Guest post: Cally Taylor

Today I am delighted to host a leg of Cally Taylor's blog tour. Here is her inspirational guest post:

Day 17 of the Virtual Blog Tour for my novel “Heaven Can Wait” and I thought I’d write a guest post for Cathy about writing, reward and motivation.

In an ideal writing world the words flow effortlessly whenever we sit down at our computer/notepad, we’re never short of ideas, everything we write gets glowing feedback/published and our self-confidence grows and grows until our internal writing world is one big, happy bubble we never want to leave.

You can see the problem with that description can’t you?

The word ‘ideal’.

If you’re a writer the chances are you devoured books as a child. In fact, you’ve probably read, and enjoyed, books your whole life. A good writer makes it look easy, it makes us (and the rest of the world) think “I could do that!” Only the reality is very, very different.

I don’t know a single writer who hasn’t, or isn’t, struggling with their self-confidence. My debut novel has just been published and I’m still wracked with self-doubt and insecurities about my writing ability. Will people buy my book? Will they like it? Will they publish horrible, scathing reviews on Amazon? But what if people do like it and they’re disappointed by my second book?

So if getting your novel published isn’t a magical salve for writerly insecurities how on earth do you cope when you’re just starting out? This is what I did...

Back in November 2005 I took part in a ‘flashathon’ for BBC Children in Need. We were sponsored to write a piece of flash fiction every hour for a maximum of twenty-four hours (I think I managed about 16 hours, with a nap after the first eight hours!). After the competition finished all the flashes were critiqued by the group and the ‘top 50’ were passed on to Leaf Books for judging. Leaf Books had very kindly agreed to publish a book of eighteen flashes and donate the proceeds to charity. I was over the moon when one of my efforts was forwarded to them but I was up against some stiff competition, my fiction had previously been rejected by lots of publications, and didn’t think I stood a chance of getting into the final book. I was gobsmacked when I found out that “Tom Brown’s Spaceship” had been selected – it was going in!

I was so delighted that something I’d written had been published I called my closest friends and invited them round for a champagne celebration in December. My friends all bought a copy of the book (all proceeds to charity) and asked me to sign them! I felt like a superstar! To me the tiny little yellow book I held in my hands was huge! I didn’t care that I didn’t receive a penny for that story – I was thrilled that I’d written something an editor thought was good enough to make it into print. Maybe, just maybe, it meant I wasn’t a terrible writer.



I went out and bought myself a clear plastic folder and put a copy of the book in it. The folder was huge and the book rattled around but that was okay, it gave me something to aim for – I’d fill the folder with more published stories.

A month later Aesthetica magazine contacted me to let me know that they’d accepted my flash “Odd Socks”. There was no payment but when the magazine was published and I was sent a complimentary that went in the folder too.



I continued to write, I continued to receive rejections, I continued to receive stinging critiques of my stories that made me wonder whether or not I was good enough to be a writer, but I kept that folder close at hand. Two pieces of flash fiction published, I couldn’t be that bad. Maybe, I wondered, if I could get my work published, I could get paid for it too.

In February 2006 I was! It was a piece of flash fiction again – and I won £30 in a small online competition. I held that cheque in my hands for a long time. I couldn’t believe someone had actually paid me for something that, essentially, I’d made up! It would have been easy to chuck the cheque in the bank for it to be instantly gobbled up by some bill or other that needed paying. But I didn’t do that – in my eyes being paid for a piece of writing was a pretty damned momentous occasion in my writing career and I wanted to buy something I could hold in my hands, something that I could look at and think, my writing bought that.

I went on ebay and bought this silver bracelet. I still wear it. And I still remember.



I also kept the email I’d been sent, informing me that I’d won the competition. I put that in the folder too. I continued to push myself. I’d been published in print and I’d been paid for my writing but everything I’d had success with was flash fiction. Could I do the same with short stories? I started entering them into competitions. Lot and lots of rejections followed and I didn’t even make the long list. In April 2006 I almost fell off my chair when I received a phone call from the Bank Street Writers competition to say that my story “Under the Waves” had won. £100! I couldn’t believe it. I continued to set myself goals – to get a story published on X ezine, to have a story published in Y magazine, to place in Z competition. Some of my goals I hit, some I didn’t, some I knew I’d never hit (like placing in the Bridport Prize!) but I kept on trying. My folder full of published stories got fatter and fatter and I had to buy a second one, but I still kept them close at hand to reassure me during inevitable dips in self-confidence.



