Sunday 28 February 2010


Help! Tomorrow! How will I cope?

At 11.15 a.m. tomorrow I have to drink one litre of water and keep it inside me until 12.15 a.m. when I am to have a scan of my bladder to see why I am peeing so much.

Keep it in! Now, that's a mountain to climb for some-one who has a bladder problem. In fact, I have a whole water thing problem. I can pee for England, cry for England and retain water where it shouldn't be in my body for England. I wonder if it's because I'm a Piscean? And perhaps they could make peeing/crying/water retention into an Olympic sport and then I'd probably win a gold for Team G.B.

I also swim every day, apart from Saturday, which is usually reserved for sleeping.

So, obviously, there's a thing going on between me and water.

I phoned the relevant hospital department and said: 'The whole point of the scan is that I can't keep water in my bladder for longer than five of ten minutes. How can I manage one whole hour?'

'We're often asked that,' the receptionist replied helpfully. 'Why don't you come a little earlier?'

Not sure that that will help so I've had to resort to purchasing some incontinence pads. Yes, you read right. Incontinence pads! 'Cos I really don't like the idea of walking to Winchester Hospital with urine flooding down my trousers. I do have some pride.

I'll let you know how I get on.

(Lou will so tell me off for writing about my bodily functions but some-one has to do it. I mean, it's a most important subject and we all have to pee.)

Too many prats not enough heroes


My techical guru, John, is in the process of formating Cyprus Blues for the web but has advised that he put it on this blog not my new one, and I bow to his better judgement.



I'm very excited about it.

As for my new blog wifenotstupid, it will remain empty until I can think what to do with it.

Saturday 27 February 2010


I have now finished the FINAL edit of my first novel, Cyprus Blues, and am confident that it's a bloody good novel. I had to make LOTS of changes in sentence structure, delete the multitude of !, and be more inventive with my descriptions. So, I'm very happy with it. No-one else might think it's very good or enjoy reading it, apart from John and Lou and, of course, they would like it, wouldn't they! But I've given it my best shot.

John just has to do some techical stuff: put in the page numbers that had mysteriously vanished, transfer my introductory letter back into the correct format, and at least try to re-adjust the headings without the computer having a nervous breakdown (or me, for that matter).

Now that I've stopped looking for an agent and am going to go direct to publishers, I've chosen Cannongate as my first port of call, because it's recommended by Mslexia, the writing magazine which I rate very highly, AND they publish David Simon of The Wire fame. And we all know, don't we, how brilliant I think The Wire is.

I've already e-mailed Cannongate to find out who I send my submission to and asked the question I've been itching to know for ages: can work published on the internet still be eligable for book publications?

And since the answer was YES, I've decide to put Cyprus Blues on the net, at least until I find a publisher.

If I nag - sorry, ask John nicely, it'll be done tomorrow. But it won't be on this blog, although, of course, I'll let you know where to find it. I might be daft but I'm not stupid!

And this is where my new bogsite - sorry, blogsite! - comes in.


On Valentine's Day, John and I polished off a very nice bottle of champagne so we were a bit, you know, in a stupid mood. And whilst we were watching television, some-one said wifenotstupid and I said immediately, I've got to have that domain name - it's too good to miss. Since John's You Tube site is daftnotstupid, it seemed like a good omen.

Anyway, the next day, my darling husband registered the name. But then I was left thinking: what do I do with it?

This blog - - is already jam-packed with a variety of writings. Ergo, the sensible thing to do is to put my creative writing in this seperate blog. So, as I take a much needed break from novel writing, not only will Cyprus Blues be posted, but some of my short stories, which, of course, I'll re-edit because I'm very thorough.


By the way, if you google/bling (bing?) wife not stupid you'll probably not find me there yet, cause I've not had any hits yet. However, If you want to read about some guy who's written about giving his wife an orgasm, you'll be well happy if you type in that name!

Thursday 25 February 2010


I am absolutely exhausted.

I'm battered... bruised... aching... stiff... sore... every one of my muscles has been tested beyond bones are only just intact...I've got frost bite and wind chill...and I'm only just beginning to warm up again. The nerves, of course, are still pretty raw and I still have too much adrenalin coursing through my veins.

It's really tough watching the Winter Olympics.

I've been training for months: swimming, exercising, stretching, Pilatesing, walking the dog,and climbing up and down the three flights of stairs to my attic work-room several times a day.

I've even had to overcome my adversity to snow (too cold, too wet, too white).

But, boy, has it been hard work watching the Winter Olymipcs.

The most difficult down-hill course I've had to endure has been the ski and snowboard cross races. In fact, it's been so nail-biting that I'm not able to leave the room until all of the races have been completed in the round. They just hit you one after the other.

There's no time to relax, polish my nails, brush the dog. I have to stay routed to my settee - usually in a prone position because it's too tiring to watch sitting up. And, naturally, it's impossible to eat because I'd just get indigestion. I can't even light up a ciggie because I might miss something in the process of focusing on the flame/searching for a lighter that actually has gas in it.

For those of you who have not watched these races, let me explain:-

You take four total idiots at a time, who seem not to care a jot about health and safety issues, place them behind bars at the top of a mountain, release the bars and watch as all four hurtle downwards along a narrow, well-defined course (blue lines) with loads of bends and jumps, often in misty/snowing conditions, and wait to see who stays upright, who has the balls to make a dangerous/daring/audacious attempt to overtake at the most dangerous parts of the the course, and who reaches the final blue line first.

It's absolutely fantastic.

These races are new to the Olympics and have probably pulled in millions of viewers, like me, who never used to watch the Winter Olympics. So, a big success, I would say.

