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Fabian Revealed!

Here's the first look at the front cover for Fabian: An Artisan Sorcerer Story.

Moths, Artists and The Needle

Lime Hawk Moth This lovely lime hawk moth was found snuggled against our garden wall.  I'd been doing a spot of weeding when I saw it, and so I went back inside for my camera.  Pretty, isn't it?  I don't think I've seen one of these before, though we have had other types of hawk moths visit our garden. Anyway, watching me watching it was the blackbird which often rummages through the plant pots and forget-me-nots in the borders.  As I walked away, intending to put my camera back in the drawer where it usually lives, I saw a dark blur in the corner of my eye.  And that was the end of the moth. Speaking of finality, Fabian has now been edited and the process of formatting has begun.  I've been looking at roughs for the front cover, which obviously has to continue the theme already established by the Artisan-Sorcerer Series.  So, we're now looking at publication date of July/August, if all goes well.  I've already started putting together a few notes f

Fabian: an Artisan-Sorcerer Story

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Book Review: City Stories

There is a small but positive book revew of City Stories here , a collection of fiction and poetry by members of Riverside Writers which I edited and contributed to. Riverside Writers now have a new website here .  Since moving from West Kirby to Oxton a year ago I haven't been a member of the group, but I'm pleased to see they're doing well. Pick up your copy of City Stories for FREE here .

Two Galleries, a Picnic and a Twiddlemuff.

Richard modelling a Twiddlemuff Recently we had family here, and after sharing a meal which Richard had cooked we all went to the Open Exhibition at the Williamson Art Gallery .  The range and quality of paintings and photography on display is very encouraging, and should surely attract serious interest from the art world as a whole.  There was a wealth of emerging talent on show.  You've got until the 8th of May to see it.  Treat yourself. My sister Evelyn was full of her adventures in New Zealand, of course.  She had a great time there, and even got to visit the Weta Workshop , which I'm quite envious of.  There's a photo of her posing amongst shrubbery with a troll from The Hobbit .  She brought me back a weird egg - not a real egg, but one you're supposed to soak in water for 48 hours before it hatches into a kiwi, which then will continue to grow if you keep it in water.  40 hours later, the egg has developed a flaky, scabrous appearance but as yet we remain

Puzzles, Pirates and Paper.

Peacock King Jigsaw Puzzle While you're waiting for Fabian, the fourth novel in the Artisan-Sorcerer series, to become available - and it is coming soon! - have a play with this on-line jigsaw puzzle of the Peacock King, who features in the forthcoming book.  (The image is in much better focus on the jigsaw site). One year ago, we moved to this house.  It's incredible to realise that this little anniversary has arrived already.  Moving here was one of the best decisions we've ever made.  We're both still in love with the place. Last Saturday we scraped off old wallpaper in the dining room, up to the level of the picture rail.  Recently we had some repairs carried out on one of the walls in that room, and now the new plaster has had plenty of time to dry out properly.  Sunday saw me unravelling the mysteries of how to hang 7ft strips of patterned wallpaper without getting it in a glorious knot, tangled round the stepladder or stuck to the wrong bit of wall.  By

Vanishing Birds and the Green Man

We are now the proud owners of an exercise bike.  Richard's worn out just assembling the thing.  I chickened out of that little job, opting to walk the dogs round the park instead, which was pleasant despite the bitterly cold edge to the wind whistling off the Mersey. With a group of other people, I took part in the RSPB's annual Big Garden Birdwatch .  There we all were, sat in an enthusiastic row by the windows, binoculars at the ready, armed with shortcake and tea, and eager to spot wild birds...and there was hardly a bird to be seen.  The entire hour-long count scooped all of two magpies, one sparrow, six woodpigeons, one crow and a seagull - and the RSPB's list of desirable birds to spot didn't include crows or seagulls anyway.  Normally there are all sorts of birds hopping around.  Oh, well. My sister Evelyn gave me a pretty white and purple cyclamen a couple of years ago, and it was among the plants transplanted from our old garden and brought here when we

Book Review: The Grumpets

There is a short but sweet review of The Grumpets here. Book blurb for The Grumpets: Grumpets are shy creatures who live in compost heaps. They are small and wrinkly, with many long, pale limbs, and like nothing better than burrowing into fresh grass clippings. But the heap can be a dangerous place. Follow the adventures of young Chip Grumpet as ravenous Slimers and the dreaded Time of Turning threaten to destroy the Grumpet's world!  To date, this is my one excursion into the realm of fiction for children.  It was fun to write, and to be perfectly honest I was unsure how people might react to this total change of direction from me.  But such things are always beyond the control of the person who creates anything.  All we can do is launch a project on its way and wait to see how things go.

David Bowie

David Bowie died today, aged 69, following an 18-month struggle with cancer. I never met him, not even briefly, but his music has been an important part of my life since he first appeared on "Top of the Pops" as Ziggy Stardust.  I was still a child then, but already into Marc Bolan's music.  David Bowie's music has been on my turntable, then cassette deck, then stack systems, then CD players ever since.  (I can't be bothered with my iPod; it's more trouble than it's worth and so gathers dust in a cupboard drawer.) Who could forget attending those "Bowie Nights" years ago, at Olivers nightclub in Leigh, when a perfectly mundane small-town disco would be transformed largely by an act of imagination into a doorway into another realm dedicated to the creative outpourings of Mr Bowie himself?  Everyday teens and twenties would tog themselves in theatrical replicas of his stage clothes, and dance the night away - or mime the night away, if a person