Thursday, 20 June 2013

A little bit of common sense can go a long way.

There is a man that gets on the same train as me, most mornings. He's probably in his early 50s, he wears the classic 9-5 every day suit, and carries a briefcase with him. He looks important but no more important than most of the executive looking people I share my train with.

I would have to say that, although I share a simple 20 minutes a day with this man in a cramped "standing room only" setting that doesn't leave much room for getting to know those around you (except for in the really inappropriate way that sometimes occurs when a person attempts to move a limb and accidentally hits one or two of the more biblical parts of the person next to them), I have managed to create one or two opinions of this man. 

When you enter into the life of a commuter and join the throng of 9-5ers in a busy capital city, such as London, you begin to become accustomed to one or two tricks of the trade. 

A few examples of this would be: know where to stand on the platform in order to ensure you are first on the train when it arrives, be resigned but accepting of train delays and have several alternative back up routes available to use, should your chosen route continue to be a bastard, have things available to you to do whilst on the train that doesn't involve much manoeuvring to operate or, failing that, master the far off vacant gaze that neither invites attention from others nor looks as if you are paying too much interest in someone else's conversation (even if you are). 

There are many others, but you get the general gist of it, basically take your journey with the littlest fuss possible for both you and those around you... Not only for the immediate peaceful journey, but also for the ones after as, and this is important, you will be seeing these people again tomorrow. 

Although there may not be signs on the public transport around London that list these rules, they are widely known by the frequent travellers and are generally adhered to in the polite, "wouldn't want to cause a fuss" way that we British people tend to deviate towards. 

However, occasionally there are exceptions to these rules; people who come onto the train and decide that they will be damned with the carefully placed etiquette and enforce their own rules onto all the commuters around them, so as to... I don't know... Make themselves feel big and more important than others? It's hard to tell, as I tend to join the throng of people who roll our eyes and tutt silently to ourselves at the disruption made to our morning routine. 

These "exceptional" people are usually one off occurrences, a woman who's got out of bed on the wrong side and wants to vent her frustration to the man who accidentally trod on her foot, a man who has his music on a little too loud, but is very apologetic when you ask him to turn it down, a loud conversation on the phone featuring an argument between the commuter and their ex... All things that might piss you off for a day, but then the next day they're back to being rule abiding citizens and you wouldn't be able to pick out their face from a line-up.

Then you have the man I referred to at the beginning of this post... A man who clearly has been travelling on the same train for possibly decades, and for some reason had decided that this means he holds superiority over everyone else. I have travelled on a train with this man for over two years now. I don't see him every day; maybe 2-3 times a week, but the times that I do see him tend to be tainted with his "I am clearly far more important than you" attitude. 

This attitude most of the time manifests itself in over the top loud tutting at the poor heavily pregnant woman trying to get to a seat, being offered to her or the sighs and muttering to himself should someone inevitably have to move a limb and it dares to come into contact with him. This alone is enough to piss off the whole train. However, unfortunately this is  not all that my Man-In-His-Fifties is doing.

You see, at least once a month, he will decide that he isn't happy with the train he's on and will decide to pick a fight with someone in our packed enclosed space, usually over the same thing... 

Now, I can understand it is frustrating if you need to get to work and have waited for the train, only to find that the doors open to show a carriage full of people packed in like sardines and the only available spot is about 5cm in front of the entrance where a person has shifted away from their leaning position against the door, so as to avoid falling out when they open. 

I understand this, I really do. But as much as I understand this frustration, I also realise that this lack of space is not the fault of the people in the train who are clearly all in the same position as the people on the platform, where they, too, need to get to work. The only difference between the people on the train and the frustrated people on the platform is that they a: Have a longer journey to make because they live further out of London or b: they actually left their house early enough make sure that they had time to get on a train that wasn't so packed. And, indeed, there are lots of people on the platforms who look at the packed train and shrug with acceptance because they have got to the station early enough to mean that if they got the next train (a mere five minutes behind) they would still make it to work in time. It's all in the fine-print of the standard 'Living in London' contract we all share. 

My Man-In-His-Fifties, however, doesn't agree with this contract and his superiority over the 'little people' he has to share a journey with, wins out. He will see the 5cm of space, stick his foot on it, push himself into the already packed carriage and announce to everyone:

"Move down the train, I need to get on."

I will admit, there are occasions where the doorway will be packed and no one has moved down the carriage so there are spaces. However, this has never been the case when my Man-In-His-Fifties uses his suitcase as a way of shovelling all the passengers into tight embraces with each other. 