When I sat down to write “Heaven Can Wait” I felt daunted. Most of my stories were about 2,000 words long – how the hell was I going to manage 80-100,000? I’d have to reward myself somehow. I plucked a figure for my first draft – 90,000 words – out of the air and decided to reward myself with a paperweight for every third of the novel that I managed to write. It sounds silly now – buying myself a paperweight for 30,000 words – but I’d attempted a novel twice before and hadn’t finished either of them. I needed all the motivation I could get!

The first third of the novel came and went, then the second, then the third. Finally my novel was finished and the three paperweights, lined up in the window with the sun glinting off them, was a daily reminder of what I’d achieved. I had no idea, back then, if my novel would ever get published but I was damned proud of myself for doing what so many people talk about but don’t do, actually finishing a novel.



When I got my book deal I rewarded myself again. I’m not married and don’t have a lovely sparkly ring on my finger to signify that special moment in my life so why not buy myself something pretty to represent a different kind of special moment? I went back on ebay and bought a white gold ring, studded with teeny, tiny diamonds. I wear it on the third finger of my right hand.

Why does she keep buying herself things, you might be asking. Isn’t seeing her novel on the shelves reward enough? God yes! But I got my book deal a year ago and a big part of me didn’t believe it was real. I thought it might be snatched away from me at any second. The ring couldn’t be!

So what now? How do I deal with writerly wobbles now I’ve had a novel published? Mostly I do what I’ve always done – grit my teeth and write my way through them – but I’m still collecting things to make me feel better on ‘I can’t do this’ days. I’ve got an email folder where I keep ‘good news’ – emails from my agent, my publisher, feedback from people who’ve read my novel, and I’ve got a copy of all the magazines that have reviewed my novel or featured an interview with me.



Set yourself goals and reward and motivate yourself but more than anything else, keep believing, keep dreaming and keep writing. If you’re a writer you’ve got no choice.

Cally Taylor is the author of “Heaven Can Wait”, a supernatural romantic-comedy about a woman who dies the night before her wedding, refuses to go to heaven and returns to earth to try and return to earth so she can be reunited with her fiancé Dan.

www.callytaylor.co.uk
http://writing-about-writing.blogspot.com
www.twitter.com/callytaylor

Heads up

On Sunday I will be hosting a leg of the very lovely Cally Taylor's blog tour.

If you haven't already read her debut novel, Heaven Can Wait, then I suggest you get down to the shops now. I don't often read chick lit nowadays, and I've never before read supernatural chick lit, but I devoured this book in two days. It's a beautifully written, light read which made me both laugh and cry and has an ending I didn't see coming. I'm now looking forward to Cally's second book...

X Factor update

This week I was loving Jamie. I always judge my favourite performances by whether I seek them out on the internet to view again and this was the only one.



I felt desperately sorry for Rachel, I don't think she has been given decent songs or much TV coverage. I hope that will be remedied for next week because actually she is a good singer who doesn't deserve to be in the bottom two so early.

The twins, well what can be said? They shouldn't still be there, yet they will probably survive until somewhere in the middle of the series because they make us laugh. Not in a good way.

PS. Whitney. Wardrobe fail and was she on the same as Robbie last week? Eek.

Hateful journalism

I never was particularly a fan of Boyzone. Like Louis Walsh's other band Westlife, they were wallpaper music to me. Never offensive, I liked a few of their songs, I even knew the names of at least some of the band members, but that was as far as it went. So when I heard of the sudden death last weekend of Stephen Gately I was sad, not so much because Stephen Gately himself had great meaning to me but because any death at the age of 33 is a tragedy.

So I was disgusted on Friday to be led, via lovely Twitter friend Keris, to the most odious piece of journalism I think I have ever read, written by Jan Moir in The Daily Mail. I was not the only person to feel disgusted by this piece of gutter journalism. Over 1000 complaints were made to the Press Complaints Commission (including mine). The PCC website crashed. At some point during the day the Mail changed the title of the piece from the original wording 'There was nothing 'natural' about Stephen Gately's death' and advertising on the web page was removed, presumably at the request of the advertisers who included Marks and Spencer.

So what was it about this piece which offended so much? Well it was clearly homophobic (though Jan Moir, in a subsequent statement full of self delusion has denied this). It was inaccurate. Yes, apparently healthy young men can just die suddenly, it is medically recognised as Sudden Adult Death Syndrome and such heart problems apparently ran in Gateley's family. It gratuously brought in the recent death (by suicide) of another young gay man who had been in the public eye but whose passing had nothing to do with Gately. The whole piece intruded on the dignified grief of family and friends and was even published the day before Stephen Gately's funeral.

