A Birthday Tribute to Georgette Heyer

Well, I found out today (through reading this excellent post at Austenprose) that yesterday was Georgette Heyer’s birthday.

Georgette Heyer is probably my all-time favourite author, all things considered. She is the person whose books I can pick up at any time and enjoy, no matter how many times I’ve read them, the person whose books I would take to a desert island (probably Devil’s Cub, Venetia and Frederica, in case you’re interested), and the author I read most during my adolescence, and therefore had the greatest influence on me as both a reader and a writer. She is also the writer I would most like to emulate. Yes, even more than, say, Jane Austen. I can’t emulate her, any more than I can cook like Jamie Oliver, but boy would I love to.

Wouldn’t it be great if they adapted her books for tv? Not film, they’d have to cut out too much. But a nice, juicy adaptation of about four one hour episodes, with a lovely cast of BBC costume drama regulars (I’m thinking Richard Armitage as Sylvester or Lord Damerel for example) would see me in heaven, metaphorically speaking.

Why do I love her so much? Her language is spot on – witty (in fact downright laugh-out-loud at times), resonant, true to character. Her descriptions sing of the time and place without her ramming her research down your throat. Her plots are many and varied whilst retaining a common theme of love and marriage. Her characters spring to life on the page.

Anyway, that was my brief tribute to an inspiring author. Hopefully it will have whetted your appetite a little to try one of her books – although if you haven’t up until now, WHY ON EARTH NOT?

In other news, if you missed my little poem for Emily yesterday, here’s the link, and here’s one I tweeted for Daniel today. Again, based on life events…

Daniel Brown was feeling arty

So he thought he’d be a smarty

He took his crayons and with great flair

Drew rainbow castles everywhere…

Then proud as punch he shouted “Mummy!

Mummy, quick, come and see!”

Mum nearly fainted when she saw

He’d drawn his rainbows on the floor!

He didn’t know why mummy frowned

At the creative talent of Daniel Brown.

And a couple of questions to finish: What do you think of Heyer? And how, HOW is it possible to love a little boy so much yet spend an afternoon not-so-silently seething at him? 😉 Would love some opinions!

A Poem For Emily

Tweeted earlier today, and based on real life events…

Emily Grace

Had a twisty face

‘Cause something was bugging her tum

She started to cry

Then let out a sigh

As it exploded out of her bum.

Next came a belch

A big sticky squelch

And for the first time in a while

Emily Grace

Had a happy face

And a great big beaming smile!

I also did a new six minute story, which you can read here.

http://sixminutestory.com/read/running-behind

Champagne and Fireworks

In honour of my grandma-in-law, who turned 80 yesterday.

“Champagne and fireworks,” said Dot, not looking away from Deal or No Deal. “It’s not everyday you turn 80. I want champagne and fireworks.” Her son rolled his eyes and made a note on his phone.
“Mam,” he said, “You know champagne costs a load, don’t you? And fireworks will too, this time of year. And I don’t know how we’ll get them sorted for tomorrow night.”
“Don’t worry about that, Paul,” said Dot. “Got a bit saved up. Bingo. No deal! No deal!”

Her daughter looked up in surprise, then realised she was talking to Noel Edmonds. “She gets battier every year,” muttered Carole, ironing a lace tablecloth.
“So the club’s ours from lunchtime, to sort out the food and that,” Paul said, ignoring his sister. “And I’ll get some champagne from Asda.”
“Susan at work knows someone who does fireworks and stuff,” said Carole in a resigned tone. “Or Bill from the estate, he might know where we could get some.”
“Off the back of a lorry, likely,” said Paul.
“Eh?” said Dot, as the adverts came on, a smooth velvet voice extolling the virtues of a Caribbean cruise.
“Nothing, Mam,” said Paul, getting up and giving her a kiss on the cheek before pulling his coat on.
“Get them fireworks sorted,” she told him. “The bairns’ll like them. I want them at my party, even if I’m not there to see it.”
“What’re you talking like that for?” scolded Carole. “Course you’ll be here, Mam. Strong as an ox, you are.”
“She been like this much?” whispered Paul as the adverts finished and their mother’s attention was diverted.
“Yeah,” said Carole. “She keeps getting these morbid turns. Says she won’t be here for her party.”
“Think there’s something she’s not telling us?”
“Nah. She’s just getting old. Old people get thoughts like that in their heads, don’t they?” Then, speaking up, “We’re off now Mam. I’ll let you know about the fireworks.”