When he makes his announcement, most people will look around (with minimal neck movement due to the tight embraces they are currently in) and look and each other as if to say "Where?" Most of the time, our awkwardness and the general 'brush it under the carpet' attitude we have will mean that we don't react farther than that. However, occasionally there will be a hero of the train who is either fearless or has never seen what happens when someone reacts to my Man-In-His-Fifties. This will be the person that will make the obvious observation that there really is nowhere for us to "move down" to. The rest of us silently agreeing whilst staring at them in amazement that they dared to poke the beast. 

Then my Man-In-His-Fifties will respond by signalling to all of the people smelling each other's armpits and make the non-sensical comment of:

"Look at all that space in front of you. Move down!"

When someone argues with you, using no logic at all, it is actually really hard to argue back. There are no rules, no guidelines. Instead you find yourself looking at the person and gaping because you have lost all knowledge of response. This is what usually happens, followed by another nudge by my Man-In-His-Fifties, so that he's on the right side of the carriage when the doors close, and I find myself suddenly face to breast of the tall large chested woman in front of me. 

Occasionally someone will still argue back to this and point out that there really is nowhere to go. This is replied with a comment by my Man-In-His-Fifties along the lines of "We are all trying to get to work, stop being so difficult."


Like I said. How do you argue with illogicality? So far, these altercations have not amounted to anything else further than this, but I really don't know how much longer this man is going to last without a broken nose. One day, he will choose to argue with a man twice his size and then we are going to be stuck with an unconscious guy flopping around a completely packed train. 

This is where common sense is really needed. His face is well known throughout the commuters, his attitude infamous as confirmed by the groans when the train pulls up at the platform and he is spotted. This cannot end well for my Man-In-His-Fifties. I think he might need to realise soon that these are people he will need to travel with for the rest of his working life and learn what it is to be nice... Or at least logical, that would help. 

Mind you, he's definitely not new to this commuting milarkey... Perhaps he just doesn't care...

*shrugs* Each to their own, I guess. 

Peace out my lovelies. 

Monday, 17 June 2013

A little goodbye and thank you to an amazing family.

Kindness is a beautiful thing and something that should not be sniffed at. I have experienced kindness to a beautiful level over the past 6 months.

I have just left a house lived in by the most amazing family. Not only had they given me a roof over my head when I really needed it, they continued to show amazing support and love for the whole 6 months I was there.

It's perhaps for this reason that I find myself, having moved out only two days ago, feeling somewhat lost and sad, realising that their continuing love, support, music and laughter will not be something I get to experience on a daily basis.

No longer will I be able to come home from work and find The-Five-Year-Old running to the door to give me a massive hug when I enter the house. No longer will I be able to sit at the piano with The-Fourteen-Year-Old and either sing a series of songs with her, or listen to her amazing talent as she plays me one of her compositions. No longer will I hear myself addressed as 'Future Famous Author' by The-Eleven-Year-Old, making me feel like I had made it as a writer long before I'm anywhere near it. No longer will I get the opportunity to sit down and chat with Mr and Mrs-Host. Sit and talk about our days, share our problems and feel that, although my own parents are miles away in Ireland, I still have a second family to come home to.

The move at this particular point in time, was my decision and something that needed to happen. It will open up a whole new world of opportunity and one that I am open to/terrified of all at the same time. But all the same... leaving them had to be one of the toughest decisions I've made in a long time.

To show an example of the love that they brought, I'll tell you of one day I had a couple of months ago...

I had just decided that I wasn't going to go to America after months of planning and anticipation. In addition to this I was feeling the effects of having crappy emotions more than usual. I had the impulse to cry coming at me from every direction. My day at work had been stressful and had not helped with the stresses I was already feeling. I didn't know where to turn. I came home from work, gave Mrs-Host one look and burst into tears. She simply guided me to the sofa and sat there with me, hugging me whilst I cried for a good hour. She didn't ask any questions, she didn't probe me for any information. She just sat there with me, and waited until I was ready to talk. It was just what I needed and the best blessing I could have asked for.

Throughout these months, this has been the ongoing support I have experienced from them, in all areas of my life. They have constantly loved, cared and given, without asking for anything in return. They accepted me into their lives and family without reservation, and for that I will never stop being grateful.