I've been thinking a lot about journalism recently, because I am considering dipping my toe into the water of that area of writing. I know that writing for a paper or magazine is not as straightforward as it might look and opinion journalism must be particularly difficult. The challenge to find, on a weekly basis, something that will grab the attention of the public and sell papers, without offending a large minority must be difficult. But this piece managed to offend in so many ways and this was recognised by so many people. It is even being reported today that a complaint has been made to the Metropolitan Police.

We do, of course have free speech in this country, but the flip side of that is that those who express strong opinions in such a public fashion must be able to take the consequences of others also expressing their views by putting in formal complaints. This was no organised internet campaign, as Jan Moir suggests, but the result of a large number of people who were offended by her column taking action and discussing the issue online. The result of free speech in the digital age.

Let's hope it makes a difference. But don't hold your breath. One of the leading lights of the PCC is Paul Dacre, none other than the editor of The Daily Mail...

Normalising autism

I've just read this article and found myself nodding in agreement.

Autism is certainly much more acknowledged and much more diagnosed than it used to be, but services haven't kept up. We too will be faced with looking for an adult placement for son 2 in the next couple of years, and even now it is hard to see where he will fit in. He is severely autistic, but not as challenging as many and could be very vulnerable amongst bigger, more physical severely autistic adults. Yet at the same time he is nowhere near able enough to be amongst high functioning autistic people.

I'll stick my head back in the sand for another year and hope that services haven't had all their funding cut by the time I pull it back out again...

X Factor - Spot the difference

Johnny Bravo



John and Edward

Serendipity

I never believed that things happen for a reason. But the way life is going at the moment I might just start to change my mind.

It has been another rollercoaster week. Yesterday Hubby's business formally went into voluntary liquidation and on Thursday he had signed on, a soul-destroying experience in itself. Then last evening I received the best possible news, that my flash fiction piece was one of the winners in the Tonto Books short story competition and will be appearing in the forthcoming anthology Even More Tonto Short Stories.

I have to be honest, I almost didn't enter the Tonto competion. I was aware of it, of course, as it was mentioned on many writers' blogs. I had looked at my meagre amount of unsubmitted work, but I knew Tonto like edgy prose and I didn't think that I had anything which could even be knocked into that shape. I was also entering into my first major MS relapse at the time, looking for a diagnosis and feeling pretty shitty, so I decided to pass on the competition. It wasn't until the end of July, when I heard the deadline had actually been extended by a couple of days, that I suddenly changed my mind.

I sat in a coffee shop and wondered if I could conjure a piece of flash fiction from somewhere. I knew a longer piece would not be completed in time, as I was suffering from very bad double vision due to the MS. But what could I write? I scrolled through my MP3 player and suddenly decided to start a series of flash fiction pieces based on old song titles. I listed a few possibilities in my notebook. Then I went home and started to write. Two days later, on the competition closing date, I submitted 500 words to Tonto. I had little hope of success and was feeling rather guilty about paying an entry fee knowing our financial circumstances were about to change (though the fee was only to actually purchase the book, so was entirely justifiable!)

I wonder why that particular piece succeeded? Perhaps it was because I wrote it very quickly and didn't have time to edit to death. Perhaps some extra depth came out of being very ill at the time of writing. But most likely it was just luck, that my piece appealed to the judge in some way and worked well alongside others selected. I'll never know, of course. I guess it is a lesson that we have to learn as writers, that there can be so many almost random reasons for success or rejection. I guess too that is why we need to grow thick skins.

Right now I feel as if the parts of our lives have been thrown up into the air and we are just waiting to see how they will land. It is scary but at the same time exciting, and as the Tonto result shows, anything might happen. Perhaps it is all for an as yet unknown reason.

Photographs

On Saturday I did something I never expected to do. I had my photo taken, at a photographic studio in London.

People who know me understand that I have something of a phobia of the camera. I know I'm not the most photogenic person in the world and I prefer to stay firmly behind the lens. So this outing was not something I would have arranged myself.

Let me take you back many months. I received an email from my sister saying that she'd signed up for a photoshoot session and would I like to go along with her and my niece, the aim being to get a really good group picture to give to our parents for Christmas (don't worry, they won't see this!) Although my first reaction was to panic, it wasn't that hard to persuade me. I then left it to my sister to arrange a date.

