Orange  daylily - Hemerocallis fulva Fabian: An Artisan-Sorcerer Story  is now being edited.  The novel will be published on 1st December 2015, all being well. Today I had a wander round The Arno, a small park in Oxton which gets its name from fusing two Anglo-Saxon words:  'arne' (hill) and 'howe' (which means either the name of a person who was as strong as an eagle, or that this was a hill where eagles nested.  Linguists weren't quite sure which it was, apparently).  But a host of volunteer gardeners have been busy making The Arno into a lovely little hideaway usually known for its formal rose garden, but which also has a vibrant Long Border crammed with numerous and colourful cottage garden plants.  If any Wirral artists are looking for masses of flowers to paint, this would be a good place to head to right now, as you can see from this post's photos which I took today.  Click on the photos to see them larger. The Long Border at The Arno, Oxton.

Patio, June 2015. Some of the lovely lilac and purple poppies which grew in abundance through the block-paved drive at our old house have managed to hitch a lift in the tubs we brought here with us.   They weren't deliberately planted in the tubs; their seeds must have been in the soil which came fresh from our compost bins.  The poppies hadn't been deliberately planted in the block-paved drive, either.  They were supposed to grow in the rose border.  Not one poppy grew by the roses.   But along the drive there were so many that by Autumn it was easier to run the mower over it to gather up the dried-up stalks than to clean it up by hand. Anyway, here they are again, springing up with glorious abundance amongst tubs of plants around the patio.  I'll leave them to seed themselves as they wish.  They probably will, anyway. Richard and I did some of this year's annual Wirral Open Studios Tour , which was great fun.  Artists and crafts-workers across Wirral throw ope

Poppi & Emily enjoying their new garden . Yesterday was devoted to writing and little else, and as a result the first draft of Fabian is almost complete.  So it now looks like the novel will be available by December, which is good news for all those who've been emailing me to ask when it's likely to be out. We've settled into our new house and absolutely love it.  The photo of Poppi and Emily, shown here, was taken on Thursday this week, when they were lounging on the patio area of the garden.  We've tidied up the previous owner's collection of patio plant pots, removing spent spoil and weeds, and we've been enjoying the gradual process of discovering what the collection holds - such as the lovely iris which burst into bloom this week, (see photo below).  The patio border has a fuscia, too, which we're glad to see; they're one of Richard's favourites but we could never get them to thrive in our previous garden. It's not so sunny toda

The Boathouse in  Birkenhead Park, April 2015. Moving house for the ninth time in my life was organised like a military operation, and the task was completed smoothly with the help of Greens Removals of Chester , who I am very happy to recommend.  All they wanted us to do was keep out of the way while their team of five men loaded their two vans and then, once at the new place, tell them where to put things - which we did, and yet still felt exhausted by the end of the day. Starving, we stood in the unfamiliar kitchen and stared alternately at the ultra-modern computerised oven and its instruction booklet.  The oven did not react as the instructions said it would.  To anyone even remotely familiar with instruction booklets this will come as no surprise.  Richard managed to get the thing going by accidentally pressing the 'wrong' button, which is actually the right button.  The instruction booklet has errors, which effectively undermines its whole purpose for existence - b

Pen & ink drawing by Richard Cosgrove-Bray I have just arrived home from an enjoyable walk with my dogs through the meadows between Hoylake and West Kirby, which stretch around Gilroy Nature Park.  The spring sunshine was bouncing off pools of water lying half-submerged beneath drooping tussocks of winter-bleached grass.  A small flock of goldfinches was flitting around the bare trees.  The birds are back early after wintering abroad.  On the duck pond were the usual mob of Canada geese, mallards, coots and moorhens, plus a large flock of redshank who prefer the pond in the flooded field on the other side of the public footpath. Richard and I are still waiting for the conveyancing on the house sale and purchase to complete.  I went into our estate agents' office on Thursday to enquire into the delay, and asked if the process usually takes this long - 10 weeks and counting, now.  The delay has been caused by our buyer's buyer, who had to wait for a divorce settleme

For the last three years around New Year, I've created a list of goals which I hoped to achieve within the following twelve months.  This is one way to keep track of the progress of various projects and it's a bit of self-entertainment. My goals for 2014 were:- Finish Fabian. Publish a 3rd free ebook anthology which will be called Travel Stories . Write one short story per month (minimum). Continue to collect dolls, swim and have more fun! The bad news is that Fabian:  An Artisan-Sorcerer Story still isn't finished.  The good news is that there remains less than 10,000 words to go, and so the completion of the 100,000 word first draft is well within sight. The proposed free ebook anthology, Travel Stories , has been cancelled as I'll be moving to another area of Wirral and so my involvement with Riverside Writers - the main source of contributions to the ebook - will be greatly reduced.  For the same reason I recently resigned as the group's Chairperson,

Exclusive greetings cards from Spooky Cute Designs! Temperatures have dropped today.  The wind has a sharp edge to it which wasn't there yesterday, when I was potting a few small plants and some bulbs to take with us when we move, and raking autumn leaves into piles before scooping them into our rusting wheelbarrow.  It felt odd tidying the garden, knowing someone else will benefit. This garden did not exist when Richard and I bought this house in 2000.  The contorted hazel tree and cherry tree were lonely starting points in a mass of waist-high weeds.  Slowly, slowly, our garden was created.   And now we're leaving it all behind, hoping that the new owners will tend it and add to it and enjoy it for years to come. The sale of this house and the purchase of our new home is, as of this morning, in the hands of our solicitors.  Here's to a swift and smooth settlement. Over the last couple of months, we've visited several houses with a view to buying one.  Some p

There is an interesting article in The Guardian today which discusses reactions to the decision not to have children.  Richard and I do not have children and are perfectly happy that way.  We have never had any desire to become parents.  This was one of the first things we agreed on when we initially became a couple some twenty years ago.  We wanted to do other things with our lives and neither of us have ever regretted that choice at any point. Now I'm 50, people have finally stopped insisting that I'll change my mind about not wanting children as I get older.  Instead, I'm told that I'll regret it when I'm elderly as there will be no-one to visit me.  I know plenty of elderly people with grown-up children of their own, plus grandchildren and a network of other family members, who rarely if ever see any of them for a host of reasons - geographical distance, economics and family politics, for example.  Clearly, breeding additions to your family tree does not gua

31st October 1996 - Richard & Adele's wedding. Eighteen years ago today, Richard and I got married at Brougham Terrace in Liverpool. These-days the Register Office is located within St George's Hall which is far more grand, or people can opt to make use of a whole host of fun places as their marriage venue.  Brougham Terrace was previously the site of Britain's first mosque, opened in 1887 by William Henry Quilliam , a solicitor who converted as a seventeen year old after having been sent to Morocco for his health.  Rich people used to do stuff like that back then.  Now they just go to rehab then do the TV chat show circuit. Ten minutes before our wedding was due to take place, everyone was still sitting in Richard's mother's house.  "The cars are a bit late," someone said, echoing what everyone else was thinking.  This was when we discovered that the bridegroom had forgotten to book any cars.  So Richard and his two brothers ran to the neare