The whole reason for me living with this family was so that I could get a hold of my financial issues and raise money to go to America. I might not have reached the goal of going to America, but every part of my life has begun to improve since being in that house. It was what I needed more than anything else. My finances are in control, my life is beginning to find order, and I am starting to embrace things with a clearer mind. For that reason, I thank God for them. They came into my life at the period where I needed them the most. They came and they offered kindness unselfishly and beautifully.

For this reason, it's no wonder that I am now looking at my next chapter of life, slightly low and terrified. I've lost my daily cushion of support (although they have made it clear that I am welcome any time). But I'm choosing to look forward at this point, grateful of the time and working on the notion that I won't squander all the good work they have done in my life by falling back onto bad habits. I will take their advice and kindness, and look forward with a smile on my face, safe in the knowledge that I have found a new family of friends for life.

So with all that being said, all I have left to say is: Thank you Caroline and Phil. Thank you for all you are. Thank you for having an awesome family. Thank you for these six months. Thank you for everything. You can be assured, you've got me for life now... Sorry about that!

Peace out my lovelies.

Friday, 14 June 2013

A life packed up in a series of precious bags.

There is a sense of nostalgia that comes with packing up the entirety of one's belongings and looking around at an empty room, holding nothing but a mass of bin bags and a few boxes. You can find yourself looking at this and realising that this is it. This little pile of things is all that you have in the world.

 It is a mesh of bizarre items, collected over time and have no other similarities with each other, other than each one of them explains another little section of you. When put together, you have years of carefully planning and spontaneously buying and furiously saving up for, all amounting in the different aspects of you.

If you are anything like me, and find it hard to part with a lot of the items you have gained over the years, you can begin to look into things and see parts of your life that would have been otherwise dead and forgotten about, had you not held onto the little keepsake from that era that smiles up at you when you find it years later and are reminded of the time when this item was in the front view of your pile of items.

I have things like that. I have a Napoleon Dynamite figurine that speaks out lines from the movie. Every time I see it, I remember the years I spent with a group of friends where that movie and Bill Bailey's 'Part Troll' stand up show, were all that we would talk about. I remember the uncanny impression my friend Dave had of Napoleon's brother. I remember how I had first heard his impression before I had had a chance to watch the movie. And so, as a result, it feels like the brother is impersonating Dave, rather than the other way round. I remember nights in, watching these movies at friends' houses. I remember the different dynamics in the group, the ones that would want to talk all the way through a movie, the ones that would want to talk with  the movie, and the ones who would press pause on the movie the moment any of the above began.

I have a pair of white shoes with a silver heel. They have completely fallen apart and are no use to wear again, but I keep them because they remind me of a time in my life when I had these amazing four friends. I had bought the shoes when I was out with one of them. I remember the reaction I had had when I saw them. I remember what I said word for word: "These are so unbelievably tacky, I have to buy them!" I remember buying a black and white dress to go with them. I remember that that night I had gone out to a party, wearing this ensemble. That I had been with these four friends, that it had been an amazing night. I remember being so happy that day. I remember feeling like I belonged.

I have a small statuette of a Greek woman throwing herself on a man. I bought that when I was in Cyprus, after I had been through a really crappy time and moved away from all the friends I have mentioned so far. I remember buying the statuette whilst on holiday with One-And-Only-Daniela. I remember saying to her that I had bought it as my little beacon of hope. That it was the thing to keep me inspired to finish writing the first book I had ever written. It was about Greek Mythology and this was my little reminder that I had a story to tell. It worked. I remember keeping it on my desk and staring at it for ages, using it as my focus whilst I worked through the story lines in my head.

People often ask me why I hold onto things. Why I get upset when something I have had for such a long time has gone missing or is thrown away. The reason is simple. Everyone else might look at my crap and see it for what it seems, which is, admittedly, crap. But only I can look at it all and see so much more. I see my life. I see my hurts and regrets, my accomplishments and triumphs. I see me. And without them to constantly remind me of personalities and strengths once had and now lost, I'm afraid I'll lose those parts of me forever.

Peace out my lovelies.

This whole moving milarkey thing is getting pretty carazy now...

I'm moving house again today... yes, that is correct, that would be the fourth house that I have lived in since I started this blog 2 and a half years ago... how ridiculous is that?

Also, each time I do this, I have found that my hoarding abilities are halved and I find myself thrown into a situation whereby I am now the owner of half the things that I had in the previous house... For those of you doing the math, yes that is meaning that my actual stuff that I am packing is becoming a little on the low side.

