Christmas (Dog's) Dinner

Now those who know me, know only too well that cooking is not my forte. It just isn't. There isn't any particular explanation for it, other than however many programmes on the subject I watch, I never seem to get any better at it. But Christmas dinner presents a whole new disaster all its own.

Rome was not burnt in a day.... and it taketh time to burn ye joint!

Of course, Dan is one of the other little unexpected hazards of Christmas day. He gets up to all his usual tricks, and then a few you haven't previously thought of. He nearly had the turkey. Twice. There is nothing he will not nick. Yes, the Brussel sprouts are just as at risk as the turkey, though being a meat eater, obviously the turkey and assorted trimmings are his primary objective. Whatever I do, a long(ish) white muzzle with some cute ginger speckles and a damp black boot button on top is by my side. Permanently raised, the black boot button has developed this most expressive quiver. He's got it down to a fine art, the boot button quivers, the whiskers twitch, the ears go back, and he makes food face at me. And he can keep this up for hours.

Now where does it say in any receipe that you need to watch out for the dog being cute....?

Christmas TV ....."The Bill" and other ramblings...

Okay. I admit it... The way me and my parent survive each other, especially over Christmas, is the television. Unfortunately, my sky box went walkabout about the same time as my former husband did... nil desperandum... we have four and a half channels to play with! I say half, because channel five is more of a radio station gained... we still have problems with picture.

Which leads me neatly (as ever) to the subject of entertainment. It is curious what tv producers, tv companies and tv channels view as Christmas entertainment. I'm seriously wondering which member of the brains trust came up with a storyline in which the bridegroom is run down by a vengeful van driver, and dies in the arms of his bride. Yikes.... luvverly... (so glad I don't watch that stuff).

Being stuck with four and a half channels, you learn to really appreciate the absolutely fantastic stuff when it comes along. The Bill Christmas Special for instance. The Bill has been around for twenty five years, which is some kind of pedigree and the Christmas episodes were promised to be something special.

They delivered. In a big way. Now I've been watching this show since the very first pilot Woodentop, and a few times over the years I've been left wondering if The Bill had finally jumped the shark. The answer on the last four episodes showing is an emphatic NO! Even the write ups in the tv listings agreed... this was fantastic stuff... although, the crack about Stuart looking like a startled chipmunk is an image that I haven't been able to shake for a week - Thanks, Radio Times!!

Santa's Little Helper and the three parter, Too Hot to Handle had the lot, drugs, guns, mayhem, motorbikes, a sexy bad boy in leathers... and Stuart and Stevie! Now DS Stuart Turner (Doug Rao) has gained somewhat of a reputation for being a bit of a metrosexual glory boy who thinks he's Mr Supercool and is about as deep as clingfilm, whereas DC Stevie Moss (Lucy Speed) has become the girl that everyone wants as their best friend, sparky, funny, scatty, apparently an open book, and I won't go too deeply into what the fanship thinks.....

So in theory, you know how they're going to react.... right? From the moment that Stevie goes back undercover to resume her relationship with bad boy Rob Towler, the whole operation starts to go into meltdown, and there's that nice helpful Geordie cop who travels all the way down from Manchester just to help them with their little crisis, only from the minute he arrives, things get worse.... not better!

Stuart, far from trying to cover his own backside in spectacular fashion, goes on a one man mission to save Stevie from he's not sure what, he's gonna save the girl if it toasts his own career doing it, because she saved him once and he owes her! Stevie's torn two ways at once, she's a copper, but she has deep feelings for the bad boy... especially when she finds out that he went to prison for something that he didn't do. The romantics amongst us loved every second of all that.

The two concluding parts are told from two separate points of view, Stuart's aspect and then Stevie's, and we get to see how each step of the puzzle fits together. With outstanding performances from Doug and Lucy, and the guest stars Bill Ward and Michael Hodgson, and fantastic support from DCI Jack Meadows (Simon Rouse), DI Neil Manson (Andrew Lancel), DC Jo Masters (Sally Rogers) who have all achieved legendary status amongst the fans, and not forgetting DC Grace Dasari (Amita Dhiri) and TDC Will Fletcher (Gary Lucy).... these four episodes delivered on everything, tension, story, acting, the lot...proving that The Bill has got its mojo back...and even if flashback is a slightly cheesy device, if that's the quality you can deliver, we want more of it. Trust me, a small deluge of fanfic and increased interest in TB can only result!

Anyway... no more TB until New Year's Eve....*sniffs*... leaving me just the joys of Midsomer Murders (Causten must be the safest market town in the UK... no one dies if they live in Causten) and Dr Who, plus my sizeable collection of DVDs to get through until then.