“Ok, pet,” said Dot, giving kisses to each of them without taking her eyes off the screen. When she heard the click of the front door she sat back in her chair with a sigh. She got up and went around the living room, running her fingers over the photos arranged on various surfaces, each one sat proudly on a lace mat. Faces stared back at her, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. Norman. She missed him so much still; even after all this time, it would still feel strange having a birthday without him. Her eye fell on a pile of envelopes, her name scrawled twenty times, waiting to be opened. She was supposed to be saving them for her party, but since her birthday had actually been yesterday she decided to open them all now. She read each one out loud, squinting at the handwriting, putting each one aside reverently then standing them up in the spaces between her pictures. She would have to chase up her grandson, she still didn’t have one of him and his wife together. She smiled at the ones from the great-grandchildren, her bairns. A couple of them were starting to write their own names, a couple were doing bold crayon scribbles in blue and pink and lime green. One card had a wrinkled patch from a damp kiss and a note ‘Emily kissed this card for her great-grandma’. She picked up the discarded envelopes and put them tidily to one side, ready for the recycling bin.

The following evening, she was all ready. Glammed up, full make-up, the works. The lights were on a timer, the blinds were tilted, everything ready for her to leave for the party. Carole had called earlier to make sure she was ready. “Taxi’ll be there at seven, Mam,” she’d said. “Make sure you’re ready.” Dot looked at the clock, and as seven o clock struck a horn blared outside. She picked up her bag, gave one last look around and carefully locked the door behind her. The taxi driver gave the suitcase a curious glance, but obviously just thought her age was getting the better of her.

“All set then, love?” he said cheerfully, heaving the case into the boot. “Bit much for a party, isn’t it? Planning a good night?”

“Change of plan,” Dot said. “Just call at the club with this,” she handed him an envelope, “then Newcastle Airport, please.” He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. Dot could almost see him mentally rubbing his hands together at the unexpectedly large fare. She opened her handbag, and checked. Tickets, passport, cruise itinerary,  and around £10000 in various currencies. Well, it was pointless letting all the bingo winnings sit there doing nothing. In a few hours she would be enjoying champagne and fireworks just like she wanted, from the lounge on the Freedom of the Seas.

Are You Smarter Than A Four Month Old?

Emily began solids this week. Actually, her first taste of solids was nearly 2 weeks ago, but we put it on hold because there was a load of upheaval at home. Yes, she is young – she only turned 4 months old on Monday. And as the health visitor pointed out, “We do prefer them to wait until 6 months to start solids”. Oh, really? Not sure Emmy would agree with you. Without going into long and boring details, she is letting me know in no uncertain terms that her current level of intake is not quite doing it for her. I think if I suggested to Emily that she wait another 2 months before moving her on, she might take my arm off at the elbow. Daniel was the same.

In fact, pretty much every time we moved Daniel on, from weaning to sleeping in his own room to giving up a dummy to toilet training, he let us know that he was ready for it. When he was ready to move out of our room, his sleep worsened, improving once he was in his own space. Same again when it came to changing from a cot to a bed.

Take toilet training – I’m more than half convinced that it’s actually the child training us. We just established that Daniel was very good at using the potty and asking for it and fetching it. We were in a nice little comfort zone, and I thought I would introduce the concept of the toilet in a couple of weeks, no hurry. Daniel decided differently, and completely off his own back he started using the toilet instead of the potty.