For example, when I moved into my new flat (the one that I had when I started blogging), it took a good four trips to get everything from my family home to the new home as well as a few ikea trips for furniture etc. When I moved into the second flat with the lovely Ex-Housemate-Anna, I had to use two cars and two trips to move from one flat to the other. On moving to The-Family's house last December, it took one car and two trips. Today, I'll be lucky if I fill one car... I'm pretty certain that my entire worldly possessions will fit into a suitcase on route to the house after this one...

You see, this time round, when putting together the beautiful flat packs from the wonderful world of Ikea, in my chest of drawers and desk, I came to the realisation that, although the furniture at Ikea are of a reasonable price and fairly easy at putting together, thus giving you an air of being an awesome queen of DIY, they really don't work well with a person who lives the lifestyle I tend to... in that after taking them apart for a second time, they are going to be really reluctant and not at all happy at being asked to be put back together once again. Thus the reason this post happened....

So yesterday, I found myself packing up the car with Mrs-Host and heading off to the skip to dispose of furniture that I realised, at the point of throwing it into the skip, I hadn't actually paid for yet... wow, that's a bummer. It was bought on a credit card, that I am still in the process of paying off...  I couldn't decide whether I found this piece of information distressing or not...

Anyway, because not only do I find myself moving house more times than I cut my hair (true story), I also find that when I move, I like to move into a living situation that I haven't tried yet... so here's the rundown of what I've done so far:

1. Lived with Parents: I have lived in 7 different houses belonging to my parents.
2. Lived in a house owned by a friend: I lived with Rachael-The-Bully for 18 months
3. Lived in a flat on my own: I did that for a year.
4. Lived in a flat with a friend: Please see above
5. Lived in a house with a family that is not my own: I shall be leaving them today.

Which leads me to:

6: Live in a house rented by four other people as well.

Yes, this is my new adventure. I shall be renting a room for a bargain price, complete with own bed, furniture and (this is the bit that terrifies me) plant. I will be living with a couple I've already met, (lovely people, loving them already), and two mysterious men that I have yet to meet.

I think I will do fine in this situation as, due to learning this with my therapist recently, I am actually quite a passive person. I guess I've always known this, but the actual degree of my passivity has really only recently come to light. Seriously, I avoid all instances of confrontation and argument. To the point that I tend to just let things go at a stupidly high level.

Although this is fine, and actually a quality I quite like about me, in terms of there being little in my life that people can do that actually gets me to the point of getting pissed off with them... I do find that it has it's drawbacks, as I tend to then find myself just letting things go that  I really shouldn't... and then when I do eventually bring up the courage to do something about it, it scares the crap out of the people around me because they never expected that I was capable of formulating a reaction... anywho that's a whole can of worms that I'll save for my therapist, rather than burdening you with it.

Instead, I thought I'd let you in on a little insight into my passivity from something that happened over the weekend.

My parents came into the country (they are now living in Ireland), to come and see a show in London for their 31st Anniversary. It was one of those things whereby it started out to be just my parents going to London, which then turned into Older-Brother-Glyn and his girlfriend Amy coming in from Essex, and Younger-Brother-Daniel travelling in from Bristol (all of this is pretty impressive, especially Younger-Brother-Daniel's trip, if you know anything about the geography of England (If you don't, please feel free to take in a sharp intake of breath and say 'Ooooh, aaaaah' 'amazing' and so on and so forth)).

Anywho, it turned into the whole family being together in central London, where we ate food in restaurants, watched 39 Steps in the West End and finished at a Burger King, where my mother was the most impressed she had been all day, after she found that the drinks were not only free refills, but that the machines that poured them, offered a huge range of different flavoured cokes and fantas, she wouldn't have elsewhere found in the country. Yes... it was a very exciting day for Marmie.

Anywho, in the first restaurant, Garfunkels, I had ordered the steak and chips, and had asked for the steak to be cooked Medium Rare, as I was a fan of a dash of juicy red inside the steak. The food arrived, we talked as a family... or rather bickered at a very high volume that entertained the entire restaurant on very important topics such as whether or not the trolley that disappears into Platform 9 3/4 is actually set up in King's Cross between Platform 9 and 10. I was adamant that this was a platform I found myself regularly going to, and that I hadn't seen it. Older-Brother-Glyn's Girlfriend Amy, was adamant that she had seen it there and that she had a picture of her next to it, to prove it. Whilst I fervently looked for this video (originally designed to show the world what One-And-Only-Daniela was like, but also provided proof that no such trolley existed between platforms 9 and 10), she also looked on Facebook to find her proof. Once the video was shown, Older-Brother-Glyn turned to his girlfriend and announced that it was clear what had happened in this situation... he told Amy that she should be more sensitive towards me as it was clear I was only a muggle, which was why I couldn't see the trolley.

