My brother-in-law, Andrew Hart, passed away on the 10th August.  He suffered a heart attack, following a stroke earlier this year.  His funeral took place on the 21st, at Southport Crematorium.  Andy was known on the northern club circuit for his singing, and in younger days for his musical contributions to Golborne Brass Band, The Philtones and the David Charles Dance Band. Rapid sketches of ducks and geese, August 2015. I was unable to attend the funeral, having started a new day-job all of nine days before this.  I've been talking to my sister Evelyn, though, and nagging her well-meaningly about eating decent meals and taking care of herself, making a joke of "sounding just like Mum". There's not much anyone can really say at times like this.  It's instinctive to want to fix things for the person going through an awful experience, but really all anyone can do is simply listen. So, I started a new job...  I'm still doing arts and crafts, and si

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

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

All's Change With the herald of season's end, all's change. It feels good to stop swimming against raging currents. I said to the Dragon, "Ok, I give in - if this tide's reason is to block my path then show me another way." And so it was done. Breezes shiver gold-tinged leaves in a barren apple tree - time now to journey on through different waters. There are big changes coming to our household; selling this house and planning to move on is only one of the two big changes about to unfold.  We're not quite ready to make public the other big change just yet, not until a few details have been finalised which could take a couple of weeks, maybe a little longer. Life's a funny old thing, hmm?  You potter along in a set way, thinking this is how life's going to be for the foreseeable future - then WALLOP!  All's change. Change can be for good or ill, as we all know.  It depends on context.  In this instance, Richard and I ar

A corner of our garden. This morning, our house was photographed and measured by the estate agent in preparation for putting it on the market.  He said again that the garden is a major selling feature, partly due to its size but also because of the dense planting and the maturity of many of the trees and shrubs.  He also said that the house structure is fine, that the newish kitchen and bathroom are both fine, and that everything else is just cosmetic.   Previously I asked if we should redecorate and was advised, (by three seperate estate agents), not to bother as one person's idea of good  taste is the next person's idea of Yuck Made Manifest.  I pointed out that all the - interminable, which is one reason why we don't own one - TV shows depict the vendors frantically painting everything white or a variation of beige and installing new, equally colourless carpets.  The estate agents said that's mostly a waste of time and money, and often doesn't add enough va

Doors of perceptiom ... The process of household decluttering continues unabated.  A chap named Ian is going to cart a stack of won't-read-again paperbacks to Oxfam.  I've tried selling some of the books on eBay and earned 99p before the site's selling charges were deducted.  Oddly enough I can't be bothered trying to find big-enough envelopes for the rest. I have been painting door frames, window sills and skirting boards all round the house.  By the end of this week, three estate agents will have traipsed through our rooms and delivered their verdicts.  Yes, we're putting this house on the market.  Yes, we really are moving this time - not like two years ago, when we considered moving to New Brighton and then changed our minds.  This time, we're resolute.  We have become Rightmove regulars. We have been here for fourteen years, which is the longest I've ever lived in one place.  I'll miss my frog pond but I plan to build another.  I'll miss

Northern quarter of the Grove Shredding stuff can be oddly satisfying.  It's also rather boring but sometimes necessary, which is why a large portion of yesterday afternoon was spent combing through our bulging filing cabinet to weed out ancient important documents in order to make space for newer important documents. Do we really need to keep phone bills dating back to the last century - to 1995, even?  And who can still remember the old council tax payment booklets, designed like a cheque book which the Post Office would stamp with the date?  Home insurance 'Terms & Conditions' pamphlets for long-dead policies; builders' bills from 14 years ago; guarantees for electrical goods I couldn't even remember owning...  In the end, I filled a bin-bag with this junk.  The filing cabinet drawer now opens and shuts without having to arm-wrestle the thing into submission. Mum had a great time in Perth, Australia.  She went at the drop of a hat after her younger br

