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Dracula, Chickens and Global Warming

Our hallway is blocked by two huge boxes containing the new chicken house. The blurb insists it will take between ten and fifteen minutes to convert these two flat-packs into the house and run but having experienced the joys of self-assembly before, I remain sceptical. The chicken house which Mum gave me is made from re-used wood and isn’t as watertight as it needs to be. It soaks up water from beneath, which is very bad for the birds’ health. Plus we wanted to give them a bigger run anyway. So I scoured the internet and found something much better. All I have to do now is assemble it then we can have our hall back and Hattie and Joyce can move house (again!) I’m just back from a trip into the village. There’s an icy wind coming off the sea today but it’s pleasant once you get walking. I’d tackle the flat-packs now but the light will be fading soon, and so instead I’ll update this blog. So what’s new? Well, I’ve now completed the first draft of Bethany Rose , and am happy with ...

Chickens and Imaginary Friends

Work on Bethany Rose has kept me busy, as I’m on the last three or four thousand words now. The total word count will run over my intended 100,000 words but as I’ve already decided to delete one minor character completely that’s not an issue. This is only the first draft, of course; there’s a lot of work to be done yet, editing and polishing. Some people balk at this aspect of writing but I thoroughly enjoy it. I’ve enjoyed writing Bethany’s story. Her character’s an interesting mixture of contradictions; sensitive but strong, creative but practical, and incredibly brave in the face of awful circumstances. She’s a very different person from Tamsin, that’s for sure. But I won’t say too much about her publicly for now. I’ve also been enjoying our two chickens. In the spring, Mum began talking about having two pet chickens. She gave it some thought, and by early summer they were in residence in her small garden. Richard laughed and told her we’d have them by Xmas. Well he was right, a...

Little Theatre, Birkenhead

October 31st saw an evening or short monologues by various writers from Wirral performed by members of the Carlton Players . The event was organised by Jenny Humphreys . Three other members of Riverside Writers took part, apart from myself: Tim Hulme , Carol Falaki and Peter Hurd . My contribution was one of my short pieces involving the Caldy fae, The Faerie Tree , which is partly autobiographical. This was performed by Angela Keeler , who has been acting for seventeen years. My photos are poor, my only excuse being the tricky lighting conditions which my digi isn't clever enough to cope with - sharp spotlights from the ceiling and bar area, and deep shadows. I had to push the highlight option in PhotoImpression 4 to extremes in order to be able to see much of the stage area. With my old and trusty Pentax SLR it would have been a doddle.

New Tales for Old Byways

Tim Hulme Peter Hurd Peter Caton Carol Falaki Andy Siddle Adele Cosgrove-Bray

New Tales for Old Byways

Am I ready for tonight? I organised it, so I should hope so… Yesterday, I was chatting to Julie Mann , one of the librarians at West Kirby Library, and we remarked how the initial planning for New Tales for Old Byways had begun at a meeting a year ago. That was when the Wirral Bookfest had been scheduled for April, before the threatened library closures set everything back months. Julie will be taking photos tonight, just as she did for last year’s Words from Wordsmiths event. Wirral TV will be filming tonight’s event. This was confirmed only yesterday. It should be an interesting experience to have a film crew moving around. I’ll be reading Seth’s Basement , which introduces one man’s strange hobby; and also Food, which is one of my series about the Caldy Hill fae. But the program is very diverse, being a group effort. Hope to see you there!

Rowan at Red Rocks

This photo was taken during a recent walk along the sand dunes, at Red Rocks in Hoylake. The solitary figure sitting on the sandstone outcrop, gazing towards Middle Eye and Hilbre Island, reminded me strongly of Rowan. This exactly captures the pose which Rowan would fall into, and in one of his favourite locations too. Editing Rowan is coming along well. I’ve almost reached the end of the MS, and my next task will be to put all my alterations onto disc and reprint the hardcopy so I can clearly see what I’m looking at. I’ve gone over the existing paper MS five or six times already. If you’d like to see some of the places where my stories are set, then I’ll invite you to visit http://hubpages.com/profile/AdeleCosgroveBray

Memories are Made of This

Ah, yes, every rainy Sunday afternoon when I was a child, my father's vinyl record collection would emerge from the gargantuan radiogram - a prized object the size of a sideboard, with a radio and record player built into it. A crackly loudspeaker was at either end, and inside was a slot intended to house the average person’s entire record collection, (probably around twenty LPs at the most.)   So the rain would fall, and the house would smell of the remains of Sunday dinner - a traditional roast, followed by a somewhat solid rice pudding - and rolling out of the prized loudspeakers would come such ‘delights’ as Delaney’s Donkey (as in the YouTube vid above) and Paddy McGuinty’s Goat , the theme music to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang or Paint Your Wagon and, just when it seemed things could not get worse, the dreaded James Last Orchestra. Ah, yes, the trials of youth…