That might have been the saddest moment of my life...

For those of you wondering two massive things through this little mini tangent... I will address these questions now:

1. The actual solution to the argument was found when Father googled it and found that, whilst they made building improvements to the station, the trolley had been moved around the station at different intervals. So, it was there, just not between platforms 9 and 10.

2. No, this is not the story about my levels of passivity, and yes, I am aware of the irony of this tangent which actually shows I am anything but passive in this situation. I would like to add a little disclaimer to the passivity rule in my life, however: All passivity in my nature tends to not apply to family based situations, as I have spent the majority of my life living with these people and, more importantly, lived with them at a time in my life when I was anything but passive and would make an argument out of everything. AKA: my teen years.

Now for the actual point I was trying to make, before my brain went off on one as it usually does...

Whilst in this restaurant, and after the steak and chips had arrived, I cut into the steak and found that it wasn't really medium rare, in the sense that it was cooked, and there was no red inside at all. Now, my reason for asking for the steak and chips was because I was looking forward to a nice medium rare steak, and looking at it on my plate, clearly medium to well done, if anything, I was a little upset. The conversation of this event, went a little like this:

Me: (Cuts into the steak, to see the medium to well done insides) Huh.
Younger-Brother-Daniel: What's wrong?
Me: I'd ordered a medium rare steak, and this doesn't look medium rare to me. What do you think? (I show it to Younger-Brother-Daniel)
Younger-Brother-Daniel: (Shrugs) I have no clue what a medium rare steak looks like.
Me: Marmie? (Shows Marmie my steak)
Marmie: It does look a little too cooked. Why don't you ask them to take it back and give you another one?
Me: I'd rather not. I don't mind, really. I'll just eat it, as it is.

I take a bite of the steak. It tastes nice enough. I cut into another part, it still doesn't look particularly pink. I decide to show it to Amy, sitting next to me. 

Me: Does that look medium rare to you?
Amy: Not really.
Me: Glyn?
Older-Brother-Glyn: It's too cooked.
Me: Dad, look at this steak, it is definitely not what I ordered.
Waitress: Is everything okay with your food, guys?
Me: Oh, yes. It's lovely. Thanks.

Waitress leaves. Dad looks at me with raised eyebrows. 

Me: What?
Dad: That conversation there was the definition of hypocrisy.

I believe it is clear that the degree of my upset was thus: I was upset enough to raise it with my family, showing them the steak and voicing my repeated fixation on a pretty mundane aspect of my food, but not to the extent where I actually wanted to put someone out of their way to do something about it.

And that's what it comes down to, I guess... I just don't like to put people out of their way... you know, in having to deal with wrong orders, asking for people to do me a favour, raising an issue with the way someone is behaving around me, asking people to hang with me... you know, the normal kind of stuff.


I can't help but think, that if I was a little better at some of those things, I might find myself in a situation whereby the longevity of time that a piece of meat has been on the grill, is not something that I class as the most interesting thing to happen to me this month...

Also, (to bring it back to the original point) I feel that my passive state should therefore warrant me to be a good housemate. If they play music until four in the morning, it's fine, I can get earplugs. If they steal my stuff, it's fine, I can see it as a lesson in not relying on my worldly possessions...

Having said that, I do feel that I should mention, I really don't expect my new housemates to be capable of any of the things mentioned above. And if they do overcook my steak, I'll probably just leave it... after I text my family, letting them know.

Peace out my lovelies.

Saturday, 1 June 2013

Oh my days, the awesomeness of people is... well... awesome.

I have been in a little bubble of yumminess over the past few weeks. It's a bubble that I have dreamt about for so many years that I was probably still in nappies when they began... I have officially entered a world whereby people I don't know are aware of the voices in my head. Not only are they aware of them, but they are excited for them, angry at them, confused by them, and want to talk to me about them.

What's more, the reason behind them wanting to talk to me about them, doesn't have the hidden meaning that suggests they might commit me afterwards. Guys, I am able to talk about a completely fictitious place that I have made up with people that I have created and only good things are happening.

Yes, the world of the published author appears to be one of the only places whereby having an imaginary world that I escape to and develop on a daily basis, is something that is celebrated instead of being a reason for a referral to a mental health hospital.

