttered as I waited for The Marriage of Figaro to begin. Convinced I would need to abscond from the three and a half hours marathon during the interval, I planned the best route for the exit.
The space age reception area of the theatre prepared me to be transported to the alien world of opera
My great uncle, a coal miner from Barnsley, was a great fan of opera and blasted out the music on his gramophone. I never met Great Uncle Jimmy but of family legend deemed him eccentric for a Barnsley lad. Always amused by an opera loving miner in the family, I had to discover if one could inherit this passion.
Opera seduced me with the very first note. The poetic actions of the performers showed me the way into the narrative. And the incredible harmonies of the signing convinced me that my Level 2 seat was in heaven. Performers blended their actions and singing and taught me the emotional language of an operatic performance. Suspended in the drama, I hardly looked at the subtitles.
Inside the theatre before the performance
For three hours, I felt as if I was able to interpret the Italian language that seemed perfect for the expression of the emotions. Wow! I now understand that Uncle Jimmy would enter a trance like state to escape the darkness and toil of his life under the ground. And I know he warned my late father, ‘Don’t go down the pit, lad.’
There were layers and layers of humour and then emotions. I do not think I blinked throughout the entire performance because I could not miss one single detail of this musical tapestry. I loved the way the opera tested loyalty and love and relationships, but I was not prepared for the wonderful comedy.
I am in love with opera
To me the final scene seemed to be an expression of joy and happiness when everyone found their equilibrium. I reached in my handbag for water to ease the emotion in my throat. I couldn’t believe it! The curtain call arrived too soon. It couldn’t possibly be the end because I hadn’t heard Figaro’s Aria – the tune I’d attempted to warbled for months before this experience. Where was it? Well, now I realise this is in the Barber of Seville. A perfect ending for me as I will have to return to watch the Barber of Seville later in the year.
I am in love with opera. However, I’m unsure if this love is passed down through Uncle Jimmy, my father’s uncle. My mother also attended the opera for the first time and adored it too. I have found a new love!
“I speak of love awake I speak of love in my dreams, To the water, the shadows, the mountains, To the flowers, the grass, the fountains.” Mozart, The Marriage of Figaro.