As I rapidly head towards my 50th birthday, I'm a tad bewildered by 'How To Wear ...' fashion articles (pun intended).  Are methods of wearing clothes really a mystery, when all any person need do is stick their head through the neck hole, their arms through the arms holes or sleeves, pull the garment into place around the body then use any fasteners supplied.  This season's trending item will be next season's disparaged rag - assuming a person actually cares about such stuff. Thomas Joseph Walton used to say, "When I'm out, the wardrobe is out."  He was referring to his habit of wearing same clothes year in, year out.  When something finally fell into undeniable shabbiness his wife would ensure it vanished into the bin.  I saw him wear the same trousers for seven years, and they were already old when I met him.  Yet he did have better clothes; I once saw him dressed in a very smart evening suit with matching raincoat and trilby hat, when he hadn'

One of the tiny frogs currently in our garden.  An army of tiny frogs has invaded our garden.  The photo above shows just one of them, sitting on our block-paved drive at the side of our house, which gives a good idea of just how small they truly are.  They're so cute!  We have to really watch where we're putting our feet, there're so many of them.  It's as well that we have no chickens at the moment, as the eggs would be so full of reassembled frog that the eggs would start hopping. Our roses have been fabulous this year.  Not so our raspberries, which tasted vile and quickly went past their best.  My attempt at growing garlic ended in a shrivelled disaster, and I suspect that the sun has been too fierce for the shoots to thrive.  The rosemary cuttings have taken well to their new spot in the far border, however, and the broom looks ok too.  The big box of wild flower seeds that I sprinkled round the borders has produced various poppies and a smattering of whit

Today I did something which I've not done for thirty years or more.  As I'd expected, I was spectacularly out of practise but it was definitely fun and I have every intention of repeating the experience.  Richard joined in, too, which made it even more fun. I'm talking about swimming, of course.  When I was a child, our family group swam on most Sundays.  We had a circuit of different pools which we'd go to - Warrington Baths was a favourite, though it has since been demolished, as has Leigh Baths which we also used. Dad would never swim; he hated the very idea, and the most I ever recall him doing was paddling in ankle-deep sea water in Cornwall, his trousers rolled up to his knees.  Mum loved swimming.  One time, she decided to try doing the butterfly stroke.  At least, that's what she insisted it was after the lifeguard's whistle had emptied the pool and she'd been rescued.  How was he to know that the plumes of frantic splashing erupting either sid

I filmed this on my Kodak EasyShare C340 camera on a grey and blustery but pleasant day earlier this week.  The place looks different again in summer, and with a different quality of light.  In the summer, when the beach is plastered with sun-worshippers, or when the marina is in use for various watersports, there's another atmosphere altogether.  But I like the place when it's nearly deserted...  Anyway, the video shows one of the locations from Rowan: An Artisan-Sorcerer Story, and it pans round to show Little Eye, Middle Eye and Hilbre Island which feature in several of my stories.  I don't suppose it really matters if a reader can view real-life footage of a place used in fiction but it can be fun all the same.  And besides, I enjoy tinkering with my camera. Meet Alice!  She's the newest addition to my small collection of dolls.  She was made by Pedigree sometime in the 1950's, which means she's classed as vintage rather than as an antique.  Her litt

Frederika I had lunch with an old friend on Thursday.  Freddie and I have known each other since high school days, when we were regular attendees at the Lowton Vortex.  I wonder how many Lowton people remember the youth club being nicknamed that?  Not many, I'm sure.  Anyway, that was a looooooong time ago; mucho aqua under the bridge etc. etc.  Freddie now lives in Nottingham but she was visiting family who still live in Lowton, and as I have family there too we decided to meet for the first time in around twenty years. I recognised her immediately, even though she was standing with her back to me.  As we crossed the road, heading towards The Waterside pub-restaurant in Leigh, who did we see but my neice Vikkey with nine-month old baby Logan.  "Hello Logan, I'm you're Aunt Adele," - and right on cue he began wailing.  I have this effect on kids.  Lunch was good.  Freddie and I had a great time catching up on each other's news, of course, and then we went