What's more, people are being so unbelievably nice about the book, I have been walking around pinching myself on a regular basis, just to ensure that I am, in fact, awake.

So, if you haven't yet purchased my book, and are still on the fence about whether or not it's the book for you... I'm about to do something highly uncharacteristic for me and, believe me, there are large areas of my body right now who are not happy with this decision, and I'm going to show you the four amazing amazon comments I have had so far since make my book public. If you wish to buy the book, please follow the links on the right hand side of the screen ->>
5.0 out of 5 stars hooked!!! 29 May 2013
I loved this book. I love how it flicked between characters to give their point of view, and yet it flowed so well between them. I was constantly on the edge of my seat! You really feel like you know the characters. Great story line. Can't wait for the next book!!!!!!
 5.0 out of 5 stars Great debut book! 17 May 2013
This is a wonderful first book from an author with a wonderfully vibrant imagination. The main apocalyptic theme of the book is a fantastic concept for a story that hooked me in and made me want to keep reading from the very start. The characters are introduced rapidly but all have their own personalities and backgrounds that separate them from each other and really bring them to life. With the exception of one individual, the entire cast is likeable and you'll find yourself sympathising with them all at some point(s) as the story unfurls.

The first book is clearly setting up a universe and cast of characters that could spawn a whole host of other stories and with the ending of this one fresh in my mind I can't wait to read the next!
5.0 out of 5 stars A gripping book that leaves you wanting more 15 May 2013
Just finished reading this book. It is certainly one of the best books I've read of late.This book had me gripped from page one to the end. The characters are portrayed in a way that allows you to build them in your own mind without even thinking that your doing it. The story line is well structured and thought through developing as it goes along bringing in the characters in a way that leaves your mind wanting to move on and see where things go. When you hit that last page all you will want to do is find out when the next one in the series comes out, as it leaves you wanting more so many questions unanswered so many possibilities is it the end or not..... I guess only time will tell I certainly can't wait for the next book
5.0 out of 5 stars Ethics/Morality/Sci-Fi!, May 20, 2013
 By Navy vet...vt town
Without reservation this is one of the best books I have read in a long time. Not only does it cover ethics and morality, it skillfully interweaves the question of love versus duty. And more.......much more....

The cast of characters is superb. People were selected for Utopia based on their accomplishments to society. There are some, however, that volunteered so they could be tested with a new "toxin".

Jason, the bartender, has been promised that his partner will be able to join him. Michelle, his boss, doesn't come through on this one and it leads to near hysteria on his part and dissension within Utopia .

Lots of interesting people in this one - Connor and Christy, Adam, the actor, and Kelly, the one-in-charge - just to mention a few..

The scene that unfolds outside with the lady and her baby is heart-wrenching.

And, then there are the pods... These were developed by a genius, Daniela, who knows how to control them. When a person is placed in them, they are telepathically linked to metal which turns into statues. The "Walkers" are ready to go outside.

How much killing of innocent people could you do before you snapped?

How long could you stay inside a protected environment?

Just an outstanding twist at the end of this story... I just shook my head and said "WOW"!

Most highly recommended and I notice it says series so am hoping....

If nations knew that the end was coming, what do you think they would do?
To the people who have written these reviews, I can't even... I don't know... there are no words. I don't know how I can possibly put into a sentence the love and thanks that I feel for you. Thank you so much for being amazing people and sharing my passion. If you knew how much you have helped in making my dream come true... you are all beautiful people, and I mean everyone now.
To everyone who takes time out to read this blog when I actually get around to writing one, you are all amazing and perfect and awesome and responsible for turning an overly sarcastic woman into a gushing mess. I hope you're happy... oh, okay, maybe some of the sarcasm is still there... that's okay then.
I love you all. And I promise that, at some very near point, I will actually write a post on this thing that isn't to do with my book...
Oh. And, in case you're wondering, I have now officially begun writing the second book. I am about 6 chapters in and, so far, One-And-Only-Daniela (who is my moral support/cracking the whip reader, to keep me writing until it's finished) thinks that it's, and I quote, "good." Which is pretty high praise for her, given that I haven't yet written a chapter with her fictitious dopple ganger in (Daniela Davids, in case you hadn't noticed).
Okay, well I'm going to go and do some more writing... or watch Sherlock, I haven't yet decided. I will speak to all of you lovely people (have I mentioned I think you're lovely?) very soon, I promise.
Peace out my lovelies.