And don't get me going about the acrobatic snowboarding. It makes me feel giddy just watching it. And I'm someone who had mastered (well, almost) the back-somersault on a trampoline when I was at College (yonks ago - and definitely the best days of my life).

So entranced have I been, that I've even been watching the more sedate courses, too: the short slalom, the long slalom, the short jump and the long jump. I'd always thought that that giant leap through the air was too terrifying to watch. Now, it seems actually tame but still enjoyable in its own way.

I'm glad our Brit girl, Amy Williams, won a gold in the skeleton - and we all know about the skeleton and the lunge (which is the skeleton backwards), don't we? But, personally, I'm relieved that, as a nation, we don't really count in these games. We seem to be having plenty of snow these days but, no doubt, it's the wrong kind of snow, and, anyway, we don't have the facilities, as per usual. In countries like Norway, where they have loads of snow, even toddlers learn how to ski.

I'm relieved because I can watch each race not caring who wins because I don't have to desperately want a Brit to win. I can just enjoy the race and appreciate the skill, strength, grace, athleticsism (have I spelt that right? Sadly, I don't have spell-check on my blog), daring, courage and sheer brilliance of each performer.

What's particularly good, too, is that so many teenagers are now involved in the Winter Olympics. One of my favourites is Fanny some-body (don't mean to be disrespectful, but I can't remember her surname) from France, who so nearly won a bronze in the final but was prepared to take a chance to snatch the gold or silver and fell over in the process (i.e. crashed spectacularly). Must watch out for her and all the other youngsters in four years time. (Is this on the Black Sea? Of course, not actually on the Black Sea but in that region of the world. That should be very interesting.)

And doesn't it make you green with envy when these sports people take off their helmets and they're so good looking, with beautiful teeth. Plus, they've got long, lean, sexy bodies to die for.

I shan't dwell too long on wishing that we i.e. Great Britain and Northern Ireland - had better winter sports facilities in Britain - not because I want MORE MEDALS but because it's such a shame that our kids are missing out on such fun.

However, my Pilates teacher, Veronica Goulder, told me at our last session, that her son was a professional Snowboarder. Absolutely wonderful. I must get more details from her at our next session.

One final word, though, and if you've got some inkling of my thoughts by reading my blog you'll know that I have to say this: my prayers go out to the lunger from Georgia who died in practice. You only have to watch the Winter Olympics to see how dangerous it all is. So hats off to all competitors who dare to do such things. I am in awe of all of you.

A little footnote here. I once went ski-ing in Bergen, Oslo, when I was seventeen. Because my mum and I were last to reach the starting point, we didn't learn how to put our skis on properly because our instructor had already covered that part of the instruction.

In consequence, we found it tres difficult. She, very wisely, quickly gave up and stayed in the hotel lounge happily reading. I, on the other hand, tried my very hardest but could only traverse in one direction.

Ski-ing on the virgin slopes was fine but going on the big ski-lift to the top was an absolute nightame. I could only get off at the top by falling off and I had so little control of my skis that the only way I could get down to the bottom was by deliberately falling down every so often to slow myself down - my desire to survive strongly kicking in.

I was the only one of our group who failed the final test, apart, of course, from my mum. And it was only when I returned my skis, that the very nice guy in the shop, in the process of sympathising with me for not getting a certificate, realised that I hadn't been wearing my skis properly.

Not that I cared. Because I was seventeen, my hair had bleached in the sun so I looked Swedish (what a compliment) and I excelled at the apres-ski life. Plus, I had my first experience of a hard mattress and a duvet. What's this piece of padded cloth? we asked. Wouldn't be without one now. Plus, months later, I found £5 worth of Norwegian currency tucked away in my hand-bag. And in those days, that was a real bonus.

P.S. Supper is ready and I've just read this and seen loads of mistakes but I'll correct then tomorrow. Good Night and Sweet Dreams.

P.P.S. Mistakes now rectified, hopefully.

P.P.P.S. Forgot to mention the harlequin trousers of the Norwegian men's curling team - a big mistake, in my opinion. I became more interested in commenting (acidily) on the brightly patterned colours than the actual curling.

P.P.P.P.S. Has anyone noticed that it's actually luge not lunge? I've kept my mis-spelling in because John and I have been having great fun joking about this mistake. We could be very good lungers and have already been practising.

Monday 15 February 2010


Update For a full report with photos, music and videoa, see

UPDATE 16 May 2010: Dates confirmed - Thursday to Sunday, June 24-27, 2010 - for more details, see

Okay folks. I'll put you out of your misery. I've had so many hits recently about the Festival that I guess you know 'something's up'.

As it is indeed.

I have no idea why the thought popped into my mind because it's still only February and I wasn't even thinking about Morocco or the Festival, but as I was passing John's workroom one evening last week, I suggested that he look at the Festival website for any info about this year's Festival.

He looked on the net but said that the Festival's website wasn't working. I, however, was not satisfied with this and looked on my own computer. And, yes, that site wasn't working but I found several Essaouira travel websites which gave the information that the Festival was to be on the last week of June - Thursday 24th to Sunday 27th.

Then, a few days later, the Festival site was up and running, with the dates confirmed but no details of artists.

Assured that this was sufficient confirmation and egged on by me (because John can be somewhat tardy at times - hope he doesn't read this!), WE'VE BOOKED - FLIGHTS AND HOTELS!!!

When we learn more about the artists, I'll post details on my blog or you can go to daftnotstupid.

Plus, if any of you have any particular requests about what you'd like me to report/photograph, please let me know and I'll do what I can.

Given the rotten start to the year, in a number of areas,I feel this small glow of happiness that, God Willing, better things are to come.