So the theory is, that I will roll up my sleeves and dig into all the writing and editing that I've been carefully and cheerfully avoiding doing. My time on Authonomy is going to be limited going forward. I will do as I have said, update my chapters of Cats, Custard and Consequences, possibly take down Half Light, certainly work on it. Work on my short story, work on Domina (heaven alone knows where that one is going to go!?) and generally do a bit of grooming and de-frag this old battleship of a laptop because it gets slower every day.

Authonomy has been an amazing, and for the most part, fun ride, where I have met some truly amazing, talented, and thoroughly wonderful people. It has enriched my life and friendship circle, but not done (I suspect) a whole lot for my dream of getting published. I've learnt a lot though. Not the least that trolls do exist... you will meet quite a lot of them in Authonomy, while some of them may actually just be yanking your chain, some of them have missed the essential truism, that in there they are just like all the rest of us, wannabes stalking that coveted top five slot for the Editors' Desk. Anyway, Richard, Simon, Simon, MM, Abu, Ali, Kate, Gina, Gillian, Oli, Alexander, Cutley, Jobo, Sian, Sharon, PJ, Dave, Ed, April, Heikki, Annia, Jak, Lexi, AJ, Hannah, Corinna, Philip, Merlin, William, Alice, Bigfoot, Kylyra, Bob, Diane, Lauri, KR, Kimberley, Windy, Gar, Robb, Katrina, Liam, Patty, MacDibble, Colt, Jase, Amethyst, Miranda, Sandrine, Ginger and Shark Bait (in no particular order).. I salute you all .... for making my time on Auth worthwhile, and laughing at my ms and not just at my punctuation.... and for giving me fantastic books to read, be wowed by and generally fall in love with.

And I shouldn't forget my friends in all this, especially the ones who have stuck by my torrent of writing and given me the necessary push to stick my head above the parapet and do something about the dream instead of just moaning about it. So cheers and lurrvvvve to Pam, Danielle, Sofia, Laura M, Lucy, Alan, and special hugs to my mate Tash, who is as talented as she is loveable... all of you are amazing and I love all of you to bits.... spesh my little muse.... and my twin goddesses of wickedness... and Christopher, Pauli, Sheila and Timmi! Then there are the wonderful published ladies, Lorelei, Philippa, Julie, Nell, Catherine and Rosie...

So Merry Christmas to you all... I love all of you guys.... and now I'm gushing mostly because I started writing this at midnight and it's now two a.m.

Cake, Custard and Cowpats

No, this is not a new cookbook by the superb Mr. Fearnley-Whittingstall (though I would buy it if he wrote it). Instead, it is a user's guide to these three essential ingredients of comedy.

The cake is brought to you, rather squishily since he appears to keep it in his pockets, by the erudite and cultivated Mr. Anthony Saunders, who I sincerely hope has not been eaten by his dog. (Post updated to confirm that Anthony is safe and well. Just as well, really. I knew a lurcher who once took down a deer and was snacking off it for days, unbeknownst to its owner, during which time the farmer, unbeknownst to the dog, sprayed the entire field including the deer with a substance that was not intended to be kind to the outsides of deer or the insides of lurchers.)

The custard is courtesy of the charming Ms. S. J. Heckscher-Mockingbird (no relation, to my knowledge, of the aforementioned Mr. Fearnley-Whittingstall, despite the understandable confusion between their names). Its protagonist is, I fear, just the sort of dignity-free zone who would keep cake in his pockets.

The cowpat is even more distinguished than those which adorn Mr. Fearnley-Whittingstall's fields, supplied to us as it is by my esteemed celestial correspondent St. Eustace.

A little-known fact about St. Eustace, as recorded on his Wikipedia entry, is that he is one of the patron saints of Madrid. Keefie, Paul, Hannah and any other expats out there in Spain - I recommend you read your patron saint's offering without delay, lest he smite you with a thunderbolt (or worse still, with a cowpat). Another little-known fact recorded in the same place is that St. E. is "completely fabulous". The same could be applied to all three of these books.

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This intriguing public service broadcast has been brought to you by Mr Abu El Banat... who forms part of a select coterie of esteemed persons on Authonomy.... he's a Reader... (bless you love....), and was simply too good to miss!

Besides what would Christmas be without a cowpat or two....

The Art of Ninja Plugging....

or please read my book again....Cats, Custard and Consequences, contrary to some people's belief, this isn't a recipe, it's a romantic comedy. Half Light on the other hand is a romantic crime thriller....freshly updated, I put up Chapter Six only yesterday. It's still a rough cut, but we're getting there.