Several months passed and no date had been arranged. When we did manage to find some mutually convenient weekends, it was always too late to make a booking, but eventually we got a date sorted in July. And then I became ill. My sister kindly rearranged it for this weekend, the last possible date before she would lose the deposit she'd paid upfront.

So there we were having our make up and hair done and our photos taken in three different outfits. At the end we had a large number of shots to choose from and we narrowed it down to twelve to purchase (the cost prohibited us taking any more). My niece turned out to be wonderfully photogenic, a real natural. My sister fretted about her make up. I thought she looked beautiful, but she doesn't usually wear any so she felt strange. I was just glad to get a few decent shots of myself.

Actually one of my shots is excellent and I'm saving it for now, but it would make a great author photo. Another I have already posted on my website. A third I have cropped from one of the group shots. And most importantly, we have some great pictures for Mum and Dad...

Birthdays

Yesterday we took son 2 to a birthday party. That in itself is a rarity. Son 2 has always hated parties, they are too noisy for him and he can't cope with the change of routine. So since the age of 5 we have just had a low key birthday with cake and candles at home, knowing that his wonderful school have also held a celebration there for his peer group. This is important as son 2 doesn't go to a local school and his classmates come from a wide geographical area.

Anyway, the party yesterday was a swimming party, at a pool son 2 had not visited before. The guests were a mixture of children with a variety of special needs and some young non-disabled siblings. We were really unsure how son 2 would cope, so Hubby and I both went along, Hubby to go in the water with him and me to be on standby watching. But I wasn't needed. Son 2 behaved well, and despite obvious anxiety (he hates the echo of swimming pools) he was persuaded into the water. Although he is a nonswimmer he enjoyed floating around in the shallow end, as he usually does. He even came out of the water immediately when asked, this has not always been the case in the past!

In the party room he sat nicely at the table and ate pizza, albeit with his MP3 player in his ears to block out the sound of chatter. When he had finished eating he announced, in his own nonverbal way, that it was time to go home. But by then the party was winding up anyway and we were able to head for home, feeling proud of our son's success in coping with a new situation. In an environment where he was accepted for exactly what he is, he produced behaviour which would not have been too out of place at a mainstream party.

While we are on the subject of bithdays, Casdok's son has just celebrated his 21st. Please take the time to read her beautiful post reflecting on his coming of age.

Tightening the belts...

So the new era of financial abstinence has begun (though you might not believe that after I had been to town yesterday!)

Knowing that this employment situation was about to occur, a few weeks ago I purchased a (discounted) copy of India Knight's The Thrift Book. Now I like India's journalism, often finding myself agreeing with her, and I enjoyed The Thrift Book as expected. But as I read all too often I found myself thinking hey, I already do that. We've always swapped children's clothes with friends, I've been a keen crafter for years and I am far too familiar with eBay, to give just a few examples. Let's face it, India Knight and I move in different circles and most of my friends and I have been thrifty by her standards for years. So not too many savings to be made there.

I'm looking at ways of reducing the food bill. Since I became ill in the summer I have been unable to drive, so started using the Tesco home delivery service. I find it successful because it eliminates most impulse buying, but of course you have to pay for the convenience (though this week's delivery charge was refunded because they were late due to a van breakdown.) Now Hubby will be home we will probably go to the store together and it will be interesting to see if the weekly food cost rises or falls as a result!

I've booked an appointment with a benefits advisor next week, as our situation is complicated by the fact that we have a disabled child and of course my own capacity to work is currently in question. Hubby will be busy with the winding up of the company for the next few weeks, even though his work will be unpaid. As a director it is his responsibility to provide the receiver with all necessary information.

Then we will sit down and look at all our options. I have a lot of voluntary sector experience in an unpaid capacity, but of course that sector is even more cash-strapped than most and job opportunities locally are now rare. I am also investigating how much it would cost me to retrain to get back into some form of accountancy, albeit at a lower level than when I left the profession eighteen years ago. But I do wonder if it is worth the investment, if I won't be able to get a job at the end due to my health, and of course I would much rather be doing something home-based and writing related...

The times they are a-changing

Sorry, I've been a bad and absent blogger again. I will try to do better in future.

I'm sitting here watching the BBC news about the collapse, exactly twelve months ago, of the American bank Lehman Brothers. A collapse which pushed the world into financial meltdown. Over the last few days I've been reading that governments over the world are starting to say that the corner has been turned, that their countries are heading out of recession. It has even been suggested that Gordon Brown will say the same about the UK this week. Whether Britain is heading in the right direction or not, it comes too late for many people who, through no fault of their own, have lost their livelihood.

