To my husband on his birthday


Today is my husband’s birthday (I’m actually writing this the night before so let’s hope scheduled posting works, eh WordPress?). I love birthdays; I always try to make the most of them and make the birthday person feel special.

That’s not always that we buy the most expensive presents, although he’s arranged some amazing presents for me over the years with love and thoughtfulness. And I’m afraid he’s going to have to wait at least another year for the house in France (besides, they’re murder to giftwrap, only Steve Martin can get a bow big enough). But this year I’ve hopefully got him presents he’ll like and I’m pretty sure the things the babies have done will make him well up.

To finish the day off, I wanted to do him my own tribute here on the blog. I’m by no means a poet and I make no grand claims about the quality of what follows; except to say it’s from my heart and with much love to you, Andrew.

On Your Birthday

You think you’re getting old, my love

You fret about grey hairs

I’m sorting out a zimmer, love

A lift for those darn stairs.

But you see, it’s just not true, my love

You’re in the prime of life

With those two gorgeous kids you love

And a most besotted wife.

Your future’s just beginning, love

I know how bright you’ll shine

And I will be with you, my love

Until the end of time.

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!