While I'm at it, I very much would like to recommend Annia's Fish Tail Mountain, Heikki's Tulagi Hotel and Shah's Haggis, An unusual name for a cat, all three are wonderful and well worth your attention.

If you have children and would like something for the holidays, Little Mr Poonlop's Seventh Holiday might just tickle your fancy... Dai has even created a website where you can download it, print it off, fill it with your own illustrations.... Now there's service for you.

Of Honest Fame... now if you're an Alexander Kent girl like me (or even a Bernard Cornwell girl)..... Of Honest Fame ticks all those tight breeches' fantasy boxes.... I've always had a big jones for historical adventure and this one is it, or try The Fifth Kingdom for another strong historical literary fiction that breaks boundaries....

Ali's beautiful and romantic, The Girl On The Swing is equally unmissable. If you've got children, or know someone who has, the newest self help manual, with a dose of reality and humour on the side, Ed's Playstations and Pooh is hard to beat. If the children are a bit older...Simon has it all sewn up with Kip Doodle and the Armchair of Lost Dreams, remember, you saw it here first...!

The "Awwww Cutie" Factor

Like the X Factor.... only so much better! For a start, the X Factor allegedly relies on talent, and the votes of the Great British Public.

When it comes to books, I rely on making people laugh and the winsome cuddliness of my Danny Dog!

For instance, my avatar in Authonomy is a perfectly lit, atmospheric shot of me and my Danny Dog, I am partially in shadow, while filtered sunlight bathes his adorable furry person, and unfeasibly large ears in a soft hued golden glow of AWWWWWW CUTIE-ness. His bright furred innocence and general loveableness shines brightly out from the centre of the picture, thus generally enhancing my own, more questionable, cute credentials.

Of course, appearances are deceiving. Danny is now four (he was about ten months in that shot), the trail of stuff that he has chewed and destroyed, the curtain rails that he has broken (he swings from the curtains), the couch and chairs that he has laid on.... amount to a trail of damage costing hundreds.

But everyone loves Danny. As an ambassador for dog-hood, he can't be beaten, everyone's his friend, he always wants to play, and he has mastered a range of appealing expressions that make you believe in every little nuance of it. That he is a shameless ham who is fond of pinching your dinner off the plate, will quite happily rifle through your pockets in search of some abandoned something (usually sweets, he's very partial to Softmints in particular!) and thinks absolutely nothing of making cheese face to enduce you to giving up that final treasured bit of brie that you have been hoarding to put on your crackers, makes no never mind.

He's a cocky little devil too (to the extent that I almost considered re-christening him, Stuart). And not adverse to the odd gallivant. A while back, when I was having a new disk cut for his collar, it occurred to me that it might just be useful to put my mobile number on it, just in case. Officially, he is my mother's dog.... but since he is strong enough to fly her like a kite from the end of his lead..... well..... Anyway, the point being, that if she was out wandering around looking for his disobedient little hide, there wouldn't be anyone there to answer the phone. So one morning, I get a ring.... "We've got your dog." Oh. Would you mind taking him back, awfully, because you see I live in East London, and he lives in Leatherhead..... my mother will be most glad to see him.

At least Dan's gallivanting is in the pure spirit of adventure and friend seeking. Years ago, when I was a very small (ahem!) child, my parents bought me a Sealyham terrier as a pet. Which is a little like giving your child a sabre tooth tiger as a pet... but....

Rudi (after the Prince who shot himself and his mistress at Mayerling...don't ask.... you really don't want to know) was a wencher. And a dustbinner. But mostly a wencher. He could get through a knothole in the fence. And it was my job to go and get him back, as we both grew older. By the time I reached sixteen and he was thirteen the joke was starting to wear a little thin. Because he only ever got out at night. I used to pull on my wellies, and my old duffle coat over my nightgown and go hunting for the little devil by torchlight. At two in the morning.

One early morning, when I was feeling old, crabby and really p****d at the world, I found the little horror, forelegs wrapped around the least attractive and least virtuous bitch I have ever seen. He saw me, let go, she scurried away, and he came galloping down the road. Both his ears were flapped inside out, his tongue was hanging all the way out the side of his mouth, his eyes were rolling wildly.... "GET IN THE HOUSE YOU DIRTY LITTLE ****" I screamed at him as he shot past me. Did my disapproval have any effect.... heck as like..... he continued pushing off after the ladies and the contents of next door's dustbin until about the week before he died, aged 20, from presumably a surfeit of roast dinner carcasses and nookie!

So, for all Danny's trail of destruction, his behaviour is easier to deal with, and there won't be anymore embarrassing scenes involving angry dog owners either!