On Friday Hubby and his business partner will shut up their company for good, forced out of business by events out of their control. They operate in a construction industry heavily hit by the bursting of the property bubble and the work has disappeared to the extent that the company is no longer solvent enough to trade legally. As I was also employed for a few hours a week we will lose all our household income and, given our ages and my health issues, future employment prospects do not look rosy.

Now this may be a great opportunity to do something we will enjoy more and for me to get more help in my role as a carer, but it will also be a huge challenge. I need to start making some proper money from my writing rather than giving it away, for publishing credits and experience, as I have up to now. But I'm not sure how to go about this, how to get my foot on the ladder.

Ideas on a postcard please.

September comes...

The new month begins and school is back tomorrow. It's been a strange holiday as I've not been able to do much due to my MS relapse, which thankfully seems now to have almost resolved. Inspired by his brother, son 2 decided to listen to his mp3 player for the first time ever, which has been a godsend. It's not an iPod but a cheap kids' player I got on eBay, a tiny capacity but seemingly sturdy, which is very important.

I've spent the last two days working. Due to my bad back I should only sit at my desk for short periods of time and by the end of yesterday I was in a lot pain. I've no idea whether the back pain which affects my mobility is part of the MS, but I've decided I must get back to doing yoga regularly, as that used to help a lot.

When I had a gym membership I used to do hatha yoga classes twice a week, with a lovely teacher whose gentle approach was suitable for all. I had to give up my gym membership when I became unable to get there due to family illness and sadly now I can't afford to rejoin. In the past I've bought yoga dvds but found it difficult to practice when it is necessary to look at the screen and so I lazily let my yoga slip. A bad mistake, I fear.

But now I think I've found the answer, yoga mp3s from Yoga2hear, which are also available via Audible. The narrator, Sue Fuller sounds very like my old teacher and the beginner classes I've sampled so far seem to use a similar gentle approach. I'm going to get a few more over the coming months and then I should have enough for a varied home yoga practice. I hope my back appreciates it.

Nick Hornby and autism

There is an interesting piece about Nick Hornby in The Times today, along with an excerpt from his forthcoming book, Juliet Naked. You can read it here.

I have a lot of time for Nick Hornby. Not just for his writing, which is good and accessible, but also for his quiet championing of services for children with autism. Nick and his ex-wife set up a very specialist school in London for children with autism. Whilst the specific teaching approach used at TreeHouse school is not the one we chose for son 2, I do know other parents who use it successfully and indeed have children at the school.

Nick Hornby doesn't often speak or write specifically about his autistic son, but when he does, as in this interview in 2000, it is always moving. I'm currently writing a novel about living with autism and I can only aspire to express the tangled emotions as successfully as Nick Hornby.

Mummy blogging

Despite the strapline of this blog, I have never really intended it to be a 'mummy blog', so I was interested to read this article about mummy blogging and why people do it.

Parenting is, of course, a huge part of my life and that is why I do write about my family from time to time, but on the whole what gets on to this blog is a fairly sanitised version. I think long and hard about what I want to expose to the world, but even so there are probably a few posts which I would remove from the blog should my readership ever rise substantially.

My real reason for creating this blog was to chart my own progress in moving away from being 'just a mum' and finding myself again. The sense of losing your own individuality is one experienced by many parents, especially parents of disabled children who are perhaps unable to work because their lives have been taken over by educational provisions, behavioural issues and medical appointments. It is a challenge which at some point, needs to be addressed for the parents' own sanity and for me writing has filled the gap and hopefully set me off in a new direction.

I've 'met' lots of lovely people through this blog, both writers and parents of disabled children. But that has been a happy coincidence, I didn't set the blog up to find parenting or special needs advice as I have plenty of friends just up the road who regularly offer coffee and support. Nor did I set up the blog to encourage parenting advertisers or freebies...I have had offers but have always turned them down.

I've been asked why I don't post pictures of my children online, either here or in a 'private' forum. There is a simple answer. Both my boys are, in their own ways, quite vulnerable and it is my job, as a parent to protect them. Now that is not to say there aren't pictures of them online. Son 1, like every teenager, uses social media, but there he is control of his own images. We have on occasion given permission for a charity to use unnamed pictures of Son 2, both in print and online, because we know they will be used with integrity. Having in the past been the subject of online nastiness, even from people who should be supportive, I don't want to expose my children's identities. I may be paranoid, but we are quite a private family in many ways.