Emily keeping her visitor company. It was furry and had a face.  That's all Emily knew.  Furry things with faces are toys, aren't they? So there I was, making cups of tea while my neice told me how she hoped she'd done in her end-of-second-year university exams, when I happened to glance out of the window to see Emily wrestling with a grey furry thing.  "Er, Catherine, isn't that your bag?" Of course it was. So we sprinted out of the house and into the garden.  Sitting proudly on the lawn was Emily, merrily wagging her stumpy tail as she chewed a hole in the corner of Cat's Japanese monster bag.  We ran one way, Emily ran the other, round and round the thorniest tree in the garden (as Cat's forehead can attest), saying stuff like, "Emily put it down!", "Emily, drop it!", "Emily, no!"  True to the nature of a Jack Russell having a fine old game, she ignored this completely and continued running rings round the pair o

Emily, enjoying today's spring sunshine. Joyce, Felicity and Penelope pottering around the garden today. If you're wondering how the leather tuffet found its way onto the patio, ask the Jack Russell who has sat on it since mid-morning.  Never let it be said that Emily doesn't use initiative. Mum and Evelyn were here on Sunday, bringing some more of Mum's family history research with them, including some old photos.  I haven't had time to look at it properly yet.  Most of the loose notes concern the Caslin and Corrigan branches of the family.  There are also some letters from the Meaghers in New York State, America - the writer being Mum's second cousin who also has an interest in genealogy. This arrival synchronises neatly with my Aunt Mary's further researches into the McGowan family, which she mailed to me this week.  Much of this information is of too recent a date to share online, but Mary has done a lot of detailed research.  It will all be safely

Hazel and Adele, a long time ago... There are some photos which simply make you smile.  They might not be the most professionally done or the most artistic, but they're precious in their own way.  Like this one, above, which shows my sister and I paddling somewhere near Southampton.  I totally forget the name of the place; it had three shallow pools in a row, and I recall feeling incredibly adventurous for walking through each of them all by myself.  We visited this place more than once during various visits to my Aunt Kathleen and Uncle George's home.  My four cousins were probably paddling not too far away, just out of camera shot.  My first typewriter, a Smith Corona, which was a Xmas present shared with my sister.  I used to type poetry on this before mailing it off to various magazines.  Some of it got published, too...  This machine worked well for many years until the carriage developed an annoying habit of jumping spaces or of not moving at all.  This didn't exac

Learn about the history of tattooing, and about Liverpool's famous tattooing family, of which Richie Tattoo Artist is a member, in this interview with Richie broadcast on Radio Merseyside in 1996.   

"Scholars at the Virginia Historical Society in Richmond have set out to leaf through eight million documents dating back to the 17th century, seeking the names of slaves." Source:  http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/09/arts/design/database-of-viginia-slave-names-goes-online.html It seems incredible, in this time when genealogy is so popular, that research into the identities of slaves hasn't been done already.  Liverpool was one point of the infamous slavery triangle, the other two being Africa and New York.  Ships from Africa would arrive at Liverpool to sell their human cargo and restock for the long haul to New York.  Ships from New York would arrive in Liverpool, sell cotton and similar crops raised on American plantations by slaves, then  to prepare to sail for Africa where they'd barter for more slaves to re-stock the workforce. Not all the slaves were black.  Many Scots and Irish people were sold as slaves by English magistrates.  Those people caught up in t

"The paradigm experience of solitude is a state characterized by disengagement from the immediate demands of other people - a state of reduced social inhibition and increased freedom to select one's mental and physical activities." Source: http://www.psychologytoday.com/collections/201105/solitude-vs-loneliness/solitude-part-2-the-benefits-it-brings-and-the-special-str This reminds me of Tristan.  He was certain that the only way to develop any real knowledge of the self was through embracing solitude.  By removing the demands and distractions of other people, he hoped to then focus on discovering the true essence of his inner immortal self, (or soul, if you prefer that term).  I tend to stand somewhere in-between, in that while I'd agree that solitude offers uninterrupted opportunity for inner work, I find also that a deliberately created contrast between solitude and socialising presents a greater strengthening of unfolding knowledge.  In plain English, it'