Talent...... and the spotting of it......

This question arose when a friend changed his status from single to blank. Whereupon half the world swooped to either burst into tears or make remarks on the subject, I replied to one of those remarks, and the question of talent came up.... don't ask how... because I'm honestly not sure myself.

Anyway. My qualifications for spotting theatrical talent. First of all, I am the daughter of an actress, so I have been hip deep in board treaders since I was in nappies (apologies for that rather nasty mental image!). Secondly, I have been able to tell a good from a bad theatrical performance since I was old enough to know that a stage wasn't only something that the sheriff rode into town on. When you have seen as much ham and cheese as I have, you are completely riveted by good performances even if they be in the humblest of productions. And... I've lived my entire life surrounded by it, I can tell real life from performance.... I really do know a thing or six about performance art!!

All of which leads me neatly to the question of my own talent spotter status on Authonomy. Your talent spotter status soars or falls by the bookshelves you make, how long each book reposes there on your shelf and a host of other factors including how many people agree with your choice of books. It's about literature, which is a static, yet still performing, art.

My choice of books relies on a very simple formula. Would I buy said book in print? If the answer is yes, on my shelf it goes. So if I say read and back Kip Doodle and the Armchair of Lost Dreams for instance, that is because I would go out and buy it. Similarly, Tettig's Jewels is a book which appeals to both the romantic and the ghoul in me.... at once..... both are on my bookshelf, along with Annia's Fish Tail Mountain and Heikki's Tulagi Hotel and Shahan's riotously funny and very poignant The Great Armenian Novel, those of us with a semitic background recognise the mother instantly.....

That said, I base my opinion on what I like to read. The one thing that has really irritated me of late, is that people seem to treat this as a literary circle. Authonomy is a site provided by a business, and that business is dedicated to publishing books and making money. Literary love ins are not required. However, if you do go in for all that nitpicking and fault finding, please take the trouble to actually read the book first.

So I am going to take the opportunity to recommend, because it was one of the first books that I found on Authonomy, and I have returned many times (as is my reading habit) and it is still wonderful and stirring..... Ali's The Girl On The Swing... pop in, have a read..... enjoy!!

Spreading the Literary Scratchings

A little like fertiliser; it occurred to me that if I want to engage a wider audience, I really need to spread my stuff about a bit more, thereby allowing it to grow. Grow what? Well, I'm not exactly all that sure to be honest, but it seemed like a plan at the time. At 2am, and I've been watching Dog Soldiers, and occasionally peering under the bed. Just in case. Not that I'm paranoid. Not really.

So in a grandiose and somewhat misguided plan to attempt to appear as though I do know what I am doing, I have managed somehow to link this blog in with my Facebook page, so that the sixty-six lovely and unfortunate people who have risked their nerves and sanity on befriending me will have to look no further to know what I'm up to. It helps, especially if you are paranoid. If you know where I am and what I am up to, you then needn't panic, I am not going to come sneaking up behind you and pounce. Not that I do, pounce that is, or sneak. I'm not built for sneaking.

I also decided to expose myself....(please don't all panic at once).... to the ridicule and derision of others by admitting openly that I occasionally write fanfic. Nay, not just admit to it, using the notes system on Facebook to actually run some of it, the bits I am quite proud of, up the flagpole and wave it about a bit. Quite a lot of it (okay, most of it) is The Bill fanfic, and quite a lot of it (actually, all the stuff that I am likely to post up here) features DC Jo Masters and DS Stuart Turner..... because they are my favourite characters.... they go great together, very much like ham and eggs, or peach and cobbler (played to perfection by the utterly incomparable and irreplaceable, Sally Rogers and Doug Rao), and it does somewhat burn me that poor old Stuey continues to get a bad press for daring to have a relationship with the lovely Samantha, whom all the world (apparently) wanted to go off with the serial womanizer, Phil. The fact that she would have been a lot safer with Stuey makes no never mind in their heads, so poor Stuey continues to get it in the neck.

For those of you who know about and have read some of the TB shower scene stuff, that is extremely unlikely to make it into the notes, so those of you who were hoping for fireworks, sorry I am not that brave. That unlikely pairing will remain under wraps for time being, even if the slash does write itself.

I posted up one offering this morning, L-O-V-E, soppy stuff suggested by the lyrics of the song, and prior to that, Heroin(e) and Mr Jordan, which nods at a very old classic Here Comes Mr Jordan, and speculates on what might have happened in the middle of Blood Rush... (two parter in TB). Dive in, have a read.... and let me know what you think. Neither require a particular knowledge of either the episodes or even the show itself. So enjoy!