So if you are looking for a true mummy blog, there are many bloggers out there covering both special needs and regular parenting with a depth and humour you won't find here. My kids will continue to pop up on the blog but I'm starting to wonder if it is time to change my strapline...

The X Factor...

...is back. I'm so excited! Four good contestants tonight and how cute and good is Danyl?

Here, there and everywhere

First of all thank you for all your lovely comments on my last post. They are much appreciated and it is good to be back. But now I'm about to disappear again for a few days, as tomorrow I'm off to the seaside for some internet-free rest and relaxation. I'll be staying with my parents and am taking son 1 with me to act as escort and porter.

While I'm there I will be doing a lot of thinking about my writing. Not about my current novel, I do know where that is going even if progress is slow. It is novel 2 which is now unexpectedly on my mind, as yesterday the characters for a new story started to introduce themselves. The second novel is clearly not going to be what I had originally intended to write and it will require some considerable research. But the main characters are here, solidly lodging themselves in my head, and now I just need to let them lead me towards the plot...

Bad times, good times

The bad news first.

A week ago I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, an incurable condition with an uncertain progression and prognosis. It wasn't a surprise. I have been feeling 'not quite right' for maybe eight years, have had various tests, with minor symptoms being attributed to stress or the side effects of drugs. All of this seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, I have no complaints about my medical treatment. But this time I had tingling in my face, my GP suspected MS, was honest enough to say so and refer me on. That was at the end of June.

After a more recent week-long convoluted story involving two hospital A&E departments and an MRI scanner, my consultant neurologist broke the news. I was just thankful it wasn't a brain tumour, which was the other possibility. At the moment I have severe double vision, because the muscles in my eyes are not working together. I can't drive, I'm walking with a stick, feeling very weak and wobbly, and I need patched glasses just to function. I know this is just a bad relapse, part and parcel of MS. I am already better than I was, it should all improve further with time.

But all this was forgotten yesterday when my Open University results came out. I got the grade I had hoped for in my Advanced Creative Writing course, not a distinction but the next best thing. As a result I am now the proud owner of a Diploma in Literature and Creative Writing, as well as an Open Degree with 2.1 Honours ( due to the eclectic mix of courses I have studied I can take this as either a BA or BSc. I think I will go for the BSc, despite the strong creative writing content, as I already have a BA!)

There is a wonderful symmetry here. I initially joined the OU ten years ago to study one course in Health and Social Care, in order to better understand the systems we would be fighting because of son 2's autism. I had no intention of going on to do another degree, but due to my kids' special needs over the last four years I found myself stuck at home with a need for distraction from a lot of stress. I went back to the OU and found a new direction and validation with the OU creative writing courses, making a dream into a reality. I have learned so many practical writing skills, I have been published and I will continue writing, not just as a means of one day hopefully perhaps making a little pocket money, but above all to enjoy a 'career' which can fit around not only my role as a carer but now also my own future health needs.

I hope the best is yet to come.

Will You

I'd forgotten all about this song, but I heard it recently and remembered how much I loved it. Memories came flooding back.

Sometimes...

...such as when you find the downstairs shower room and adjoining laundry room flooded with sewage at 8.30 on a Saturday evening, it is useful to be married to a man who owns a drainage company.

A man who, although not a drain tech himself, does understand how the drains work and keeps a set of drainage rods in the boot of his car. A man who, with the help of Son 1, is prepared to persevere with rodding until the solid blockage at the base of the soil stack finally clears itself in a rush of backed up water.

A second round of cleaning and disinfecting continues today, after we finished just before midnight. The flood water even got into the base of my huge ironing pile and a mound of clothes I was sorting for the charity shop, so there is a lot of washing to do.

We blame it on Son 2, who likes to throw things down the toilets and flush quickly, before we can even see what went down. The blockage could well have contained cardboard, broken DVDs, teaspoons and chunks of soap and it caused the water from his bath upstairs to overflow through the downstairs toilet and shower, as it had nowhere else to go.

I'm just thankful it didn't all happen a day or two earlier when Hubby was away in Europe!

Breaking the silence

Sorry about my recent absence here. Over the last two weeks I have spent far too much time in the doctor's waiting room and the dentist's chair, culminating in a dreaded root canal treatment this week.

As a result I am way behind with my work (the sort that pays) and, with a deadline looming and a summer holiday approaching, I'm having to keep my head down and try to catch up.

Normal service (whatever that is) will be resumed as soon as possible.