Emily is so far following firmly in her brother’s footsteps, letting me know when it’s time to move on. I suspect most babies are the same. This is a pretty handy thing when you think about it. Most parents are completely clueless (including us by the way!), hence the market for parenting help books, the sheer abundance of forums on the net, the helpful blogs. We joke about needing an instruction manual when we bring our newborn home but inside we’re shouting “Please give us an instruction manual!” Sweating madly, convinced we’re going to end up causing untold damage to this tiny little being because WE DON’T KNOW WHAT WE’RE DOING. And we cling onto the moment that we were in 5 minutes ago because the thought of the future, of them growing up and not needing us any more, is too scary. But luckily, for them anyway, babies are smarter than us. They know what they need, and when, and they find ways of telling us. I’m not ready for Emmy to start weaning. I felt like telling the health visitor that. “Do you think I WANT to start solids? Do I want to spend hours cooking and pureeing veg and freezing it in little blocks and persuading her that peas are actually delicious? Do I want to start the process of moving my daughter away from the intense closeness that breastfeeding brings, knowing that I won’t get that again?”

But Emily, my four month old baby girl, is smarter than me, and smarter than the expert. She knows she is big and strong, and needing more. So I’ll listen to her, and not the experts, thank you so much for the advice.

Brownie Bites

Hello! Did you miss me? I know I missed  blogging, writing, tweeting and facebook-ing over the past couple of weeks. One of those times where life just completely takes over. Underneath the chaos caused by decorating, cleaning, and de-cluttering I could sense the laptop sitting there all alone and unloved, calling me. But I’m back (hugging laptop then realising that actually that’s quite weird).

One of the side effects of having some time away from writing is I’m all fired up again now, champing at the bit to get going again, which feels great. Even better is the feeling that I want to get back to my novel – at this stage in previous novels I’ve given up by now and moved on. It’s really satisfying, knowing that this time I want to see this through, and that I really think I can. I also have ideas firing off for both short stories and the next novel, and I’m getting a second lease of life for my picture books so I’m raring to go! My blog challenge is also still standing (see here if you don’t know what I’m talking about), and another post, on The Passion of Football, will be coming soon. Finally, in the whirlwind guide to my writing so-called life, I’ve recently been introduced to 6 Minute Story by @rebeccaemin. Basically, you sign up (using your Twitter name if you like, so if you check it out look out for me – rebeccaebrown) and on being given a prompt you start writing, with a timer counting you down for six minutes. Yes, it’s that complicated. Very challenging though, and I recommend anyone give it a go! My very first attempt is here – be kind!

Anyhoo, the reason I called this blog post “Brownie Bites” is because I have discovered a new passion. Economy Gastronomy (click here for the Amazon

listing) is a fabulous cookery book giving easy to cook meals that look fabulous but are really economical to do. Hence the title. And my favourite recipe, which I’ve made about 4 times in the last week or so, is Chocolate Brownie Biscuits. Except I prefer to call them Brownie Bites because, well, it just suits them better. Anyway, try ’em and see. You won’t regret it.

And why have I, of all people, taken up cooking? When the phrase ‘Can’t cook, won’t cook’ pretty much summed me up? Well, I guess I’ve grown up a bit. I used to resent cooking. I didn’t have any particular talent or enjoyment from it, and no interest really in learning. Recently though, having two children has matured me in more ways than one. I’ve felt responsible for providing a good home for my family, and that includes food. I let my son down a lot when he was weaning by almost completely relying on jars and pre-prepared baby foods. Now he is an incredibly fussy eater with virtually no inclination to try anything new, and regularly going off the things he did like. I know toddlers go through these phases, and I can’t be sure 100% that it’s because of how I approached his first foods, but I know I didn’t give diet and nutrition the importance it should have had. Now I’ve reconciled myself to the idea that cooking is just one of the things I need to do so I’d better get on with it, I’ve invested in a few kitchen tools and got some help off my mum and this book to do some decent food.

And you know what? I’m loving it. I’m enjoying cooking, I’m enjoying providing good meals and seeing my husband’s face when he tastes what I make him. I’m loving baking biscuits instead of buying them. I’m usually a fad person – I’ve had loads of interests that have burned fiercely then died away to nothing, so there’s a chance this will too. Except that it’s too important to let drop completely. Emily started eating solids today, and before I know it she will be eating proper food, and I owe it to her and to myself to do the best I can to provide her with decent stuff.

So, I’m off for a cup of tea, and a fresh-baked Brownie Bite. Any takers?